Breaking Bonds

A house window witnessed the wrath of sunlight over rocky mountains with stray trees. Inside, a woman lingered her eyes between the sunlight of the world and the darkness of her own. The sheets were all ruffled - despite the lack of action. Dead sleeper, did her last boyfriend call her?

A lazy Sunday with no commitments. The thought gave her a relief and made her lazy. Of course she dragged her out of bed, what's the purpose of jumping into action? Suddenly, like the stray trees, a stray thought jumped her thought wagon - A little girl ghost. They are known to be a lot more scarier than the usual disfigured ones or the distressed in white lady ghost.

"What the hell?"

She sighed at her stupid mind and proceeded with the most leisurely and important activity of her Sunday - making coffee.

'Colombian coffee' - the new pack said. The aroma was intoxicating to her. She took her own sweet time making the best coffee ever and sat down sipping it quietly, eyes closed… legs up in the air…a careless posture and a sigh of satisfaction.

Her phone beeped. A sigh of dissatisfaction.

"I am not gonna answer." - And she left the room. The stupid mind sprung into action with a zillion things her team at work was having trouble with. She turned. And stopped.

"I am dispensable" - And for the first time, she felt glad that she was. She turned again, away from the phone.

The Fearful Rut of Sleeping Beauty

The sense of breathlessness was real. The fear was earth shatteringly real.

She could reach out and touch the invisible force which bothered her all her life. But she was not brave enough… yet.

She tried sucking in the air, waiting like a troubled fish to get her breath again. It never occurred to her that she was so dependent on her breath. Now it did, like a slap on her face, remind her of it's importance.

The image of her assigned savior saved her in her dreams from her enemy and made her breath again. When wide awake, she could not suppress a smirk at the irony - her savior was never there for her in the awakening.

Like a rapid scary slideshow, a stream of images misplaced one another. As if stuck on the scariest of them all, it stopped on one image she didn't want to see. Her eyes half closing, her head did the most natural thing - it shook, in a conscious effort to break free of the jam in her slideshow. The black twin eyes felt the gravity and became desperate to hide behind the thin skinny walls. The head shook again.

"Soon… soon this will be over" - she said to herself. She knew it would.

"Is this it? Is this the moment where my fears come true?" - the same she said to herself. She braced herself, waiting for the fear to reveal reality.

Nothing happened. Her mind drifted to the thoughts of unassigned saviours. She sent one of them a message. He responded back. The rut was draining. It was coming to an end. She talked to him till she found her breath again. It came like… (hah!) … like a breath of fresh air. She was fine. She let the twin blacks have their way.

Deep slumber … not peaceful but a deep one, nevertheless.

* Fransico Goya, Bon Voyage

Travel Thoughts

There's something totally amusing about skeleton man wearing pants lablled 'machoman'

Advertisement seen on a bus - "Creativity requires the courage to let go of certainties."

An empty train went past today... Never considered the possibility that one could see through the train to the other side. Living in Mumbai has it limitations.

Experimenting with styles & colours seems difficult for most men. I wonder why?

I never fancied cats as much. Now I find them cute because a cat lover friend described them beautifully. Funny.. how we connect to other beings.

Size matters when it doesn't conform to the average standards. Else No. We are surprised by generic statements in its entirety

Take a huge box. Let humans walk into it. Sounds funny?

Think buses.

Oh.. give the boxes some wheels!

If you did something for the sake of doing it, everyone around you knows.

Always, there are at least 2 ways of looking at the world.

The Unceasing Mystery

Words a little and then some more

Clear the fog, lend vision in the darkness

Left alone, in who's insecurity?

Say 'em words a little and then some more

Endless fights & even more peace

Consequence nothing, but the shady clouds

Far away landed, have we, from the path treading on

Just a thought to have this ruckus going on

Help, it would, you only gotta say...

Words a little and then some more

Clear the fog, lend vision in the darkness

Left alone, in who's insecurity?

Say 'em words, a little and then some more

Stand in silence, hold your hand

Read your mind, I'd never learn to

Fret not, it's not too fun

As much it'd be in...

Words a little and then some more

Clear the fog, lend vision in the darkness

Left alone, in who's insecurity?

Say 'em words, a little and then some more

Words a little and then some more

Some more and some more

Never cease these beautiful words

A little and I hope, there are a lot more.

And then they spill out...

Burning with desire to love these words

My hands don't wanna stop, neither does my heart

The best of all music, sings in my ears

Never before heard for it was never given a chance

A heavenly voice or would it be the voice of the witch

Mysteries always attract, why is the ordinary treated unjust?

Dance like the life within me, wants to burst out

No judgements to stop it, no eyes to entertain it

No bodies to join in its union

Selfishness becomes the highest virtue

Thinking of the beginning of time

When music brought life out

Why does it have to be in the night?

Refusal to worship it in the daylight

Considering the highest possibilities

Of a journey and it's traveller

Misfortune of stepping with the never ending illusion

Called time

Ideas jumping in and out

Of this imaginative world

The voice of angel, exhilarated with her own

For others just to be bystanders

Randomness is the word for this

Inexplicable burst of words

Tormented by the deeds of

A delusional bitch holding joys within

Can sorrow be joy and joy be a sorrow?

Can confusion be clarity and clarity, confusion?

Fine lines torn down

Union of the darkness and light

Not for victory over the other

But to exist in harmony

And love of endless passion

Can this destroy me?

Or will it throw me into the spectrum of

An unimaginative possibility

Have I lost it? - asks a supposedly sane being

But may be, I have finally found it

Or started on my journey to find it.

Go away, you judgemental fools

Live or judge but can never do both

One can be either

The observer or the performer.

Why do 10 heads suddenly turn

Into space and stare blankly

Someone impassionate while others appreciating

Some others jealous, and some merely insecure

Is it all the emptiness within

Each of our souls?

Why waste a lifetime finding it,

When just living it certainly sounds good?

Unwritten and written rules

Seem so full of sham

Is it our incompleteness

Or foolishness

Believe it, we do

That its possible to control

Hah! Fools!

Fools! Fools! Fools!

That's all we seem to be

Us Fools!

A whole humankind!

A whole dynasty of foolish Fools!

Stories of the Hollow Night

Hollow becomes the night

An unrest withheld

Waiting for the time of loneliness

Where the unreasonable isn't an outcast

Miss the fancy world

And the silliness of life

Without meanings and yet so full of it

A forgotten song played

Once purposeful in arousing the mystery

Embodies the exalted one

The centre of this universe

No one to worship though

Does it still remain the exalted one?

Lonesome moments arrive

On a truck load of sorrow

The unreasonable unleashes

Tears withheld none so last

Drag 2 miserable feet

Across the cold path

Hoping the next step

Will be my last

Regrets sing a mournful tune

A helpless cry suppressed

For in the darkness of the night

Another soul might linger

Wanting to catch

The most helpless soul

To ease the misery, oh so desperate

But misery is it's right

And no other soul has the right

To ease it or rob it or take it away

It is the moment of no one else

But the soul forgotten

The soul heartbroken

The soul unreasonable

The soul without a purpose

The depths of hell are

Probably the only hope

That the shiny clouds of heaven

Are as real as the moment of lonesome souls.

Hopes are rather the words

Which make the hopes come alive

Everyday, with the glory of each of its moment.

Never ending though it may seem

End it will, when you least want it to

That is the dynasty, the fate and the destiny

Miserable indeed, but you've had your chance

To grab it and love it so passionately.

Time of your life, someone said

Someone was wise.