Out Of The Box

Image source

Within the box of the world

I speak up the truth

Deduced from a million shreds of my mind

That which went through the circle

And came back learning and seeking something

New, raw and appealing.

Hit by the afterthoughts,

Buffeted by the obligations of world

Forced frozen perceptions

Blinded by the clichés

I follow, you follow, every day

Building my dynamite, locked in the head

Closing the eyes and trying to forget

My visions and dreams burgeoning

Left alone with weak tendrils

Visitors in and out of the box

Whisper strange things—hold and lift you up the ground

Then, let you lose to go down, you drown

In the quicksand of their company

Pictures hung on your wall

Sing a perfect short story

Bygone days, they repeat with repent

Of those who came in and, then, left the box
I strive for life beside them
In the perpetual playground
Blindly following the sun and the moon
The box opens to new, yet, I am nowhere

The morning came as the sun rose again

But, who stayed through the night paved their own way
Repeating the journey, I assure you will too
Next time, traveling in a different land
Shut not the box close
Climb out and breathe

Panda vs Tiger- Animal Trade for Harmony?

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

People-Love-People

People. How they think love is so difficult, that love is not their cup of tea,
that love is that they will never bring themselves to. How they never unerstood that they were changed,
when they fell in love, that they were transformed into a better human being, that they were living each
day with even more zest. How they thought that falling always hurts.

People. They can lie to the world but not their hearts, that are always ready to endure the tough terrains, the crests
and troughs of this journey, that are willing to sacrifice for somebody other than self, that believes truly,
trusts deeply and cares selflessly.

People. They need love, they dont want it. They need the gentle touch of care, they need the assuring words of love,
they need the patient ears in silence. They need someone close with whom they can open up, against the canvas that they paint for world
to watch everyday. They want to give up, in front of someone, where they can lay with their open chests and dry scars, where they can
reveal the dark shadows that scares them, where they can fearlessly dance under the innocence, that usually hides within them.

People. They are far too soft inside, but they don't show. They can take risk, with many hearts, they can even take revenge on them.
But for that one heart, they give up their weapons and lay bare, lay weak, lay in their perfect selves.

People. They are slaves, of their own selves.

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

I speak a different Language

I don’t speak the language of the world. I have difficulty in picking it up and conveying it.  

Though I do express through my writings and poetry but no longer get the feel with some 

random alphabets arranged in an order that is supposed to make sense.

I understand the language of universe and expressing it in myriad ways, through gratitude, 

politeness, kindness, a smiling face, a happy gesture, an honest truth, a gentle forgiveness 

and so many other ways makes life so simple.

 I try to be myself but change into a mirror when a person comes before me, so as to blend 

with the world, with him or her.  But that is not me that is what they want to see me as. I am 

unique like they are in their own worlds. Only I know me, how I am different inside and 

outside. How I feel the presence of someone guiding me right, just so perfectly right. That 

guide also is me. Not a dual-personality syndrome, else everyone has one. Everyone has 

their guide inside them, mine doesn’t talk to me. It makes me feel. It makes me feel happy, 

sad, angry, glad, contented, proud, jealous, guilty, careful, cautious, and fearful also but only 

sometimes. It also speaks the same language, the one that is not spoken. I know it is pure 

and truthful because it knows me. 

 It is Me. And it speaks one language which we all get without words - love.

I see serenity, blue waters, clear as crystals, so transparent that I can see its bed. I forget 

everything, jump in the water and let my body float. My shadow forms on its bed. The sun 

softly closes my eyes and I relax drowned in my originality. 

When the night falls I lay on the green grass, somewhere on high meadows. I open my eyes 

 to the twinkling of millions of stars, blessing me with their power and light. I feel my origins 

happening long back like one of those in the sky right now and simultaneously I sense 

my tears reaching the brim of my eyes and passing over in the honour of the wonders I am 

able to see through them, by them. So mystical yet so simple, thinking so, my heart fills with 

the joy of realisation of the truth, My Truth. I offer my gratitude in the form of my ‘living’, well. 

image credit:Hubble, NASA

                                                                                                     

                                       'The Furnace' Burns Within Me

How the language of Universe guides You Right: I am Change

I am a Change

Finally, I see past the mystic cloud of my ever altering personality as to who I really am. I am a change!

 I will walk in elegance at one place while shaking my legs at other. I will be sarcastic one moment and make a puppy face the other. I will love like never before and hate equally fiercely. I will be gentle with my company while scratch others with my well maintained talons..haha!

Yes, that is me. No, I don’t have mood swings yet I am a rainbow of myriad colours. I paint, I dance, I write, I sing and I am whatever I like not for any XYZ but for me. Sometimes I am sad, sometimes I cry where no one sees me other times I will infest my surroundings with these poisonous self-developed reverberations of happiness! 

Trying out something new, experimenting with my moods and my acceptance to the outside world, and constantly changing my reactions to being unexpectedly calm to otherwise repellent stimuli are few things that I discovered lately happening in life.

The silence was never more welcoming, though, and I would prefer that instead of a hustle bustle. A jungle with the sound of cricket is more pleasing than a continuous honk of vehicles. Yes, I want to discover places around me, but what fun is there in the expected. I don’t plan, or plan for the least bit. Change is abrupt and so be it, unexpected and surprising.

No matter how much fakes surrounds the globe and how many masks people wear, I am honest with myself. I don’t do harm to anyone and that’s what makes me going, truth.

No matter how many mistakes I have done, I have always given myself space to improve and make a better person out of myself. Though this doesn’t deter me from making much more because it is always a new experience in making a new, a new learning, and a threshold to another side of a lesson of life. I have made blunders, regretted over them but yeah moved on.

I know there is a long way to go ahead and this journey is going to be remarkable! I trust my instincts and they guide me right.



Listen to the Voice of World;The Whisper of Universe: I Speak a Different Language

Don't forget to smile!

    It is pitching dark. It is black, the color of the sky. I can see nothing. 

A face roams around in the abyss of my thoughts and a smile lingers in my mind. 

       That is all I have left of you, a vision of the smile, a sound of your laughter, the smell of the perfume you wear, the touch of your coarse hands.

The laughter dominates, brings out an effervescence of joy in the damp air,     waiting to be filled with words.                        

 Silence cuts through my ears, begging to be filled. 

A single voice creates an echo, reverberates and comes back as the same. Can there not be two?    
   

Please say something.

    Anything!

Currents of time flow, wonder when this moment will be up. 

 Let us make a memory out of it. Smile! Laugh! Show what joy you hold beneath.                                  This second shall not pass sans you.                                   
What I behold cannot be empty, the air vibrates with your thoughts, encrypted and tunneled to some distant land of yours, your personal drop-box.

                                         A happy you, so gentle and innocent!                                                                           

               You know how light glitters in your eyes when you laugh.                                                            

 It is like you shudder off an eon of ages only to become a child again. 

           Serious?! Well you look hot when you are serious, but a bore too. 

                Cling to your kiddo self, the one that betrays all the wrongs and despair of the world, the one that gives birth to your very self every time, the one that rejuvenates you and brings a happy dent smile onto your face.

                            I wish all the good and happiness of the world to land on your side of the path, where you walk shallow.                                    

  

I wish you fathom the depths of which you never seem to mention about and merge out wild and fearless from it,

 overcoming every hurdle like a stallion.

And I wish a 'tickle' to bother you every now and then, so that that broad smile splashes across your face     every time, all the time.

 Back to light, back to the world! Over and out!