tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74106255150813314072024-03-14T23:20:22.854+05:30My notebook has shifted.I have moved on to http://khushmanpatel.com/blog
You will be moved momentarily.Khushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02468817574902437220noreply@blogger.comBlogger51125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410625515081331407.post-56590560586020171192014-11-06T16:54:00.000+05:302014-11-06T18:03:47.165+05:30The revenge of the roseIt was the year 2012, and I woke with a craving for junk food. My eyes opened to a sparsely furnished dull room. The bright pile of clothes lying on the corner of the bed contrasted starkly with the dirty faded white of the overlooking wall. Dust had filled up the empty space on the floor, where it lived along with the wrappers and other knick-knacks I had abandoned. The slightly pungent smell of untouched worn clothes irritated my nose. Stretching myself, I shuffled out of the now empty bed and traced a path through the maze on the floor. I splashed some water on my face, and stared at the man looking back at me in the mirror. My eyes were the red of mud. My cheeks were getting shallower, and the pouches under my eyes seemed to grow larger by the day. Oil coated the entirety of the available surface, and accumulated along my wrinkles. I seemed like a monster right out of a cheap Hindi film, but with lanky limbs and a melancholy posture. Sighing, I brushed my teeth and got ready for another day at the office.<br />
<br />
I was almost ready, and was combing my hair, when the overbearing sound of the horn shredded my eardrums. "Aa raha hun", I shouted and ran down the stairs. It was no relief, for the horn stopped only when the driver spotted me. I had grown tired of asking him to let off the horn, but like in most things, it seemed that people simply ignored me. I sat quietly at the back of the cab, looking out of the window. I neither had the energy nor the urge to talk to anyone. Five minutes later, she climbed in. I didn't know her name, for I had never had the courage to talk with her. Her face was somehow familiar, and her body was a work of art. She seemed too good to be true. I shook my head back to reality, and sighed in wistfulness. I did not have the courage to talk to a woman, much less one whom I desired.<br />
<br />
My mind shut off as I settled into my desk. It was going to be another long day. At least the weekend followed this, and we would have our routine inebriation tonight. "Hi sir, how may I help you?" I put on my British accent, letting go of my Delhi roots. The rest of the day passed by in a hazy blur, which I could not have remembered on my life. After what seemed like an eternity, my colleagues and I boarded the cab to our bar. There were a couple of new faces, and my eyes opened wide on seeing her with us. Maybe all hope was not lost yet. I could not help a smile from creeping across my face as the possibilities loomed before me.<br />
<br />
It was one of those typical dark, overly expensive nightclubs which was only know for its clientele. I had downed a couple of drinks, and it was enough to get my speech slurring. The rest of my party was dancing in reckless abandon in the small circle in the center of the club. It looked like a colony of worms, with all of them struggling to stay on the floor and fumbling within their own rhythms in the space they could squeeze out. A feminine silhouette detached itself from the jumble and moved towards my table. She had just gotten off the dance floor, and as I was the only one at our table, she came and sat beside me.<br />
"Don't usually dance?" She asked.<br />
"Too many people too close" I replied.<br />
"Oh, Mr. Anti-social thinks he's better than us?"<br />
"The opposite, in fact" This would throw her off, I thought.<br />
"And why is that?"<br />
"Those stories don't help with my first impression"<br />
"Okay, be dark and broody. But give me a chance get a second impression." She seemed drunk. And unusually interested in me.<br />
"Your wish." This would be interesting, I thought.<br />
"I'm Rooh. How do you do?" I began ...<br />
I did not realize when it was closing time. We were the only ones left from our group still at the table. I paid for our drinks, and was about to offer her a drop when I saw her face and my body froze.<br />
<br />
It was Chhaya. My mind reeled in its hazy state, and I couldn't speak. My sight blurred, everything had grown quiet around me, and I had to put my head down on the table. Nausea filled my throat and I could feel it getting stronger with every pulse of blood hammering inside of me. It couldn't be her. I took a few deep breaths, and looked up at her. It wasn't Chhaya. She peered back at me with a concerned expression, and I grinned back at her. "That was a power nap, in case you didn't notice" She grinned back at me, pulled me up, and we left the bar. My head had lightened, and I could now manage to think. It was just a trick of the light, wasn't it? That, and I'm exceedingly drunk today, I figured. We hailed a cab and ambled into the back seat. I closed my eyes for a second and a tattered Chhaya stood in front of me. Her eyes were voids, trying to engulf me, but I fought back. On the edge of my consciousness, I heard a voice calling "Rooh, ROOH!", and I managed to open my eyes. She was sitting beside me in the cab. Her eyes were half asleep, her hair spread all over her face. With a streetlight peeping in from the window, it seemed like a halo floated around her head. I smiled at her, "I'm all yours, promise". There was hesitation in her eyes. "Are you sure you're all right?" I nodded in agreement and wrapped my hand around her, pulling her into a bear hug. She snuggled in between and we whispered sweet nothings till we reached her place. I led the way to her apartment, and as soon as she closed her door, she pounced on me. The next thing I knew, I was staring at her in the darkness as she turned on a dim light and turned towards me. Seductively biting her lip, she undid her buttons one by one.<br />
<br />
I closed my eyes for a second and the vortex of memories dragged me in. A dark road faded into sight. A yellow light filtered in from somewhere far away and I could see people standing around a fallen figure. Voices filled the air.<br />
"Bhaiya please mujhe jane do. Maine kya kiya hai"<br />
"CHUP SALI KUTIYA. Itne chote kapde pehenke aati hai, aur fir na bolti hai"<br />
"Yahi chahti thi na tu, daaru peeti hai kya koi sharif ladki"<br />
"Abe tu haath pakad mai chalu karta hun, fir tu aana"<br />
"Han chal, isme jyada dum bhi baaki nahi hai"<br />
Suddenly she shrieked and shouted "BACHAO, KOI PLEASE BACHAO MUJHE", which was answered with a hard slap to her face. It still did not stop her from continuing to shout, to which the man balled his fist and pummeled her. The cries turned into quiet sobs as one of them held her hands from above her head. The other bent over her and tore open her white shirt and undergarments. He mauled her chest and she squalled in pain. I moved closer to the spectacle, unable to speak. She started weeping as he dug his long nails into her soft flesh. A ravenous expression covered his face as he forced himself into her. Each defiling thrust was met by loud whimpers of repulsion. It didn't seem to affect him, as he continued his onslaught. His claws found new places to immolate on her body, and each transgression seemed to bring her closer to acquiescence. With a loud groan, he finished, and her body spoke of relief. and looked at me.<br />
<br />
"Chal ab tu aja", he invited. I went closer and looked at her. She cheeks were red from where she was slapped, and her entire face was filled with bruises and swellings. The rags could barely cover any part of her, and blood was oozing out from her torso. Her entire posture screamed defeat, but what terrified me was her eyes. They shone with an abhorrence and she looked directly into mine. It did nothing but anger me as I thwacked her and said "Dekhti kya hai be, aankh niche kar". Spreading her legs, I reveled in the power which I possessed as I entered her. She was nothing but a toy which I could use as I wished. Peering at her disdain, I groped her breasts to elicit a reaction. Her grimace of pain was satisfying. As this power blanketed my head, I began disfiguring her as much as I could. Furrows lined her bosom. There were red nail marks from her collarbone to her waist, where I had gouged her. She had finally accepted defeat, and lay quiet. A smirk of revulsion filled my face as I came.<br />
<br />
My eyes opened, and an involuntary gasp escaped me. Tears were brimming at their edges, and She came into focus in front of me with her hands on her hips. "I need air, let's go to the terrace", I managed to force out and stumbled outside her flat and up the stairs. As I opened the gate to her terrace, and fell to a corner, it suddenly dawned on me that this was my building, not hers. "Bola tha na, akele nahi chodungi" she hissed softly, suddenly sitting beside me; and my eyes snapped open. There was only one other time that I had heard those words.<br />
<br />
That fateful night came back to me. I saw the disfigured, torn body of our victim, struggling to stay conscious. She had put up a fight early on, but there was nothing but acceptance now. It seemed that she was drained of whatever it was that her kept her going. As if each desecrating pump had sucked out her life force; and with the final thrust, she had been completely drained. "Khokli ho gayi hai", I had whispered as one of my partners brought forth a metal pipe. But she wasn't finished yet. She had flown into a rage on seeing the pipe and declared in a ghastly voice "Chhaya hai mera naam. Yaad rakhna, tum mai se kisi ko akela nahi chodungi. Sabko lene aaungi mai". The pipe had made a squishy sound as it connected with the top of her neck. "Ab chilla na sali, kya hua?" he shouted. "Tujhe uska mazaa nahi dungi", she had rasped out her final spark. He had raised it again, and brought it down with overwhelming force upon her head. Repeating once more for good measure, he had started laughing maniacally, "Mujhe dhamkayegi sali, samajhti kya hai apne aap ko". As the blood which dripped from the red hole in her neck coagulated into a pool, I had felt the finality of our action. No trace would be left of her. She was ours to use, and ours to dispose.<br />
