Poetic approach on what causes lightening and thunder - The Lightning Strikes

Science defines how does lightning happen, what causes lightning and thunder, by explaining that clouds in the sky carry bunch of positive and negative charges in them. When they grow large enough, their coming together gives gigantic spark, which we call Lightning. The static electricity in the sky gives the jolt way down till the grounds. Sometimes ferocious, sometimes muted...

A poet's take on causes of lightning defines a different story, with a metaphorical touch. It also has to do with physical coming together of a positive mass and a negative mass. Individuals when come close together, they bring emotional thunder, lightning and reverberations too. These are a benediction for many, and painful for few others. You need to listen closely to the echoes to understand what the sound has to say.

The Lightning Strikes

Even though you believed you both are repelling,

But some day you will fuse together into one.

Should we call that love? that burst of energy?

Or name it a bumbling locus shot from the nature's gun.

Though you promised you won't ever run away

But you did, and merrily you did with the repellent one.

Weren't you afraid of the lightning, hey?

The thunder caused from your deed has left me spun.

You couldn't hear my cries, my voice in twinge,

As you were floating in the skies when you two met.

I was griming, back and forth in the emotional fringe,

Upside down and rolling, drenched gloomily in the sweat.

My wounds are not going to heal soon,

Because the jolts of energy in the thunder has hit me hard.

My songs will linger to play in the perpetual tune,

As my faith in you is as firm as towers on the boulevard.

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Assurance

You had given a ray of surmise to his dying sighs,

You had raised the fallen with your tender arms,

You had infused a smile of happiness in a sobbing life.

You had made him realise when his life seemed to be at its end

That there is more life remaining in it.

Like a stone on the road, many formed him as their weapon

And many broke him to pieces as if he were a road blocker.

Then, you had reminded him of his selfdom...

Then what happened so suddenly

That you began to consider him as the same stone on your path,;

What overtook on you that you moved on so easily.

Had he died earlier when you tried to save him, 

He might not have had that much pain

As it is boiling now, 

When you have turned your face away

And left him back alone.

You should have once given him a reason, if his flaws troubled you,

Not only he would have fought the world for you,

But, would have collected pearls to ease off your suffering all along.

Yes, you could have told him once.

He contemplates with each and every tick on the croaking clock;

How can the love so profound dissolve so easily,

No, it can't...

How can you care so much, but then leave easily;

No, you can't...

If it was love, you would have stayed.

Yes, you would have stayed.

Was this for your own good?

You should have elucidated...

No, this can't be true...

Today he is alone, more lonely than ever...

Taking some last breaths probably.

He has not slept for several nights now,

The food has stopped going down his throat.

May be, the death is near...

But he still hopes that you will come and meet him before the clock stops,

And you will re-assure

That you were there for him, you are there for him,

And you will bring back this Assurance before it's time for him to leave.

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Longing Heart...

From random scribblings while looking outside through a small window in twilight on a locked down city.

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The Wind and The Candle

This is the love that pulls you towards emptiness, Angel.

It has done so to me...

Longing... It's like a void, dearth of darkness spread across

On inner walls of my heart.

Of an uncountable universes there

Where mystic holes black keep chanting of timeless desires;

Yearning for lascivious infinitude;

Where candles lit by you in my hopes never die.

The two of us, you and me Angel,

 Who could never meet,

As we were oceans apart tied in our priorities of life;

I wonder why I wasn't your priority.

I keep fighting, though tired, but still gasping 

For affection all the time.

The Wind and the Candle...

They lie in their death bed  relaxed, so lost in this emptiness,

In the void of darkness,

On inner walls of my heart.

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Teesta... A longing heart for Darjeeling

The messenger clouds carry a bagful of sad messages,

The sad heart turns into fog

And the restless heart turns into Teesta...

The sad messages come to the land of hills and forests

In square boxes;

Please let the heart stay as it is,

As it reads the sad messages enthusiastically...

The clouds carry a map to guide the messenger clouds,

And the twisting roads lead to his house surrounded by gardens.

At the end of the garden lies the main gate

And the rocking chair in the Verandah...

