DEDICATION TO DEATH .

DEDICATION TO DEATH

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An alarming call,
To a doctor was made.
To visit a hall,
That had suddenly fallen in shade.

A body lied quiet on bed,
Like in deep sleep or having rest.
Around stood hopes,
Holding a lost strife,
To a question,"does it hold life?"

Hand in hand,
Did stand,
Those relations of red,
Those relations of love.
Waiting for miracles,
Praying to Almighty above,
To extend some breaths,
To let life be slow,
But they had surrendered to death,
They didn't know.

The flow stopped,
Of blood, of life.
Touch of an ice cold body,
Had sent shivers through spine.
With blind hopes,
The body was shaken.
To take it out,
Of that incredible silence.
And it was done,
Till hopes were shaken,
Which finally died,
And eventually turned to cries.

Pain was ample
And so were the efforts to take it out.
Those cries,
Were so wide,
Stretched all the nerves inside.
Tears kept flowing,
Eyes went blind,
But still fell meagre,
To the sorrow,
That it had just broken all the cords behind.
No doors were open,
No ways could be found,
That pain,
Through which could go unbound.

So motionless and lifeless,
It had never been,
No stories on lips,
No expressions could be seen.
So satisfied it lied,
No creases on face,
Over that materialism,
Gone that madly world race.

People were around,
To make loud sound
To show off, they felt the grief
But it was more of noise
Surely not to any relief.
What a drama they played,
So fine actors.
But death is the plot,
Of which were they aware of?


Draped in white sheet,
And on four arm support,
It headed on a new path,
To set free the soul.
Harder was to accept it that way,
But the only consoling fact was
That life is a mere play.
Something seemed to have been snatched
Something to put on a severe loss
The way was tough
Because life had conned.


Life is so odd,
And so its ways.
A person so intimate to you,
Is finally set ablaze.
To let him rest in peace,
Or to find his route to sky, he finally flees.
He departs forever,
And now,
No chats would happen,
No sitting together.

But when life is born,
Death walks along,
Concludes on a day,
To take that life finally away.
And just leaves memories behind,
Which on its way, it finds.
Memories,
Some of which stay in heart, And some stay hung on wall as a piece of art.

For your eyes only..

I have seen through your eyes,
the colors of changing skies,
Have known in plenty,
Have known scarce,
the hollows of my true self.

Blown away by forceful winds,
Extending far with feeble wings,
Roaming by the disguised beauty of springy fests,
When it rains, the heart knows its endearing nest.

Walking past the darker roads,
Juggling against some rarest odds,
Light found its way in you,
Puzzles had a clue with you.

Love is the word,
Love is the feel,
it is the taste,
It is the smell and zeal.
Holding hands across the ways of life,
Passing through every night,
Bringing glory to every moment,
Life is a rushing torrent . :)

Dot dot dot ... ?!?!?!

Life can have many philosophies on which it can be explained .Like a religious Hindu sect of people which believes in idol worship can explain all their life on the basis of facts revolving around idol worship. A doctor can do it on the basis of all medicinal causes, purposes and reasons. A scientist or a technician can do it all on the basis of his knowledge.

Hence to describe , explain and conceptualize life, emerges out philosophies of varying kinds which has their origins in the kind of the knowledge the philosopher of the respective philosophy possess.And each such kind of philosophy tends to contradict the other one and in a case where people of contradicting philosophies happen to clash over an issue, it is hard to find out a true, reliable and trustworthy solution.

And such a mess finds its physical existence for me when I am one of those contradicting parties which is arguing over subject, a subject that primarily could be of self-importance , while usually it is the one concerning societal practices, beliefs and vision.

Like a case where someone was foretelling bad fortune of a couple in discussion for marriage and girl and guy both happened to be my friends. Such a case would stand substantially apart when given a vision of a scientist or of the fortune teller himself or of some Hindu pandit or of some physicist or of some financial analyst or of the girl and guy in the discussion itself.
And life in such a case wont just be life. It becomes a perspective projected on the basis of the knowledge held by the respective beholder. And hence it becomes so damn complicated.

