The spell of a faraway land.

Have you ever wondered about the existence of an unleashed reality? It could be a daydream, but the world that builds up in the fraction of a second probably when our mind is sound. In the most tranquil hours of the night. Mere dreams would take us to a whole new world that carries tinges of our memory to build an expansion. Vague faces, silenced sound, Isn’t it an alternate universe that we carry for the shortest span? Possibly an existing one? Probably. There could be a boy smirking sadly or a girl laughing about frantically over the moments that we visualize in the mere time. Nevertheless a world faraway truly stands for the bubble that we blow up in our minds. The bubble pricks and the dream shuns. It’s quite amusing to actually envisage the world that rooms for all our wonderful bonds and the mankind to be a bubble of a faraway land. A strong contradiction it would seem, but whatsoever it’s never an offense to build castles in the air over such zillion sparks of mind. After all …the world is a place for madmen.

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Rains And Ruins.

W ords should not be kept for later because they thrive on mood and my mood is nothing less than a pendulum, so I thought I should pen it down. It's not Monday today but I still got the blues. When I say blues, I literally mean the bluish tone in my otherwise curtain-coloured reddish room, along with the pretty melancholic climate. I hate the dark clouds that get clogged in the sky refusing to pour in, but I love when it finally rains. It's like the clouds have vented out their long-held pain. It feels liberating and very refreshing. I don't quite feel like working in this climate, rather I would be sitting on my terrace, watching the rain, sipping tea (which I am doing even now to avoid falling asleep on my laptop). But the sad truth is I can't go up on my terrace, not at least for the next 2 months, the renovation works are going on and I badly miss the only beautiful, picturesque location in my house. The staircase bricks are cracked to build newer ones and there...

“If you survive, you must remember that I love you”

Despite being in immense pain, the young mother still thought about her only child. The depth of intimacy for her child was immense, unfathomed and ever so subtly conveyed that a mother's love is far greater that anything in the universe. During the Japan Earthquake, the world sensed the strongest pull of humanity in a young mother who made shield of her body to protect her child amidst the disastrous collapsing. She left a note saying, “If you survive, you must remember that I Love you”. Her body was sputtering, rasping and pitch cold, but her ultimate sacrifice was the protective affection for her little one. It gets me thinking, of all the awful lot of drama, anxiety, anguish and contradictions for the several years. This small thought of appreciation is for you mother… my brilliant, remarkably independent, capable, fierce, gorgeous woman, whose greatest pride is in being my father's wife, and in being my mother. She is such a true character, in every sense of the ...

THE MASQUERADE

The wishing well longed for the coin, the true one lone tossed high. Some just tricky to fall right through, whilst their lay behind one… prized by the imps… Alike the serene water gliding down the mount, there are plenty of souls open to countless readings… yet heap of others closing their space blocking our gaze. Their secret fills the air... deceiving you in a hundred thousand ways. As in no one knows the truth, the obviousness of the fake you. Have a look around, the life... the people... nothing equals the water, not even the drops that lie in the foothills. They wait along for the perfect time to hit, with bait so faultless to doubt. A face hard to find, or searched less behind the games played. It resides in you, me and all the spirits... behold, familiarize through the hymn of the wayfarer …for the stories he saw defines it better. The vagueness lie deep down, yet the silken lines smarten it. It’s hard to hold to myself now as even the smiles carry a tinge of pretense. The...

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