Dreamspell

PS: Gibberish

Courtesy: https://pixabay.com/en/color-nature-desktop-beautiful-fun-3342023/

(Originally posted on my Medium page)

Allswellinhell

Bagobonesnfelt

Caresfonothinelse

Drinkinupwithfriends

Eatincheesenbread

Feelinfreenfed

Groovinupwithfred

Happyasabell

Inthiscrazywell

Justabouttotell

Kindagoinswell

Livintillhesdead

Mustagrowinstead

Nottawastehisbreath

Onsomeficklefells

Postingangstasnaps

Queueinupinmasks

Runnineverfast

Scaredaghostsnpast

Turnininhisbed

Underblanketspread

Verylostinhead

Walkinwherehesled

Xtracheesenham

Yodameansnoharm

Zzzestodreamsnspells

The animal inside?

(Originally posted on my Medium page)

Its a shame to say,
“It’s the animal inside em!”
Yes, animals are wild,
Some with claws, thick hides;
Some prey, some hide,
Some protect their pride,
But scarce can their brains,
Match men’s evil inside;
Deep oceans of vice,
Under crusts of thin nice.

Leave the poor beast,
Blame the human inside!
We’ve too much to lose,
And no place to hide,
When the sleepy leviathan,
Takes a stroll outside.
Millions have vanished,
We’ve seen genocides;
We’ve heard of brutalities,
Against the girl child :,(

But then we grow callous,
We get numb and hide.
The next day beckons,
With its proximate cries.
Gosh! We gush;
Pretences puerile!
Soon the next wild human,
Rubs it in again.
And we chant as if an anthem,
“The animal inside em!”

Air supply

(Originally posted on my Medium page)


I can see the stars tonight,

Some dull, some twinkling, shining bright,

Pure, distant, cosmic, ancient might,

Fighting our puny city lights…

…

Just a dream!, I rubbed my eyes,

Waking up way past midnight,

"Alexa, cast some news, alright?”

“Right up”, she quipped, in cool calm voice.

…

“Its a foggy, smoggy winter night,

Ivy reporting for Weather Insight,

Wear masks and don’t dare step outside,

We’re almost out of air supply!”

Tinkerers!

Tinkerers!

And the Atal Tinkering Labs

Original image courtesy: https://pixabay.com/en/solder-station-arduino-kit-1548360/

I’ve been a tinkerer since as far back as I can remember. Here’s something I’ve realised: We are all born curious but the system lulls us into growing indifferent. We are all born tinkerers but the world is geared to make us feel safer as conformists. While conformist may not be the exact antonym for tinkerer, bear with me awhile. A tinkerer is someone who interferes or meddles with things. A conformists is one who never meddles.

....

[Click here to read the rest of the article on my Medium page]

घर

(hindi: ghar / home)

घर वहां, जहां
साथ हो अपनो का,
ख्वाब हो अपना सा,
मन्नतें हों अपनों की
और सल्तनत प्यार की।

चार दीवार,
बगीचे, फौव्वार,
या झोपड़ पट्टी
गलियों के पार,
ये तो सिर्फ मकान हैं।

उड़ते चिड़ियों का घर आसमान है,
परिंदे की उड़ान उसकी शान है,
खोकले घोसलों में कहां प्राण है?
जहां मन भाये-
आलीशान है!

कमरे हज़ार,
में करे कोई विहार,
अगर चैन की नींद,
एक में भी न मिले,
तो सुकून कहाँ है?

जहाँ तन की थकान घटे,
मन के वहम मिटे,
एक दूसरे का सम्मान दिखे,
सुख, दुःख और बलिदान बाटे,
वही घर, वही आन है।

घर वहां, जहां
साथ हो अपनो का,
ख्वाब हो अपना सा,
मन्नतें हों अपनों की
और सल्तनत प्यार की।

Hush!

lull a by

Hush, little child,
In your dreams hide,
While we divide,
Plunder and ride,
Into the dark side.

Hush, little child,
Hold on to what’s worth,
Our minds: numb with dirt,
Crass online mirth,
Cat memes. T-shirts.

Hush, little child,
Lest I your spirit spite;
But you’ll hear of souls pried,
To feed (strong)men’s weak pride,
While the loved ones cried.

Hush, little child,
Survive. Thrive!
This world, revive,
With these words five:
Love will keep us alive.

Yesternight at nine

When my mind is fooled by my own disguise,
Should I then believe what I see through my eyes?
Life’s an illusion, I do realise;
Mirages of mountains, treading thin ice.

