Just another poor story

The baby was scheduled to arrive in a month, her mother looked overwhelmed with joy she was being washed with happiness and in the midst of this well She simply tried balancing  herself between the scale of delight and worry. A twelve year and yet already known to the worries in store for her parents . Mamma and papa were chattering away about the time they will be spending with the new comer and  while both already have a lot of work to be done to earn the day’s meal she knows at the back of her head that this just wasn’t a new love joining the family but also meant new accounts adding to their deficit living , Yet she smiles with honesty and tells to herself ‘as long as we four are happy , that’s all it matters ' .

While most of her age mates sit sullen in their rooms frowning about how miserable could their parents be to make them share their  room with their younger brother, Lisa a girl of 10 tries to find the slightest joy in her life while her mother settles in for the 3^rd time that month in another new apartment , primarily because she was unable to pay the rent for the previous houses and while their home got smaller and her dreams got bigger  , Lisa only prays at night to the one above that someday or perhaps one day maybe she is given the chance of attending a school because  this little girl knew the value of education she knew that it was her only ticket to live a dignified life . She sincerely prays that she never would have to live the poor life a second time and to her the privilege of attending a school would be like a shower of a thousand blessing..Amen to her wish.

Hamid is just one of the many children living under the mercy of good charity , A boy of fifteen  knows the life of a shelter home , its like a revised routine one that you get tired of but leaves you no room for complain and where there can barely let “one self” to melt in . Life here is simple he said , its with a lump down his throat that he came up to share his little wish of having a family and owning his own little room one day , he knows the cost of having ephemeral dreams because sooner or later they inevitably pull you down with the gravity of reality .His life is ruled by his own efforts and there are no chances for risky takeoffs because this boy no matter how much he wished for knew that he had no father who would take him in even after the world went against him Alas, that’s what charity does to you .

These people pardon me, in order to be more specific  these Children who should have waited for the world to mold their beliefs already live with an existing understanding of life and its adversities and that the ride through poverty is not an easy one and they do know that nobody but them alone can help themselves to make out  something out of the little they have .

How is it that some of us languish in dilemma’s of which technology to settle for while for some they don’t even have the little opportunity of choosing between education or food or if a family would be better than a shelter home.  

wHOM did you blame ?

The son shot his father at 14, the newspaper flashed with the young boy accused as for committing the most unthinkable crime ever. The reader’s nodded with aghast some closed the paper in grimace; the people abused the thin conscious of the boy and saw him with the lowest and most disgusted stare.

“How can one kill his own father?”

Thats what everyone roared with till their hatred and anger melted away and their wife’s and children faced with the story of such a heinous act were left startled and shaken.

The very next day they all went back , the neighbors continued with their daily ruckus the children dragged themselves reluctantly to school and  the mothers saved their family a delightful meal  at the end of the day and nothing else mattered again anymore .

When the world went on again in its usual, he sat behind those bars of which the years peeled in the form of rusted bits and the miasma of the room was heavy with emptiness. There he sat alone in the cold damp room with absolutely no one in the vicinity of his closed solitude to testify his act.

Maybe reason and explanations had lost their meaning in this boy’s diary and maybe repentance was all that was left to be marked.

He had only walked in to his house with his sachet hanging carelessly on his shoulder.  That day in school his friends had mocked him all day long about his cuckold father. He was cold and did not bother about the sardonic spirits hovering all around him.

The door was ajar and he walked in expecting to see his father somewhere relaxing like everyday around the house procrastinating everything that mattered, drunk, like an uncouth but this time the boy was swept with a different emotion

Alas one could say he was totally swept of life itself.

Right in front of him  was the same four walls around which he grew up the familiarness of the place , the bed which bore the crest of the time they loved the same cloth on which once slept his parents and whispered crazy  stories to each other however this time it was different , there she giggled lying her head with matted hair spread over his chest  with only a thin sheet covering their nude forms . The room now reeked of filthy happiness, of cheated souls, of blackened romance and the last figment of smoke from the charred bits of a broken heart it was the sight of his father bedding other women and that woman was someone he hath never known.

   The boy collapsed, he stumbled over blindly over the bonds of a relation; that of a father and a son. He roared and paved his way towards the table and took upon the curse of a murderer. he closed his eyes one last time and gripped the trigger with absolute firm hands and let it go right through his father’s chest , life seemed to have escaped him forever and that was the mess he fell right into and drowned himself in it for the rest of his life .