A small strip of sun ray falls on the carpet laid on the bed

The messenger cloud empties his bags there.

The messenger clouds carry a bagful of sad messages,

The sad heart turns into fog

And the restless heart turns into Teesta...

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Power

He lies there, depressed in all ways.

Strangled on his neck, 

Tied is harsh and sick relationship band.

He who dreamt of kissing angelic love,

Now hauls in dirt, barely alive, cursed with antipathy.

His heart and breath, which have averted their sync,

Want the game to end, want to end all the blame.

But it’s his hope that’s pushing,

His will to not die, but win over.

Amidst the rage of the storm, 

Thin candle wants to stay strong and lighted.

For spreading love and light is braver,

Than to seek for them simply.

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Ae Dil Hai Mushkil

Dil tumhara tuta nahi hai, bas bikhra hua hai…

The advocacy to get love, though his actions comic and childish, was beyond any description found in books. The sluggish and the inexperienced he, was embraced in arms of friendship of a stronger lady. Broken hearts are stronger. And he didn’t have a broken heart, his was only scattered. The weaker him, he pushed limits to be with her, to soothe her, to calm her down when emotions from the past were turbulent over her present. His wish, the only wish, was to get loved. And this is the story of his ‘Love’ and her ‘Friendship’.

Ajeeb kahani hai pyar aur dosti ki. Pyar ne dosti ko kabhi samjha hi nahi. Pyar me junoon hai, dosti me sukoon hai...

Her past came into present, and was enough to make the kid grow. As he grew from inside, his endeavors to make her friendship transmute into love grew ferociously. The ‘Love’ was emotionally unbalanced, traumatic, and there ‘Friendship’ was rooted, becalmed, and clear. ‘Friendship’ was comprehended on its own belief. She knew, friendship is the bond of strength between them, and the love is weakness. But ‘Love’ had a different belief. He realized that its passion in love, but what he didn’t realize was friendship is unstrained.

Lag ja gale, ke fir ye haseen raat ho na ho. Shayad, phir is janam mein, mulaqat ho na ho…

He escaped from his truth. He made lies propel his truth to fade away. But his eyes couldn’t lie even a single time. His eyes bleed ‘Love’, and in the redness of pain tried to regain that was lost. She was never meant to be owned by him, he couldn’t realize. He already owned her more than what he wanted in her friendship, he didn’t realize this either. Friendship is above love, he would never understand.

Time flies, and what it leaves behind often is regret and remorse. And when the time was just about to get over, they couldn’t stop but to embrace each other for one last time. ‘Love’ embraced ‘Friendship’, and embraced it till he could feel her heart throb over his. Who knows, will they ever again meet thereafter?

mehfil mein teri
Hum naa rahe jo
Gham toh nahi hai
Gham toh nahi hai
Qisse humaare nazdeeqiyon ke
Kam toh nahi hai
Kam toh nahi hai
Kitni dafaa, subah ko meri
Tere aangan me baithe
Maine shaam kiya


Read more: http://www.lyricsmint.com/2016/09/channa-mereya-ae-dil-hai-mushkil.html

mehfil mein teri
Hum naa rahe jo
Gham toh nahi hai
Gham toh nahi hai
Qisse humaare nazdeeqiyon ke
Kam toh nahi hai
Kam toh nahi hai
Kitni dafaa, subah ko meri
Tere aangan me baithe
Maine shaam kiya


Read more: http://www.lyricsmint.com/2016/09/channa-mereya-ae-dil-hai-mushkil.html

Mehfil mein teri hum na rahe jo, Gham to nahi hai… Kisse hamari, nazdikiyon ke kam to nahi hai... Kitni dafa, subah ko meri tere aangan me baithe maine sham kiya...

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A Journey to Begin

A person with an immense depth in her heart, 

As it is in her eyes. 

But the love struggles to sink in those depths. 

May be she has turned immune to affection,

That a guy struggles to have for someone.

The herald of emotions come in between,

And camouflage the love that wants to seed in the barren.

But the determined destiny has to come into play,

And the two souls will mingle into one.

For they are in need,

In their wish to prosper.

And that they can make it true when they are together.

