Rain/Rein of Corruption...

When did it start, how did it start?… It must have been initially a sole betrayal against morals of an individual. Gradually over the tides of time the spoilt soul would have propagated and infected other saint blood with its fangs. And the consequence is the deadly disease that we have carried over to this century, to our generations, and it’s certain to get carried over to the upcoming offsprings too. What disease is this? Corruption!

This disease, incurable in terms of any revolution that failed on its objectives, seems to have jabbed down its teeth into every organization working at present. This organization not just lies in the realms of society working under private or government ownership, but I am also talking of the organization that one manages within oneself. To me, a person is also an organization which works under the principles and as per the objectives laid down by him. The mode of leadership against oneself is however self-controlled, guided by the juices flowing in one’s head. We, the tiny organization carrying within ourselves, form the grass root level of any big enterprise. When the foundation is corrupt, how cannot the entire enterprise?

Each day starts with betrayal, with a sense of deceit somewhere. Look at yourself, look around you, are you able to segregate completely from the web of corruption? Corruption is like a big tanker installed at the city top, filled up to the brim by us with acid of mild nature but of consistency to decay us slowly. I am afraid, but it rains over the entire city 24x7, all 365 days.

Take a little time out of your schedule, and think of the journey you made so far… How much do you calculate your contribution in the tanker full corruption to be? We can comment, satire and abuse the politicians, but they are used to it. There is no good in doing that. Human cells get mutated easily, and so have politician's, and hence they never feel the guilt and shame. Instead, we should try to mend the loopholes in organizations within ourselves. This is the only option to work upon, and that can fetch substantial results.

Why is the life of human so greedy? Does human race need to start learning from other animal races all over again?


Image Courtesy : Google Images Search

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Confessing Secrets

I have been admin of several literary Facebook pages which deal with art and presentation of artistic talents. Fortunately, I happened to be one of the co-admin of a confession page on Facebook lately. I am amazed to see the rising popularity of that confession page which is subduing the popularity of any other page on Facebook. The confession page I am currently seeing, where I was asked by one of my senior to manage as the admin, is currently getting approximately twenty confessions each day. I am surprised to see the number of likes which has crossed the mark of 800 today, and this figure was achieved within a span of two weeks since the page was formed. This is a reason for enviousness as I am also looking after my own Facebook fan page which has hardly got 520 likes and that too in this period of two years. Moreover pages like BCET Bloggers and Facebook page of our college’s Tech-cum-Cultural fest, which is being managed by me again, has hardly turned out to be this popular. Reasons?

It is the desperation of being pulled together and expressing what they never dared to say to the opposite genders. I won’t get biased on any side, I am just presenting my sole reactions on seeing the database of confessions we are receiving. And I can see, that we are getting equally sincere confessions from the both sides. At this juncture, I wonder, why are people so tempting towards spilling out their hearts about their love concerns? If they wanna spill their heart out then isn’t there anything else that they would like to share and contemplate about?

I get to learn something from this. If you want to get popular on social media then you would have to project your actions and plan your way out through advertisements in such a way that it relates with the 'attracting phenomena' of opposite sexes. And certainly yes, to a very large extent this is correct. You can see how almost every advertisements on television are now being presented and screen played. They resemble your love life somewhere or the world of your love-fantasy or may be about the broken love life of yours. These three things I should say are working as the three chief dots which draw the big popularity triangle.

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The Open Window...

(Click on Image to Enlarge)

On closing my eyes, I fill thick brooded meshes in my lungs with air… I hold it for a while, pushing it a little further, until I can hold it no more. Freshness sprouting outside my open window descends deep down into me… Perhaps, its spring; I can see through the open window, trees ladened with new leaves and buds; birds chirruping, squeaking around in happy-playful mood. Jolly squirrel nests on the tree too, jumping from branch to branch. Sometime they stop by at the open window, staring at my partially lit face.

