Kahi duur kisi ki khushi parchayi dhundh rahi hai apni
Toh kahi tanhai apni baazi
Ek badh raha hai aage murda dil ban ke
Toh dusra nahi hai apne zindagi se raazi.
Kahi duur aankho par apne aansuyo ke siyahi mai ghira pada hai koi
Toh koi kar raha hai apne bad nasibi ka lihaaz
Ek datt ke kayam kar raha hai apna nishaan
Toh dusra mana raha hai hathiyaro ko niche karne ka riwaaz.
Kahi duur ho rahi hai kisi ko sachche pyaar ki justajoo
Toh kahi sunai nahi de rahe ek jhoote dil ki pukaar
Ek kar raha hai apne aap par shakk
Toh dusra sunn raha hai apne kaabiliyat ki pukaar.
Yehi hai safar zindagi ki
Har kisiko ko saath rehna hai ese pal mai, Yehi hai safar zindagi ki
Har kisi ko sukoon dhundni ...
Wait, don’t embrace haste. For now she is living her life. Only the way she captains, the way, a choice not a burden or strife. Let her walk, the majestic stride. Let her legs to the new courses abide.
Wait, let her lead. For she is pure, her soul a sieve. Let her sing her own song. She is mastering the world the way received. Let her feel the love which she has to see. Let the love open portals for her, the love yet to be. The lashes of her eyes by some they smudge. Let her live, let her lead, don’t judge. For how long must she ally tempest audacity, hey world, why lampoon her vivacity?
Wait, don’t blame her. For she is her own vindication. Let her prove her might, so...
REDEFINE THE POWER AND REALITY OF HER AND PUT THE ONUS ON HIM
A subject that gets lost in the whiff of contentious air every now and again and only gets spotlighted and debated when conceived in the doldrums.
Every day when varied subjects are channeled across the nation in the form of news, one diabolic stream of communal distress is heard, read, witnessed and felt. RAPE. Horrendous incidents at various locales are being talked about, judicious ways are being taken a hack at, and allied sympathy is being showered to the families but the effect that follows hangs loose and sloppy. Such barbaric acts should be extricated from the veil of temporary dialogues where the intensity of the act and...
The essence of 'Love' is metamorphosed. I strongly imbibe the fact that love is one of the most arduous and difficult feelings which can be felt by the contours of the heart and has the ability to manipulate the total configuration of it. But, on the flipside, nothing worth having comes easy. There slowly reveals a colossal amount of ups and downs, arguments, mishaps and what not. To those who are still in love, don't fret, let love do it's work. All you have to do is listen to that wise counsel from the heart, and if it speaks of something otherwise, leave. Don't settle. But don't be skeptically inclined to 'Love'. Love isn't easy, but true love is worth falling and soaring for.
And to thos...
Why are we still rooted in the same place and haven't set ourselves in motion yet?
Not everyone will agree on this and spurt forth by stating that they're already in motion. Nope, you ain't. You're still in that same place you were yesterday and are just enjoying or regretting the view. At the extremity, you are finding 'ways' to set yourself motion. You still are letting your past subjugate you and the future, intimidate you.
Sometimes we have to take a long hard look at ourselves and wonder what have we done to our selves. From subjecting our psyche to a self-harming pampering session to fondly letting our past or future get a grip on us, we have let our selves to distort. And sadly, this...
'Win' and 'lose' are two distinct words imperfectly concocted by humans. Two extremes capable of affecting not only one's disposition, but emotions, thoughts and feelings alike.
Life is a cycle in compliance with the flow of success and failure.
We are triumphant some times and, at others, we learn. We are leading a life where growth and change are in tandem, where each one of us is constantly stumbling upon novel facts, disparate experience, uncertain situations and newfangled ideas every new day.
So how can there be such expressions like 'win' or 'lose' when an individual's ability to assimilate and percieve themes is never-ending and processes, quite untold?
"A Brook Seldom Hugs A Cliff"
The ones who bring you close are the ones who leave you ostracized. You stand here, pale effervescence there. Mockery has it's own share.
Maybe today. Maybe tomorrow. Hold no sorrow.
Time undefined. Venue undecided. Manacles of proximity unfettered.
You see the shards, dancing to the tunes of spatial bards. They're invisible. Not every point life bestowes is either sensible. Or affable.
Disdain and scorn. Did they put out the fire of vicinity that was born?
Or was it the bright sun one night that left the moon forlorn?
You see there's none. And voila. They're gone.
“A sight majestique”
A yearning globe of nature is what I want more,
And its mystifying bosom in it I soar.
All the cycles of life in nature they paddle,
Of all the men kings, women queens on a saddle.
A nip in the air is what I fancy,
Adding a drip in the share of poignancy.
For one day I’ll tread the woods much less,
Life overflowing this juncture, in next may digress.
Striding forth and the leaves they rasp,
Aestheticism in front I see, but alas can’t grasp.
For the nefarious cruelty nature does silently impeach,
Still provides what the men beseech.
As far as my eyes could see,
The endless sky can never be contained, I can’t foresee,
The ostentatious rain that one day may it ...
