I love the guy who has got the voice of a buffalo, hard as it seems but he is confident with it. He is afraid of my moods and that fancy me a lot, it's quite a terrible thing to accept but terrific thing to experience. It may be the same moment I have always waited for and in those moments of cozy beds when I cuddle his nose with mine we flute few butterflies. Time seems to play a bit and how accordingly we justify each other's presence.keeping him in mind builds up itself few grunts of happiness and I find that really grossing. We must not judge but felt and accept yet I am in a awkward decision.

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That’s the thing Maa

I don't feel home when I am home, the fragrance have been lost, every time the curtains were washed her last touch was gone, her divine presence was taken away and I have no other way to disgust my anger on anyone, I could break things but they won't stop my fever from travelling my emotions. It's so strange that where once the kitchen fulfilled my demands are seeking my strange gestures now, why there is so much going on around me, I can't handle much before it burst me into pieces. Yes indeed sometimes our emotions are important as necessary as the heart the mind must act active and healthy, neglecting much of its nagging attention I have already done so much un~justification to myself. Who would just understand if I am hungry because sometimes I am not aware of it. My cupboard demands attention and my room is equally waiting for few hands on dust. It's tiring to know that I will have to wash my clothes all alone and it's really sophisticated to understand but then there is something missing.
Maa! Probably she is missing.
It's been years and time couldn't heal it, may be with age I needed her the most.
Many birthday went and many celebrations still awaits but all that I craved was her one touch, te magical 'everything will be alright now' touch. Her voice when I came home from long showers of office, my empty tiffin box and many more of what awaits my own attention. Germany was a place to be but it reminds me of our old trips, the cousine was awful yet I have managed through it, they lack a touch, they lacked her magical touch.
Everywhere I go I hold her hands, a piece of her clothes she had wore.y eyes leave tartly glands but the emotional conflict is still on its arrivals. I have had many such things and these are getting out to my resistance. The more I try to avoid it, the more it appears back to me. I hold and cry but that doesn't help. I need more to this life. I crave for MAA. About her untold bravery that she gave me in inheritance, about the blessings on her feet, the spoon full of curd mixed with sugar, her touch and celebrations.
My small mistake made her no offence, my smallest achievement made her smile all along, she gave me reason to think more. This home sounds so pathetic to me now, empty unwashed draining walls, smelly paint over to its grills, rusted window shed and few paintings trying to adjust its place. I was fortunate to be in the environment which everyone desires, I am just following her smell, making myself regenerate with the fact that she might not come back but she will always stay.

Which that seeks without any words revealed
Hinders my brain and my nights into alarms
I wake up and sleep at irregular cities
I wander and wonder where it leads and wait
The sign must come and the sign must lead the drunks on the beat and many more birds that seek
Slow and hurdle to the leading sunset
The boat that rows and echo that grows silently diminishing into itself
It comes back and so does love
They revolve and inherent the same goals
The tracks which suits our life and many more
Dumping through the necessary and the isolation whichever feels good
We damage ourselves to rebuild in some life time
That's not secret but the secret of universal truth
We must come again to see what we have left behind and it will always pull us back realising us of our own mistakes
We may learn but we will never stop playing
That's the promise!

Just to sleep with her

 