<br />
I came back to the present as I felt her hands combing through my hair. Her face covered the moon, and I couldn't make out if it was Her or Chhaya. "Does it matter?" she asked. When I looked at her, She was Chhaya; and I realized what she meant. I began to wail. As the sobs racked my entire body, I felt powerless and devoid of energy. This seemed impossible. I couldn't make out whether this was a cruel trick being played on me or if it was real. "Lene aayi hun mai tujhe" she mouthed, with an innocent smile on her face. I could see nothing but her now. My thoughts were moving too fast for me to grasp; I was not my own master.<br />
<br />
She held my hand and we stood up on the ledge, looking out over it. It was a beautiful sight. The darkness was complete but for the little pockets of light peeking out from solitary windows. It looked like a collage of black and white, and was mirrored in the sky above. The wind howled by me, but there was a deep silence which permeated every iota of my being. Trees danced noiselessly in tune with the wind, participating in a tribal ritual which I could not comprehend. Somewhere, a cricket chirped, and the sound passed harmlessly through me. Shadows shifted behind corners, as if hiding just out of sight. A joyful hum emanated from Chhaya as she walked forward. The sound suffused through me, and brought a smile to my face.<br />
<br />
The last thing I remembered was the air pulling me faster through it as I hurtled towards the inviting ground. Chhaya glowed with triumph, and I smiled as I touched upon a long forgotten feeling. It felt right.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
---------------------------------------<br />
<br />
In case koi bahut load leta hai, yeh fiction story hai. Matlab maine banayi hai ise. Khushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02468817574902437220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410625515081331407.post-43408411455323719532014-07-18T22:13:00.002+05:302014-07-18T22:37:01.136+05:30The OwnerThe old clock started it's song at exactly six thirty. Champaben woke up at six thirty one, and her day began. Quickly getting ready, she woke up her dependents one by one, dealing with each of them in turn. They were all like her children, and she was responsible for their day beginning properly. Years of practice had set her schedule just right. She started the stove, and put the cut vegetables on the pan. Simultaneously, she started preparing breakfast. Her hand moved of its own accord, accustomed by years of the same action, and pretty soon the simmering sound of vegetables in oil filled the house. She took her husband's clothes out of the almirah and laid them on the bed, shouting at him to take a bath quicker. Going into her daughter's room, she combed her daughter's hair, finishing just in time to the vegetables getting ready. In one swoop, she took the vegetable bowl off the gas, and put the roti tawa on it. With practised determination, she rolled the rotis into an almost perfect circle before heating them on the tawa. Skillfully fluffing the rotis to perfection, she put them all in a bundle; each of them almost exactly alike. Filling up the respective tiffins, she brought them out and put them in the bags. Laying the breakfast, she beckoned both her husband and her daughter. She didn't need to look at the clock to know that it was seven six.<br />
<br />
Having finished breakfast with her family, she said goodbye to them, and finally took a long breath. The time was seven thirty two, but it didn't matter for a long while now. She had shifted into a more leisurely pace. Clearing the table, she put the dishes in the sink for the maid to clean. She prepared a cup of tea, and sat down with the newspaper. To an outsider, it would look like she was just idling away the time, but that was not the case. In a while, the doorbell rung, and she let the maid in. She could now perform the most essential task of the entire day, her puja. She washed the flowers gently, applying just enough force that the petals didn't break off. She sat in front of the mandir, and decorated every god. It always seemed like each one of them was her friend. She spent time with them everyday, no matter what. After cleaning them all, she prayed to them. She went outside, carrying a single flower, and some puja water. She went outside to the small patch in front of her house, and turning towards the house, she bowed down, and prayed to it.<br />
<br />
She took a siesta everyday after lunch, which broke when her daughter came back at around four in the evening. She prepared some warm milk while her daughter freshened up. After talking about what was taught in school today, she took her daugher's dabba and cleaned it, letting it dry. She then took a look at the teaching, and sat down with her daughter to revise what was taught. It grew tougher for her each year that her daughter grew, but she persevered with a mother's will. This continued till the time her husband came home, at around seven. She greeted him with a smile, and taking his suitcase and coat in hand, asked him about work. She knew this always helped him relax, and brought a smile to his face. As her husband finished, she moved to the kitchen to begin dinner preparations. Dinner was always a good time, where all three sat down together to finally end the long day. Her cooking, flawless as always, ensured a good night's sleep for her family. Or maybe it was the feeling of security the house gave them.<br />
<br />
It was, after all, a family home, built in the midst of the booming city. Her husband had inherited it from his father, and he, in turn, from his father. It looked dilapidated when seen from outside, with its thatched roof, and old walls, and the paint crumbling from them; but gave a warm sense of homeliness inside. It seemed like it would fall down any second, but she knew that it was built, and cared for in a time when things were made to last; and she trusted that her home would not give up on her so easily. They had received many offers for that particular piece of land, but she would not hear of them. To her, this was the family home; the only place for her to raise a family. Her husband had almost given in to an offer once, but she had flatly refused to move out of the house, and that was that. She shared a special connection with the house. She made it a home, and in turn, the house never failed her. She had an extraordinary sense regarding the house. She knew which tile would be loose; she knew when the water pipe was going to clog; she knew when a bulb was about to burn out; nothing escaped her notice at home. And her home did not escape her care. All of it was under her protection. It was another member of her family.<br />
<br />
Times change; people do not. Many years passed by seeing her follow the same routine. It was a good life. It was a simple life. And she lived it as she had always known life to be. But contentment breeds stagnation, and in turn, decay. Her daughter had grown up. Champa could no longer teach her for school. The day came when her daughter moved to college. Times were hard, and with their daughter's fees and other expenses, the only option left to the couple was to move to a cheaper house. The day they moved, the house was put on the market. It was also the day she cried as she hadn't in a long time, for she had lost family. She touched the walls one last time, and whispered her sweet nothings to the house. The farewell wrenched her heart out, but there was no reply. As she turned away, never to set sight at her beloved home again, she felt some part of her being lost forever. That night, the water tank developed a leak, and flooded the garden.<br />
<br />
The house was in a very prime spot, and was soon bought by a young, working couple who were just getting comfortable to a married life. He was a technology consultant. She was a banker. They hardly had the time to eat food, let alone eat it together. They woke up at their respective schedules, got ready and left for their jobs. The house sat silent all day till the time they returned in the evening. For a few weeks, everything was hale and hearty, and the young couple's life went without incident. Unnoticed by them though, cracks began to appear in the beams and pillars. They day the couple noticed that something was wrong was the day the air was filled with the stench of the septic tank. It had cracked on top, releasing the noxious fumes in the entire house. A mason was called to fix the leak, and he did, but he highly recommended that they repair the entire house, for it was a surprise that it was still standing. The couple did not have time, and forgot the advice. A few days later, all of the paint which barely clung to the walls, fell down in the afternoon. That evening saw a look of disbelief in the couple's eyes when they came home. They called a contractor to know what was going on. The contractor couldn't say why the paint fell off, but advised the couple to move out, as it seemed the house was old, and dying.<br />
<br />
The house was put on sale again, but rumors spread that it was haunted, and none would touch it, even with a ten foot pole. The state of disrepair that the house was in gave it an even more sinister look. Weeds grew in the courtyard. The bare cement and rods which were visible now that the paint had fallen off, gave an eerie feeling of looking at a skeleton. Scales from the roof fell down, leaving no defense to the interiors against the elements. Only a shadow of the former house was left, deprived of any care and tending. Locals avoided it at all costs. No workers would even demolish it. It stood there against the urban landscape, a ruin of a house, the spectre of a home. The house detoriated, till one night, it crumbled quietly. Neighbours did not hear it fall. But a lone figure standing beside it, clad in a black robe, heard its final sigh.<br />
