Home dreamin’ space blue

​I dream. I dream a lot. Sometimes, I dream in pictures, sometimes, I dream in words, sometimes, in the sounds and the songs, sometimes in the smell of a familiarity. I guess it is not uncommon to dream in the taste of all such flavours, of homes and houses, of streets and pathways, that, often, seem to lead me back to the familiarities of which I dream. Also, I think not that a man may not be lost in all such conundrum of words, that, sometimes seem to go astray themselves. I owe it to my nativity on which I’d been brought up, and toward which I shall make this full circle. I hope to find my full-stops somewhere, but for now, at home I rest.


Time – What is Time?

Time, what is time? Is it a physical thing, or not? Is it definite, or indefinite? To tell you the truth it is neither, and yet, it is all. Time is the existence of the table on which you’ve put your PC. It is the screen through which you can see these pixels. Time is the light particles being reflected back to your eyes which, just like time, are everything that you do not see. Time is not just the final output, instead, it is anything but the final output. The final output is just the representation of the time it took a Clocksmith, who, upon years of operating on a basic level, have made it possible for the market to put a worth on the quality of time. It isn’t just about the quality of time when they do that, or when we do that. Something we like better, somethings we like less – Simple. But to answer what time is, isn’t as simple as explaining the work of a professional.

Irrespective of the moment you wake up, normally you’d have a glance at your watch, or the alarm will ring, and wake you up on time. We not only live and die in time, you see we do every thing in between that, and we are always living on time – irrespective of past, present or future. The time it took for this planet to become habitable was also bounded by time, nay! not bounded, I apologize, rather defined by time. Time doesn’t allow or disallow anything to move, stop, commence or end, it just observes. Even where there is nothing in the infinite boundaries of space, where, if a person were to be isolated with all forms of life support, but any device that could tell him the time, would seem to live an anxious life until, time takes away his anxiety. You  see, time is not seen or visible but at the same time, it is in every single thing you see right now. The bed you are on took a carpenter some amount of time to make it for you – so comfy. The atomic bombs at Hiroshima and Nagasaki – they were the resultant power of individuals who put their time to it – so powerful… and destructive. Philosophically speaking, Time is what you’d want it to be. Time is defined by us, we can make it as gentle as cotton or as hard as Iron. Give what you can, give your best, because, to even grow a flower, it takes days of sunlight and watering, but I have never seen someone passionately gardening and yet wailing about it at the same time.

The inner kid

I have always been a kid at heart. I am 24 now, but I am just a grown boy. I am still very much the same kid who got all moody because someone was calling names or kept smiling to take it all in and let no one know. What would I say, if I visit that time again. I guess, I will pat his back, smile and say, “it is going to be okay. You are going to be the best at who you are, and you are always with me, the better part of me. Let us meet again… When you are me.” 

It gives a peacefulness when you induce such an innocent thought. Just imagine that you were to meet your 7-10 years old, what would you say? Doesn’t it bring to you a smile? 

Gentle commotion – short on anxiety

Gentle commotion in my brain

Tearful extravaganza down the lane

Hearing things believed to be true

Finding naught left me mute

Cold showers and comfy lies

My company through the night

Wondering where I will end up was my thought

At first I seemed to be on course

Sore eyes, red and bloat,

Don’t mind when I shut the door

Imagine eventual calamity disengage

I stumble on place and panic and shame

Of all the things I wish not my friend

Gentle commotion never seems to end

Daily Prompt: Sincere

via Daily Prompt: Sincere

What is sincerity? Who is Sincere? The most common answer to this would be an infant, free of corruption, ill thoughts, hate, envy, etc. But, why do we say that these thoughts are bad? Or bad is some thing to stay away from? We know, and have well experienced cases and situations when we ourselves dwell around the negativity of our own thoughts, or someone near us. The “Bad” makes you feel weak, devastated, ill, tired, and so on. It is like a hue of colour. Take for example the colour black. Once you go black on a stroke of the brush, you can never go back. Black mixes into any hue and turns it darker and grim. For some it is art, and it is a necessary piece for a painting. But in life… Life is just like a fresh white Canvas – so is innocence, but just for the convenience of the story we would take them as the same thing, which according to literature giants is not. It is free of all the experiences to be drawn upon it, maps of places visited to be laid down, colours of emotion to be painted on, and Sincerity… well, it is the careful use of your strokes. It is the art of where to smudge and where to draw, it is an ethic of the way to paint the world on your finest canvas you have ever received. Where you would use smudges and where you’d like it to stay sharp and contrast from the background, is up to you, and have probably defined the outcome for many of my experiences. Sincerity lets many people know where to use an emotion, follow a thought, or evade from pulling a trick on your parents, your friends, your lover. Most people are not painters or artists, neither am I, but I understand the logic of sincerity this way very well, and I hope you were cleared on a thing or two, too. So, by being sincere you are not only a good moral person, but (subconsciously) you have mastered the art of a life devoted to giving. Life is about giving and expecting no returns. If you are sincere to this motto, you may soon realize how fulfilled your life is.

This was my frail attempt to write a few things down on Sincere and Sincerity.

Speak up

Speak up, when you have to say. Speak up, when you need to say. Speak up, for yourself, no, not defending yourself. Speak up, for what is right. You have been done wrong, when you don’t speak up when it is right to speak up. Speak up, stand up for yourself if you find standing up for yourself is too daunting to do. At least speak, just say what it is. Because, it does not matter if you are right by controlling yourself to not aggravate a situation, the situation within you starts aggravating from then on. Don’t leave your inner voice alone. Give him/her company, appreciate the effort and speak up. Fight!

Colourfully shy reflection

​You see some people will underestimate you. They don’t want you to know. They don’t Care that they don’t want you to know. What they know is that you can’t be whom you can be. They don’t know you, they don’t know what’s inside of you, and for this they hate you. They hate you because they don’t know what is inside of you. They will underestimate you. Maybe they are happy living under their own shell of the world, but they are happy. Damn, even enemies are good. They have honour. They have respect for you. They envy you for your potential. But some people don’t even want to be in your level. What is it called? Disgust? I am not sure about the right word here… and I don’t want to use the wrong word, man. 

Sadly to us, the lucky folks to realize this, is that the world has more of the people who do not know you, rather than those who want to be enemies with you. Those who underestimate you come in all shapes and sizes, man. All matter. They come in as your friend. They make you feel like you have some connections with them, and before you know it, they seem to know everything about you, and soon, as time passes by, you realise that they really don’t. Then the spiral begins, they know you, man. They have every pre conceived idea about you and your stories. One day you realize that, “hey, you don’t know that. You don’t even know if it’s happened.” But to them and to the world, it has happened, not as how you’ve experienced but by how they described the event. And it will be site to behold where the hero sits in the corner and the clown steals the show. 

You see, you have described everything as per truth goes. As per you are, you’d lived, but one day you come to terms that, “okay, you know, maybe I am wrong. Maybe I need to dissolve my colours to choke the drinker. “ I don’t know about these people. To me, enemies are worthwhile than those who underestimate me. They have more meaning in them.