She wasn’t lost but was just taking a break in a world where adventures meant everything. She had cracked open her soul to see what a real adventure feels like. She wasn’t lost, but was just taking a break.
She had shed tears, her knees were weak. Still she moved on for she had something to prove. Audacious to some, mysterious to many. She moved on. Face appalled, eyelashes wet. Would only rest where the sun does set. She wasn’t lost but was just taking a break.
Once loved someone fierce, now none to love her wild. She strolled with a dejected gloomy shade by her side. Breeze zoomed past her convincing her to sway. Sway to the tune for it wasn’t primal, the incessant pain that was emotiona...
For how long shall drums be struck
For how long shall guns be cocked
Another disquiet will surely bob up
And pursed lips will speak then.
Derogate the day, the ruthless doldrums
Shall once make its imminent appearance
We do crucify that day in the mind
But for how long shall the act prevail?
Polished bodies in shame
Aesthetic minds chained
Is it what we wished for?
A distress call on the horizon
Everytime peace is wished.
We live, only to die for?
Peace a myth, wellness a vagary
Land of mankind, a parched verdure.
Songs are played, rhythm forgotten
Stories are told, ending forgotten
Witnessing malfeasance since when,
Words are said, mean...
We die hating more than we are born loving.
Forgiveness is underrated. Fault isn't.
Understanding is underrated. Retaliation isn't.
Mutuality is underrated. Selfishness isn't.
Consolation is underrated. Anguish isn't.
Conviction is underrated. Uncertainty isn't.
*Love is underrated. Hate isn't.*
Yet, we question the darkness around us when there's light within.
Overrate the underrated, even Love doesn't deserve to be hated.
I urge ye to hoist up a banner
Not in any thoroughfare, street or city,
But once in the encephalon, twice in the heart
This the gashed and maimed verse of humanity.
Prismatic beings we all are
A scrupule conscience we house, a privilege, a right
But oh why witness the horrific manifestation
Blandly dancing in the helpless sight?
Tepid tears buddy the terra firma
A dusty dialogue driven by gravity,
But 'tis the seamless flow of blood that gushes more
An escalation of sheer barbarity.
A slender body bestowed with a gargantuan duty
To one day lead the world to immense wonders,
But 'tis the absence of humanity that prevails
That contrives the sickening attack which incessantly thunders.
It's overwhelmingly astounding how people ostracize someone from the chambers of their own heart in order to redirect and make the projectile of attraction and attachment spurt to a different direction. Can irony be defined in a way, the intensive organ of domiciliation of love and care has become an unwanted accomodation of perpetual and unrelenting perplexity. Complexity knows no novel paths and seems like it'll make peace here with no intentions to leave. Unless, we humans choose otherwise.
The ultimate goal in life is to turn into a story. Either be a storyteller telling stories to the world for the rest of your life *till your demise* or become one and be told to the rest of the world *after your demise*. You're going to die one day. Choose wisely.
One can truly master the self and become a virtuous, reverential and complacent human being not by questioning others going "How right are they" but by questioning the self and asking "How wrong am I". This makes one realise the negativity sprawling inside the intellect as well as the soul and, eventually, figure out to what extent should reparations and redemption be initiated.
Find peace within, try bringing a wave of change and the world will be a peaceful place to reside in. Find war and the world will show you how the road to perdition is just where you're subliminally walking on.
• The only way to find yourself is by getting lost within the self. •
Let this New Year usher in a tide of well being, an aroma of hope, an alignment of prosperity and an unimaginable torrent of success for all of you and your family.
Let 2018 bestow enough might upon every one of you to be blithe in the tensed hour and very well ward off evil powers and malign intentions against you and your family and guide you all meticulously through precarious situations and state of affairs.
Wishing all lettrs companions a very *Happy New Year*. (Whether you're celebrating now, or are ahead of time, doesn't matter, love you all. Be safe and celebrate responsibly.)
"My love for you is lackadaisical to initiate, hard to percieve and tumultuous to be extant. It's... Difficult." She said.
" Doesn't matter darling, the easy ones never made their way to fabled poetic verses and grand epics though." He replied.
A sovereign comrade parting, with tears on eyes and love in the heart.
2017! The year that galloped faster than the others and made me experience much than the rest. There was witnessed a melange of happenings and a farrago of emotions. Ranging from precariously conjured but vivified thoughts to tumultuous and gloomy bits, 2017 proved itself to being a superhero for me with a mask on the vestige, of course, and a wondrous cape that helped me fly past my plights and predicaments by making me sit down and ponder over facts which were considered inconspicuous at first. 2017 made me understand that there live numerous traumatic events which subjugate the human capabilities and conditions but the...
Are you coming home this Christmas? (A homecoming worth the wait.)
To those residing far away from their homes, so graceful and comely, they won't throw an afterthought to this aforementioned question. They have incessantly waited for this time to banish themselves from the scornful and sometimes despised environment, well-balanced scales being irrefutably thrown out of equilibrium thanks to twitchy workplaces, lowly promising academia or the resentful community peculiar to the conscience.
But no.... There's a catch.
