It’s easy to get lost on the symphony. But then again who knows the notes.
Like a silent hand guiding you towards the path. Unknown. Unseen.
If I would have known how much sadness is beneath your smiling eyes, I would have never closed mine.
Leap of faith. Guiding hand. Mystical smile afterwards. Knight in shining armour.
If only dreams and reality can converge into a cesspool of thoughts we would be happy at the end of the darkened spell of rain.
These clothes that hide your personality within the fake cloth. These shades that darken your eyes for the world around you. Naked ambition.
Poets need a muse to spit that rhyme.
Writers need a story to write that paragraph.
We need each other.
To make a life.
Just walk into your life.
One fleeting moment when you least expect it.
Swaying like the windless chimes.
Making all the right noises.
That drowns your perception of things.
Momentary. Motionless. Myopic.
Your assumptions about life,
Blown into your naive belonging.
Search for the unknown.
The useless days will add up to something. Someday!
She was there,
Standing still. Sitting. Walking up and down.
Hair falling on the face,
A tinge of uneasy smile that illuminated the desire to love.
She spoke. First.
I was standing a little far. Nervous as a wreck too.
Bonded by shared circumstances,
Separated by disparate history and life experiences.
Smooth talking and affable,
She had the quality of making you their own.
In the space of unknown,
You feel like she is the one you have known (For years)
Feeling like Deja Vu,
Reading through the similar experiences and thoughts.
That Life runs in a parallel track,
Where you share the same train as her.
May be Different Stations. Ultimately same destination.
Wish I had taken her number. Before Sunrise.
The ingredients are right there,
Distinct and full of aroma
The tools are right there,
Of all shapes and sizes
The time is right there,
To drill it down it’s spine
The intent is right there,
To make one out of few
The only thing that is not there,
Is the spice of life
Scattered in it’s approach,
Invisible to the discerning.
It makes it’s appearance,
When nobody is paying attention!
Want to taste the chutney?
Choice is yours!
Today, while swimming I saw a bunch of aunties clicking photos of the child in front of pool, basketball court, garden and what not!
Rather than enjoying the company or playing with the toddler, they were indulging in experiences that they can share with the larger audience.
Which bring me to this topic: Manufactured Experiences.
Due to cellphones and social networks, We all are engaged in ‘Manufactured Experiences’
All the facebook photos and self photos,
Frequent click of photos in an restaurant, pub, movie theatre,
On an outing,
Someone’s birthday party
Rather than make insanely great experience for ourselves at that moment, we are looking for confirmation from our inner social circle to validate that, yes we are indeed having a good time!
Moments are lost to make everlasting memories.
Self belief is more to do with social approval now.
In a sea of friend connection, we are looking for some who will agree with us.
On facebook, twitter, whatsapp, vine, instagram and what not!
Happiness is a subjective thing, isn’t it?
One night. With Thoughts making a noise.
An absence filled with nothingness. Like the absence of light is darkness to the mind.
Black and white kaleidoscope. When colors forget to add themselves to the canvas. Willful deception or untouched pureness?
That cart which you are pulling. You better know you can leave it in the middle to feel lighter. But, you can’t.
So many colors. Yet focused arrogance blinds the unknown messenger. Ignorance is chosen and not conferred.
Negotiated boundaries. You make your own lanes irrespective of the chaos around. Is it chaos? Pattern?
Cross legged. Cross Hand salute. Hoisted happiness. Inside. There is too much darkness!
View from the windowsill. Parted edges can show the glimpse. But not the frame of reference.
She lay motionless with deadpan arrogance. Fully clothed. Besmirched by her past. Trip mistakenly and those who rise after won’t be shaken.
Contrast is palpable. Flight of fancy or grounded realities. Tugged by string attached. One blow and wind has its sway over your existence.
Stripped to the last strand of cloth. Smeared with ash. Carefree to the world. Faith keeps the fire burning inside.
Silver line of worries that are called wrinkles. Stories that are untold and left to die within.
Into that old taxi. Without number plate. Where memories lay scattered. Like a faulty meter. Stopped in it’s track.
Renunciation. Knowingly free yourself from the suffocation. Into the boundaries of reason.
Shadow of your existence,
Lingers on long after you have left…
The emotions of togetherness,
Reverberates in the smallest of particles…
After you have left,
Others will walk over your presence,
Without feeling the connection
But your legacy will live on,
To next generation and beyond,
And the unknown touch that can’t be felt or deciphered,
But only experienced.