The Mirage Of A Mirror

Mirrors have been such an intriguing creation by humankind.

• It empowers you when you lift up your clothes to feed yourself the beauty of your own body. It discourages you when you closely look at the acne that has cropped up unexpectedly on your face.

• It makes you smirk when you watch your taut nerves peeking out of your muscular built. It catches you as you notice the first few strands of gray hair in the sideburns.

Mirrors deceive us into thinking we are the most beautiful, the most handsome, the curviest, most muscular, most decent, charismatic, cherubic, capable of being different. . . . . and unique.

Mirrors even make us feel vulnerable. 

We look at ourselves searching for our own objectionable features, unpleasant flab of fat and cellulite, undesirable marks on our body, the off-putting complexion of our skin, thin and slender frames, signs of aging—graying hair and wrinkles and bags under the eyes.

At a moment that reflects back a version of who we are—good, bad, ugly—all of us is captured by such a preposterous piece of brittle object.

                                                    The Mirror

A powerful and highly underrated masterpiece subjected to mere glances and quick thoughts.

• The mirror is where an orator hides his fears. 

• It is where a dancer shuns her bad posture. 

• A baby derives joy watching themselves smile.

• A model engulfs fear and emanates confidence watching her own stunning image.

An animal apes itself in a mirror, discovers the secret and moves on, but we humans remain transfixed by watching our own self in various avatars. 

We come back, again and again, every morning, every visit to the bathroom, to the dressing table, to the salon—we come back to test ourselves for perfection and offer ourselves a piece of self admiration, at times, criticism.

We are as fragile as the object that creates a reflection of our selves. 

We aren’t really what we see in the mirror—we are much more at different times, doing different things. Beauty portrays in a good deed—giving, offering, taking, receiving, sacrificing—when we are unaware of our image.

By simply hanging on the wall, in a frame—mirrors take away the control from ourselves, giving us either frustration or satisfaction. Such is the power of this tool. 

Is it really true that an inanimate object cause so much more than a stir?

Wake up and look at yourself. Penetrate into your own eyes and shush your caustic mind. 

Don't blame the mirror.

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In This Moment

In this moment I fill up my vessels

From the river whose sources are many

Into the water I dip my pots

And try to collect what all can be

I travel a long way back

To reach my roots to the farther side

From where I come to where I am

Distances never defined my rides

The sun is high; my pace is slow

The pots I carry are too much a load

Yet I walk, hands gripped around the pots

Satisfied, I travel on the right roads

As I reach the site, finding my respite

The load I carry seizes to be

I turn around and find my pot

Leaking all the way, dripping beneath

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The Art of Bitching

We meet at least one person in a day who is speaking about somebody but hey not in a good way.

For example: we hear fellow employees of our firms talk,

’He doesn’t know anything properly and orders around like he is the manager. He is our TL (team Lead) not our boss’.

‘She needs the report by today itself. She doesn’t have senses or what? How will we complete it by today? She keeps on wasting time and when deadline comes she starts her drama.’

‘How many times I have told him, he is dumb! You know what he tells me he needs more time, how long will he take who knows, we need the work done in first place and not excuses.’

‘Our manager only knows excel sheets, he is good for nothing He has no idea what is going on in the team.’

It's an Art

We have been in situations where we hear people talk about other people at their backs and witness the same people smile along when in front of them. We have been quiet spectators of the act done knowingly, out of frustration or vengeance. We have also been one of them once in a blue moon.

Oh no! Don’t you say you have never ever done bitching behind their backs, yes you have, you just don’t accept it. It’s acceptable in society, it’s a part of human nature, and we do it without a drop of guilt hanging from our mouths when we speak. It provides contentment, brings relief to our contracting synapses and lets us release a kind of stress or frustration we accumulate inside due to other person’s non-sensible acts.

It better be released by the medium of mouth else it might take the form of revenge through other means.

How many people take revenge? How many?

NO I am not talking about shooting her in the head, but taking an appealing opportunity to deliberately let the person be at a minor loss or little harm.

Everyone!

