all about why?, rambles, randomness

Circus under the sun

But we’re only the clowns
In this circus under the sun,
Trying to win the hearts of everyone
Yet really impressing none.

We walk around in groups
Winding words in hula hoops.
Holding hands and swaying hips,
And the truth never grazing the lips.

Spinning word webs in gossamer,
We wait for a fly, a passer.
Catch a prey we think, we might
Soaring high, never alight!

Never ask a question why you’re so true
Surveillance injecting venom through a sprue.
Purling up an invisible lens in your head,
Scoring you instantly on each deed

Words you hear, none you’d heed,
Stacking up treasuries, none you’d need.
Pushing your smiles wider than ever,
For impressing those you don’t care, never.

What is this being “good” anyway?
You catch yourself pondering in dismay.
Am I being good because I want to,
Or is it ’cause someone’s peering, ado!

What is this “good” in the first place?
And why is it always setting me ablaze.
Just not doing bad, as good will do,
Then isn’t not stopping bad, a bad too?

And when was it the last time you asked yourself this,
Would you still be good if you dint have karma’s surveillances?
With not just one answer to keep or take,
I put this up for my own good’s sake!

 

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all about why?, rambles, randomness, reality

The Volition

How did you feel when you held that weapon of destruction in your hand,
looked all around and, What did you think?
Did you just even for a moment out of curiosity consider,
Of using its vile superpower against someone or the world…
Did that thought even cross your mind that power gives you immense freedom?
The power in your hands to create or destroy
To nail it down or to compromise,
To stay there and witness or to bailout and shiver!
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all about why?, rambles, randomness, shine on

Theory of innocence

­When I was a little girl I had my own theories about the world as I knew it. One thing I was firm about, we lived on the inside of the earth as geography called it, the mantle. Someone had already told me that the earth was round so strike out the option of it being a planar surface. So, the only other conclusion was that the earth was made of concentric spheres. There was a core, the land we lived on and the blue sky with empty space between the land and the space, the universe where everything flew.
The sky was of two hemispheres – one with holes- the stars and the other with a huge round lamp that changed its colour from orange – yellow to white, widely known as the Sun. The sky rotated about an axis as my geography teacher told me but the land stayed still. If the land rotated, I’d have known right! It did move once a while and we named it earthquake! Outside the world was bright white light – whose source I didn’t really give much of a thought about.
The night side of the sky had holes of multiple sizes one big hole that had some dirt on it; I guess God hadn’t had time to clean the glass. And numerous other small holes that kept twinkling.
I also believed that the airplanes could fly through the little holes at night and go to the other countries or may be visit the God but not the birds ‘cause they were pretty huge for the size of the holes… Aliens with green skin and huge poppy eyes lived there in those other countries outside! I’ve spend so many hours wondering how small would those people in the airplanes be, were they smaller than the people on TV or the ones that hid inside my radio? I thought maybe, just maybe the sky was made of glass, tinted blue –dark and light.
Sometimes the sphere leaked or cracked causing thunderstorms. My grandmother tried convincing me that it was the Gods taking a shower or bursting firecrackers. I used to laugh at how naïve she sounded; I mean come on, how stupid is that!
The other theory was that the stars were little lights that hung from the sky and the twinkling was because there was a power shortage!
This one time I was lying down on the terrace at my grandparents and couldn’t figure out what that falling star was. They were just, some birds bumping into one of the strings making one of the stars to sway and fall. Ah, the poor thing!
The clouds, they were the smoke that gets out of the little airplanes that fly. It made me go like, “Oh golly, look at the size of those things!” looking at them and making recognizable shapes of people, things and animals!
The day I experienced my first hailstorm, I was thinking, may be grandma was right; God’s probably having a party up there and ice cubes are falling 😉
I’ve always had a thing for the skies and stars and since the beginning of time as I’ve known it, I’ve spent hours lying down on the cold floor of my terrace wondering if someone from the other worlds (continents) outside the earth was lying down on the terrace n wondering about the same thing as me.
Before I could finalize on the theory education somehow managed to ruin me and I was forced to believe that we lived on the surface and somehow didn’t fall off it because of some strange sticky thing called gravity.
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all about why?, rambles, randomness

what the hell, who cares?

I’m not all that pretty to look,
But for all you know, they say,
You shouldn’t judge by the cover of the book.

I can be very irritating at all times,
But there’s no rule that the person knows
That he or she is the one to be blamed.
I just say I’m way too inquisitive.