Or probably simply the case that I have mentioned would mean a lot when the origin of such a case is shifted to Indian suburbs or to a sect of society which die-hardly holds such beliefs, while it would hold no meaning if origin is shifted to a society like that of West or probably the Sikh sect in India itself.
So does that mean the fortune for a guy and gal in discussion change had they got birth in some other Indian sect or probably some other part of the world .I get confused at such a point. Actually.
And I doubt to hold on to any belief other than of simple and easy living.
A logical living.
Isn't this world, life and society if described on the basis of so many philosophies based on varying pools of knowledge concerning some million aspects of life makes everything all the way messy ..?
Isn't chilling the best way .. ?

Stories apart ..

It was too cold to keep hands out. No pockets to put hands in, she had put one of her hands in his jacket's pocket to warm up. Holding on to his hand, her hand got enveloped like larva in the cocoon. The moment took her to a cosy rememberance of a day into the hills of Himachal when she was pacing past a road alongside him.

The memory of that splendid moment gave her a gush inside. She felt pleased to find that he still stands alongside and that memories still stay afresh and close. And years later even, the touch of his hands causes the same magic to unchurn.

She looked straight into his eyes and smiled.
He too smiled, his eyes showing recall of the same moment.
And then they smiled together to relive it.

The usual way ..

A thought to bow down head infront of a temple gets more pushy when I am in trouble or wishing God to lend me a helping hand.
Such situations make me feel that I must visit God or actually must find out time to pray to Him.
While at easy going days, I dont know how nice the thought of visiting or praying to Him in me is.
At times, few days simply pass when I am just not able to find time for Him and feel repentant to do so.
And this feeling of regret grows stronger when the desire to see Him in my days of trouble and helplessness gives a call inside. It feels selfish and and that I want to flatter him in prayers to bestow upon me His kindness.
And then behaving the usual way is what I choose.
For I know my heart and mind always bow at His feet.

Why they call it practical ??

I am often condemned at times by people around for thinking too idealistic and expecting the world around to be similar way.
And then they say "It is practical".

I agree that one has to be logical enough and reasonable for his actions but then being practical at times hold a deficit of logic and reason.

Practicality has demolished the ideas of idealism and people as a weapon for their weakness use it.
It is true there can't be an ideal state to anything.But there can be a real state.
Even the laws of physics say that nothing is 100% efficient.None such idealism of 100% is expected from any individual.But then practicality can be closer to idealism.

And as the standard of practicality is moving away from the state of idealism,the world is moving towards the darker side and any wrong action gets justified.

The standard of practicality is to be raised sufficiently to help some ideals breathe at least.

A fearless world

This is one fav of mine .. Since I am not able to write much for my blog .. m keeping it alive with some oldies ..!! :)
　
A fearless world
I had been in a world,
It was not less than a heaven,
Attached there to a soul,
I was so secure in that haven.
　
That coziness, that care,
That divinity was a costly affair.
But not even a penny I spent,
And in that world I got all this for free,
Surprising is the kind of its power,
That it still runs within me.
　
I stayed there for nine months,
And I wished my stay could be long.
Shielding me from polluted souls,
My mother carried me in her womb.
　
She built me inside,
Teaching me life.
Yielding me protection,
Which now I lack outside.
　
That world was different,
So fearless, so strong,
I was so safe,
Unborn.
　
I was taught,
Just to love,
Running relationships providing own blood,
Living for those relationships that breathe inside,
Providing them with lovely nutrition,
And all luxuries beside.
　
But I have realized,
This world contradicts that world inside,
It's not that fearless,
It's not that strong,
I feel so insecure,
Among these selfish souls.
　
Anybody I meet in my life,
I nourish him with all my might,
But at the day's end,
I find a huge difference,
Between the relationships I hold,
To this world and to that womb .
　
This is not the kind of world,
I got life in,
Why these worlds are different??
Why my origin and survival are contradicting??
　
No reason to explain,
Ironically I have to claim,
Either I got to be in a world unknown,
Or my mother's womb taught me wrong.