<br />
The next day, an obituary was published in the newspaper. "We regret to inform you of the demise of Mrs. Champaben Patel, who was a mother, a wife, and a homemaker. She had won many battles in her lifetime, but she lost her final one to cancer."<br />
<br />
END<br />
<br />
For my grandmother, who understood me. Khushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02468817574902437220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410625515081331407.post-54916390795108575912014-05-14T21:21:00.002+05:302014-05-14T21:22:37.746+05:30The man who flew<br />
<h3>
I</h3>
<h3>
</h3>
There was once a man,<br />
a thirsty man to boot.<br />
He had always, in his head, a plan,<br />
one you could never uproot.<br />
<br />
A man who laughed at others,<br />
for their unthinking conformity.<br />
One untouched by their flutters,<br />
Ironclad in his solidarity.<br />
<br />
For he believed in himself,<br />
the one who didn't deceive.<br />
And on a plan for oneself,<br />
sneers are greatly received.<br />
<br />
He began as one among millions,<br />
just a face lost amongst others.<br />
But twas' not his wont to be a pillion,<br />
and slowly he rose from the gutters.<br />
<br />
Calmly but surely, step by step,<br />
he crawled and caught many eyes.<br />
Struggling alone, without any help,<br />
he became the lotus among flies.<br />
<br />
For the truly creative cannot be hid,<br />
It will always shine on through.<br />
The river cannot be stemmed by a lid,<br />
No matter how much you hew.<br />
<br />
He shocked all with his promises,<br />
Improbable as they seemed.<br />
He asked for trust in his offices,<br />
And he would fulfill all they'd dreamed.<br />
<br />
For the world was not white, black and gray,<br />
It was bursting with colours to him.<br />
And their monochrome minds could not allay,<br />
How he bent the world to his whim.<br />
<br />
He won in the end when the victors were crowned,<br />
For few were as deft as him.<br />
With his win, around him they thronged,<br />
And by her was he seen.<br />
<br />
<h3>
II</h3>
<h3>
</h3>
A woman of mesmerising beauty,<br />
She instantly became his muse.<br />
Enchanted, he swore fealty,<br />
With the only one who could enthuse.<br />
<br />
Her smile entrapped him,<br />
and he forgot the world.<br />
After winning in his work,<br />
he chose to win over this girl.<br />
<br />
He spent his time with her,<br />
both locked away together.<br />
In this world their soft murmurs,<br />
washed away other flavours.<br />
<br />
His conquestin' nature enfeebled,<br />
for his attentions were now spread.<br />
And his vast energies trembled,<br />
for to this enchanting beauty twere' fed.<br />
<br />
Such romance was never felt,<br />
as he harked in his bosom now.<br />
He felt his strong heart melt,<br />
and a smile upon his brow.<br />
<br />
Together they did many a start,<br />
fulfilling all their whims;<br />
For he could never get enough of her heart,<br />
and she could never get enough of him.<br />
<br />
Their wedding was much talked about,<br />
a grand occasion, and gay.<br />
Many an attendee did exclain,<br />
"They look happy now, don't they?"<br />
<br />
With a new emotion his heart burnt,<br />
Ignoring all his known laws.<br />
For the first time in his life he learnt,<br />
what happiness truly was.<br />
<br />
<h3>
III</h3>
<h3>
</h3>
We leave our couple here Reader,<br />
For bliss while good is tiring.<br />
Cut to plenty of years later,<br />
In their house what was this rising?<br />
<br />
A married man, paled by age,<br />
The struggling intensity lost.<br />
A wife who had lost her entourage,<br />
As against the years she fought.<br />
<br />
Routine had mechanized them,<br />
Boredom never gave up it's onslaught.<br />
Slowly losing its sheen did this gem,<br />
Mark the present as a blot.<br />
<br />
Turning towards those he had ignored,<br />
He begged for resuscitation.<br />
And because he was bored,<br />
He drifted away to self-brought isolation.<br />
<br />
There she came to him upon a waking dream,<br />
Carrying him away on her wings.<br />
Her form, all which he could glean,<br />
Perfection greater than all things.<br />
<br />
An angel or some vision,<br />
He couldn't discern.<br />
All he felt was an interest arisen,<br />
And so his sense he adjourned.<br />
<br />
A land far away was he taken to,<br />
Where time held no meaning.<br />
Space had restrictions few,<br />
And he felt as if he was dreaming.<br />
<br />
Wonders were heaped upon wonders,<br />
Creatures unseen by any.<br />
He played with magnificient thunder,<br />
While riding a griffin with Marc Antony.<br />
<br />
Jumping off his ride,<br />
What did he see?<br />
Off far to his side,<br />
A river full of memory?<br />
<br />
A river twas' of the waters of time,<br />
And so he swam upstream.<br />
Through the history of the world he climbed,<br />
Unravelling all twisted schemes.<br />
<br />
Right upto the source he swam,<br />
And came to the final prize;<br />
A place entered with a slam!<br />
Nothingness of unbeknowst size.<br />
<br />
And it was in a very, very long time;<br />
That he had felt this.<br />
This was a known clime;<br />
The calm before battle's bliss.<br />
<br />
<h3>
IV</h3>
<h3>
</h3>
He floated around in the perfect silence,<br />
A babe in his mother's womb.<br />
Till it seems he ran out of license;<br />
And reality crept in like his doom.<br />
<br />
His eyes opened wide,<br />
Bloodshot to the view;<br />
The world at large,<br />
Was thrown askew.<br />
<br />
He glanced around,<br />
to an empty house.<br />
Familiar environs,<br />
But a deserted browse.<br />
<br />
For he had lost his love;<br />
his life in this haze.<br />
As he prayed to gods above,<br />
He realized his own caused blaze.<br />
<br />
He thought back to,<br />
his empty dream.<br />
What sight he construed,<br />
a hollow sheen.<br />
<br />
And He realised as he came alive,<br />
Sorrow is a more genuine emotion than happiness.<br />
And homeless in his house he cried,<br />
A broken man at final close.Khushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02468817574902437220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410625515081331407.post-51781244518612505102014-04-02T19:06:00.001+05:302014-04-02T19:06:21.727+05:30Why don't you have a purpose?So today, I got my first Quora A2A :D.<br />
<br />
While it was for an unexpected question, I sure did want to answer it.<br />
Here's the answer on the original question: <a href="http://qr.ae/vrIoa">http://qr.ae/vrIoa</a><br />
<br />
Here's a transcript.<br />
Q: God made me, gave me my family, gave me life that I may enjoy all things, but why didn't he give me a purpose?<br />
A: <span href="http://www.quora.com/God-made-me-God-gave-me-my-family-God-gave-me-life-that-I-may-enjoy-all-things-but-why-God-didnt-give-me-a-purpose?__snids__=381211360&__nsrc__=4&share=1#" id="__w2_Mx9Ky7k_toggle_link"><span id="ld_ylxzuz_1237"><span id="ld_ngqsel_499"><span class="inline_editor_value">Let's imagine this from the viewpoint of God.<br /><br />He
creates the world. He creates the flora and fauna. They are sentient,
but it's not really exciting. He knows that this bird is going to eat
that worm, that bird is going to be eaten by this animal, that animal is
going to die, and then the worms are going to eat him again. He does
this for ages and ages. But he's bored. He stirs up his creative juices,
and creates dinosaurs. This is gonna be interesting, he thinks. And for
a while, he is entertained. Those humungous beasts, with razor sharp
claws and scythes for teeth, all of them fighting for survival. The
special effects are amazing. But like all games with graphics and no
game-play, it is only interesting for a while. He's bored again. Though
the dance of the dinosaurs is so much cooler, they're essentially doing
the same thing as before. They just eat, sleep, and reproduce.<br /><br />In
a fit of brilliance, he injects some of his consciousness and
intelligence and creates man. He makes them puny as compared to the
dinosaurs, but he makes them social animals. He gives the handful men
that exist a purpose, and then watches them. And likes it at first. The
new ones are interesting. They walk on only two legs, and their use of
the hands is so much fun! They make tools. They make weapons. They
discover fire, and how to make it on their own. God is surprised at the
speed of their machinations. They invent a way to properly express ideas
amongst each other without ambiguity! They have invented a language!
God wonders whether these new players aren't too strong. They know their
purpose, and are advancing in the game too fast! To balance it out, he
yanks out their purpose-programming, leaving a void where it used to
stay.<br /><br />Man feels this sudden void inside of him when he awakens
the next day. Man is stumped at feeling so incomplete, where once he
knew what needed to be done, and could advance down a definite path, he
now has to think for himself about his future. He does not have that
stern, unbending voice inside him guiding him to God's purpose. Instead,
Man is confused. God loves this. It's a twist in the tale. It's
something new. He now waits with bated breath to see what Man will do.<br /><br />Man,
meanwhile, turns inwards. The intelligent ones understand what is
missing. They study their thoughts. They study life. They know that they
don't have a divine purpose anymore. They tell the rest of the Men that
you are now free to do what you want to do. Your chains have been cut
off, and you can be the creators of magic. But Men didn't understand.
They are used to knowing what exactly to do, and are left in disarray.
