The Ailing Intellectual

‘Have you seen these people here ? Disgusting ! ‘ – said my friend.

hmm.. that’s always easy, I thought..
When you can’t solve problems, alienate them. Stand in a class of intellectuals and look down upon the rest. I could never understand this. Till I’m having food in-front of a hungry man – feelings of jealousy, hate, dominance, greed .. will persist. Amongst the intellectuals(acclaimed and self-professed) too – these sentiments are pervasive, although with sophistication.Consumed with sophism, they live a life which is not their own. Bearing the burden of what they are not.

I feel everyone one has an idea of perfection.There’s so much looking up to things and people, that one feels let down more and more. We look for replacement memories, because we don’t think that we have an ideal life, but someone else has it!

I have heard my friends say many-a-times, things like, ‘I don’t think I would study here or work there, as the quality of people isn’t great!’.
The quality of education or work could be a bone-of-contention, the way they are done could be another, but how judgmental, the self-proclaimed non-judgmental people can be, is surprising..and at times when the competition is enough to keep them out.

It’s an actors world. Like Gandhi said – Be the change that you want to see around.
In our ironic world, very mundane thoughts are considered bold subjects sometimes.All of us want safety, security, love, pride and acceptance. We are all similar in that sense. Also, we all know the negative shades, because we all have them.

There’s a dearth of humility, the fear of being small and hence a lack of acceptance. Change needs these. And our world needs a constant change for better.
Hope this New Year dawns with a promise for all of us..Gives us strength to be better and make things better! 🙂

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Inspired by Replacement Memories

Wish you a very happy 2013! 🙂

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Finding Light

The boat had drifted right in the middle of the sea, like it was on a voyage to the sun. Sun – that had been sinking into water, perhaps looking to cool itself off, of its own heat. It seemed as if we were following a trail of light, which was fast receding.

‘It would start raining soon’, declared the rower.

I had been mindful of the nip in the air, the full moon night and hence the consequences, but I had been drunk on what lay before me. The island was fabled to be the home to Soma, the elixir. Not that I wanted to live forever, but it made for a strong business proposition. To me it made up for a great adventure and quest .It was late but we kept on.

With supplies to last for a few days, I felt assured. It was drizzling as we landed. The island was beautiful, ornate with flowers, fragrance and divine grace.

We got our task together; poured some gin to warm us up… tomorrow would be it I thought!

Day-broke and so did the clouds and my heart too…The game went on for four days and slowly everything had been either swept away or rendered useless. The waves lashed furiously on the shores, pushing us in.

All that remained was a canvas tent, my associate and the boat anchored on the shore. With not much left at hand – we wanted to leave. But for the inclement weather, which wouldn’t let us! Soma, was the last thing on my mind. Irony had struck with impunity and death was scoffing at my face. To have another soul stuck with me, was making me feel like a criminal.

For the first time in my life, I surrendered completely to life. Prayers rose from the deepest recesses of my heart and mind, in the midst of stillness that I had never known. I was grateful for just ‘being’…’ how’ – had become immaterial… I wished this ‘being’ to go on. There was a sense of promise and faith in it.

Tired in the middle of the turmoil, I didn’t know when I fell asleep, clutching on to the canvas cloth. My peer had its other end.

Some light had pierced through; streams of it corrugated my forehead. I squinted my eyes and peeped out of the canvas. The sun was out, bright and shining. I erupted into joy, like I had found the elixir. Shook and woke up my partner. Everything looked so calm and benign, that days past by seemed a distant story. Deep blue waters of the sea with an umbrella of a clear sky, overwhelmed me as tears slipped off my cheeks.

We picked up the remnants and unhitched the boat. The journey back home had begun.

Did I find Soma ?… I guess I did. I was alive.

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Inspired by Drift

Merry Christmas! 🙂

And I..

Eyes lift up

Open and awake

Or so I’m told

But I was dreaming

I still am

The picture I behold.

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Bruised and healed

Wisdom keeled

Prophecies complete

Shaken faith, wonder seized

The beginnings of strangeness

Bring me to believe

The spell that leaves

Little to bereave.

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Come home now and sleep

It’s a weary street

These teary eyes

Aren’t a reprieve

Joy would come

And soon would leave

And so would pain

Which I struggle to beat

Nothing is neat, nothing is bleak

All is me and that’s all I need.

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Inspired by The beginnings of strangeness

Living within..

His hand shook as he picked up a glass of water to quench his thirst, which he had been holding for a long time now. He had hobbled his way to kitchen, patiently – watchful of every little step. I waited for him to open the door, to deliver his order.

He had a familiar countenance. Wrinkled skin, spectacles hanging precariously on the nose, some hoarseness in voice, droopy eyes and a tender appearance. Our conversations had been limited, though I had been invited for long ones, many a times. But I had a job at hand and a dearth of time.

Today was different. Third day since my granpa had died and I had to report on the job. My grandpa, was my connection, with who I had been. Slowly, I was assuaging my loss.

Before I could think more, he opened the door.

‘Good Morning Victor! Got this parcel again..’, he smiled and continued ‘These kids you know.. Medicines don’t have an effect after a certain age. They are just a key to dying, but please keep it here and thank you!’

‘Sir, I have seen you for a few years now.. you’ve only grown younger!’, I winked as I chuckled.

He laughed and invited me for a coffee.

Today was different, I couldn’t refuse. I headed for the kitchen. As the coffee brewed, I felt warmed inside. I don’t know the key to dying or living – but for all the urgent affairs I had, at hand, I felt calm and eternal, like I had all the time in this world, for anything that it could ask me for…

‘Do get some donuts from the side-drawer.. I have a small treat for you!’, he said with a humor laden voice..

‘Right Away Sir’, I heard my happy voice, as I replied..

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Inspired by Key to Dying

Crime of Compassion

I was seeing him after years together. He sat on a chair, a cloth wrapped around him. Hair which had grown long enough to touch his shoulders. A long beard.  Eyes still looked familiar- unapologetic but compassionate. The barber had just made a few strokes of the blade as his facial skin responded to it’s long forgotten touch. As he gave me an autistic look, I smiled and he struggled.

I got up and looked out of the window. Soon, lost in a reverie, some memories came rushing. Our mutual discomfort with the nobility of the world. Questions on charity and virtues of life.An everyday struggle to know that we were living, what we were not. That, Was there something missing – that we did not know, or were we just whiling away time. He had taken to the pot, in anticipation of rousing his inner self and I to the Himalayas!

Just before the barber had come, he had elucidated a stoner’s journey – how every sniff he took, made him feel like levitating in an invisible sky. The body seemed to have lost it’s weight and contours. And the consciousness expanded but hallucinating about random people and situations.Moving mouths with no utterance of a word or sound. An unconditioned happiness enveloping him all over as his limbs chilled and perspired.

Waking up to morbid feelings and longing for the experience again.

I had my share of stories too.  Mornings drunk on a concoction of low chants at the break of a dawn,  a little tiredness, unbroken silence and no purpose or intention. Silence where you could sense your organs going on in a rhythm but slowing down. I wasn’t sure about where the journey was leading me to, or had I lost my way. For the first time I felt what it was to be lost! Fear.. and more of it.. And I had chickened out.

Working for a few months at the grocery store close by has not been ‘Life’ but has been safe.. Perhaps for the reason – that it’s accepted..

He knows it so well. Our paths have been parallel, if not the same. He’s been a partner in the crime of compassion – for oneself and humanity in general..Has served his sentence well in the rehab. I’m happy that it’s his last day today.

I turn. He looks groomed. I plant a kiss on his forehead and he smiles..

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Inspired by Crime of Compassion