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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Brain-sick's Diary >> In my year fourth…

Few hours from now, and our entire vacant hostel will get swigged in shouts and murmurs. People will be back. In this one month of training period, which constitutes an integral part of curriculum of WBUT for our seventh semester, I was in heavens sky. I love silence, and there it was in abundance here at our hostel. For no one was here at hostel, I had tight sleeps through nights. I read some of the best short stories by Nobel Laureate Rabindranath Tagore. His short stories steered my thoughts on the road that I never cared for before. And in the folds of silence at the grounds, I had enormous space to let my thoughts plunder every corner of my imaginative world. Sitting by the window, and letting juices in my brain convulse to build a different world, were frequent each day. I even witnessed love, the one in its purest form. The feeling that I used to admire once, I could only wish for, now I had it experienced. That feeling is of ‘being loved’. To love someone is not something which brows up my attention, but its ‘being loved’ truly is what that hooks me. God! Bless me…

I am in my fourth year of B-Tech course. One year from now, and I will be a pass-out. Time flies; who knows this better than them who studied in engineering colleges. I recall that existence of energy in me and that zeal when I was in first year. I had several friend circles, lots of well-wishers (at least I supposed them to be) and dreams to accomplish. Everything has changed now. Or I should say they have got refined. With the changing and moving time, life adds various filters through which you sieve out many people. I was no exception.

Challenges on my way, and few trusted supports I have. I wish to keep up with the expectations that my family has from me. But I don’t know really what I would be writing here one year later from now.

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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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Chronicles of a Mermaid

Down the waves of Mediterranean

From the blissful eden land underneath

Went forth a mermaid

Above the trauma of the surface.

Taking hold of my hand

Salvaging me from the swirl of ogre

She led my mislaid consciousness 

Into her arms of trustiness.

In the blushed state borne in my smile

I prompted a question

Are you the one, the princess Silken?

In the strobe of divine light she egressed

She carried me somewhere

Out of blindness I wasn’t aware.

Who is she?

Is she the one my voyage was meant for?
...

My lips folded, and eyes partially lit

Tried to whoop the acquaintance 

My senses recollected bit by bit

But not before she stooped

And caressed her nose with mine.

The heiress of those sweetest smiles,

Yes! The lonely fairy she was;

The Princess of the sea!

The sea which inhabits all variants of life

So does she patronize my life sedately.
...

In thorns of seclusion, in deprivation from love,

My heart promised me of your existence

I never paused for a moment 

Being affected in perils of aloofness.

I have sailed through the Pacific

The bedlam of dilapidated emotions

Just to meet you; to be with you hereafter…

Sealed in her kiss

She blew life into me, heal to my injuries

And the storm calmed into bliss.

Entwined in embrace of love

Together we departed for the Promised Land.


Image Courtesy : Google Images Search

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bon voyage

How clearly the emotions we remember, of those frightened steps that were hesitant to move ahead. That was the day when few timid hearts obliged with immense aspirations consoled themselves, and accepted what they ultimately arrived at. That was the first day when we entered our engineering college…

(click to enlarge)

I am in final year of my B-tech now. And for me, there has been a series of learning and experiences outside my textbooks. I know this would be true for my immediate seniors too. They ended their terms in our college after their completion of final semester, and have left us alone. I had been attached emotionally with some, and tied friendliness with many.  The most crucial thing I am going to miss now is I won’t be hanging around them explaining peculiar thoughts and curiosities that pet in my mind. Few things no one understands, and I never explain them to everyone. I will miss them who truly understood what I used to explain. :D

Whatever be your college's status, whatever curse you prize your college with, at the end you are going to miss it. I have seen them… not just through the moistness that prevailed in their eyes but through the unexplainable silence rooted somewhere deep inside. Emotions pouring through eyes are not as powerful as the silence is, and that too creased in a smile. Unexplainable situations, I know I would have to witness myself too. The one which is a year far, I know that will get closer in blink of an eye. At the end, we people turn out to be so dependent on the ambiance that prevail consistently in our hostel. When back to home, we tend to stick to the same routine, we tend to find the same people. Who is going to bang on to our doors shouting aloud names connecting them with girls in the nearest girl’s hostel, who will be there to quarrel for a puff of cigarette? Friendship is the last string that keeps you attached in your memories despite of truck load conspiracies you got to confront in your four years.