Some of them, see an opportunity. They rise up to the mantle of the
leaders, and give the rest a purpose. They create nations. They wage
wars. They promote philosophy and science. They create goals, and sell
them to the rest of the Men. And Men become slaves again. For the rest
of the story, read history.<br /><br />God meanwhile, has invented popcorn.
He sits and watches from his pedestal about the variety which he has
brought about by this one change. He congratulates himself. And he
relaxes after this long hard day to reap the harvest of his efforts. His
popcorn has just the right amount of salt, and his humans are just
hungry enough that he doesn't need to make changes. And he lives happily
ever after.<br /><br />P.S. Because you don't have an ingrained purpose,
you have the power to choose! You can become an artist, a scientist, a
gamer, a humanitarian. All avenues lie open at your feet. Can you
imagine how dull life would be if you knew what you had to do in life?
You'd just be grinding away all day, everyday at the same thing. You can
do whatever you want. Whatever pleases you.</span></span></span></span> <span href="http://www.quora.com/God-made-me-God-gave-me-my-family-God-gave-me-life-that-I-may-enjoy-all-things-but-why-God-didnt-give-me-a-purpose?__snids__=381211360&__nsrc__=4&share=1#" id="__w2_Mx9Ky7k_toggle_link"><span id="ld_ylxzuz_1237"><span id="ld_ngqsel_499"><span class="inline_editor_value"><span href="http://www.quora.com/God-made-me-God-gave-me-my-family-God-gave-me-life-that-I-may-enjoy-all-things-but-why-God-didnt-give-me-a-purpose?__snids__=381211360&__nsrc__=4&share=1#" id="__w2_Mx9Ky7k_toggle_link"><span id="ld_ylxzuz_1237"><span id="ld_bioonz_1062"><span class="inline_editor_value">You are god's final creation, and have the freedom to become something which you will like and respect.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span href="http://www.quora.com/God-made-me-God-gave-me-my-family-God-gave-me-life-that-I-may-enjoy-all-things-but-why-God-didnt-give-me-a-purpose?__snids__=381211360&__nsrc__=4&share=1#" id="__w2_Mx9Ky7k_toggle_link"><span id="ld_ylxzuz_1237"><span id="ld_ngqsel_499"><span class="inline_editor_value"><span href="http://www.quora.com/God-made-me-God-gave-me-my-family-God-gave-me-life-that-I-may-enjoy-all-things-but-why-God-didnt-give-me-a-purpose?__snids__=381211360&__nsrc__=4&share=1#" id="__w2_Mx9Ky7k_toggle_link"><span id="ld_ylxzuz_1237"><span id="ld_bioonz_1062"><span class="inline_editor_value"> </span></span></span></span><br />But please, make it interesting. Don't let God get bored.</span></span></span></span> Khushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02468817574902437220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410625515081331407.post-60925180666749890102014-03-20T17:22:00.006+05:302014-03-21T12:41:46.858+05:30The Aghoris<a href="http://qr.ae/nWOQ4" target="_blank">http://qr.ae/nWOQ4 </a><br />
<br />
Upon reading this answer, someone asked me: Your heroes?<br />
My answer: No. But I understand their quest. I understand the lusting for knowing the unknown that they do. I know the clarity of mind which is brought about. The absolute brilliance with which your mind rises above the mediocre and revels with the gods. Where it rises above time and space into the infinite, and you see yourself for the nothingness that you truly are. You see your decisions having no effect; you see the futility of conciousness. You see that nature's greatest gift to man is also their greatest curse.<br />
<br />
People? Bah! Animals are better in most respects than those who profess to be better than them. Do you see what humans do? They destroy their mother. They kill each other. They kill other creatures (human arrogance). Why? So that they can feel like they have achieved something. And for what? Nought will come out of it all. The ultimate answer to the perennial human void is to become one with nature. Because from dust have we risen, and to dust shall we return.<br />
<br />
But we don't get that. And so we wander on, closing ourselves off to our true nature, to our true selves. The selfish pursuit of our narrow goals will lead to the ultimate downfall of humanity. To our death as a species. Do you get it?Khushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02468817574902437220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410625515081331407.post-10551418116514066172014-03-20T15:03:00.003+05:302014-03-20T15:03:54.721+05:30The tale of the manager<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is the tale of a manager, <br />
Most perfect as can be found.<br />
Her name spread around far and wide, <br />
as the one who did not grind.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And employees came, <br />
but they never left, <br />
for her charisma, <br />
Kept them all bound.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She made a world, <br />
where you were all friends, <br />
and office was a breeze; <br />
all bonded together as one whole group, <br />
and achieved your goals with ease.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There were no secrets in her team, <br />
No silences to be found.<br />
They laughed together, <br />
and worked together,<br />
to get significant results.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And employees came, <br />
but they never left, <br />
for her presence, <br />
Kept them all bound.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Even if they came with a pot full of luck, <br />
and an empty pot of skill; <br />
she guided and prodded them on and on, <br />
till by knowledge they were filled.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She told them their little mistakes, <br />
and they in turn told her hers.<br />
And the hobbits that joined her team, <br />
Were now stalwarts in their field.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And employees came,<br />
but they never left,<br />
for her management,<br />
Kept them all in bound.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Her results were exceptional,<br />
She enabled them to succeed.<br />
And her trust in all of them; <br />
was just that which they need.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Her voice was clear, <br />
as were her thoughts; <br />
there was never any doubt.<br />
And even if there were changes, <br />
it was quietly done without flout.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And employees came,<br />
but they never left,<br />
for her trust,<br />
Kept them all bound.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Freedom they were all given, <br />
to excel and create.<br />
Even wacky ideas still, <br />
got a hearing till their fate.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After office, she let you free, <br />
for she did know to let go. <br />
After 6 after all, <br />
you are under your home manager’s rule.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And employees came,<br />
but they never left,<br />
for her freedom,<br />
Kept them all bound.</div>
Khushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02468817574902437220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410625515081331407.post-29359848681656767852014-03-03T13:39:00.002+05:302014-03-03T13:41:23.246+05:30The crow's callThere came a sound of loud proportions,<br />
A carrion cry of the uncounted legions;<br />
Which sitting atop his high throne,<br />
The dealmaker could not make undone.<br />
<br />
He sat burdened by these thoughts of his,<br />
Alive now in a reality shrouded by mist;<br />
And peering out his window did he see,<br />
A solitary crow perched upon a tree.<br />
<br />
And the crow cawed in hoarse abandon,<br />
Of the deeds to be done, under that sun.<br />
<br />
The battlefield lay empty and bare,<br />
Of all life there was none to care.<br />
For corpses lay littered where lillies had been,<br />
And scavengers roamed where once there was green.<br />
<br />
Hyenas and vultures did share in the loot;<br />
Their appetite did it splendid suit.<br />
And amongst these was a single speck,<br />
Of the darkest black, a raven sat.<br />
<br />
And the crow cried in hoarse abandon,<br />
Of deeds that were done, under that sun.<br />
<br />
It started a spark,<br />
Grew into a blaze.<br />
The perpertuators gaze,<br />
Smiled at the brown haze.<br />
<br />
Untold lives were destroyed that day;<br />
Such upon which human eyes never lay.<br />
For their greed did blind to all but the sheen,<br />
Of gold, solely worthy they deemed.<br />
<br />
Barren land was all that was left,<br />
Under the war machines handled so deft.<br />
And the black spectre was present that day,<br />
Mourning the loss of its home; its lay.<br />
<br />
And the crow cawed in hoarse abandon,<br />
For deeds that were done, under that sun.<br />
<br />
The mother's answer came at last,<br />
Her final cry was felt as a blast.<br />
All in her quiver were called to bear,<br />
The judgement for all from her ire.<br />
<br />
Enough had she suffered the vagaries of creations,<br />
The uncaring destruction by her children.<br />
This was her last answer,<br />
The cure to her own cancer.<br />
<br />
The seas rose at her beckoning,<br />
Slowly they crawled, ever consuming;<br />
The ground shattered, swallowing,<br />
For the clean slate she was making.<br />
<br />
Up in the air, the realm of the tempests,<br />
One as never seen before tested;<br />
Gobbling up all it finds,<br />
All-pervasive it shall grind.<br />
<br />
Till the time when mother quiets,<br />
And looks at the aftermath of her riots;<br />
For guilt at seeing all being barren,<br />
For they were bad, but were her children.<br />
<br />
And no crow would caw in hoarse abandon,<br />
For the deeds that were done, under that sun.Khushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02468817574902437220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410625515081331407.post-33890604423193825082014-01-14T22:54:00.002+05:302014-01-14T22:54:47.498+05:30This is romantic!She was beautiful, but not like those girls in magazines. She was beautiful for the way she thought. She was beautiful for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved. No, she wasn't beautiful for something as temporary for her looks. She was beautiful, deep down to her soul. And that is why I fell for her. Because even if I burn out, she will take care of me. I know that is incredibly selfish, but she makes up for all of it by just being there.Khushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02468817574902437220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410625515081331407.post-64347765303120653552013-12-23T02:16:00.000+05:302013-12-23T02:16:23.651+05:30StarchasingIn pursuit of stars,<br />