The journey is about to begin.

It's dawn knocking on the threshold of their windows.

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Breached

I watched her, enwrapped in the impeccant laughter, and met those dimples on her cheeks.

The depth of ocean seemed short, when my eyes apparently glued onto hers.

I knew her hand from mine will never get away, as she existed for me beyond promises.

Until one day, when I realized my arms never ever existed. I was born armless.

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Heart Beats

Heart needs love. It might lie that it doesn’t, but even the strongest of its kind needs love. The love that heart seeks is above kindness, and pity offered due to assumed depravity of the seeker. Love is the language that hearts chose to speak in midst of multi lingual existence around. Words from mouth can have different forms and different intentions to trick hearts. Through tides of time, heart has been tricked so often that gradually they have stopped talking to each other. They are now allowed to meet only out of pity and kindness for one another. 

Heart has desires. Desires that are afraid to escape from mouths, desires which are constrained within complex control of brains, they thrive inside hearts safely. The desire that’s taboo to the world is dear to someone’s heart. For heart has never learnt to discriminate, it homes desires of all kinds. Desires are slaves to brain, and to the societal values. They are cared for by their sole protector, their guard who packs them safely within thick thumping walls. Desires may get punished, but are never killed by their guard. 

Heart is pure. Heart is whiter than the whitest pearl that the mankind ever witnessed. White catches dirt easily. Is it the fault of white that it’s fairest of all? In the rampage where hearts are made to run, it’s evident that splashes of blood will spill out, and spill onto, hiding the purity that hearts have. The neighborhood is cold. The warmth of togetherness is a history that jargons play in their songs to bring attention and fame. Hearts know to sing too. But who will cure these ears which are audile to jargons’ dissonance only.

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Phantasy

You shine like a star

 In my cold and empty room.

 Through the years in the storm

I wished you meet me soon.

For I have been alone,

Every time after school.

I have talked to my heart,

In there where you rule.

The long you prolong the wait

More weak I tend to go.

Though I remember the date,

I never cut my birthday cake.

I imagine the sweetness

Floating in my mouth.

When your lips will seal on mine,

It will rain on the land of drought.

Come to me in real,

Out from the phantasy land.

Or kill me in this world,

And drag me to where you stand.

You shine like a star

 In my cold and empty room.

 Through the years in the storm

I wished you meet me soon.

Image Courtesy : Google Images Search

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The Lunch Box

The class was as usual decked up with concepts of physics all around. The teacher kept drawing pulleys, and did all the hardship to pull it applying necessary forces, but I was lost somewhere else. Not that I was not interested in physics, and not that I was very much interested in our lady physics teacher like my friends; unlikely I was struck in those words which Priya had for me the day before. 

I was coming out from canteen that day, triumphant about the fact that I managed to buy two samosas. I always failed at it, as I used to give up the fight in the queue-less stampede at canteen each day. School authorities ceased their authoritarian and disciplinary actions at canteen I doubt. As I stepped out from the stampede, trying to wipe of the sauce that spilled a bit on my white uniform shirt, I found Priya standing in front of me. Her innocent eyes looked bleak. I stood there still, and watched her. I never had courage to speak to girls.

I chose to move out, and not to speak to her, as usual this time again. But as I moved past her, she called my name. With a jolt within, my mind capitulated, ‘she knows my name’.

‘Aarush, I had to get samosas, but you see the crowd there at the counter.’

‘Hmmm? Umm… Oh… I see’, this was all that I replied.

‘Do you know anyone there in the crowd at the counter? If you know, then please hand over this money to him.’

‘Actually… I don’t know anyone there. They are not from our class’, I said. ‘By the way, how many… Umm… how many samosas do you want?’ I added some more with my voice almost afraid to come out.

‘One’, she chirped.

‘You see, I have already had my lunch. I wanted one samosa too, but the counter guy didn’t have change so he gave me two.’

‘Would you like to have… I mean if you like, the one from mine?’, and as I said it seemed my heart would come out from my chest.

‘You are not hungry?’ she asked.

‘No. I had my lunch from the tiffin my mom prepared for me.’