I won’t point out names of my seniors specifically because almost everyone had been very special to me in one way or the other. I got to learn something from them which awakened me from sort of darkness in different realms. Now me being in the final year, I take the responsibility to support and elate my juniors. I have plans for this year. I hope I will be able to execute them efficiently. And for my seniors, I wish them good luck for their lives ahead. And as Robert Frost had said, ‘In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on’; so lets move on, and pledge to work even harder in our future and march ourselves towards excellence.

Please do stay in touch!

ANSHUL GAUTAM

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A Kid Has Died...

Love is a feeling which can make you do things beyond your imagination. Even if you are creeping into disguise, you won’t notice it clearly before your eyes, as they lie veiled beneath LOVE.
While some take love seriously, others treat it like a game where they should try their hands too. This post is an imagination by me about one such kid, who faced mishap from his mate.

In a cottage at my nearest 

A wicked spell has outraged

Gulped into the darkness of underworld

Infancy of a kid has got caged.

As came the demonic blow of Satan,

The angelic cosmos; tranquil & serene,

In a wink of eyes they all have faded.

Fantastical characters locked inside dolls

Are lying crushed; dead in terrain of remorse.

Anthology of knitted stories held on the shelf

Has fallen off the walls of hope

Cascade of pages have come out

Sucked into the whirlpool of hatred.

Clinking of bells have stopped

Brewing is stillness

A frightening awe has evolved.

Out of scare frozen in my spines

I hurried to shut close my window

But before, a tattered note came flying inside

Inscribed in red: 'my love'
I recognized the kid’s handwriting.

With a jolt of dread, senses riposted

I woke up with pounding heart affrighted.

A nightmare?

Pearls of perspiration rolled off my lobes

Hue and cry prevailed in air

I heard through the window,

'A kid has died'.

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Brain-sick's Diary #4 >> Unusualness

Something unusual has happened. Something that is pulling me into despair. Something which is clenching me in the fist of depression; a depression of a kind whose origin lies veiled. Only my senses are reactive towards the rhetoric discussions I have been raising inside me. Perceptions I envisage is pulling me apart with a force that can uproot a living strong tree, that can bring to the grounds tombs of giant mega structures, that can explode away a town with nuke energy.  I don’t know the specific reason. I just witness the unusualness.

Interests are getting suppressed. Things that used to be my passion (which they still are, but have gone under hibernation) are also getting dim in my arena. I go through early pages of my life, and I feel surprised on the changes I underwent. In the isolation, in the separate space where I have dragged myself into, I keep juggling thoughts and beliefs that have burst out from nowhere. Why does this happen? No clues.

Facebook? Twitter? G+? I have quit almost all of them. I used to be one of the most active person on social media websites. Though I never run out of plots for short stories and poetry, but increased intimacy with the unusualness has slackened the will to perform, to write them on my blog. Why am I writing all this crap right now? I am only scribbling my heart on pages of my open diary just to bookmark this day, and when I will look back again in distant future, I will try to feel the worst unusualness that I have experienced. Why does this happen? No clues.

Friendship which is considered to be the most sacred relationship (I haven’t seen, I read in books) never crosses my way. It might be that I am very stiff at my attitude and consequently this relationship never intersected into my way. I have always tried to mix with people, tried to get to know them, tried to weave strands of solidarity with the people whom I connected with. But I have failed each time. Love? Does it exist? I have only seen unusualness.

This unusualness is intensifying with each passing day.  If I could ever get to reach its origin, I will surely bring myself out of this labyrinth, killing the evil spree to death. 

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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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