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Change of some sort.

The world is changing, isn't it? So, everyday when I scroll through instagram, facebook or any exquisitely woven write up, it gives me a sense of relief. And this is no lie. Maybe we skipped noticing the honours received by a social activist for legalising tribal rights or ignored reading the thank you messages from change.org for signing and successfully helping Rita or Michelle achieve the milestone.  Maybe we overlooked the way the facebook timeline feed has put on an entirely different clothing, advertising more on women rights, humane deeds and humongous achievements . Or how new instagram posts started showing how much love we have for another person or for a cat or a dog. Hey, even how our priorities cycle between potatoes, avocadoes and sleep. The new interest in portraying how much important beach and adventures have become. Or even the sudden realisation that most of our favourite stars are not even on these social networking sites or that their accounts are managed b

What were we even thinking?

It's crazy how our brain does this miraculous work of accumulating every single random fragment of thought and still manages to make so much sense. It does make sense, sometimes however by not making sense. Anyway, it does. //Sometimes we don't recognise the power we have in ourselves, and that is foolish enough. You are a wonder// But do you understand how much important/necessary it is for you to realise that our mind works in such a wonderful way just by being what it is. Who would have thought that the moment you saw her/him/that/them/it  the few peripheral neurons that synapsed would have sent enough information into your brain and relay its impulses back into the skin and face and every other part that could possibly be excited in such a fraction of second and in such precision and beauty and still make sure that your eyes wouldn't miss even a fraction of second of the glorious event happening infront of it. It keeps you present. It almost explodes my mind think

Curious.

It’s been a while since I wrote.  Let’s talk about freedom, of love and people. Let’s also discuss depression, sickness and ocean. For a moment let us forget to let things distract us and decide to reminiscence the past tense of our lives. Because what I learnt from whatever life has happened to me is that most of the answers to our questions come from them. Comes from the days when the offing (the sea between the horizon and the off-shore) seemed as mysterious and comely as stars disappearing at dawn. [My reference of stars on every post of mine is because they truly do attract me]. Answers to the deepest of our desires and ephemeral dreams remain in the dungeons we built when we grew. And the reason I spoke about pausing for a moment is because you are stressing yourselves a lot. Younger you wouldn’t have worried so much about lost love and time. You wouldn’t have sickened yourselves at the thought of what was going to come. You would have probably gazed at the birds flyin

Collisions

The flaws of the nature seem to be ironic Like how the rustling of leaves sounds poetic, When it's just the gentleness of the zephyr on the greens. But just like the sand is for the philosophers and words are for the nobles They are for the poets but a way of articulation. Alas! But when the shades of the rhododendron falls on the earth It cannot but instill a series of battles in the psyches of their brain. And when the canary admires its beauty in the river bed agape, They reach out to the talk about the tales told in the ocean bed. Just like that the dusk disappears amidst the dawn, And you still won't believe how beautiful the place is. For how can the alchemists and legends be wrong when they spoke? That the rustling of leaves mean more than just the wind playing its role. It's like a play that surrogates your attention, Making you believe in the miracles of life. You will then start seeing that smile on a face and waves of the ocean has much more to

Those introverts.

What's with them ? Whom ? You may ask. Those very people who don't really care two hoots as to what kind of an opinion do others have of them ? Women who brave the stares and the smirks, only to pull their hair together into an oily braid or to go about doing their business without any hint of a concealer here or a touch of ccfoundation cream there...The ones who aren't worried about donning the same clothing over and over again ! Completely aloof of the fact that nobody gossips about their popularity or ogles at their hotness. Yes, THEM ! What is it with them? Why does it take guts to sit at the first bench totally aware of the fact that you'd be called names for it ? Or sometimes in a corner all alone by yourself immersed in your own fantasies ? To be NOT surrounded by a bunch of 'cool' girls & boys and be one amongst them ? To NOT participate in the acts considered 'in style' like rapping, dancing or the out of the box ones like Mad AD com

The distorted peace.

Do you also get that feeling where you desperately wish to go jump into the under water bed and just sink. Sink to the bottom and sit there, staring at the coral reef, at the worn out ship attachments, at the group of fishes in search of shelter, food and mate. Or perhaps sit on the sand with sea shells in your hand, listening to the wave collisions, sunlight falling on your bosom and wind playing with strands of messy hair. Well, i do. They keep me at peace. The falling stars and big bang theory fascinate me. The agori sadhus in the himalayas and many life, many masters attract me. The metalabolic reactions and love stories make me happy. There is a lot of narcissism in me. There is also a want to die feeling constantly eroding me. But you know what, they keep me at peace. It really doesn't matter sometimes in life if things don't work the way you want them to. And even when i am saying this i am getting distracted, distracted from what i am supposed to tell. My peace keeps

Hi, how are you?

She was walking in the midst of a confabulatory crowd with hazy sets of dreams playing in the mind. She was content with them. Happy to listen to them, sad to come back to the reality. This life was beautiful. Lots of beatific moments lit up her face. The happy laughters arround her somehow made not much difference. She was happy being there, in her own happy space. Inside her blissful bubble. Away from the monotonous and boring daily routine. But someday someone strange came up to her and asked her how she was. How are you?' was a simple question. But obviously some simple questions can't be answered, and some others make you glad. This question made both. A smile was all she could give. Rest of the seconds she sat staring at that person, trying to figure out why this person gained so much of her attention just because of one question asked. Because she couldn't stop. Everyday she would search for that person, forget to get back to her happy void, hoping to read tha