<div style="-qt-block-indent: 0; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">
I run and I run;</div>
<div style="-qt-block-indent: 0; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">
Away from plush bars,</div>
<div style="-qt-block-indent: 0; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">
To get my knots undone.</div>
<div style="-qt-block-indent: 0; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-qt-block-indent: 0; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">
The city thrums around me;</div>
<div style="-qt-block-indent: 0; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">
The garish blare of electric lights,</div>
<div style="-qt-block-indent: 0; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">
And I long to break free,</div>
<div style="-qt-block-indent: 0; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">
To the soft beams of simple starlight.</div>
<div style="-qt-block-indent: 0; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-qt-block-indent: 0; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">
Oh woe be unto me,</div>
<div style="-qt-block-indent: 0; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">
For here 'tis nowhere to be found.</div>
<div style="-qt-block-indent: 0; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">
I must away now flee,</div>
<div style="-qt-block-indent: 0; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">
From all this noisy city sound.</div>
<div style="-qt-block-indent: 0; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-qt-block-indent: 0; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">
I take course away from man,
</div>
<div style="-qt-block-indent: 0; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">
The silent road forgotten by my kind.</div>
<div style="-qt-block-indent: 0; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">
And so without a plan,</div>
<div style="-qt-block-indent: 0; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">
I seek whatever I shall find.</div>
<div style="-qt-block-indent: 0; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-qt-block-indent: 0; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">
The milestones fall away,</div>
<div style="-qt-block-indent: 0; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">
A blur of yellow and white;</div>
<div style="-qt-block-indent: 0; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">
I look for where to stay,</div>
<div style="-qt-block-indent: 0; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">
In the dark of the night.</div>
<div style="-qt-block-indent: 0; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-qt-block-indent: 0; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">
A deserted hill beckons,</div>
<div style="-qt-block-indent: 0; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">
And I tread on it's feet.</div>
<div style="-qt-block-indent: 0; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">
An untrailed hill I walk on;</div>
For there's a multitude I must meet.<br />
<br />
A monochrome canvas lies ahead;<br />
Bare weeds welcome me.<br />
I chart a path unafraid,<br />
To the top of the hill steep.<br />
<br />
Reaching the peak I turn up,<br />
And O! What do I see?<br />
The heavens do open up;<br />
And I'm taken in by glee.<br />
<br />
Far from the shining brights,<br />
I seem to have come to my destination.<br />
A new world within my sights,<br />
I let the present slip into hibernation.<br />
<br />
What can be a more soothing sight,<br />
Than this dance of twinkles and white.<br />
Finally my mind has no fight;<br />
Within the solace of gentle starlight.<br />
<br />
The crickets chime a steady rhythm;<br />
The hum of the earth fills me.<br />
Peace at last, extolled in a hymn,<br />
For my soul has returned to me.Khushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02468817574902437220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410625515081331407.post-86332568140526184292013-11-15T21:52:00.001+05:302013-11-15T22:10:46.791+05:30The WanderersThis is for those who never stop and stay,<br />
Those whom life never lets astray.<br />
For they do not have a set path,<br />
And for whom there is no hold steadfast.<br />
<br />
They might be awalkin' amongst you guys,<br />
Haunted souls who never seem unalive.<br />
Either bristling with uncontained energy,<br />
Or roving the depths, they will be!<br />
<br />
Those who seem to have no home,<br />
Roaming about like a vagabond.<br />
Shooed wherever they might go,<br />
By the others or their own heart's flow.<br />
<br />
They're restless like a hungry fly,<br />
And will be till the day they die.<br />
For nothing will ever close the gap,<br />
Their hearts posses, wide and agape.<br />
<br />
They'll be a part of your life, Oh sure!<br />
But constrain them and they'll make you sore.<br />
For free spirits as them you'll never see,<br />
Rebellious much, wild and free.<br />
<br />
A speck is all that's left of them,<br />
Once they're out and filled with phlegm.<br />
And never will you see them again,<br />
For they have places to be and things to attend.<br />
<br />
Of course, what these be, they have no clue;<br />
Fate springs it upon, out of the blue.<br />
Making sure there's not a single day,<br />
That they are a part of mediocrity's play.<br />
<br />
They yearn for a land unextant,<br />
Where they can live unmendicant.<br />
A place where they might be at peace,<br />
From the others' selfish greed.<br />
<br />
These people they walk alone,<br />
Sauntering, humming a song.<br />
For who can hope to keep company,<br />
To a soul which doesn't know it's symphony.<br />
<br />
They're the stragglers that you see lying around,<br />
When you're too busy running on with your frown;<br />
Those for whom you laugh and say,<br />
They're hopeless! They'll never be sane!<br />
<br />
What can they do, when their flute;<br />
Plays a haunting melody of disrepute.<br />
Do they simply be a part,<br />
Of your unquestioning farce?<br />
<br />
You ask too much to wish for that,<br />
They cannot be actors playing a part.<br />
For one they know to be true,<br />
The song will never lead them askew.<br />
<br />
It might be a marching ballad,<br />
That will make your limbs glad;<br />
Or a funeral hymn,<br />
Making your existence grim.<br />
<br />
Whatever the song, and whatever the circumstance,<br />
However they're treated by happenstance.<br />
But one thing that will hold still,<br />
Is in the end, the song, their whim.<br />
<br />
These people, they might not amount to much,<br />
Roaming around without direction or lust;<br />
They might not lead forward man's way,<br />
Or make millions in one swell lay.<br />
<br />
They might not be known by all,<br />
They might not be around when you fall.<br />
They might not do what you say,<br />
They will never shy away.<br />
<br />
But to you, I do salute,<br />
For in a world shamelessly lewd.<br />
You are the only one left,<br />
True to their hearts' heft.<br />
<br />
You know who you are,<br />
O lost ones!<br />
Silent specters,<br />
With sharp spectacles.<br />
<br />
Know that you have a friend in me,<br />
Someone to count on in need.<br />
For if you are truly a wanderer,<br />
You have in me a fellow traveler.Khushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02468817574902437220noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410625515081331407.post-34683909237109758652013-11-12T20:53:00.001+05:302013-11-12T21:06:53.105+05:30I've been busy!Terribly, terribly busy. With the horribly tangled up PRs, to the constant pounding in the back of my head to write my SOP; it's just been one blurry hustle of procrastination and scrambling attempts at writing a passable SOP. Anyways, I seem to have gotten somewhere with it. Along with exercising, eating healthier, and being more positive, it seems like I CAN be positive. Humph. Who knew. Anyways, I hope even if(when?) the positive outlook recedes, I can still keep up the other healthier habits. It is true what they say, you know, a healthy body leads to a healthy mind!<br />
<br />
Anyways, cheer up. Weird coming from my mouth, but get going. Don't just do something, sit there!<br />
<br />
On the topic of my writing, I just don't seem to get in to the mood nowadays. Pragmatism has pulled me out of the comforting womb of romanticism which I used to float around in earlier. But anyways, with the recent changes, I hope to get lost and find the womb again. Mothers have that effect. They brighten up your life ;).<br />
<br />
There's this project I've been working on. More of a social experiment, really. Let's see if it works out. It is really going to be a test of my developed social abilities. Khushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02468817574902437220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410625515081331407.post-13149851356899284072013-09-18T16:41:00.001+05:302013-09-18T16:43:54.515+05:30HiatusI seem to have taken a hiatus from writing poems. I know it looks like that from the two stories in succession, but it'll come. It's just a break, and I'm really enjoying the different style in which the stories have been written. I might seem awfully full of myself when I tell you that 'the stories have been written', but trust me, that's how it is. I don't have absolute control when, and how, they are penned, or in some cases, typed. They're two different, beautiful mediums through which I hope to express something.<br />
<br />
A short story is an idea in your head. It's there in pure form, swallowing you in completely till you pay attention to it. And then you try to grasp it; to understand it completely, but come back burnt from the experience, because such purity is not for us mortals. The moment you touch it, you know that you are not capable of handling it. You can't even look at it now without shielding yourself. That's when you take the help of the wonderful invention called words. You wrap your idea all around, like a newborn babe, with infallible words to shield yourself from the sheer intensity. You wrap them softly around the idea, leaving just enough to get a small, loving glance at it. And then you brand your thoughts down, solidifying the infantile form burning bright, forming the words on paper which you know will last.<br />
<br />
