antaheen akash

ure jete chai shei antaheen akashe ...

abar bhabi eka pore jabo na to?

okhane jete chai kintu bari to amar ekhane?

shobar majhe...

naki bari ami nije... shob kichur urdhe?

chari pash ta je ar bhalo lage na...

boro je ochena lage...

ba nije ke chenar majh ochena...

ki korbo?

chena di ochena chinbo ki ochena di chena?

shob kichu je gholate hoejae,

ei chena akasher arale...

What is it in us that holds us together and yet holds us apart?

What is it that makes the future so dark?

Is it us or is it just me?

Or is it the shining sky above that pities the impotent headed race?

Is it enough to know that the present holds promise ?

And the future lies dark?

Can one live today without a hope for tomorrow?

Is life so fun without the mysterious future that tempers the present?

Is it possible to live without knowing death lies ahead?

Life and death are not dichotomies…

The transition is…

I loved you, I was you.

But now I am myself and too full of it too.

The I that hit you, the eye that betrayed you,

Is no longer the one that loved you.

I am the sinner I am the saint.

I am the betrayer, I am the betrayed

I am the one that was best at the worst game of our lives.

a meaningful life?

everyone asks me what would i die for?

i say "a meaningful life".

... but meaning does not descend.

in the last god knows how many days i have rocked my head or rather landscapes have been shaped and reshaped by earthquakes and avalanches have stepped in when when all seemed picture perfect.

what is a meaningful life i ask?

and the post structuralists in my head reply: meaning cannot be achieved.

but then this does not also lead to the loss of meaning.

meaning that foul deceitful thing will always remain, eluding us from our path, showing us mirages that intoxicate and leading us to new places that have never been. and in our Sisyphean madness what we reckon is the pursuit the journey and not the destination. when we realize the illusion that we have lived the why does not arise for the toil tends to fill us up with a sense of fullness and we look for future pursuits!

as i continue with the rupture of my head and soul, i think the same madness has engulfed me too and filled me up with pride. i do not know what i want but i do know what i don't. i would rather live to see my head and soul rupturing in quest of something for infinity but i will not be able to stand a Cartesian split between the two.

better the unhappy wise than the happy fool my young blood says.

but then from somewhere within that damned voice whispers come sunset will it matter? will exhaustion not come in and the body-soul ask for rest in the arms of someone dear?

and an uncanny silence sets in preparing way for the storm again the next morning.

Phronesis

Life has always been funny and now it seems to break all dimensions.

Principles, they say are important in life. They guide you. For me, i will not deny, it has been true. At the same time, it has not made life easier. It has helped me find a 'one life' among all the digressions that life proposes.

But are digressions bad? No! they are fun. (and i realise i have again digressed from my point). Along with one life what is important is phronesis or the power over your emotions. But what exactly this is, i do not yet realise. i am still misanthropic in giving away love and when i am shunned it all stops or rather meets a dead end.. like a switch- ON & OFF.

the other person does not depend or want my feelings. i choose to give it. but when they commit a mistake i shut it all out.

in retrospect i realise i had no right to block it. OR am i thinking to much? Does the other person even care whether my love is required or not? i don't know. What i do know is i am a switch and once off i cannot get my self into switching it on! Oh bother! what an irony.

And i call it phronesis.

it ain't phronesis.

its simply an answer to the insult on my love.

a twister in my mind

all my life I've heard and still do that life is an experience that is to be lived... don't hold back but live..

Family and friends are those who who make life livable.

Then there were times when life became suffocating and quotes like "You cant change your friends you cant change your family you cant change anyone so rather change yourself " came along... making things more claustrophobic...

The discomfort stayed... till a few days back when i peered into my seven year old nephews book and found the picture of a cocoon silently making a point. Life in itself is great but what if you yourself are yet incapable of encompassing it's adulterated abundance.. you then need time to prepare yourself for the roses in life are not devoid of its thorns..

well then the cocoon or one may say the external womb comes in. Within however, homo sapiens this is a very internal scheme. my discomfort may have ceased but what took it's place gave me no less irritation...the cocoon seemed a simple answer but what hit me was its mechanism. i haven't been able to work it out. the more i think the more confused i become giving way to awe and angst at the same time.

if the mechanism of the cocoon whether literal or otherwise how does the mechanism go about?

if the purpose is actually of an exile from the outside til it develops to face it then how does this happen without any interaction with the outer world. And if there is a supposed interaction then how can it be not affected?

Again, hypothetically if i assume that there is no interaction? how can one survive in solitude for so long?

a twister in my mind ... i just cant seem to break the shell.. how and why?

of a home from down the memory lane...

its strange...

its a long gone feeling and its come rushing back as if it wasn't ever gone...

life in Bangalore has just started ma and baba have shifted in and today i stride in... in a small room that itself looks shyly at its inmates i find old dusty images of our home back from past.

its seems a weird feeling of staying again... only the four of us under the same roof as a family... no uncles aunts grandma no one in miles...

as i look eerily forward to the days ahead of us i know my association with this home will never be much... but what hits is when i am duly made to feel so.. anyways... but experiences and feeling if gathered are enough in a week than in nine months ...

its strange... very...

life has a its hiccups and this is definitely one of them... my home NO! bhai's home = baba's home is Not = my home... home is where the heart reside i think my soul is madly intoxicated by the dusty smell of my moth ridden table back home.. i cant think beyond it.. i know this will hurt at times to know that my three inmates will share a new space without me... a sense of jealousy? yes but carefully and yet suffocatingly wrapped in pride.. MY BROTHER's HOME...

well i guess... life is a box of chocolates. You never know what u'll get.