Starting me

The more we think goes with the act of nothing being done. So when you actually start doing something like blogging, you can't help but think again.In times where conversations have become tasks, with the backing up of time constraints, it is important to put thoughts into words to express what is there to be expressed.And for people like me who love the inked world as forms of exhalation,blogging seems to be a sigh of relief from the rest of the breath.I am new to this air of living or one can say late (as usual), but it feels good to finally begin and try something.

This is just going to be my attempt to know the perspective of the world i reach based on my perspective of the world, inside me and around there.

Its wonderful to be alive and type, but what is even more wonderful is to live to type and be the type that you are typing. I identify myself with a lot of types, but the type i want to be is what i am a bit already and a lot bit out there to become.Its a curious head that wants to decipher the living formula and its a dreamy heart that may have an idea as to where i will find it.And may be i am just a space in time that needs a ticking.

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Play the.....PAUSE..........**

I stepped on a dry curled leaf on the ground and the sound is somehow very satisfying. The brutal crunching makes way for easy assimilation of the dead leaf into the ground. I have watched the same leaf go from the small peachy pink size to the big vibrant green one followed by the sunny yellow attire!! And let me tell you that sums up the question of life for me in just seven words: EACH FORM OF BEING IS EQUALLY BEAUTIFUL. The body lying on bed has witnessed the pink-green-yellow steps circularize ; credits to the window that allows the eyes to witness the tree, which sometimes looks like a painting in the canvas of a blue shade. Sometimes waking up to a sight of life like that makes you happy and just for that moment everything about yourself seems enough. As usual as it may seem, to have your face washed by the morning rays of dawn, this regular thing is how life kisses you, soft and gentle. For a long time i have been kissed alive by the day and for a long time i haven't bee

I can wait...

Why is it that nothing particularly changes in the way sun rises or sets, and the moon is just as usual, always a feast in all of its shapes, and my grateful being, gets awestruck every single time. There is nothing new about the day we wake up to and yet we see the day as a new one even if it doesn't changes a leaf in our life. The night is just as black or grey as it should, acting as a complementing background for the moon and stars, and yet it traces us back to all the dreams and passions we religiously keep inside, like a night......that just doesn't turn into a day. The reason why nature in all of her form and existence appears new even if it remains the same is because she exists for a purpose, not for an opinion. The simplicity with which she remains authentic, holds the foundation of the way she has evolved with time. Her worth doesn't rest on validation, because she is at rest and in peace with who she is. Having a purpose in life isn't determined at birt

"That confused girl"

There are many things to say to you, but she chooses to zip her words into a sigh as if telling the obvious would make it irrelevant. I don't think we learn to speak during childhood, I think we keep learning it till we become quiet. Silence is composed of a thousand words whereas sometimes all it is that a thousand words say is "nothing". I know the power of words and so I am not quiet when it comes to speaking the unsaid obvious. There is a girl at my window staring at the passing clouds thinking to herself where does she stand in her life; is she a passing cloud too, would she ever know stillness? There are two kinds of people in the world; one who knows the word, the other who knows the meaning. There is one more kind who fall at the intersection of the two; the hybrid one, who knows the meaning of the word and the "when and where science" of using it. At every stage of knowledge of the word and of the meaning and of the usage, the bar of responsibility goe

```Yours Godly```

The sight of a red moon delights me so much about my life/my eyes that i feel relaxed in ways which makes me live, more lively. I simply fell in love with that moment when the time inside takes a pause to make me realize that it's a rare beauty, no matter how many times the night witnessed it. I never thought seeing the moon would make me obsessed about seeing the moon. Witnessing it is my way of knowing how much this god thing loves me. It's a thing because that's what i have known it from my conditioning. It's a photograph in an assumable sacred place at my home, it's an orange or black or sometimes a beautifully designed body of stones and marbles in some other assumable sacred place at different parts of the world. I wholeheartedly appreciate the amount of art and literature invested in creating the different ideologies of this god thing, because all of that was somebody's ''work''. Somebody's sweat, blood and tears have been fossilize

Let's fear!

The best thing that happens in my day is when i find myself and my other selves alive, because the good in the morning is that we are, there in the morning. Of all the fears that we carefully amass, it's the fear of not being alive the next moment, that's taken very much for granted. Death is feared by everyone even-though it's a shared fate, and life being the brief stay, is assumed unlimited. I really fear not being alive, being extinct but not necessarily death.I don't think humanity is ever going to crack the formula for how to live a life, and i also think we don't need a full blown answer, we just need few hints, since the answer is- to each their own. One of the hint for that question is undeniably, fear, a definite one i believe. There are a lot of things we are afraid of, or get scared by but fear is the only one,worth your attention.A child is ironically a fearless creature because there is more glee in trying the un

My 'M' size life

Do you know what the most committed thing in your life is? It's not your parents, friends, or lovers. It will always be your belly fat. The center of your mass, the middle section of your body, and the putative locus of your subconscious. Why am I subconsciously always aware of its mass, and why does it matter so much that most of my neural energy is spent on concealing its existence? My belly fat grew up with me. When I was small, it was small. Now that I am big, it's big too. It's big enough to hold my beer of thoughts about my middle-of-somewhere existence. My window always shows me life in real-time. It is the beginning of spring here, and every morning when I wake up and look outside, I see the branches more peachy in color with flowers I knew I had seen earlier but forgot. I forgot when they vanished. I only noticed when the roads were colored again with them. These flowers remind me of my forgotten dreams. Dreams that have come back to me, slowly, again. The idea of

Wish I was loud.

My nails grow in silence, break with noise, and grow back in silence again. My heart grows in silence, breaks in silence, and grows back in better silence again. If our lives had background music, it would have been a lot easy to live. Every emotion would have a 'value'; every value would have a sound, every sound would welcome you for feeling everything as sincerely as you want. If mind had a face, beauty would have a very ugly definition and if our hearts were as mindful as we want it to be, evolution would have reached the finish line way back. I have lived most of my life till date nurturing the ideology of silence and letting time be my spokesperson. But as you grow up, you tend to understand the world a bit better especially the power held by a befitting reply. My father uses this phrase a lot, he says, " kill the issue on the spot". He lives by his words, he does kill the issue on the spot, he does not mince words when it comes to an offender. I on the other ha

The Unblocking

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