She looked at me with her face showing her hesitation. She moved in order to pick one, but retraced her steps soon. She looked at me again. This time she smiled wide, and then she broke into laughter. It was a feeling so heavenly to watch her laugh; she was so beautiful.

She moved forward and picked one samosa, ‘Thanks’, she said.

While we snacked, she kept talking. She said that her mother was sick. And so she didn’t let her cook for the school tiffin. She would take the meal from school canteen, she had assured to her mother.

‘It would be two-three days more like this; I would have to come to canteen.’

‘Hmm…’, this was all that I could reply along with my smile.

And the other day, when I was in class waiting for the period to end, with all my attention towards Priya and the talk that we had, there was something cooking inside my head too. Just before five minutes from tiffin break, I asked my teacher for an excuse to let me go to washroom, with my constipated face at her disposal. My facial expression inferred to her that she had no choice left but to allow me.

I came out of classroom, and rushed to the canteen.

Priya came ten minutes later. She waited at the canteen gate; probably she was looking for someone in the crowd who might help her buying the meal. I went near, and from her back I called her name. She turned, and saw me standing, with both my hands holding a plate with two samosas. I bought one for her, and one for myself.

‘Hey. Did you leave the class with an excuse for samosas?’

‘Yes’, I said energetically.

‘Why didn’t you buy two for each one of us?’ she inquired.

‘You have one, and I will have one too. And then we will share from my tiffin. I had asked my mom to give more food today. I explained that as your mom was sick, so…’ And then I smiled.

What all followed next till the present day is something which I will not pen down here. But, let me share something special with you all. I and Priya are getting engaged on 27^th of April this year. The ceremony is going to held at my residence; GA 25, White Lake, Kolkata. You all are invited. (smiles)

"I am participating in the #DilKiDealOnSnapdeal activity at BlogAdda in association with SnapDeal."

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Ripples

It was love behind the sustained silence, in desire to stay lonely in the bygone fragrance.

It was love in the whirlpool of sensations, frozen behind a cold face, dejectedness in his all actions.

That merriment of his was love, when it bloomed for the first time in his life. That too was love inside, when the heart broke for the second, and for the third time.

It was still love, when his heart withdrew from faith, and stopped to dream anymore.

It's my love for him, as I narrate to you his story. Its story of a wave, which never recovered from the wraith. He rippled till he died, and homed inside the grave.

Love is a game too, only later he realized. You win, you lose, but its love that pushes you to play.

Image Courtesy : Google Images Search

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In love...

From the patches of scorn,

You furbished a clean soul.

In light of the goodness I wasn't aware of,

You infused a healed life in me.

The warmth of your embrace will linger,

Till the time the sun shines

And the moon cools the planet blue.

I rejoice the cherished moments we spent together,
In them I found love…

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Treasure of Love

This world is a treasure; a treasure that not only has the wealth of love, but wraths of Satan too. Love and Hatred, these two can define each thing and everything that we find on Earth. What definition will mean correctly to us that depends on our state of mind and the essence of time. This world has everything. It’s just that each one of is differently abled and the extent of our sight is accordingly limited. Some can see and feel more while others may lie short and complain. What I can see in the treasure, it’s not necessary that everyone will be able to see. Likewise, what you may discover that might lie unnoticed by me forever. The one who has the limitless extent of sight, that’s the Almighty. And he is the only one, and none other than him is supremely abled. But whatever I can see, whatever you can see, either Love or Hatred defines them. And at one time, only one of the two exists. We need to look closely, and we will find that either we love or we hate. No state other than these we can rather be in.

All of us seek for love. Even if we impart hatred, we seek for love. With everyone of us seeking for love, stealing it indecisively, the treasure is going short of love. The amount of hatred continuously being imparted is making its amount in the treasure stupendous. 

Do you know why did Uncle Scrooge stop swimming in treasures? He was disappointed of skimming over colossal hatred in treasures everywhere. His own treasure at Duckburg that had only Love and no hatred, got stolen long ago.  From all corners of the world, Love is vanishing.

