Warrior

The stage is all set.

For the courage to play

And defeat those lies within

Prying and proclaiming to be truth

Against his lord's pray.

The courage has to act strong

To make the fear go

And kill the ominous thong.

No, not just wait

And continue to contemplate

But to act, enact and direct

The righteousness state.

Determined against all odds

He now stands bold and tall

To fight and to win

Over his evils in all forms.

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Nomads on their way...

In the warmth of light from tungsten lamps, where adversity dwelt by the roadside, there I walked lonely in stretches that would seem to never end. I would recollect incidences during my walk that happened during the day and would curse them who brought so much hate for me in their hearts. To be the loved one of all, to be the one who is famous and everyone else owns a feeling of warmth for him, this expectation turns into a disaster each time I build my home on it. Nomads don’t own a home. They have chosen to walk, endlessly. They take rests however, but they don’t stop permanently as such. I never wanted to be a nomad. I wanted to settle down at a place, with all the fancy desirables in this world available at my doorstep. There came tides of experiences in the steady streams of time and they soaked me completely, making me aware of the unseen truth and correcting me from the otherwise dreamt stuffs. Nomads are the one who progresses. Their next destination, call it their next goal, can only be achieved if they choose to walk. Those who stop permanently, they land up falling into adversities under the warmth of tungsten lamps by the roadside.

To keep moving requires huge effort. Efforts to keep yourself motivated, to keep revising plans for achieving your goals, to keep yourself focused when all the human forces are against you. The expectation and desire must not be confused with each other. What is expected by me of all the people need not come true always, and that should not be conceived as a hurt to me. Desires are dear to me, and that should drive me. Not the expectation, because expectation is just a belief. Nomads have desire to progress. They take rest, and move on because they have desires to fulfill.
Though I never thought I would be a nomad, but eventually I am one now. The system is so designed that only nomads progress and survive. Progress stops when nomads stop.

I don’t know how much people would be able to relate to this post. But at my personal level, this makes sense to me. I look at the bigger picture, and I find bunch of nomads everywhere. They have aspirations to fulfill their desires. I find myself in one of the bunch too.

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Detest

/* This post conveys feelings of a boy who spent lonesome days and nights... He was stranger to his own assets until the time a girl comes into his life, and makes him realize of what he was blessed with. Boy believed her words to be true, and her support pushed him towards wonderland.
But at the end he finds how she cheated upon him, hollowed him on every instance. She explains her reasons and asks for forgiveness... But how can the boy forgive? */

I ambled solely, none I accompanied, my shadow tailed behind. With Angel Falls’ beauty, you stepped across me. Without a hint, your shadow eclipsed mine and mingled. Our footsteps trailed where I led them to.
With arrival of the darkest hour, your footsteps diverged from mine, like the way your shadow vanished. You blamed the darkness.
Can I forgive? How Can I?

As trees swung, few notes I mumbled. Birds affirmed me and sky adorned with sprinkles. You clarified my mumbles to be my poetry, and perseverance you embellished around me. The harp tuned aloud, and tattered notes conjoined into a song.
When thunder arrived, birds ascertained it’s my song that called it. But I waited for your reaction. You were deaf you said.
Can I forgive? How can I?

I hopped around, rumbled and jumbled. In my clothes soiled, I was clumsy with dust and carried limited attributes of tastes. You were different as you presumed, that I am covered with musk, with tastes of delectable pulps.
But the next spring seized you far away. It’s the extent of beauty in the other garden you said.
Can I forgive? How can I?

In the empty space inside me, on my left, you found home for yourself. Giggling and twittering, kept me perked up. But with every happiest moment I saw, your mitts swept away all that was mine. You weaponized Love against me, hollowed the shell, and broke its sculptured torso.
You have established your new suite at someplace.
And you want me to forgive. But how can I?

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Stepping Stones

It rained yesterday here in Durgapur. Blisters that prevailed due to consistent heat and coagulated inflictions tried to wash themselves away. It felt soothing. Sometimes roaring harsh wind uplifts you the best. Hiving in closeness, playing romance on guitar is not always the obvious solution for repose. Hard Rock does play an important role wherever the former lags behind. I realized it yesterday. It felt soothing.

I am in third year of my B-Tech course now. Two days ago, I became a pre-final year student. And with this, more indulgent sprouts of anxiety and sense of responsibilities have started taking place in my mind and heart. Keeping the anxiety till the sphere of brain is acceptable. Its plunderage on walls of the heart is not. And other than this, I have been continuously grooming myself, trying to bring out the most uncommon in me, keeping the rest common ones in me intact and stabilized.

I have been with my roommate since first year. Persistent problems couldn’t make it possible this year and I will be having a new roommate now when the semester starts after the break. Sort of predicament I was in, because I build up closeness and intimacy quickly and much strongly. Everybody doesn’t do so; but I do. Consequently I alienate myself. After all I neither own the lock, nor the key. I am just a user till my authenticity as a user is carried over by the programmer. My scope and lifetime is not controlled by myself. Situations and needs dictate over this.