Poems are a different matter altogether. A poem is like an impromptu dance. Just like at the beginning of the dance, you hear the crescendo of the music, swelling to the point where you just start dancing, so it is with poems. It ruminates in you for a long time, and you feel it coming on, greater and greater, to the point where you must listen to it. It leads you on, to it's own rhyme and rhythm, till you are lost inside it's world. Your pen flies across the landscape of the paper, like a ballerina flitting across the stage; a black swan at it's peak. You are guided by the music, setting the tone of it all, though the steps are your own. And when it is time for the dance to get over, you feel the climax coming, and you build into this frenzy, up to the moment of revelation, when it is all complete. The epiphany, where it all falls into place. And then it's over. And you can go back now.Khushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02468817574902437220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410625515081331407.post-25088087803719568142013-08-26T15:30:00.002+05:302013-08-26T17:09:39.665+05:30DogsI have always been afraid of dogs. People say it's because I'm a girl, but I don't believe that's true. I remember a few drunk friends of mine, female, ferociously attacking dogs when barked at, so I don't think that stereotype holds for most girls. Anyway, it does hold for me. I am almost paralysed when dogs come running to me. They might be called cute, but in my eyes they are ferocious creatures which have no shred of mercy in them. If you've ever experienced a dog running towards at full gallop, mouth open, teeth bared, barking a blood-curling howl, eyes fixed on you, ready to tear you to pieces; you know what I'm talking about. I've had a few encounters with dogs in my day. It usually involves a bunch of hungry dogs sensing my fear, and surrounding me, ready to strike. A passerby, or a bystander usually comes to my rescue, as I'd be frozen in place. For this reason, I never walk alone in isolated places.<br />
<br />
I have this friend, one of those people who gets lost from time to time. He is usually quite coherent, but there are phases where he seems to get off the sane train, and talk in abstract ciphers. They do seem to make some kind of sense, but I cannot guess the context, or his meaning. He is a nature person, and I've often felt like he's better off with nature than with us. Anyway, our interactions are somewhat sporadic, since he doesn't like to talk using modern implements. He prefers face to face. So whenever he'd come around, we'd meet, and talk. He lived in Mumbai, and I in Bangalore, which is a huge distance. But he'd usually visit about once every two months, so we'd meet up to have a drink. He was one of those people who was always calm, so I always felt safe around him. I've never seen him so angry that he'd lose his wits. He's handled every situation I've seen him in, in a composed manner, much like a conductor gracefully handling his orchestra.<br />
<br />
He had come to visit this September, and as usual we met up for drinks. We like to try new places, and this time, we went to a bar in a somewhat remote area of Bangalore. He was happy as I had never seen him before, for he was getting married to the love of his life. He was particularly outspoken in his joy, and we spent a lot of time in the bar. I had never seen him open up like that day. In his infectious zest, we both ended up drinking a lot. It was quite late, and the server ushered us out saying that it was closing time. The sky was pitch black, with no moon in sight. There were flickering street lights at long intervals, and in the distance they looked like an airplane landing strip. The whole sight was eerie, and I had a strong sense of foreboding. We started walking along the winding path, following the lights. It was a kaccha road, a mixture of mud and asphalt which threaded the line between making you feel like you were walking in slush, and yet it was solid enough to be called a road. We were too drunk to care anyway, and we started walking. It was a few kilometres to my place, and we decided to just walk, for it didn't look like we would be getting any transport anytime soon. I was scared, but he had this reassuring aura about him, so I felt safe. We walked, chattering about trivialities, and remembering past times.<br />
<br />
We had reached a wide spot of road, just under a street light, when I sensed movement around me. I don't know what it was, but there was definitely something moving around me. There was not a soul all around us, and it was deserted as far as the eye could see. I got scared. The first indication of what it was, was a growl rising in a crescendo. The sound brought the world around me into sudden focus, and I could now make out the outlines of several dogs in the fringes of the light. The single growl was joined by more, each more wicked than the last. I felt the pangs of paralysis rising up within me. They gained complete control of me once the dogs started barking. I froze in place, my eyes locked on the dangerous creatures in front of me. There were six dogs which I could see, and they were poised to strike. Their jaws split wide, teeth sparkling in the light, saliva dripping to the road in large dollops. Their eyes were trained on us, as if waiting for us to make the next move. Standing in a loose circle, they seemed to be closing in. I felt trapped from all sides, and unable to move. This was the end.<br />
<br />
I felt a warm hand around me, and looked to the side to see him holding me. He whispered slowly, "Don't worry. You're with me. I'll take care of this." I should have been relieved, but I was in survival mode, and in no mood to trust him. I don't remember what exactly happened next. He raised his hand slowly, like politicians in India do to quiet crowds. Slowly murmuring "Sshhh...", he turned to each dog, as if pacifying them. His voice was mesmerising somehow, and in my muddled state, it was inviting. He was firm and strict. I don't know how it worked, but the dogs were starting to shut up. The ones who were first addressed stopped barking, and the effect spread to the rest of the pack. They all looked just as ferocious and blood-thirsty, but they weren't barking. He pulled me forward, holding me tight, and we walked out of the circle while all the dogs were watching us. I did not comprehend what had just happened, just that we were out of the circle. We kept walking. I felt exhausted, and in no mood to talk. Holding me, he dropped me home, where I instantly fell asleep.<br />
<br />
I sometimes still get flashes of what happened that night, but those dogs never barked at me again.Khushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02468817574902437220noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410625515081331407.post-64500575213675349052013-08-23T12:03:00.000+05:302013-08-23T12:09:23.394+05:30The moonlight fieldI was on another one of my moonlight strolls through the asphalt streets of the city. My companion walked beside me in absolute silence. Words were but a hindrance in the absolute oneness of our companionship, and we were silent. The roads were completely deserted but for us, making us feel like gods. We walked along, our breaths misting in the cold air, our bodies walking parallel.<br />
<br />
An empty field crept up alongside the path, making it seem like the world ended on that side. It had a wall along it's border, one of those dilapidated things which have become one with nature. They have no sense of beginning or end, simply rising up off the ground. The trees are intertwined with the large stones forming it, as if the architect had planned it all along. Even their shapes, formed by the ruthless tides of nature, seem to be their destiny. It felt like we were meant to be gazing on it at this moment. We took a seat on the wall, huddled together, blowing warm breath onto our hands.<br />
<br />
Staring back at us from the light mists was a dark foreboding of not being alone. It was almost pitch black, with only the eerie light of the moon lighting up the field. The wind slowly shook the fog like a puppet master tuning his strings. We could see a few plants large enough to be seen on the field. Apart from that, the field seemed entirely empty, with the uneven floor like waves frozen mid-motion. The mists seemed to crystallize, and shapes formed before our eyes. I blinked a few times, just to make sure, but it wasn't a trick of the eyes. The shapes seemed to be moving around without any apparent pattern, just flitting from one place to the next. Some of them collided, and wisps seemed to emanate from them. The longer I looked, the sharper their features became, till I realized with a start that they looked like children. Little children lost in some game they were playing. Sounds wafted in our direction; inhuman high-pitched shrieks which would have otherwise worried me, seemed perfectly fine tonight. Unaware of our existence, they continued their rambunctious play, sounding like the joyous wail of a new-born on his birth. They looked like little puffs of clouds, but on closer inspection, one could see how unnaturally they bent the light, and how they stood out from the mists in the background. They were translucent, their bodies shaped like ghosts from the kids' show on television. I couldn't make out their faces, but there was definitely a human face there.<br />
<br />
Floating around each other, one chased another, to the point where they collided, and then started chasing another. The collision broke the form of the ghost, like a smoker's smoke disrupting the existing flow temporarily. A trail formed, like the ghost had just dived in water, and drove the water apart. The form combined again out of the smoke, and the game continued. There were those standing on the edge of the playing field, who moved but little, and inside, who were running like ants toward food. The shrieks came from those inside, as if they were the only ones having fun. The outer ghosts were quiet, standing protectively in a circle, guarding the ones inside. The children made sure not to break this line. The outers made no sound, but silently hovered in a large circumference. They seemed like guards protecting the innocent play. Silent spectres, they gave off the scent of danger which so easily scares me. I don't know what it was; whether it was the cold in the air, the sense of danger instilled by the outers, or my disbelief at the sight before me, I started shivering. My companion held me tenderly, patting my back to stop the shivers. Our arms entwined, we went back to the sight before us, mesmerized by the strange game in front of us.<br />
