The Storm with In....!

He was writing a trillion times over and over again
in the withered pages of his memory
"I love life"
"I love life"
.
.
.
Not knowing that this desire has no end in itself,
he would continue to write not knowing that life
is that grain of sand flowing down in the glass clock
with the constant pull of desire.
His mind creates this bubble of soap, in which he floats,
seeing world through it's sensual refraction.
Afraid he is, of the truth, that will strike as a lighting
on his fragile bubble, breaking his deluded vision.
He was a puppet, puppet in the bowl of glass
smiling all the time to those who wanted to look through him.
Beneath the smile, little did he know what he was
conspiring, conspiring with the pain inside him.
Why did he smile ?
cause he wanted to be happy,
Happy like every other mortal around him.
They all had lives, lives which he never understood,
which had no misery in them.
He always wanted to be a part of it, a part of the party
which looked so happy.
He was afraid to be left alone, left alone in the chilly winds
outside, little did he know, about the serenity in the eye of the
tornado.
He read, read a lot of men, who seem to be telling him a
different story, story that he didn't like, cause the characters
in them where not what he would call "Happy"
He judged, judged the writer by the words he wrote
little did he know, the writer was lying.

Hey.. It's that day again..!

This life as you now live it and have lived it,
you will have to live once more and innumerable
times more; and there will be nothing new in it,
but every pain and every joy and every thought
and sigh and everything immeasurably small
or great in your life must return to you-all in
the same succession and sequence-even this spider
and this moonlight between the trees, and even this
moment and I myself.
The eternal hourglass of existence is turned over and over, and you with it, a grain of dust.

-Nietzsche

Now.. Lets all rejoice..
It's that day Again
Yet another day that people waste loads of money to
rejoice the vanity.. of time.

Wish U all A Happy New Year

More Questions and Madness...!

Why am i in Pain ???
Why did i ask this Question when i knew the answer ??
Can you Renounce your love for something ??
Or is it just the passage of time that erases it ??
What happens when a taught string snaps..
why is that instance so powerful ?
where does that force go ?
I've snapped alright, but what happened to my force ?? Can a force die out ??
what's the origin of this force, if had it in me, how am i dispelling it ?
and where am i throwing it.
Is my pain just another manifestation of my force ?

I am a fool, wasting this precious force in guilt and remorse
i ought to realize my entirety which has no boundaries, how do i remember
this, is enlightenment just the hardwiring of this consciousness ??

The mirage, that gives me pleasure is a swamp, each whim of pleasure
makes me oblivious to my fall in to this deep marsh land.
Life's incredibly stupid, just like me.

This wasn't so bad…. was it???

He floated in his mothers womb for 8 months 21 days,
this ocean of blissful ignorance---this lack of identity,
was all he knew and that's all he wanted. He never had
a past to repent , nor was he deluded by the future
in all it's vanity. His mother's blood and flesh brought
with it not just the nourishment, but also the conscience
which soon caste its ugly shadow on him, making him feel confined,
he soon became claustrophobic, the thoughts of bondage
smothered him. He wanted to break-free from these maternal clutches
and plunge in to the unknown, he soon realized he had a voice in his
head that spoke to him so often, that with time he couldn't distinguish it from himself.

It became his identity; it told him that he had the strength
to get out of this place, which once was heaven to him. Inquisitive,
is all he was, when he started kicking, in a week he was kicking
so hard that his mother gave in and there he was--- out of her womb,
crying, repenting, on his past for the first time. He was struck
with remorse on his decision to break out, but little did he know
that this train never turned back.
The voice within which was now his identity was never at rest,
it was his first friend, that taught him all the things which in the
near future a man in a black robe would read them out as the seven deadly sins,
Pride, Envy, Gluttony, Lust, Anger, Greed and Sloth.
But how does he, a stranger to this carnal land know that they
were detestable, so he did as his voice told him. He succumbed;
he felt a sense of pleasure when he indulged in each of the seven,
little did he know that a Jew who was nailed to a cross, for calling himself
the Son of God 2000 years ago told his disciples who wrote it all
in a book that said--all who indulges in them would be punished
in a scary place they all called hell.

But once he was told that this self indulgence was against the
mores and cardinal virtues scribbled in this age old book, he
was to stop his voice from making him yield to them. He was
confused, utterly baffled cause he realized that he was no longer
in control of his voice. His mama, saw the boy crying when he couldn't
fight this inner voice anymore. She, a faithful follower of the
virtues, did what her mother in fact his great-great-great ...
grand mother has been doing since Eros, took her son to a
place with triangles carved all over it, candles burning near
the picture of the bleeding dead Jew on a cross.
And gave him the same book that she was given, and years
past the kid was able to suppress the voice by telling it
that "It was ok, not to feel bad now that we have the seven
virtues on our side, we can indulge in the seven sins and
still make it to the Heaven", cause the Jew seem to be
pardoning every one who read the book and went to this place once a week,
Now,
This wasn't so bad…. was it???

The Voids.. I hate Em.. all

I feel Langoured, Fatigued, Slothed, BlazEd, Jaded
as i type these words,
All my fruitless trials to fill in the voids of my life with
meaningless conversations and pointless errands, are
so evidently mocking at me.
I want to be subsumed in a passion so eternal that it would
consume me, my thoughts, my apprehensions and just
takes me away from this monotonous trials of pouring sense
in to this porous life.
I am tired of even talking about the worthlessness of my actions,
tired of being so tired. I sometimes wish i was depressed, as it won't be
such an emotionless phase. I certainly understand the transformation
that i am going through, but i still feel like a coccon smothered
by the winds of change.
I sometimes feel like we are all those insects caught in this huge
spider's web, feeding each other hypothetical notions of an ideal life,
far from the strangled reality.And all the glimpses of euphoric happiness that we
percieve are the repercussions of the intermittent free fall we experience
when we break through one net and are waiting to hit another one indefinitely.

