Tag Archives: inspiration

#MyQuote4

Life is not as serious as we wish it to be,

Its just a run, till we run out of passion.

Then an ages old glory of a victor,

Until, a dead glance of doubt.

To Remember or Not…..

Life often times becomes obsessed with today and tomorrow. So much so, that it seems to be born everyday only to die day after and be born again. Then, might we say –

“All life is but a pursuit to evade the Past?”

As I walk through the pavements of my memory today, I encounter countless moments which have been resisted from remembrance – only to make me comfortable in my mind. Thus, naturally we do not recall the one time when we broke out in tears out of fear or lost someone out of one’s own selfishness or chose to ache an ailing heart because its bearer had done a mindless act offending our sensibilities.

The more I see, the more I know that in all my trysts with the Past, it is not the past itself which suffers. Rather the ghosts of people residing in it bear the violence for they have become frozen in time. As I choose to grudge against certain memories, I opt to lemmatise their agents, thereby gathering my power over the ghosts in the memory.

Yet, I forget that even today would become a memory tomorrow. And the people I meet today would be the ghosts I would want to freeze tomorrow….Just like I would become a ghost to forget tomorrow in the mind of a certain other who seems to be unimportant today…

So, do I choose to remember? Or do I opt to forget?

Knowing that my memory becomes the only gateway for someone to exist?


I must admit that I have come to this realisation after reading about the Award Winning Broadway Show “Dear Evan Hansen” (based on the book of the same name by Steven Levenson). It is indeed a very thought-provoking musical.

Has anyone watched it?!

Please, do let me know in the Comments Section…

 

The Trevelyan and his Tin Heart

Once upon a time, a good many years ago, a traveller set upon a journey and this magical journey was to seem very long when it began, and very short when he got half way through it.

He travelled along a rather dark path for some little time, without meaning anything, until at last he came to a beautiful child. SO, he said to the child, “What do you do here” And the child said, “I am always at play. Come Play with me!”……  #CreativePrompt


Tired from his lonely journey, the traveller decided to enjoy the little event of company which his dark path provided, perhaps to keep him motivated. But the attire of the child was rather peculiar. It was the first time in his days on the road that the traveller saw a garb made of sack and ropes. But it wasn’t just the clothes that made the little boy different.

“What do you think, mister? Would I eat and sleep tonight or would tonight be the day for playing ‘Pretend’?”, asked the soft voice in the sack. Awoken from the perturbed and judging thoughts the traveller sat down and replied, “I fail to see how the two are related. dear friend.”

“Oh! You are lost! That’s why you are here, aren’t you? said the boy with a contempt which was unexpected of his little self. He then started arranging his little “dimes” and “nickels” in rows, as if he was indifferent to the emotional turmoil he had prompted in the traveller’s mind.

In the farther corner of the road, he erected a little wooden box upon which he placed a tin can. After being satisfied with his arrangements he said, “Let’s compete. The one who knocks the tin can from this distance becomes the winner and the loser gets to say goodbye first.”

“I can never say goodbye” though the traveller and for a moment he recalled the night he left home to travel. For in that despicable night, he had let go of himself and all that life had given to him for the fear of being an invalid burden on the ones he loved. “So, I would win” decided the hassled traveller. And the two players started to aim at the tin can dime after nickel, but only to fail.

“Won’t your parents mind you talking to a stranger, dear friend?” asked the traveller as he tried a shot.

With a placid smile on his face the failing competitor replied, “I was born to the world not to my parents. And thus, with the world I live. Yet, I keep for myself a warm and cosy house”.

“I wish I had a house too. A place to call home. But I am nowhere – life has abandoned me” said the aching spirit of the traveller as he failed to deliver his next shot.

“Funny you should say that, because in front of your open eyes the picture stands so clear. Don’t you realise life isn’t an incident but an event that occurs for you? And the aim of that good life is that tin can, whose fall is the only indication of what was earlier possessed.”

Hearing this, the traveller dawned to the uselessness of his journey. In his final chance, with shaking hands, he shot the nickel to a victory which was proclaimed by the clatter of the tin can. “Oh! I won. I won, little friend” he said with a melting voice.

“Indeed, you won” replied the little audience with a smile that spoke more than words. “And yet, I wouldn’t have to say goodbye either. For you stay in my house…”

“I don’t understand!” said the puzzled traveller.

“For you share a memory with me, you now live with me in my house. So, no matter whether you are here with me or not, we shall always share the same roof – that of the house of my heart.”

And in that moment, the traveller only saw the light at the end of his dark path and wondered as to how his tiresome journey ended in a moment of reprise.

“I shall always play with you my dear friend. That I promise!”

Saying these words, the Trevelyan picked up his tin can and glanced at the little figure waving at him. What followed was a parting that was embellished with the feeling of pain and yet secured the warmth between the embracing hearts. With his head to the front and his heart trailing behind the traveller passed silently into a memory of the worldly child’s dream.