The journey seems pointless, lead by a mere whim,
Staring at a haystack, seeking the pin!
Trying to be cheery, while weary within,
In the land of no fantasies, dreaming is sin.

Who has the answer, to what lies beyond?
The puppets keep dancing: pulled by the clown.
The king stays alive on his puny lil pawns.
The queen waltzes sideways. The horses go down.

The road that's less taken, sure does sound divine,
Tempting like a good old chilled bottle of wine,
Growing like a cancer, you'd hope was benign.
My ship left the harbour, yesternight at nine.

Foolproof

A good teacher once said, that between choosing to express myself versus keeping quiet merely out of the fear that I might say something ‘wrong’; I should always favour letting it flow. The sheer weight of living with a regret for the rest of my life she’d said, would just not be worth it.

Anyways, thanks to that lesson; I’ve made a fool of myself so many times now that the fear thereof does not inhibit me much these days. I’ve had my fair share of failures, rejections, disappointments and despair. And I’ve had my uber moments as well! It took me some time though to realise that she had intended it not as a licence to be impulsive and indiscreet but rather as a mature expression of a considered conviction. So if that means I might find myself in a muddy morass more often than not, as long as I’m aware of what I’m getting into, well, so be it!

The key, evidently, is to somehow survive them all. By clinging on, at times, to nothing more than a faint foggy vision of a scraggy peak beyond the valleys we find ourselves in. Trust me, it’s much less fun living in the plains anyway! In the end, they say, that what doesn’t kill us only makes us stronger.

As contrary as it may seem, making a fool of ourselves a few times over, might actually be the best secret recipe for becoming foolproof. Each time, life teaches us to be a bit wiser and helps us smile a bit wider at our sheer vanity.

We are all in this together

(Originally published on New Year day 2018)

As another year draws to a close, and a new one breaks, nothing can put you in a thinking hat as best as a bout of fever can. That’s after you recover just enough to think clearly but not enough to be heading to the gym for a workout ;p

So here’s what I’ve been thinking.

It’s an incredibly small world that we live in. What matters most are those little connections we have with each other. Friends. Family. Colleagues. Strangers. The few fleeing moments we have together. Those amazing coincidences. Those chance encounters. Those planned rendezvous. The shared interests. The celebrate-able differences.

Helping. Sharing. Caring. Giving. Loving. Talking. Sometimes, just listening.

While it’s our minds that truly connect. Sometimes, we should even let our bodies too. A handshake, hug, kiss, caress, touch. Simple gestures that we have managed to make sound incredibly complex! Hell, we are so twisted that we even make an innocent smile look sinister and suspect.

In short, we are making it difficult to make those connections that we were talking about. It is quite probable now for entire lifetimes to pass without making any meaningful connections at all! To many, this might also seem completely normal. This is the curse.

So in these wee hours of a new year, here’s me wishing that we all make a LOT more connections this year. Deep bonds even. This is what we’re meant to. In this astoundingly vast universe, we inhabit a small world. Your small act of kindness, your being there as a shoulder for someone to lean on… Our little acts may have cascading effects that are beyond obvious. We are a part of a network, mysteriously and mystically connected. Believe it or not, we are all in this together ☺

Sing a song instead

They say: love trumps hate and that music is the food of love.

They whose hearts are filled with hate,
Can they discern sweet songs of praise?
They whose eyes burn red with rage,
Can they e’er see a loving gaze?
Can those whose hands embrace the mace,
E’er kiss at night their own child’s face?
And they who plot to kill and maim,
Could they know what would seal their fate?

We're specs of dust, mere cosmic sand,
Moulded by the unseen hand,
With borrowed breaths that help us land,
Our little roles in this weird band,
There are things to learn, our minds expand,
Before life waves it's magic wand,
Like every show with entree grand,
End it must when time demands.

So why fill this short life with hate,
When we could share some love instead?
Why fill the air with cries and wails,
When joyous songs could fill this place?
Why not use that strong hand to help,
Someone who’s been stuck in life’s ebbs?
Why waste those breaths just screaming threats,
When you could sing a song instead!

---

[I’ve been in Satna, MP, India for the past week and was shocked to hear that on 15th December 2017, a group of christmas carolers from a church nearby were arrested here, their car burnt by a mob, and those who went to enquire assaulted (while the police were ‘helplessly’ watching), allegedly because their carol songs were seen as a part of their attempt to forcibly ‘convert’!? people into Christianity. Yes. It is a true incident that is as weird as it sounds.]