I don’t realize either of the facts,
Neither the beauty nor the irritating part.
To me I’m just as pretty as everyone else
And I walk around seeking attention that
I believe I deserve
Frankly, I don’t feel guilty of doing this,
Unless you keep reminding me to be.

The other day, A taxi driver caught me staring at him. Why was I staring at him? Because, something about him intrigued me. He was looking at himself in the rear view mirror, just the way I used to stare at myself, at the blank screen of my LCD, the mirror, my phone’s display when it is turned off. Did I say I used to? Correction – I still do, and I love doing that. Ok back to the story, he wasn’t particularly handsome or anything, I neither found his features angular and symmetric nor his skin tone very pleasing. But still he was looking at himself as if he were looking at a statue made of Swarovski crystals or something. No, I don’t blame him. Everybody has some pleasing features, some are gifted with a couple of them and very few have not more than one imperfection and that’s whom we consider handsome or pretty. For him he was good to look at, or that’s what I made myself believe. But why was I staring at him? I have his habit – I see something and start thinking and my eyes pause and cease to move. Not very often do I realise that I’m staring at someone before they notice. This time was no exception, yes he looked at me and gave a smile, and that gave me an uncanny feeling, my defensive sense was gushing to action to let him know that “dude no! I’m not checking you out”. And that definitely was strong; my head just involuntarily turned to the other side like the release of a coiled spring and by then my face had shifted from the ‘I’m thinking’ expression to a frown. By then it was too late, he was smiling at me. How did I know? You might ask. Well, I was seeing from the corner of my eye. I love grabbing attention and don’t quite know the next step. The taxi was on the roadside and I was in an auto which was stuck in traffic. The traffic cleared my auto moved on but the thought was still pondering in my head.
Does everyone, regardless of their shape, size and colour, think they’re pretty or good to look at? Then why is it that I believe deep inside that I am ugly or wait is that not too deep inside that I feel ugly? Well, its not just about me in here. Does everyone believe they are beautiful?  (Note: this is the first time I wrote beautiful)
I even asked a friend about this, and I don’t quite remember if they actually answered it at all. So I made myself believe that everyone thinks they are good looking in their own ways and that there is nothing wrong in believing that and it doesn’t cost you a thing!

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all about why?, emotions, rambles

well… ok but WHY?

I miss those days

when I could just randomly ramble and rhyme
with a few Fidel admirers down the corner asking me to write them a few words or even more instead!
Some asking me why I didn’t opt for journalism rather than design (seriously?)
and the others asking me to start copyrighting (That reminds me I still haven’t read up on what that term means exactly)
Ok enough beating around the bushes now…
I miss those days
When I could choose between making sense
and to rhyme
when I had the freedom to write nonsense
and waste all my time
I miss those days
When family stays away from your secrets
The dirty and the wild
you chose who reads what and spare all the regrets
getting your priorities nailed!
I miss those days
when I was just learning
and hence I can make mistakes on a daily basis.
Eat Ice creams when it is raining
and write about it a blog, like a thesis.
Now I am old and have to impress
Strangers and random people who might search me on Google
“Be professional and give your blog a proper address,
‘cuz otherwise you’d have to struggle!”
I miss those days
when writing down emotions were so relieving;
read it on a later day, and shed a tear drop or two.
And Hell No, I don’t wanna write for a living,
Because that’s not what I am Here to do!!
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all about why?, randomness, shine on

in encounter with the end…

One who has walked through the tunnel of light would be able to respond to me in coherence… irony is something that still reminds me i’m alive!

Is life just the distance between the two points birth and death?
and whats that which is said, Death and beyond?
do you earn love just to teach,
how to miss when i’m gone?
how to cry, how to get devoid,
how to just, learn to kill myself
to give up the life, where you are nowhere.

sometimes i think I’m religious,
and the rest, I’m sure of being an atheist with a spiritual face.
but if god does exist, can’t he give a 3 month notice before taking life.
says one part of my wandering mind,

the other part believes, if its sure to be death,
be it uninformed, be it random but…
why not give it swifter and in moments puff you reach the light,
no more walking slowly, advancing with painful little leaps to the end of the tunnel
where the angels or the demons,
wait for you with wishes or curses…

death has always been and will be a fascinating topic to discuss upon…
but not like today,
when i see a man with his leg twisted lying under the tyre tracks,
his legs are contorted?? why?? oh yeah i know now (as i take a glance on the other side of his dead body)… his intestine or whatever they are are already out there lying under the tyres, with blood and he has a blank reaction on his face, neither pain nor the suffering of it… he is dead, even before he realized. he must have flown through the tunnel for sure..!

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