I come from a diverse religion, I meet people greet with them and try to understand why there is so much anxiety left in their lives just in case I appear, or only if I appear. I am fortunate to live in different parts of the world and everywhere I go, the definition for the love varies. Significantly I was in Los angles few weeks back and I understood the love with the crunch of chilly. There is a concept behind it, they do follow a culture, they allow the newly wedded to grab a bowl of chilies to surrogate inside their heads, if one of them pass the bowl to the other they have a perception of dependents, there are rituals we do follow in our country too.
I am not amazed at the cultural and religious wars among us, I am just surprised at how our moods are captured into them and a not-so-normal mildness comes out. Who on the earth decides the fare cost of beauty, the graceful physical attraction and the ability to get laid off. I am eventually stuck at the majority of the people trying to get into a relationship with respect to the emotional verification of a woman. It takes three sitting of the night out for a woman to understand that her real love lies somewhere inside her clothes and unless she opts to give all her virtue she is being cultivated to harassments and mental affirmations. Not a single case of solitude but many faces of absolute truths.
Love is way more than it, I am aware of couples who show me the real faces of happiness, people who define themselves by the strength of love they put in their lives, even with the smallest of the happiness that causes them to capture the moment. There are several examples which petrify my skin with love even if try to blink for a moment, their presence is far better than a roasted skull.
I was getting along with life when suddenly one of my old pals reappeared, indeed I have blocked him from several spaces to get rid of him, I was pissed off with the compatibility test he appealed in many of my female friend’s life. I was wondering what we could use to verify the neutrality of a guy. I like genuine people. One with a mustache and appearance of an ugly crocodile, I love people who laugh loud and eat without waiting to calculate the calories, I love them, I simply love them.
Just in case I forgot how at the level certain people look at the world which by god’s grace or disgrace I am able to find, I was taught to accept the beauty of the world but somewhere I feel there is another kind of world which I have neglected so far. We can always change what is happening around us, there are ways.
Not always.
I don’t know, may be.
Significantly we measure each other with what we have achieved, and that’s a good parameter rather than to find what we belong to. I find people with dreams fantastic; I feel they live with a purpose without disturbing others. I am naturally overruled with the fancies of the society, the incorporated handshakes don't make me thrilling. I want to trespass this thoughtful wind shed and reach to the grounds of possibilities. While we are trying to make difference to the world I sometimes wish if my environment makes some to me. The noise which brought me to this situation comes from the level above our feasts. We might not understand this but one day when the day is brighter and clear and it’s our day, we will understand why to everything that appeared to us was always for a reason.

It’s not the thing

Not the bare foot prints not the eccentric dux yet I have grown into a nice human scripture. The door knocks its availability and I am supposed to listen to the hauls at the parade outside as well as inside of my mouth. There something very uncommon about miracles, it does happen to everyone, every now and then yet the peaceful breathes can only capture the blessings of the life…(to be continued)

The days out of nights!

I feel the happiness to be surrounded by him and his termless conversation, I am satisfied with the fact that life is way better when I am holding his hands and kissing our clutches, I feel protective and isolated from rest of the nuances. There is a privilege with the satisfaction that I get when he is around me. I feel hopeful and desirable.
Impactful and lovely is his eyes and sovereign is the prosperity I have when he kicks me to my limits.
I feel associative and affirmative, love is so much about the skin and not the touch but the warmth of the feeling. It's everywhere and that's nice.
The cellphone waits his calls yet I feel the Madrid of the situation, oceans apart yet so much graceful is this whole situation, all of a sudden when love appears to our life without knowing and knocking the snuggles of aristocracy while there is no dusting for the door. We make the best into the lounge and we make the best in every penny, the broken hearts mending soon and the orchid of fruitful mechanism to the verity of awareness, we make the turbulence of manifestations, you make me read new words and create new languages. Life makes it easy to believe into the roads where I feel the sense of responsibility towards something, this is the single feeling which brings me back to life again and again! Much in love! Always! Truly and magnificently!

Way to Ghosting

There are cases of depression, desperation and loneliness, we tend to isolate because we don't want to be carried away with judgements and thus our life circle plays a vital role specially when we are not around people who define us with certificates and achievements. I believe we are in the age where awakening our mind is more essential than to understand why there is so much conditions around. A part of today's crowd comprises of souls who came in this planet to circulate changes and to adopt newer air but somewhere the energy is not perfect yet they are surviving and trying to understand the working of human everywhere. We stand with a firm belief but yet to accept that we all have different life purpose and they all are equal. The fear of being judged with the salary and certificates will never leave us but one day these things may leave us, people may leave us but what stays with us forever is the knowledge which we need to seek writhing ourselves into the busy schedules and stop criticising for a moment, stop the unnecessary arguments and stop subjecting out documents, the presentations and meetings, to understand that life has different and better meaning away from all the noises, when there is so much we can find inside of us there will a lot we could talk about and there will be no short conversation, no portfolios and no urban trends which needs to be followed.