Can I be ever free? I have been captive under chains of my psychotic mind. Along every perspectived dimension in my mind, there jolts clumsy curiosity; the curiosity to arrive at a clue to freedom, a way to cut bars in the open window, to dissolve the tiny autumn within me and dilute it into the sprawling spring outside.

Tools made out of elemental love, I have used enough. Adamant chains tied around my torso don’t listen to them. In the environs of spooky silent nights, my imaginary friend visits me. He preaches to carve my tools out from hatred, assuring the success on blood soiled chains. Morally fed soul of mine ravages at this juncture; it still trusts in love, although yet to recover from past injuries bought in the love’s conspiracy.

The sunlight is warm, grazing over green trees outside the open window. At a certain time of the day, the Sun bathes my dark pestered room, throwing a shine of hope on my face. It’s the time when my friend in my shadow visits me. He shares his thoughts with me, conjuring me about life; What is life?

As the Sun rises up in the sky, friend in my shadow recedes, and he is away when its all dark again. He left me a note yesterday… When the Sun was bathing me in a spotlight of hope today at its time, I read the note:

“Life is beautiful outside your open window. Free yourself from the chains that never physically existed. Free yourself from the captivity laid by chains of your diverse mind. I am waiting, outside your open window….                                                  -Anshul"

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Brain-sick's Diary #3 >> Cold Emotions

I am swimming in a pool of thoughts. In a silent room, doors closed, panes in windows shut, and lights from my laptop screen is the only source; unveiling a part of my face, more of my hands on the keyboard. With denial of connection somehow with brains, here is something my heart wants to spill out. Its my birthday today. And I am wondering, why did the God select me for my mom. Could this not have happened that some other baby was lucky enough to get into my mom’s womb? Why it was me?
There are questions that are unanswerable. Then I wonder why do such questions have to exist, when answers to them are never found. My mind throttles deep down into such thoughts, mesmerizing me with unanswerable questions.
On my headphone, its Coldplay playing… 'Fix you'.

‘When you try your best, but you don't succeed

When you get what you want, but not what you need

When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep

Stuck in reverse…

And the tears come streaming down your face

When you lose something you can't replace

When you love someone, but it goes to waste

Could it be worse?’

How true this song is. I cant explain the sufferings, affection that got killed, in course of events that I faced and left them behind on my timeline. But somewhere, I lie struck in reverse. Is the past so dear that we tend to overlook the pleasant and optimistic present? The formidable past, that’s what heart believes, keeps poking from under the veil of sewn stitches. 

It has been quite a span, and I haven’t come up here with a post that’s significant. It was this song by Coldplay, that pushed my fingers onto the keyboard, and pinned down emotions of abstract blend on my blog.

I have been busy with my work, my college, my tries at photography and in mesh of complex thoughts. But I expect to come back here with colors in poetry… 

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Photo-Snippets -> 'Bird of Passage'

I am a wanderer
Lost in the wilderness
Off the desolated road,
Into the sprawling realms.
On the brink, 
At the edge of my life,
The road will project me
Into an outer space where
Nix will be emotions.
I expect to meet someone
In that absolute emptiness;
My ultimate pacifier.
That shall end my Journey,
My never meandering.

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Brain-sick's Diary #1 >> Expectations

“I do my thing and you do yours. I am not in this world to live up to your expectations, and you are not in this world to live up to mine. You are you and I am I, and if by chance we find each other, then it is beautiful. If not, it can't be helped.”

I read this quote somewhere on Internet. I was trying to join my friend’s fan page, but some cross-links came forward and carried me away from Facebook. I transfixed my eyes, shook my heart, as the words started crawling in multiple spheres of my mind.
What’s wrong with it? The quotation just screamed out the truth!

How can human sustain without expectations? This was the food for my thought on my way back to home from our nearest grocery store.
If I purchase a packet of biscuit, I have some expectation about its taste.
Even the old lady at store expects me to come back again for some more shopping. I can read from sparkles in her eyes each time she bids me bye. How can one say that they hate expectations.