Few moments passed, senses were uprooted forever from his life, he sat there like a still corpse with the blood of his father flooding all around him . it did not mater any longer ; the impulse was  gone , the madness was over the heart felt no need to thump in vain and guilt , what guilt when conscious had been completely drained from  his mundane,  long before when he moved to take the gun.

The world and its people will climb the easiest and simplest conclusion they find and shrivel round it  to justify whatsoever they find  but do you really think that was for the world to  judge . can a JUDGEMENT hold the weight against the love of a son towards his father or the crime he committed in its absence .

A holiday

Visiting a place become’s a hearts delight when something extraordinary happens. We may go visiting islands, towns, countries and cities to discover something new, to discover a new chapter in the book. To come home with a bag filled with stories   to share and pictures to perfectly relate too. Whether it is to the young handsome neighbor or even maybe to your dear folks whom you chatter away in volumes every single night.

Because holidays come like a white envelope sealed perfectly with that bright curious red stamp which you secretly know will open to reveal wonders. heaps of surprises scheduled between few stipulated days with grasping and complacent moments of life all filling in at that one time called “holiday” thus holidays visit you like that breath of fresh air after the first summer rain which brings in goodness for the first and last time because the next time it repeats it won’t be  the same again .

People visit places with different idea’s and motives in their minds. I went with only one and that was to experience the ever long  sun smiling down on earth  , which slowly caresses your  skin while you lay on scattered bits of sand and watch the  hot yet  magnanimous beach  being scorched by the unforgiving sun and hold and wait till the breeze whisper’s  in your ears in their own sweet melody .

This holiday was just not like the others. This one will forever remain imprinted fresh in my mind and heaped in between the sweetest stacks of my memory.

Reason, because this was when I met happy pills. Yes, that’s how I have decided to baptize my memory about him. This wasn’t like the other euphoria stimulations of the heart and mind ive had lately because this was insanely and simply euphoric :) .

Happy pills stood tall and moved with breath taking and brandishing strokes. yes that’s how he drained all my senses to my heart which  pounded with more than a usual pace and left me just one thing to say “He is gorgeous”.

Ever felt like the skies turned bluer and the birds been chirping louder and just when you listen to your most favorite track and all

that you can think off is that blissful person that elates your heart.

  EXACTLY WHAT I FELT LIKE !

Just when he smiled with that little air of jolly temperament  which

he always held and bated his eyes as he spoke, it was plain humble 

and yet adoring.  The most congenial I’ve ever seen

.

Well sounds like iv drifted totally from what I outa start with but 

honestly this holiday was totally about him , I was completely 

circled by his fancies and again I sigh with the  thought of him as  I 

Reminiscence  the beautiful holiday that passed

I couldn’t possibly speak more about delicious crabs or lobsters and the blissful beef steak dipped in the honey of love because this retreat was just more than a visit to a new place. this was about finding someone whom I might never see again but realizing that  his out there and I m out here waiting for a tryst with time . This feeling IS absolutely what I would otherwise define as foolishness and wave it off tagging it along my other idiosyncratic idea’s  but honestly I couldn’t have been more straight and genuine about the feeling of love.

bEauty exist not in sameness but differences

Who would imagine a giraffe without a long neck or a cactus without its picky beauty? The irregularities of the mountain peaks is what makes it so imposing. If we try  to make them all the same they would no longer command our respect.

Its imperfection in every form that astonishes or attracts us.

The sunset set looks more magnanimous when surrounded by different clouds and when light from them reflect the diverse colors and dreams of every individual, it then that we  feel the silent pure rush .

Music subsides and emerges with different chords, irregularity in notes weave the symphony. The music which caresses your heart, Allow me to make you believe that these sweet symphonies of its melody also  evolve  from different elements , not a note similar.

The roaring ocean, its expanses, a panorama of infinite beauty is indeed compelling. The waves gallop like free horses in meadows, to form the ripples of joy and an orchestra of euphoria, the difference in its surface is what makes it demand the appraisal.

Think about every small object your surrounded with, they are forms of different creations, different people with different constructive ways of putting forth their ideas.

What makes you appreciate them, the vastness of its diversity or the constrain of its use . We all know the former is what we crave for, we appreciate the differences.

 Sometimes we to try and scale down the individuality in us because we feel we do not conform to the idea of being normal to someone else.  Its complete injustice that we  do to our self in away .

Just the way life has many corners of surprises, they wait to be cast off one day .The wait will never be too long , so do not fall with a broken hope because each day comes to us with a different story to reveal, don’t hold back with the fear of being revealed to something new , remember all of us unconsciously crave for that imperfect soul , because deep within we all are imperfectly perfect .