This question is verily veiled by a smoke of self-contemplation. 'Home' here has been served as a locution posing as a beguiler. One simply doesn't ...
'The Girl Under Those Streetlights'
Let me tell you about her,
The one I had met under those streetlights,
A perfect ballerina she was,
Dancing to the ballet of life.
In the thick of night she swayed,
Gleaming ostentatiously in that moolit night,
As I stood there, transfixed gaze, she was a prize,
I couldn't let her vanish from my sight.
Oh that girl under those streetlights.
Bright disposition, sweet soft moments,
Nothing was hard, nothing unconquerable,
I noticed that silhouette, a gold-plated veneer,
She appeared, she smiled.
I was shook, shot by here aestheticism,
Yes shot! It was polar, not in any way which could have hurt me,
But in a way, which was stellar.
She went on ...
The lofty head of the pen was liften. The book gleamed with joy.
"Another welcomed jiffy for an exalted connection." It exclaimed.
The pen nonchalantly drifted away, as if a tumultuous conclave has been set up between the two...
...and graced her presence on the surface of another rusty script.
The book was grief-stricken.
"I have been replaced."
"And how do you love?
By peering into the other
Through the acceptance of one another
Banishing all the shudder
Time isn't an adversary for us to bother."
For the epic dichotomy impervious to ageless torment and captivity, love is the most opulent yet a classically rudimentary form of self-discovery, cathartic deepness and serendipitous happenings, sometimes accompanied with ill and gullible exposure to fear, anger and uncertainty. But...
*These ailments are sure to pass, for love was never unrefined, never so crass.*
"Obscure it is, the end is nigh
So, Live and love, for the days you breath,
Till the day you die."
"Who am I to you?" She asked
With stiff innocence in the gleaming midnight,
"You are that exuberant scene from a luxuriant movie
Which I'd never wish to lose a sight."
"Who am I to you?" Echoed the parlance
Liberalized feelings with a tinge of perplexed subjugation,
"You're the one I'd still love to live for
Even if this starry night loses its illumination."
"Who am I to you?" Words dripped
As she tried to explore my encephalon without any ties,
"You are the one who ornament me with the truth,
If times seem bleak, I'd still be with you in a labyrinth of lies."
"Who am I to you?" An enthralling question emerged
It seems without you there prevails an inexplicable climate of torment
"For me y...
There is a twinkle in her eye through which he gets lost in the cosmos of pious existence and reverential complacency. He seems to relate each and every facets of life through this blissful portal. There remain shards of appalling thoughts too; dread due to inconsistency, horror due to mishaps and outrage because of the dissipation of reciprocal understanding sometimes. But he knows that majority of palatable emotions are here to stay, to be relished together, and eventually, be liberalized in a completely outlandish way possible. He is patient with her, as the way she is with him. He can feel a climate of mutual openness being ushered, but oh my, can she?
"Oh how he wished he could revel an overflowing cup of encomium for her majesty,
Only to realize he was sauntering down a ghost town as a bard, composing a tale of travesty."
At times, when life unforeseenly spews situations requiring considerate amount of tenacity and arduousness, out from its bag of mere uncertainty;
Losers cry *"Why me?"* .... whereas,
Winners roar *"Try me!"*
This shapes an individual. This fosters the *one*. Picking up sides determines fate.
Either you choose to vanquish what lies ahead with sheer valiance or be left out in the race.
You have to pick. *One side.* There's no escape.
Want to understand people, cultivate *empathy*. Want to be understood by others, cultivate *generosity*. These help coalesce varied inter-subjective mindsets into a bridge poised towards concocting an ideal notion of well-being over a subtle brook of candid relationships.
When the time is perfect, aim towards making mellifluous amendments rather than pernicious retaliations. No matter how wrong or slipshod the other one is, or how right and immaculate you are. This helps the relationship strengthen by making souls overt, so that one can really reach out to the other, peer deep inside and embrace long awaited feelings, thus making the unknown, known.
Into the woods he entered
A portal to bliss, ego asunder
Sat by the brook reached out to the soil and asked,
"Is speaking to self a conceived corruption,
Then ornament my ears with ways to surrender."
Rocks did look, trees did shook,
They felt the wrath of his silence,
That embellished his lips, yet a blemish
A shameless war between mind and heart,
Oh what a ruthless violence.
He speaks so high, treads so swift
In a labyrinth of pale illumination,
He looks at the river, and he asks,
"Am i failing to honor, a lambent creation?"
Mimicking the shards of glass, the river displays the mortal's unwavering soma,
He beseeched the sun to gleam,
So hard, that he doesn't trap a glimpse of his,
This post is intended as a prolific brainstorm casted as a reminder towards devising bliss in one's life. Creating your own game. Conceiving your own rules. And playing by those. Realizing that to create serendipity is to work proactively on bliss.
Choosing the best thing which will aid you surmount in life and feel extravagant. Creating and following your own bliss conjures up a course of transcendental thoughts and feelings. But, alas, the sense of bliss is a doctrine to some in the contemporary. A failed adoption of mechanism that has lacerated humans from the roots of selfhood and ego. Incognito under the blanket of doubts and fear. With constant repercussive thoughts assimilati...