While returning from my Java class yesterday, still then it was raining, I noticed streams of dust, coagulated together, floating on the inundated silent road. I thought, how long are they going to last together? How long will they continue to be loyal and intimate for each other? Situations and needs dictate over this, I contemplated. Even though it’s pinning, I tried to accept it as soothing. 

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Morning Reflections

Since the beginning, the time when I started blogging, I have written many posts concerned with friendship. What binds it, what unwinds it, how hurting it can be, how much centralized it should be; I don’t know in what post I emphasized which aspect of friendship but yes, I did, may be on different concerns and in different contexts. I keep collecting experiences and my learning from them keeps going on. I blog about them as my blog is my heart, the place where my feelings reside. I don’t want my experiences to escape from my heart and so they are here, on my blog.

I have seen that the in friendship circle, people I gave much importance to have always resulted into a being which should not be given even a penny of trust, not even a blot piece of bread. And for those people for whom I rarely collected any attention have contributed to me a lot in terms of solicitation and regard. Even if you get to know this theory, you can’t ascertain it soon. It takes time and circumstances to highlight the hidden aspects that keep faces covered under the shadow of disguise.

Love them who love you, but regard with respect to all. Try to judge people with what they do and not with what they pretend to do. I would also like to point that don’t just cling to your limited circle rather expand it further because anytime you may feel that you never belonged to that circle and probably your place was somewhere else. Very recently I faced this and now I regret why didn't I leave my circle earlier. Why didn’t I form another circle with those people who were like me, who would do what I liked to do and without pretending anything that they never do…

I have subscribed to few of Google’s SMS channel services and from there I received an SMS few days back. And it was as follows:
“Every struggle in your life has shaped into the person you are today…
Be thankful for the hard times, for they have made you stronger.”

I think this SMS should have been more precise with this post if I say it like
“We should be thankful to every friend of us who betrayed and allowed us to struggle on our own. They have actually made us more stronger.”

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Insomniac Dreams

Eagerness and anxiety are two companions who ally themselves unitedly and blow away your sleep. When assisted by your perfectionist traits, they will take you to a different world where you lie clung to what you desire. Everything else seems irrelevant and not of your wants. Things have been going the same way for me. I have turned insomniac since few weeks.  First came the Photoshopic designing opportunities for me and then flowed currents of learning new computer languages aspirations. I successfully managed to conduct the Python’s Online Test for my branch after rigorous discussions with seniors and faculty members of my college. When I was busy preparing for Python, at the same time I had been engaged with my previous projects too. And in those projects I had to consult and re-read those computer languages that have no readily connection with Python. It was important for me to get my hands dirty for the upcoming Python’s test but I was unsuccessful in keeping my mind aside from my previous projects. This is what happens and it has become obvious for me now. My mind adamant says to complete the previous task first and then move on to next. In this conflict of what to do and what not to, my mind rages and sleepiness vanishes.

Well the Python’s test ended “thik-thak” type, but at the end I did realize that I should have concentrated only on my current necessary goal. But it was no good that I could have done then by realizing so. May be it would help in future.

About two weeks back, I went to one of renowned faculty of my college. I explained to him how much I have covered in area of Web Development and Designing. Web Development and Designing is the area that fascinates me a lot and I enjoy doing it. I discussed with Sir what prospects I shall presume for myself with this passion of mine. I didn’t get answers that could have heightened my zeal. I respect the curiosity and care our faculty possesses for us. But one’s passion and desire fail to measure the decisions when taken against them. I did feel that way. I turned sad. It felt as if I have fallen open mouthed on the floor and there is nothing left for me.

Thanks to “TheSocialNetwork”, a movie I watched yesterday. How much change a web developer/programmer can bring in our society was well shown in it. The movie is about how facebook was formed and came into existence. I am highly inspired now. My drown dreams have risen and have started to fly high again.

Mark Zuckerberg, you are not just the inventor of Facebook, but an inspiration for me and for billions other like me too. I am looking for your poster to paste it in my room :D. Your story and hardships have already engraved in my heart. :)

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Conversation

My smiles you read

My eyes you don’t

Serenity in my calmness you find

Turbulence in my peace you don’t

My words you listen

Meanings in them you don’t.

In my words

Truthfulness lies

You hide truth’s identity

Drag them into disguise

You try to wake me up

Still in sleep I lie.

“It’s a pillow”, you say

Someone’s lap I see

With warmth of love

I rest my head

There roam few fingers

“It’s silk beneath”, you say.

“You are my friend”, I say

I help you in need

Pray for your good indeed

You succeed

You taunt me hard and leave

When my honesty you need

I see you back

“You are my friend”, you say.

Remember?

You said, “My time is mine”

But I give mine to you

I learn for me

And work for you

No name for me

All fame for you.

“Fall in love again”, you say

Even kinship I forbid

New wounds they give

Healed stiches untie

It’s pain I see

“No Blood”, you say.

If you can, set me free

From my memories

They kill me softly

I can’t revolt

And awake myself from them

You call memories your life

“It will cause my death”, I say

Please, let me know

When dawn comes

Fireball will burn me down

And my cursed entities

My uniqueness you call them

“Grounds for my frustration”, I say.