Nature of Homo sapiens is funny though. We trust and drop in few words in unknown ears, clearing the blockage in our heads but creating one in the heads of those, who are desperately thinking how to let loose of this useless information that they just heard. Say it to whosoever it was intended for!

‘I guess you better know what he told about you last night.’

‘She doesn’t think good of you.’

Wooo-OW! You know what is the best part that comes next?....................SPICES!!

Let me, a no one guarantee you that they play a game of Chinese Whispers where either they end up saying all the extra things to pep up the words they heard from here and there. Or they merely say the exact words that had heard from here and there. This ends up making a hot, spicy khichdi! (please google it).

So now, person X, who told something about person Z to person Y, is in accusation as person Y has told person Z, something too much or a bit too less, probably more than just a, b, c, d, probably the alphanumeric characters too ( # % $ @..) which were never meant or said by person X.

Poor person X; Who knows who takes revenge on whom now?

In another interesting twist: It comes to Person X’s knowledge, what raita(check google)  has been spread by Person Y and Person X is deeply hurt because X confided in Y.

Some people take revenge through words, other do it through deeds while others show it through their work. The last one is the best way out because the first two really waste your time and energy.

Just do it and let your success make noise. Mind You! It’s an applied methodology and the results are promising! Just really mind your own good business.

Person Y would be foolish enough if he/she still trusts you back and they will, because you really didn’t go with the mainstream way of revenge.

Bitching is an art after all, everyone does it. Not everyone can end it well.

Not everyone can end it well

image source:google

Ashes-Ashes

I am ashes ashes

A burnt out fire

Fury dissolved by waters of desire

Fragments frilled out of my bones

Chipped and shaped as liked to be known

I am ashes ashes 

A burnt out fire

Sunken by the promises of a liar

Settled down, my parchment heart

Veined out, dissembled and distort

I am ashes ashes

A burnt out fire

Waxing and waning, trying to acquire

Perfection, perception of a good human

Ways to restore my valour, my reflection

Mauled by soot of expectations

I am ashes ashes

A burnt out fire

Kindled still smoked out of pyre

Fumed and wasted, tired of trying

To spark a connection

Out of a fused out wiring

I am the remains, I am the cinder

I am ashes ashes

I am a burnt out fire

Image source

Trust

Trust not in the words they say

Read their eyes if those lies, they convey

Upon you shall not dawn betrayal

See to it they do, what they say

Trust only if your heart says you may

Panda vs Tiger- Animal Trade for Harmony?

Lately, it came to my knowledge that animals are exchanged across the globe as diplomatic gifts.

Twinkle Twinkle little star; How I wonder what you are

"I am twinkle, a star..I let myself be, away from the cluster of stars that are moving away at immeasurable speeds. I am bright magnificent, burning within and brightening out. You see me twinkle high up there beside my companions but there are distances between us light years apart. I am alone but I glitter, I shimmer. I am the proud owner of my gas and dust. But 20 million years has passed, and I hear nothing and bear solitude. A little star had zoomed past before that brief time. Tinkle I still remember its name. It had asked me to join it for an adventure across the milky way. A Puny phase of dust I had told him. It was! A dust ball, shining just because it was too near me and I knew it would glow low once it was away. And what for should I lose my shimmer, my iridescent self, I had thought then."

"But for these 20 million years, I stayed and glowed but I thought if my burning alone was worth. My planets, my own children needed me but even they are no more now, and what shall I give life out for, my shine for. I wish sometimes I could zoom like tinkle and travel across these dark distances that I watch in wonder."

"Oh wait! Did I see it? Tinkle!! Is it you again?"

"Hey! Ya I move on and off this orbit, anyways I have to glide away so bye, may the stars of stars watch over you"

"Hey no wait! I am exhausting now, I want to see the world before I run out of my gas. I apologise for being pumped up with pride. I realise now, I am the same gas and dust as you are. We are from the same big bang. Please accept my apology and take me away. Let me see the milky way, let me pass across the darkness around me, take me to light , take me across the quasars about which you mentioned last time. I want to see the universe."