<br />
The sound of tires on asphalt came rumbling along the road, followed by headlights from a car making a turn. We turned towards the light and were temporarily blinded. Accustomed to the darkness, the light seemed bizarre, like a bad cherry in a perfectly baked cake. It went by as soon as it had come, but the effects lasted longer. We turned back to our playground, but it was empty.<br />
<br />
The mists had become bare again. The sounds had been muted. Where ghosts were twittering about earlier, there was only silence. The scene was as drab as a cemetery from an old black and white film. A crushing sense of loss filled me. Those forms had been my life for a few moments before, and now they were gone. Where they had being playing in gay abandon, there were now depressing mists idling by. I didn't understand why beings who were separated from me by an unconquerable abyss affected me so much. Beings who were so different, formless, and shapeless, so deeply affected me. I didn't have a connection to them before this night. They had not influenced me in any way before this. This would possibly just be another memory which would fade away as time passed by and life went on. It could have just been my mind hallucinating at night. And then it came to me.<br />
<br />
I was closer to them.Khushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02468817574902437220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410625515081331407.post-26537647461501539292013-08-14T16:22:00.003+05:302013-08-14T16:22:49.133+05:30The fisherwomanThe stars shone above,<br />
Echoing the world she lost;<br />
Bringing back the time she would bow,<br />
If she had not kept her trust.<br />
<br />
She thought of the toil she had done today,<br />
And her net so full of fish,<br />
She felt content, keeping hunger at bay,<br />
And was ready for tomorrow's dish.<br />
<br />
The smell of the earth and sea,<br />
And the fragrances playing with the falling dusk,<br />
Lulled her into reminiscing sleep,<br />
Calling upon her story of strife and lust.<br />
<br />
She went back to the day,<br />
When she was set free,<br />
Splendidly wrapped, fresh and gay.<br />
Twas the day when she would go to he.<br />
<br />
But in the craze of celebration,<br />
Nobody saw the ominous clouds gathering,<br />
The prince who appeared full of contemplation,<br />
Was the harbinger of death come aridin'.<br />
<br />
The night, eerily silent and long,<br />
He made her a woman full grown;<br />
But with the mornings' first dong,<br />
Her world had grown horribly wrong.<br />
<br />
The madness of power ran strong in him,<br />
While her eyes were full of love.<br />
But in the cocoon, amidst her own whim,<br />
She forgot she wasn't a dove.<br />
<br />
Stepping outside, her ground shattered,<br />
The rapine left her dazed,<br />
And her heart grew ridged, hard and rigid,<br />
Forever closed to his gaze.<br />
<br />
She had lost her father,<br />
Her mother was slain;<br />
And the loss of life she could not gather,<br />
For carrion had eaten all like grain.<br />
<br />
Her head grew hot,<br />
Arms found a strength of their own;<br />
Vengeance for what had been wrought:<br />
The decimation of her own home.<br />
<br />
Plucking the dagger she had got,<br />
She marched to her chamber,<br />
Emanating the laugh begetting the carnage wrought,<br />
She charged forgetting all danger.<br />
<br />
Death stood her in all his glory,<br />
Laughing at her plight,<br />
Feeding of her misery,<br />
And thus began the fight.<br />
<br />
The sounds shook the land;<br />
Twas the fight between death,<br />
And last hope against being damned:<br />
The challenge had been met.<br />
<br />
Lights flashed across the battleground,<br />
This battle of light and dark;<br />
But the darkness surged onward,<br />
Unstoppable against her mere spark.<br />
<br />
Hope had been lost,<br />
The sith forces rejoiced;<br />
For all had been host,<br />
To this parasite voiced.<br />
<br />
None saw the flickering speck,<br />
Still burn like an ember.<br />
And an angel rose to the deck,<br />
Even he felt a shiver.<br />
<br />
The white light blinded all.<br />
The spark birthing the resurgence of<br />
All good, uplifting the pall,<br />
And putting his advance to a stop.<br />
<br />
He who was Death fled the scene,<br />
Never wounded before,<br />
Repelled by a single sheen,<br />
Of she who trusted in her own bore.<br />
<br />
And thus twas that a single girl,<br />
Repelled all death and destruction.<br />
Saving her entire world,<br />
With the sheer force of determination.<br />
<br />
But the engagement had not left her alone,<br />
She became recessed in herself.<br />
For display of purity she did atone,<br />
And now only her eyes betray herself.<br />
<br />
Now run along, leave this old man be.<br />
Your moms beckon,<br />
This is the end of this story.<br />
You might think i'm senile,<br />
But when she wrote history,<br />
I was witness.<br />
<br />
And if you all are joyful today,<br />
'Tis because of this lonely fisher woman.Khushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02468817574902437220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410625515081331407.post-46226495402937901792013-08-13T10:52:00.000+05:302013-08-13T10:52:27.824+05:30Thoughts pennedA little context: I had just started feeling like I could write again for myself, and the first thing I felt like writing was what I was thinking about right then.<br />
<br />
"Bind me not before you know what I can create, but if after having set me free, the wonders I bring forth are not worth my freedom."<br />
<br />
"I love drawing fires, because a fire has no form. It has been as definite as a drop of water, and as scattered as embers in the wind. No matter how you draw a fire, you aren't wrong, because when you draw a fire, you are mirroring yourself back in it; and who you are cannot be wrong!"Khushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02468817574902437220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410625515081331407.post-91305090168519447882013-07-30T22:33:00.000+05:302013-07-30T22:33:15.060+05:30Finally defeated<span dir="ltr" id=":202">He stared away, as the world moved around him,<br />And he rotted inside as he could not bear,</span><br />
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":219">
The needles boring into his soul,</div>
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":241">
The pricks of a mind desolate.</div>
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":241">
</div>
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":241">
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":24g">
He tried and tried, to get away,</div>
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":24h">
But the ghosts haunted him all day,</div>
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":24i">
And when the voices finally stopped,</div>
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":24j">
His walls broken, himself uncorked.</div>
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":24j">
</div>
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":24j">
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":24l">
He was bare to the world,</div>
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":24m">
Open to pain, and all hurt,</div>
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":24n">
And the reapers came and slashed across,</div>
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":24o">
The darkening core this man had got.</div>
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":24o">
</div>
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":24o">
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":24q">
And the fatal miscarriage inside him,</div>
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":273">
His sheared black soul, wearing thin,</div>
<span dir="ltr" id=":279">Was pulled apart and torn away,</span><div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":27d">
To leave a hollow shell astray.</div>
</div>
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":27m">
His hopes and dreams all crushed and strewn,</div>
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":27n">
On the field along with wounded soul hewn,</div>
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":27n">
<span dir="ltr" id=":27v">His withering figure shrunk to his bones,</span></div>
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":27n">
<span dir="ltr" id=":28a">Eyes losing their spark, enervated.</span></div>
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":27n">
<span dir="ltr" id=":28a"> </span></div>
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":27n">
<span dir="ltr" id=":28a"><span dir="ltr" id=":28d">Nowhere to go, he knew what this was,</span></span><span dir="ltr" id=":28e"> </span></div>
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":27n">
<span dir="ltr" id=":28e">His final failure, his disgrace sparked,</span><div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":28f">
And in his final wheezing breaths,</div>
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":28g">
A horrid smile lit up his face.</div>
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":28g">
</div>
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":28g">
For he, who had been king of kings,</div>
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":28g">
<span dir="ltr" id=":28j">Come where his enemies vanquished had been,</span><div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":28k">
The last defeat on that battlefield,</div>
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":28l">
Was the defeat of his conquering soul.<span dir="ltr" id=":28a"></span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
Khushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02468817574902437220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410625515081331407.post-15061417190271042812013-07-16T21:49:00.000+05:302013-07-16T21:50:03.759+05:30Musings on a busWarning: I wrote this while on a bus on a trip with friends to <a href="http://wikitravel.org/en/Kodagu">Coorg</a>, amongst a busy cacophony, so it might not upto the mark, but eh, here goes.<br />
<br />
Sitting in a bus riding along, my thoughts travel alongside. Racing ahead, they seem to always come back to where I am. Even after piercing through the veil of time, they move forward back to where I am.<br />
<br />