How much I have Hated the Engineering

  1. Yet I was promised into it while my head was into the bisection of the tongue, about the capillaries and the xylems. Protein out of iron and so forth was always in my head, what if I had taken a step against the family ritual, what if I have talked to my family about it once, what if I was brace enough to stand for myself, my life would have been far better and different, what on the earth made me do this, take a life career I wasn't very sure about, I just did it because I wanted to stay away from my life a bit to screw it even more to pardon my growth into something I wasn't very much sure about. This tale when I think of in a deeper way reminds me of the dream I used to have something far better than the far lands where my soul is afraid to take steps to.

Yet when I look back few years when I finally took a decision to Undertake medical s as a study choice I believe I wasn't even interested into the conventional medicines. Now that's where the real kind of confusion attached to my life relies, after years when I am finally taking steps to talk to my old friends I realise nothing has ever changed between us, we are all good inside, like a warm caterpillar. I wonder if we had given each other a good amount of time to understand the silence of growing up, it is indeed painful and we don't understand it because everyone else is dealing with it silently too.
So the question arose out of nowhere and landed to a game, the capillary was taking back thermostats of life and slowly reminding me where I belonged as in always.
That's the real thing about life, we don't choose it, it takes us to choices and they choose us. From a toddler to an adult a lot was into this life which needs to be sorter not that everyone is sorting their life into a race but few have decided to live them into their own terms, sometimes illusions may take us into driving forces but firm souls always get through it. The cold weather and the evening lust of life reminds me of my days back in India, while I do not have plans to go back but I feel childhood memories rushing my veins, I am just making bigger life changes and I am really hopeful of this, getting back to home around the family is a great decision we all must take sometimes.
The day has begun and it's fascinating because the village is full of grateful mind and the wind here has no challenges so far and that's a good sign for a lazy lad.

While the well water spilss

I feel lost and tangible, there is so much water around me but not a drop of it to drink. While I feel the blessings of life some of my clothes are already wet with their presence and the sunlight seems to be far beyond than it appears, as if some artificial sunlight is covering my head. This water everywhere is making me feel sick, afraid and vulnerable. I want to hold on this feeling and realise the reason behind this situation, on why I am standing on the rocks of questions from where it is difficult to distinguish between the available and rejected. This is a kind of situation I will never want to experience but yet I feel it was necessary.
I proclaim the senses, each of them to clear me about the idea of why I am standing here with my wet dress unable to dry it even with the wind around me.
I find the exact reason for the situation but somewhere I don't feel deserved to get out of this, my own mistakes with life that I want to fight for and eliminate with stays. They run with me and I couldn't escape it, while there is more to this I must not stop fighting and even it makes me completely wet something will blow it dry, someone will come.

The boat

My voice dripping its pace and I heard the very familiar smell of childhood, the streaming water under my feet. The confidence of arrival of good news was as approved as it was appearing to me. The water was splashing its winter saga and that night it was finding its mate to communicate. There was so much restlessness in the sea shore and my anxiety grew with overwhelming pace, I was giving thoughts to few of my old memories and how it could be turned off.
Suddenly something drew my attention over. Strikes of a wooden stick on the sand were appearing to be washed off with genres of water, the ocean came and wiped it but the strikes were made again. A seven years old kid trying to write his names on the sand was trying to leave a mark but every time the tide came and took them with it.
To prove me wrong he wrote something in Kannada on that sand.
‘ What are you trying to do’
‘ I am sending a message’
‘To who?’ interrogated me
‘My father, he has been into the sea since a month, he went there to feed us few bucks of fish’
I understand this how important those messages would be for him and I was confident about his strength and belief. How often do we waste our thoughts in anger and rage while a part of the world nearer to the talking nature knows how to generate love.