Eternal sunshine of an introvert mind

In some part of the world there is a kingdom where nature basks in glory, where people still trust each other, where love thrives and deception has not stepped in. There lives a kid who spends his evening waiting for the princess to arrive in woods. As usual, he is there sitting on the log, his head dipped down. The tattered brown robe on his body is not enough to defend from the chill that sets in at night. It’s been more than an hour, but there is no sign of restlessness in kid. He knows she is going to come. Shades of trees are stretching with the sun going down. Within minutes the sun will be hidden behind the blue mountains. Cold wind from the west has started to blow. Grazing leaves on the forest floor has started to unsettle the calm.

…and the scene keeps building inside my head while chatter continues in cubicles around me. I don’t wish to break myself off from the imaginary build up projected on the screen of my mind, even when the chatter starts to dip into my own cubicle. But who cares what I want. I don’t want to get into conversations unnecessarily. Yes, I can enact to be a good speaker. But why does someone has to push me for it? The need of the hour drags me off from my comfort zone, and I temporarily pause all the drama inside my head. Damn! I feel pity for my characters who turn jobless while I am conversing with someone. I really enjoy being me.

In between imports of code and its reuses at office, I miss those days when I used to sit back and do nothing. Just do nothing for hours, and stay mused in thoughts; sometimes dark, sometimes illuminated. Now I crave to have some moments for myself where in them I would be alone. I would contemplate on what I did, I would plan what I will do.

As the office hours dissolve, once again I start to frame the story. The projection on the screen of my mind starts. I try to cut off from distractions as far as I can to ensure I have clear and crisp reception of my characters at play. I start to connect the pieces again and the story resumes.

Wolves have started to howl. The sun has set behind the blue mountains. The kid is afraid, he must return home now. His mom would be waiting. But the princess hasn't come yet. He loves his mom more. So he must return now. He stands up, and start to move with his face numb and his heart heavy. He won’t let the tears come. His mom will never wish to see him distressed, he knows. ‘Love is an illusion; I won’t be deluded by promises and die freezing here in woods’. As he was returning, a golden deer came running and stopped beside him. He turns to see the golden deer liberating godly rays. His surprised eyes start to roam on the shining body of the deer. And then he notices there is a letter lying by the forelegs of the deer. He picks up the letter, and unfolds it. The letter reads: ‘Tomorrow at dusk. Wait for me. I shall be there. Love. Only yours…’
Marks of her lipstick on the letter pouts and blows a kiss towards him.

Kid’s smile after reading the letter has taken over me too. His revitalized trust gives me strength for the coming day. I tuck into bed for sleep now. The new day will bring a different story, for me too and for my characters as well. 

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A House at the Grange

Since ages I haven’t been asleep in the lap of insouciance. It has been so long since I was at my home, the place where I grew up. In the ‘Nest’ of ‘Love’, my childhood bloomed. Where birds came and lived and became part of my evening plays, that is my home.

Every morning it was chatter of birds in balcony that woke me up. Their tore up feathers I collected, and preserved them so I could remember them even after they left. Tickle of my small fingers on the feathery head is still afresh in the memory. Where I lived lovingly, that is my home.

By the shade of the back wall in the compound, I recited poems in the afternoon. I weaved stories and played my role with conceit. Mamma’s words went unheard and my plays continued in the blazing sun. Where life was carefree, that is my home.

I don’t wish to win the rat race now; I set myself free from all the responsibilities. I want to travel to the place that soothes me with belongingness. I want to soak myself in the rain of memories from my childhood. Where I will heal myself, that is my home.

Photographs were shot by Canon SX150, Point and Shoot camera. If you liked the photographs, please like the Facebook page. 

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If Earth were a cube...