My friends and I revel in the simple joy of companionship. No one speaks, because there is no need to. The songs in the background permeate us, taking deeper into ourselves, barely touching the moment. And in the end, it comes down to this.<br />
<br />
The moment.<br />
<br />
Where else will you find joy? Happiness is an abstract concept that I have not identified with, but joy we have all experienced. Be it after a long, tiring day when you get some good tidings, or when you meet someone after a long time. Winning a competition, or achieving something, all those experiences give you joy. And that is something found only in the moment. I seem at a loss to describe it, but suffice to say that I am, at the moment, joyous.<br />
<br />
Speaking about things in the moment, there another feeling that fits the description. It is something so rare today, that you find it only in the fleeting breaks in between our mangles lives. It is peace. The contentment of just being. Another feeling I see around me right now. The world has been reduced to the confines of our bus, and the scenery rapidly falling behind. And it all seems peaceful, like it was meant to be. Ah, which reminds me, let me get out of this reverie, and into my moment ;).Khushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02468817574902437220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410625515081331407.post-73314627433060472622012-02-03T15:14:00.001+05:302013-09-18T17:57:18.032+05:30The madness of men"You are mad",<br />
It has been said,<br />
When times are bad,<br />
and great plans are being laid.<br />
<br />
Scoffed by all,<br />
Even the common folk,<br />
The madman is,<br />
When he uses his yolk.<br />
<br />
For in their own small homes,<br />
Unthinking beyond,<br />
They do now see the mind flown,<br />
The genius spawned.<br />
<br />
For the madman is unlimited, unbound,<br />
By the bonds of the lot,<br />
And once those concerns deleted,<br />
The madman hatches his prodigious plot.<br />
<br />
Such outrageousness, shocks many,<br />
But in the end,<br />
After the death of cacophony,<br />
The madman has made the world bend.<br />
<br />
Such are the geniuses,<br />
Who are labelled mad,<br />
Changing the pretenses,<br />
The dull proletariat had.<br />
<br />
Unimaginable feats are always done,<br />
By men who are mocked all around,<br />
Because a true man all alone,<br />
Is by the feckless always frowned upon.<br />
<br />
But in their hands is the true power,<br />
The power of change,<br />
An evolution they must deliver,<br />
With as little as they can maim.<br />
<br />
This madness is in all my friends,<br />
The faculty, this freedom within,<br />
Why try to be one who simply blends,<br />
When you can a revolution bring!Khushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02468817574902437220noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410625515081331407.post-78681707227556107582011-12-09T20:23:00.001+05:302011-12-09T20:27:17.985+05:30Just me.It's hard to be young nowadays.<br />We have no revolution, no war.<br />
No plagues, and no dictatorship.<br />There's nothing new, because everything ends up being a copy of the copy of an idea that someone else has already had, a long time ago.<br />Religion doesn't hold us anymore.<br />Neither does morality.<br />
<br />We simply face life, and carving it, deal with it and with the people around us.<br />And for me that has become an impossible task.<br />I'd rather have problems like those at the beginning, where it's easier to deal with, because we know what we are supposed to do.<br />But when we face life, we don't know what to expect or how to react to the situations that arise in it.<br />I wish I could think like most of the people, but unfortunately, I don't have that gift.<br />I wish I could ignore my doubts regarding this existence and satisfy myself with the football results, or what's going on TV, on any other futility or convention which might waste my time.<br />But I am restless about my intellect, about my emotions, actions, disappointments and deceptions.<br />Perhaps I have an issue.<br />Perhaps i'm just different.<br />I don't understand why people seek happiness so much.<br />Consuming it incessantly, without caring about what exists beyond it.<br />I believe that life is not only happiness, and that sorrow has a similarly important role in how we see things and deal with them.<br />That may be because I owe much more to sorrow than to happiness.<br />I suppose that a person who has had more happiness than sorrow will think differently.<br />
<br />
But this is just me being me.Khushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02468817574902437220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410625515081331407.post-32633018170158468242011-11-26T09:17:00.001+05:302011-11-26T16:46:14.589+05:30Mistress of my soulOur reunion needs no words, dear,<br />
For there is nothing to say,<br />
You complete me in such a way,<br />
As might a lover to a girl.<br />
<br />
<br />
Mistress of my soul,<br />
How do I speak with you?<br />
For my words meander on your infinity,<br />
And your answer does come from the fall.<br />
It leaves me so enamoured and full,<br />
That I do not even need a beckoning call.<br />
<br />
<br />
How do you know, how to quench this thirst,<br />
And calm my weary quarrelling soul,<br />
The secret which even I do not know,<br />
Even though I hold it in it's earthly hole.<br />
Where do you hide this soothing balm,<br />
This panacea, better than all,<br />
The ultimate serum which through mere sight,<br />
Does push away my untimely pall.<br />
Leaving but my essence to dance with you,<br />
My mortal being silenced for a few.<br />
<br />
<br />
O mother of many, how do you care,<br />
For all like they were your own,<br />
Feeding them, cleansing them, cradling them beside you,<br />
Giving them a home.<br />
<br />
<br />
Why do you let them ravage you so?<br />
Without getting your heartbeat up,<br />
And why do you wreak such havoc and death, <br />
Upon such a slight brawl?<br />
<br />
<br />
Many things you are my dear darling,<br />
But noones to command and call,<br />
For many lovers might die at you feet,<br />
But you are their final sprawl.Khushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02468817574902437220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410625515081331407.post-14818394641350614992011-11-13T15:35:00.001+05:302011-11-13T16:11:44.184+05:30Goodbye.O fair lady of Mazomer, how hast though changed me so?<br />
From the cold, hard guise of a marauder, how has though made me a gentle doe?<br />
For gone are the days, when I was steel.<br />
Entering perilous frays, heart unmoved by the most eerie squeal.<br />
Now a weak mortal I am,<br />
In this bestial world a lamb.<br />
And after all this dis-spiriting wrought,<br />
Why do you leave me in this Hades to rot?Khushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02468817574902437220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410625515081331407.post-75289735844173590372011-10-08T11:47:00.002+05:302011-10-09T08:34:58.642+05:30Brought DownA silent wind whispered through,<br />
The silent brambles of the fall,<br />
Carrying along the brown, dark leaves,<br />
From their withered fragile holds.<br />
<br />
A sign of the coming darkness,<br />
A beacon to hibernation's call,<br />
And all do prepare to hide away,<br />
Inside a fire's warm soft shawl.<br />
<br />
For does come the majestic chill,<br />
Heralding their frozen king,<br />
To take upon his regency,<br />
The reins away from monsoon's pall.<br />
<br />
A monarchy of the cimmerian shade,<br />
Bringing about an anarchy,<br />
An anarchy of deranged minions foul,<br />
Filling these empty pavements with ghouls.<br />
<br />
Their silent howls, call their brethren.<br />
From their deathly coma,<br />
To burst forth from their carapaces,<br />
Into this infernal land.<br />
<br />
They roam upon the barren streets,<br />
Eyeing those cowering inside,<br />
Inside their decrepit homes,<br />
Dithering in this freezing fear.<br />
<br />
Are you ready, O readers,<br />
For this upon us in nigh,<br />
The time when mighty man bows before,<br />
The true csars of this creation.Khushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02468817574902437220noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410625515081331407.post-18737065286233036702011-09-04T13:06:00.003+05:302011-09-04T13:07:17.940+05:30UnionA lonely vagabond was I,<br />
Lost in life’s intricacies.<br />
When woken up was I,<br />
From this epoch dreary.<br />
<br />
The earth was in full unsheathe,<br />
Like a lonely apsara in dance,<br />
Beckoning her lover to bequeath,<br />
But even a glance.<br />
<br />
And what an anwer there was!<br />
Their bodies did entwine,<br />
Their love fell, and twas’<br />
The shower of their liquid sunshine.<br />
<br />
The creatures of this earth and sky,<br />
Rejoiced in the magic.<br />
In the madness of the loving high,<br />
Creating joy from even the tragic!<br />
<br />
The armies of the empyrean,<br />
The dark and mighty legions,<br />
Did parade till the azure ocean,<br />
Announcing their master’s adulant union.<br />
<br />
The wind came out of hiding,<br />
And shreiked with jealous might,<br />
Seeing its flame consorting,<br />
With a lover who did affright.<br />
<br />
The flora below bended in the gale,<br />
In the flood from above.<br />
Oblivious to their condition frail,<br />
Enchanted by the enamouring love.<br />
<br />
And the lovers did glow from within,<br />
Ablaze in their appetance.<br />
Their bewitching dance silently creating,<br />
A fresh layer of nature’s extravagance.<br />
<br />
In this waking luminescence,<br />
I was morphed into a being new.<br />
My eyes now look at this firmament,<br />
But see Elysium anew.Khushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02468817574902437220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7410625515081331407.post-31193784180103799782011-09-01T22:43:00.000+05:302011-09-01T22:43:41.675+05:30Water, water everywhere.I weep for that which was,<br />
Was destroyed by my own hand,<br />
Regret does sink in me its claws,<br />
Now at this life's stand.<br />
<br />
Cannot I be forgiven,<br />
Or given a start anew?<br />
For with thee I will fight the raven,<br />
With all might and sinew.<br />
<br />
Another chance, if you might so bear,<br />
Will not disappoint I think,<br />
For there's water, water everywhere,<br />
But you're my drop to drink.Khushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02468817574902437220noreply@blogger.com0