 

Thanks for reading! Do let me know how you like my reworked extension of the creative prompt. 🙂

The Mysterious World of Idyllic “Eye”-dentities

Have you ever taken the time to look for a person’s eyes? SO much of the truth is reflected on a face, yet the little of the soul in the eyes is the real picture! Have you found the outline of this very real portrait ever?

Of all the days in the world which pass away almost as easily as they are begotten, today woke up with the same bland notoriety to me. And it wasn’t until I stole a moment to look at the beggar I found daily by the footpath, that I slipped into a “World of its own”. The glowing, expectant eyes of the man on the torn rag made me wonder about the vibrant emotions that they prompted in me. While I sensed a glimpse of happiness, I also found trails of questions, a silent request and a ghost of a smile awaiting to be found…

Could there be a more peculiar combination?

Never could I imagine that the damp black of an eye could reflect such a fusion of numerous other colors. As I rewrote that introspective moment in my mind again and again, I was astonished to find the darkness burst open with such a huge number of colors that evolved separately as I delved deeper, only to fuse with my horizons…..

Could there be a more intriguing case of enchantment?

As I traveled through the common performances of my day, the “World of Eyes” opened itself to me more and more. In the glistening charm of a child’s eyes, the excited iris’ of the street dog, and the blinding darkness of a strangers’ view – I curated every portrait with equal curiosity… Until I returned home to find myself in front of the mirror….

With the contracted pupil, outstretching iris and amazed eye, I looked in myself…

Only to find an incomplete puzzle with missing pieces…

Tonight I Cannot Write….

Writing – An intriguing word with a complex meaning, describing an act that involves the momentary trance of the human brain during which the mind takes over the body. Such a faithful and comfortable exercise….

Sitting by a blank page and letting the mind color its veins has always been such a natural task. Never have the pages run out of their spree, nor has the ink controlled their flow. Writing should always be so energetic…

Lest when I cannot write….

I fearfully wander the pavements of my mind to search for a lost key. Seldom was it to be found. However, in search of a new abode I lost the path of my sanctuary. So there I stood with a blank page and a mindful of translated colors that transformed into white. Unless the white could turn grey, I resorted to wander in the featureless space…

Since tonight I cannot write….

I do not feel so because my brain objects to leaving its supremacy – as a huge number of people would have me to believe – or my hands feel constricted with chains. Neither has my pen run out of ink. But, I feel so since the world around me has failed my purpose of searching for a text in itself.

So, tonight I cannot write…..

And that is why I struggle my feet to the terrace of my house and coldly stare at the stars. “How meaningless is their twinkle. How unattractive is the moon that lingers in their company and floats by the clouds since it doesn’t inspire my pen.” I think it is very depressing that the world has forgotten to love itself. Yet, I cannot let it be known.

As, tonight I cannot write….

Sighing I sit by my towers of gloom for my words have lost their signs. And this is why I detest the world for it erased the rhythm of my lines. As the night grows darker and stiller still becomes the world, I would have to read the unwritten texts…..

While tonight I cannot write…

 

What a pity I should say

For isn’t it tonight that I cannot write?

The Pandemonium of Life

Living isn’t always an easy task. Life by the same means doesn’t always look like a bed of roses. But can we cease to move on?

As I watched a blind couple helplessly staring at the young adults in the Metro asking for a privileged seat, I asked myself – How far have we gone in the pursuit of our desires? Is this the image of God which humans have inherited?

Irrespective of the numerous depictions that one can carve about Life, it can not be denied that it is a soar sight! We often fail to recognize the sadness that our happiness entails for others. For every person dancing away in glory there is always a depressed heart running into desperation and misery. For every successful man climbing on the social ladder there are always a number of heads lying at each step over which s/he must climb. For every blessing that paves your way there is always a lonely beggar watching your path and cursing his/her fortune. With such a presence of sadness, grief, jealousy and pain – doesn’t life become a pandemonium where each of us are our own oppressors?

Yet, surviving lies not in lamentation but action! Movement is the synonym of Life and hence we grow, mature and blossom with every failure and success that we achieve. But is mere surviving enough? Can we dissolve the balance of our Pandemonium?

I believe we can!

If movement symbolizes Life, Feeling symbolizes Living!

To live is to feel and to feel is to realize the depths of our humanity. Every person dancing away in glory CAN destructs the pillars of his/her pandemonium every time s/he extends an open arm to the one succumbing to misery. Likewise every successful person who climbs through social ladders with the others breaks through the same shackles of his mental prison which every person who shares a part of his blessing with the lonely beggar feels by the end of his journey.

One may wonder, can it be done? But then we must never forget that even before we could try, every task seemed an impossibility.

So, the only thing that matters is –

ARE YOU WILLING TO ESCAPE FROM YOUR PRISON?