I kept walking tardily, my feet freezing and denying any movement further. But it was stringent thoughts which kept my mind busy, obscured from wants of my legs. I entered my house, even forgot to close the door. I was back to my senses only then when my mom started chiding upon me for not having purchased some butter. She chided some more when her hairs started to swirl and ruffle from the strong cold wind that came through the open door.
I looked back at the open door. I realized, there is always some purpose behind every instance. The Butter! I knew it wont be easy, but I must go. I slammed the door from outside, and it banged.

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Brain-sick's Diary #2 >> If I were a Bird

It has been harsh these days. Weather has been behaving strangely. The sun is shy to come out, and has lost somewhere. Probably it has its own chores to sort out. I can see how the clouds have been troubling him. And there has been rain which was not anticipated, at least not at this time of year. Flowers in my garden, with feeble colors on their petals, are showing their miseries. I can do nothing other than watching them wither in cold. It pains to watch them die; flowers I had gardened with all my care.

Even the birds have migrated. Who is going to look after their homes now? I watch them fly together, flapping their wings slowly in distant sky, sometimes showing up, sometimes hiding behind clouds. Among the flock, I try to find the one, who is lonely. It may be because I want someone to resemble me. I look for my existence in them. The bad side of me, and a little good in me, I appraise each one minutely. In books, I read, living life with too much care and precautions is certainly not a good lifestyle. We should be carefree, and joyous. We should never look back in the long race we are running in. These are what books on ‘Art of Living’ say.

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Sneaky Tales : Rejection

I always wake up, and my breath becomes heavy. As of now, I am still feeling heavy, as tattered notes from the last dream come across my mind. And for past four years, waking up, and facing the reality has actually hurt. The cold realization, that I am still there, from where everyone else moved away, sets inside me slowly. I am not fond of waking up. And I tend to sleep, even when I am not asleep. Waking up from your dreams, and waking up from your sleep, I take these two things separately. I have set my own ways of treatment with them.

I am afraid, but optimistic locutions don’t impress me. Whenever I have tried to apply them, they have lead me to nowhere but lost away in vain. Why do people greet the day with smiles? Are they escaping from the simple truth? Today is a cold reminder. It’s one day later than yesterday, one year later than last year. And sooner or later, the destined one will come. But I dare not express these. I need to polish myself each day, so that I may not yell out everything that I have kept inside.

I have been a heap of thoughts and convicted feelings that bring me rejection. Rejection has been a part of my life, and I faced it more than acceptance. The one writing this is the real one. It takes me sometime, each day, to turn what I am in front of people. It takes courage to hide the storm inside you. And once you have spilled out the storm, you ruin your relationships. I have ruined mine. I have untied all the knots that used to bind me. People won’t like to get drenched in your stuffs that don’t suit them.

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Footmarks

 

Strolling down the streets has turned a habit. New faces carrying distinct story behind them swivels across me. I tend to escape, I tend not to allude.  I wander to fetch something that I lost long way back. Last road bend and the diversion had already behaved strangely. It deluded me to a secluded traversal path that even the demon didn’t bother to sculpture on anyone's fortuned engravings.

I am searching if my story intersects somewhere with someone’s. Someone’s strange might mingle with stranger mine and we would wander together, in the lonesome streets; sometimes greener and sometimes derelict. Footprints and scribbling on the rocks give me power to move on. For I know through them, that someone made their way through it. Did they succeed? I shall walk till the finals to know if their exists scribbling on some rocks there too.

I will throw some initials. I will leave impressions on trunks to make the path easy for the followers. My footprints will be large and clearer.  I look back to confirm, no one I see. May be they will be lost somewhere. If their story intersects with mine, my left impressions will simplify the puzzle. 

Time has been ticking….each drop falling swiftly, trailing down the cheeks. Purest form, but insanity along and my footmarks are moving towards the finals.

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