Law of conservation is the call of the time. If you seek love, remember you need to give the same amount of love back to this worldly treasure. Those who don’t pay back this world with love are selfish. And those who seek love, but deliver hatred, they are sons of Satan. To continue to make this place worth living we need to overpower selfish-ers and satan-ers. The early we wake up and realize, better the impact can be brought. 

Love is precious. And there is no alternative for it like we have for coal. Let’s stay human, and continue to spread love.

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The Third Eye

They have always listened to what they wanted to listen. They have believed what they always wanted to believe. Sacrifices, good deeds, love, affection, they are all tested by the terms they keep within them and by their mind’s frame. Someone might die caring, loving, or fighting for some cause, but those who cannot understand the true essence of it are bound to fail on their mind-frame’s test. Since ages the human race has stayed afflicted, and shall likely stay to be so tomorrow too. Truth, it will continue to stay obscured and people deluded. Because they will always see what they want to see, they will listen what they want to listen, and they will believe what they want to believe.

Words matter the most. And harsh words matter even more. Beneath the effect of few harsh words, millions of words expressing love and affection goes crushed. An honest heart has broken ten times more. A selfless action has always been challenged, and mutual profits have been praised. Comfort lies in staying deluded, and satisfaction in abiding by the terms within mind’s frame. But what forms someone’s mind frame? Words flow down, their meaning muster up, and start to build a mind frame. Who cares if the meanings were right? They will see what they want to see, they will listen what they want to listen, and they will believe what they want to believe.

The truth is strange, and people weird. Diplomacy is the tool to success, straightforwardness in truth a hindrance. Truth won’t win hearts, it causes suspicion and people believe easily on what they find near to reality. And the reality is a kingdom where corruption rules, and each government change places and take their turns. An honest truth is difficult to endure, a manipulated truth goes down easily. Everything that happens in and around us, and the way we accept them, it’s all guided by our mind’s frame.

I wish if the almighty had gifted a third eye to everyone. That third eye could have helped to see the truth in its purest form which we can't see now. I wish our mind’s frame is carved out only after having seen the truth. And the third eye could be the tool for making this possible. What we accept, what we perceive, and what choices we would make, I wish if these could be arrived at only after having seen the truth. That third eye, if it existed could have wiped out deception, delusion, and confusion from this world.

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The Love that I saw...

The dreamscape was not over yet… Stories within stories were still unfolding, and I was there the protagonist savoring the near perfect life. There were friends, relationships, and the love existed in those relationships. Life was not a cramp to live with in a city of hustle. It was winter, the moon shining white, and the musk floated in the air of a small town called Brotherhood. A colony of people dwelt there who loved to grow affection for others. They cultivated love, they ate love, but they never sold them. They had stored so much of love in their hearts that their chests were bigger than the people on the other side, separated from dreamy episodes by a thin film. ‘Those who rupture the film don’t get roles in our episodes’, he had said. They must cross over it, without tearing apart their own existence as well as that of the film.
I am not the creator of dreamscape; I am the protagonist playing the role that I wanted. He always insisted me to quench my thirst with Love and gallop on the pavements without the fear of falling down and getting injured. He confirmed, as long as I am in Brotherhood and my wishes are sacred I won’t get injured, although he never guarantees anything for the world on the other side. Everyone calls him the Grandfather. Big chested people say that he is the creator of Brotherhood.

I had always thought of love. I imagined that one day I will be at par with them who were loved on this side, in the real world. I was in delusion in reality. I was deluded till the night when the grandfather explained me the truth. I don’t remember how it happened, but I recollect that he had crossed the film, stepped into the real world, and carried me away to Brotherhood. In that episode, I spent the whole night at Grandfather’s mansion where he lives alone. He is the one with the biggest chest in his town. There we had dinner together; we had roasted turkey, sausages, and warm milk for me while he had wine for himself. He kept smiling at me in between his sips of wine, and through pauses in his speech. He explained me how deluding the world on the other side is, and how deluding its inhabitants are.

‘Love is not just between a girl and a boy. Love is so sacred that it exists between every two entities and more. Love is between sand and stones. Love is between air and the mountains. Love is between birds and the sky. Love is between a mother and her kids. Love is between me and you. And don’t forget, that the love is between you and yourself.’