Tinkle radiated back even more than Twinkle this time.

"I forgive you Twinkle, come buddy, shed off the nebulae of your pride and ego, let out your fire and die like a hero through adventures of the space."

Twinkle is still there in the space and lives through the dust that always stays in between those dark distances

The Saint, Sane and capricious Insane

Why you get attached so much to someone. Heart you bugger! You beg for love, don't you?

Doesn't matter if it comes on self, you let your ego slip, you let your respect go in smoke.

You take it all in, you love the hit but it is only for a matter of minutes and then its gone and you now it, pretty well indeed.

Soul! You are mature, but you don't say a word. You murmur, that is why no wonder, 

seldom we listen.

Streaming water, can it be stopped?

O heart!, Stop making excuses to the limit of harm to yourself. You are no phoenix to rise every time you are ashed.

Mind, Please deal with it, put a collar, tie the heart to a pole.

No! Because you see the heart will fall in love with the pole too.

Oh sweetheart, the glowing bug of the night, don't flutter away. The world will cut your wings.

Behold this is heart, I break and bleed but still I beat.

Wavelengths

                 And what shall I tell you about me,

                        I am this little girl, born in a small town

                              Grown under the shades of love so profound

                                    Like any girl, pampered with dolls and dresses

                                        And houses made of planks and plastics

                                            With stomach that filled with taste and sleep that lapped in comforts

                                                                               

                                                           And what shall I tell you about me,

                                                Seeing the sunrise facing the dawn

                                       Departing from home in school uniform

                              Reading and writing and grabbing the lessons

                     Budding and building my self-esteem

              Looking at future weaving my dreams

                And what shall I tell you about me,

                      Seeking out a hand that holds on tight

                          A tender comfort in gasping and fright

                             A flight of freedom taking after all

                                  Through success and failures after seeing the falls

                                        That is when tendrils I leave and stand on my feet

                                                    And what shall I tell you about me,

                                     I have seen the world, ruminated a lot

                              What made me grow should have been my God

                        I am not imperfect rather I can’t be

                 Hence I try to aid and heed

                I know that the lessons have been passed on,

                        And I am naive to understand all

                              Yet I am what I can be

                                     My true self for the past and the yet to foresee

Thick & Dark : Plead for Freedom

Bargain with me, and I shall gift you pain. I am no longer what you think.

 I am the dead walking in bane.

I am the soul to be freed, I am the rotten seed.

I am disgraced with my own race, I am a human

I am grudge, I am greed

I am a token, having tenure of misdeed

I am the craver of misfortune, be sad or bad

I lay the path to my doom,

My end that approaches me, at every corner, at every turn

Probably somewhere when I get torn

When I spill blood, when my flesh churns

When Ruth looses sense

When Lord remains stone

Oh haha! What? He is there? Where?

Inside us? Inside the beasts?

Does it grow like fungus and weeds?

Does it suck the darkness out?

Does it make us Human?

No! Then we won’t want that, we can’t be

We be beasts, make us free.

We are spotted, we are spoiled.

Make us animal, make us better

Make us wild, let us lose ourselves

To get tamed, to get named

And follow command,

But power shall destroy even you my Lord

Love ain’t the aid

Love will fade

Love will cascade

Love will invade

Free us of will

Free us, make us still

Let us rise in smoke or rubble to earth

Let us be eaten, let us be buried

For human shall not remain

So let the body strive

Only the soul shall revive

I & Me

When I am with me

I am not me

The strange paradox haunts over again

Is this really We?

I am not one but two

If not me then who

Lives the present and worries about the past

And brings me back too

Then senses are the same

Then who shall I blame

When I start thinking aloud

Who holds me to tame

I am nothing but mystery

Sometimes I don’t know me

I flip like a coin in air, confused about

What I am and what I want to be

I can’t hold it still

My wishes and my will

I contradict my own self

And com back again to nil

I am not me, not myself

Then who am I, where do I dwell

So Comprehending on ‘I’ and ‘me’

Till I freeze and become still


Know more about Me: I am Change