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Vividity

Few things I don’t see. Eyes work and brain responds too; but still few things intimidate me, deceive me and offer challenges not true. Lines in my book I read, but meanings I incarnate make my heart glue, even the story characters I misjudge and climax the end forcibly not true. But I don’t draw back, I continue…
I impose faith on imposters blurred in my visions. They are pickpockets, but love in their caresses I guess. Their shrewdness I appreciate, their words fly me high and to land back on ground I don’t get any modes true. Appreciation I give to them, or is it delusion I bathe in?
I conjecture my journey is on a car, the car that would drive me happy. Relaxation on my face seems visible, even though the car tank remains empty.
But I don’t draw back, I continue…

The time tides me with ups and downs and makes me aware of what lied inside the crown. I slow down; I realize how I have come along. This was not what I had proposed, certainly not which I always disposed. 

Story in my book seems to be waste; characters in vain and their roles with no tastes. Their ends seem not possible; just a pile of pages with scribbling of an untamed writer. 

People are jealous, they misguide me. They don’t wish to see me reach my goal.

And why I am still on this car? I chose the wrong car; probably it was never meant for me. On a cart of perplexity rather, I am on a journey that was meant to drive me insane with its fuel tank nearly empty. I stop, and reverse my path…

Experiences shower on me, make me bright and cheer me colorful. But I get matured and low on energy. I realize that things were just made for me. My eyes saw them good and brain traced them true, I realize. 

Even the incarnated meanings were true and so were characters in my story book. The best climax I could have seen if I continued to read, I realize. 

People were good too, they tried to understand me and helped me with the best they could have done. I should have offered them respect, I realize.

The car was perfect for me and happiness was true. I should have traversed few miles more, fuel station was near. My journey could have completed if I never looked back. I regret, I realize…

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Contemplation

I am not a professional writer, not even know how to arrange my words to make them meaningful, and attract the attention of my spectators I suppose. It is very much essential to make people take interest in you, in your point of view. Because if they are not occupied with your representation, they would consider your truth, even your soul feelings, farting and sick, and hence will go away leaving you behind, letting you go dumb, and speechless.
And me being an amateur at writing, it is very much difficult for me to make my friends understand what my silence stands for, although I seldom found people in my life that I dwelt since I was born and till now, for whom I shall entitle them with the tag of the major word “Friends”.
I believe in the fact that shining of eyes always doesn’t signify beauty inside them; it may also be so because of tears that are embedded in them. Not always the tears of joy.
Smile is the best jewel that human can wear to make themselves look lovely. But who cares about the person who suffers so much to get that jewel. And if some how he gets it, still convulses of anguish, in order to let it remain at its place, because it is very much difficult to hide that it is just an imitation.
I have gone tired of my feelings, my sensitiveness towards the actions that play around me, and I suppose that they are getting cancerous. I have gone tired of making out senses about what I did was right or not. It would seem philosophical and will not tally with the mindsets of friends of ours, at the current scenario, where everybody seems to be “overbusy”; although I am afraid if this very word exists or not, but I suppose my learned friends would have got the meaning of what I wished to say.

I never talk. Please mind this thing that I am not saying that I talk less. My “no talk” doesn’t implies that I show rudeness to people, or there is something called unfriendly nature in me. I am a worthy friend, honest, and very much social as well. My so called “No talk” policy is just to keep up myself with what people do, and not to let them know that I am unhappy with what they are doing, and me myself don’t want to hurt them by pointing out the loopholes in their intentions behind doing so. I know you will find this weird, but I can’t help it. The whole system nowadays has undergone such a change where each thing that people do, makes me raise questions with myself and makes my trust upon them go in grave danger.
I take responsibility to reach the Supremo to make my job done, I do all arrangements, I prepare myself in every aspect that seems within my capabilities. But I always fail to make myself prepared to tell lies, to be dishonest at some juncture where it becomes essential for my job to get done. And consequently my job fails. I come back empty handed. I can’t impress my people, because at current course of time, it is very much difficult to impress people by the help of honesty and truth. I have stopped my attempts of getting myself go crooked as I have realised that they can never be embossed in my soul, because it is preoccupied with my firm impression of truth.

Politeness and realisation of obedience by each other in every relationship is very much necessary. But I don’t find this now in this changed world. May be I am wrong because I had been using my heart to observe these things instead of my eyes, powered up by my specs. People do certain things to one another, by the name of prank they call so, declaring their rights to play them on their friends that more often lead to a hitting sensation in their friend’s heart. But none of them enrol themselves into a serious stroll due to such hip hop events. But I do mind such things.
Now I suppose that you would have agnised why I prefer my “No Talk” policy. I can’t change.
Am I wrong if I think this way? Why have my heart and soul teamed up against my brain? Brain is set for current challenges and latest upbringings, but my teamed up heart and soul sing another jargon. Aren’t our people wrong somewhere? And if they are wrong, how do I assume that so many people can be wrong at the same time. Why do people compromise for things that are not right, that are not healthy?
I want to talk. But don’t know how to make myself talk. If my words made some significant meaning to you, then please do give comments.

GOD SHALL BLESS US ALL
Copyright ©
ANSHUL GAUTAM

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