As the grandfather spoke, his eyes used to get closed and his right arm swung here and there in air.

‘But do you know what is necessary for the Love to be present? It’s the truth and the honesty. And I doubt they don’t exist anymore on the other side’, his head bowed down, his eyes were still closed.

Grandfather sipped some more, and then followed his words.

‘You might get yourself hurt my son. Expectations have been killing people from inside. I have lived my whole life there, and I know how many times I was killed.’

‘Will I get killed too grandfather?’, I asked hesitatingly.

‘I will not let you. And I have brought here to prevent you from any injury you might incur. Expectations, wishing for love staying on the other side, these are potentially dangerous’, replied he.

‘Come on, give me your hand and lets go for a night stroll. Let me show you how the Love feels like in its truest form. But I suggest you not to expect the same when you wake up in your world. In Brotherhood we cultivate love, we eat love, but we never sell them. You must know what the true love is and this will prevent you from falsehood and delusions…’

The night was beautiful. Trees were dressed with shimmering lights from fireflies. The twilight was mused in the music of violin coming from a distant hut. I saw the moon through the clouds that were not polluted. I could see people with varying sizes of chest. And I could easily deduce who were more loving. ‘Truth and Honesty’, I was engrossed within depths of my mind with these two words told by the grandfather to an extent that I watched every movement in that episode to confirm that indeed the truth and the honesty existed there which made the whole ambience so loving. The truth and the honesty, they existed in families, between friends, and strangers. I was the protagonist, but I was the stranger too. But the showering love never seemed to go lesser on me.

I would never free my hand from the grandfather’s. I wish if I could stay here forever… I wish if…

I was about to mutter some more to myself but the episode ended. The night full of love came to an end with the warm sun overhead and with the alarm clock proudly at its work.

It’s not summer here, but still the heat is killing. I don’t focus on weather reports. I have a different measurement scale like the one that the grandfather used in his life here. I want to learn some more from him. But not right now. I must hurry for the school. I will be the protagonist in the next episode of the dreamscape tonight.  

PS: Every night I get into dreams, and they are like episodes of a tele serial where the life is what I have always wanted. Dreamscape is a tele serial, and I am the protagonist, and I will continue to be in each of its upcoming episodes.

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Cups of Coffee...

Through the spectacle of memories, I see a valley trenched with sweet and sour bygone days.
As if I never knew, how soon all those moments flee.
Happiness and sorrow, we shared them over cups of coffee.
Yours had sugar, and mine didn’t.
You hastened, while I went slower.
Frothed with cream of love, your slurps I remember.
And through them, my stories you would hear.
Saturday evenings were when we would meet and stare at each other endlessly.
My wait for the coming saturday seems to never end.
Just two days more, and we will meet again, we will share happiness and our sorrow again.
I want you to know, but I am afraid.
My endless stories over the cups of coffee, no one would have heard but you.
Yours, frothed with cream and sprinkled with sugar on heart, resolved sweetness in mine.
I owe my sweetness to you.
I wait for the Saturday evening, for our cups of coffee and for you…

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Sacred Touch

Bliss is in your touch,

The feat to heal.

Antiquated is the bond of ours,

In your every touch I feel.

Your pokes… Your pulls…

Your caresses of love

Your every touch I know.

But when I face you

Crimson and blushed I go

Naiveness I show.

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Enigmatic

I twitch the bliss of the virtue

I cramp it hard with pain,

Like a curse you can’t undo.

I learn the bad, I overlook the good

With invincible force of the knight,

I run across the sprawls of the falsehood.

I only hurled Satan’s spell on people

I never uttered a single word to soothe

I am the murderer of Love in hearts,

Accountable for downswing of their mood.

In my kingdom of Darkness

I deepen the reach of the poisonous pool

In which humanity ceases to exist,

And banquets on honesty’s fuel.

Pool’s depth gains with every evil I commit

With every incantation I submit.

Like I am the Czar of affright,

I swim in its every inch

With all my might.

I don’t bear any physical existence,

I am just a fiend of dominance

Inside the hollows of a man…



Image Courtesy : Google Images Search

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