Deja-Vu

I had to stay-up alnight working for a conference dead-line lastnight,
was totally exhausted when i slept @ 9 am at one of my close friend's place.
Makes me wonder, what a nice way to ruin a week-end :).
Anyways, i had a goodnight's ( shoud i say goodday's ) sleep and woke up @ 2 am
did some regular grocery on my way back home. Feeling not so rummy about cooking
we planned to lunch out, so we landed up in Paneera's Bread.
Half-way through the lunch ( i guess we were at an altered state of comfort ) , when we
we were talking about the Precoginitions of an after life where
we were born in some european country and played soccer for a living
( Quite a fantasy ain't it ?? ), out of no where
i had a deja-vu. The sudden euphoria made me change the topic of conversation
from a confabulation of future lifes to deja-vus.
I came up with an explanation saying, deja-vus happen when your present perceptions
by-pass the shorterm memory and register the feelings directly to the long-term memory.
Though, this concept of mine wasn't debated furthur, we both decided to look in to the
topic which apparently is experienced by 70% of the population and ignored by almost the
same number of them.
So, did some browsing on the topic and what i found was utterly amazing.
It may be my initial phase of aggravated appreciation for things that are
going to become disintersting in the future, but it might as well be a
rational explanation to most of the so-called spiritual revelations.

Whatever the reason was, this link seem to have thrown light in to a lot of
my dark thoughts.

deja-vu' being here now and then

Cross-Roads...!

Every time i fall, the ambition inside me gains more ammunition
I feel like I have a split personality, two people whose paths are bi-furcated
from very birth. These paths have been converging and the day
They meet is the end of my conscious self and that day looks close.
There is this sudden urge by one of the personalities to break through
this lab-rat life and give this world a sense of the other person.
Where this other person is oblivious to such ambitions he lives in a
Eternal bliss, rejoicing with every moment, every nick of time feeling the
Wholesome self that is one with every from of life.
They don’t cross their paths nor are they seeking such a union, but
The ambitious one feels weak, feels fear, feels anger at the other's
Complacency with the things around, he wants to feed desire, desire to
Conquer the world and show the ignorant that such an achievement is worthless
Eventually.

Is that when they will meet ??? may be, That’s why there are two of them,
to become One

Unwell by MatchBox20

All day staring at the ceiling
Making friends with shadows on my wall
All night hearing voices telling me
That I should get some sleep
Because tomorrow might be good for something

Hold on
Feeling like I'm headed for a breakdown
And I don't know why


But I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired
I know right now you don't care
But soon enough you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be...me

I'm talking to myself in public
Dodging glances on the train
And I know, I know they've all been talking about me
I can hear them whisper
And it makes me think there must be something wrong with me
Out of all the hours thinking
Somehow I've lost my mind


But I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired
I know right now you don't care
But soon enough you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be

I've been talking in my sleep
Pretty soon they'll come to get me
Yeah, they're taking me away



But I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired
I know right now you don't care
But soon enough you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be

Yeah, how I used to be
How I used to be
Well, I'm just a little unwell
How I used to be
How I used to be
I'm just a little unwell

NYC

Took a detour for two days and i am back on the monotonous high-way tunnel
seeking light @ the end of it. It was my first visit to the mother of all metros
NYC. Yet another experience that strengthened my belief in the illusionary nature of the phenomenon which most of us choose to call life.

I could go on and on and write about how happening the streets were,
how humongously scintillating the skyscrapers looked from a distance,
and how roaring madison-square-garden was when bon-jovi appeared
in the centre of the audience like a street magician.

But, i know that wouldn't be any different from what you've
once heard or surmisedabout the blues of a rock-conecert in NYC.
So, let me tell you about somethingunique that i've seen.
The day after the concert, five of us ( four of my good friends )
took a one-day joy-ride pass @ one of the subways on 42nd street
and set off to explore the city.
i was sitting next to a porta-recan looking guy and was just
lost in my usual reveries. when the train stopped at the 53rd street
i noticed this person entering the train. The first impression that anyone
could get is an awe ofguilt by looking at his state, he was a crippled
midget dragging his wheel chairin to the throng of commuters.
For a second, i was dumb inside my head may be it stopped thinking
for a while and was just able to process what it saw. My whole chain of
thoughts broke and i started thinking about this. what gives such a person
a hope to live, which brings me back the eternal question that i still don't
have an answer for,
"what's the meaning for this life ?"

Aren't we just trapped in these body, as an invisible prison gaurded
by senses , feeding us cowardice when ever we want to break out of it.
Can a person be ever free enough to just break though these clutches
and experience death and hence freedom at his own will ?

That state which i am trying to define, where i am really free to
see things as they are, but not as my senses and my premonitions
make them seem, is what i seek.
Don't get me wrong when i speak of death, i don't want to be suicidal
i just want to realize that some part of me is dying and a new part being
born at every minute instance of time.

If appreciation is just an acknowledging a contrast, i think a trip to NYC
is worth every penny. for, it would only be complete if you are able to spot
the contrast.You have to experience the smothering busy streets before you float in the
serenity of "Central Park". Only after two hours of basking in the fresh winds
of this serene lake view park at the center of manhattan i could appreciate
the beauty of the city.It's so close to the parallel that says, only when you have
entangled yourself in the clutches of materialistic pleasure can you ever
experience the state of realization.

In spite of the pre-conceptions of the "Glittering" night life of NYC, it
couldn't bloom any new buds in my brain's garden of blase.
And i turn Yet another page in my life.