The morning started differently today. Though not at peace, but the weather had calmness in it. As I came near the window of my room, a narrow gush of wind succeeding through the blocks of our hostel from where timid wind rarely coursed caressed my face with the calmness it had. The calmness I always intended to have in me. But the peace is yet to come. Even the weather is not at peace. I can’t see trees from here, but the hasty clouds flowing and roaring above assure that the party outside has started. The dance of trees on the tunes of weather I miss by sitting from here. But the wakeless imagination takes me to every corner of this world. The Earth is round. But in my imagination it’s a cube, the one similar to Rubik’s. It was dismantled initially… it was in form of separate small cubes. The Almighty mantled them in form of a giant cube and gave each of its face a different color. Tiny cubes are sliding away, discombobulating the original structure. What will happen if the earthly cube is completely riddled again?

I stand on a podium, somewhere on a constituting cube and I see in front of me the life I lived so far. I can see till the edge from where it all started. If I go beyond that edge, I will fall off; disappear from this world like I never existed before I was born. I was born 22 years back and my journey started from that edge. Standing from here I can see places where I had been, people whom I met, and transformations I went into. I remember every smell that soil breathed out into the air when rain stroked. I remember the warmth and calmness in the weather that came with every season. I remember all illusions, delusions and in them my mere imaginations. I correlate with nature and its effects on me. Tides of time navigated me on an interesting journey, and at every instance made me aware of making out the path by my own. Others came and helped me improve in many ways. They refined me into a more professional and a mature person. I accepted all courses life had to teach me…Because I wanted to be a better person…I wanted to be a perfectionist.  

Turning myself back, I am moving towards the opposite edge now gradually. The footsteps will continue to advance till the destiny lets me. Although valleys on both the sides haunt me, prevent me from moving by inculcating the terror that I will fall off and vanish. But to have faith and do my part, I have learnt this from mom. I will someday stand at some another constituting cube of this giant earth and look back again. Reminiscing the past and agonizing a better me soothes me with satisfaction. At some another podium I will revert and contemplate how many small cubes I have covered. I forgot to mention, the face of cube where I lie is blue. I love blue.

The edge where I am headed to, what color shall I meet at the brink? I wish to meet yellow. The yellow has energy of the sun, and its life giving traits. I have night’s calmness, the one you witness on the starry night sky at beaches. The brief meeting at the edge before the two of us will fall off would be beautiful. :)

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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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Search for the life

As the train takes me through the darkness

My eyes search for the light,

To find in the thickets

If somewhere the life survives.

Rattling of wheels on tracks,

Keeps me mused and awake

Against the envelope of sleep

Embraced over the stretches of darkness.

Blindfolded on my open eyes

My ears make me see now;

Bridges, tunnels, plains…

All I hear, and in my mind I see.

But where is the life?

That, I can’t see.

I search for the light

To find in the thickets

If somewhere the life survives.

In sky is embellished,

Stars and the pearly moon.

And the rest is swallowed

In the endless depths of darkness

Through which I am moving

And in them my eyes keep looking

For if I can find light.

Who knows…

Somewhere out there the life still survives.

Image Courtesy: Google Images Search

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An Odd Invention

Like the way OS drives hardware,

My tender heart drives my actions.

My CPU seldom pauses its function,

Clutched in multiple processes

And deadly thread synchronization.

Endured against suffocation,

Withstanding brute deadlock condition;

I envy that giant-tiny mastermind,

Fabricated into a chip

Named after Intel’s perfection.

My limbs and glands,

Constitute my local connection.

Through narrow bandwidth in my nerves

Runs protocol for communication.

In meshes, in rings, in stars or on buses,

With niggling breaks and data congestion

My dreams sail in intense versions.

Full of exclamations and interjections,

My vision surpasses

Chris Nolan’s ‘Inception’.

Procuring the imagination

Of an unmatched conviction.

With new thoughts’ propulsion

At my solitary mansion,

I head towards tranquility

Drawing my steps towards the invention.

An invention that can help you find

Eternal love for your life 

Exempted of distrust and disgust.

Aided with honesty, and upheld warmly.

And that would be my ultimate innovation;

My blow of life,

Into lives of millions & millions.

Images Courtesy : Google Images Search

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