 

 

the feeling :)

I Feel deeply motivated to write about this after reading Ben Okris”s article, a writer and yet unknown to many but his one article that made me wonder about how I actually feel about the whole idea of writing and this blog goes to my perspective as I elucidate the whole sanctified feeling of writing and the power of words that is able to create a world with in you.

We are all individuals, the word itself explains why we are different and how we display to the world the whole plethora of different souls and different motives of each. Art is one form of channelizing this individual energy adhered in each one of us . Some choose the form of painting, sketching, calligraphy, singing or even sand art and what I choose is writing. To me writing is my simple form of propagating my message, it’s merely a way in which I feel I can justify my existence in the word .to write and leave it for them to interpret is the main idea look for in it. I don’t always care too see if I am being rational in my writing but what I am intently directed to  see is that while I write I must attain the bliss of the experience . Its very personal for me because when we are putting down words in clusters, for them to picture my thoughts in a white sheet may not always be impeccable but to write and convey my perspective of reality is why I attempt to write.

Reality as it may be is a matter of a special kind. We all have our own views of reality. we individually select , alter , exaggerate and glorify the events that only conforms to us . We may try and come out it but in real we are surrounded by our own idea of reality and when we write we offer a peek to others of our own picture of the world that we see. 

To be able to create an intense world in your words where the readers might actually feel themselves painted in your fabric is what a writer yields to . Having an opinion of the world and putting it forth for them in the simplest form you can is what makes a person WRITE .TO think about the complexities of life and combining the simple elements of existence to make it as short as possible and yet as deep as  it could get .  Well if I could attain that, It is then that i shall feel the true joy of being called  an artist .

Thoughts that infest like pest .

Ever felt like you did not ever even succeed in knowing one tenth of yourself , I am not talking about feeling psychotic or hallucinated ,  it’s a different feeling .Sometimes when  YOU look at yourself from outside the frame rather  then picture yourself from the frame like you always do .
To make the matter worse a second person or rather someone else whom you have probably known for only a few months makes you push and have a different picture about yourself altogether. Should you be thankful well that it definitely depends on what picture they showed you of yourself. Now I don’t want to be sounding like a person who just lost her parameter of normalcy but I just had a day where things came to me from a different perspective and receiving this was just not pleasant for me at least. So how is it receiving your personality character from someone who has been observing you > not pleasant to a bit , since when did stark truth hit me so hard I wonder .I was pretty certain about how I was and how I portrayed about myself till today when a friend tells me  you have turning mood swings and really intense ones  , do I seriously .. I just tend to succumb to silence for awhile perhaps not even to think about anything maybe that does look a little retarded to some but that’s the way I am comforted.I don’t really have days when I come home to reflect and write about what happened but today it honestly stirred me not in a way when someone shoots  you with something sardonic but just honest truth about yourself  well, that is not usually perceived very optimistically by everyone.  Well, what I am trying to say is we seriously need to have occasions like this when we get an idea about ourselves from someone else and most importantly not to avoid it all what we really need to do is learn to categories their importance and definitely leave the crap out of it and from what we get and  we should be able to try and learn more about our self from this  because


sometime what others see of you is more than what you think of yourself to be.Give sometime of your day to reflect upon your action, they will definitely give you a picture of the direction your heading for and most importantly don’t lose yourself so much in the effort of trying to be perfect ,keep that little spark of madness in you…always , tou we are given a little of it , but to lose that would be grave pity .  

Who You are

Don’t baricate your liberty

Don’t wither your open mind ,

You do not stand to be blamed

Naivety was not chosen it was gifted .

People are narrawoing their synapse

And saturating it with crystallized evil.

Don’t feel outcasted by this ongoing

What we need  to witness is clear concious,

And not slaughteres of humankind.

Some said there are only good and bad people ,

But a worse,could have Evolved was never imagined ,

People will provoke you , people will try and pit their ideology on you

But a stong mind and kind heart is what will shield you.

I never stood by this but this is what holds me together now,

People around you may betray you ,

Loved ones might add to your plight and close ones might leave you

World plays ticks but this isnt evrything .

Life has to sides ,but keeping you and not loosing yourself

Through thick and thin regardlessly of evrything be true to yourself,

Through the moment of break and joy

This is what makes you your own hero .

Time will pass but the tale will remain unbruised

So don’t let the world dismantle you ,

You write your own tale.

  “ WHATEVER THE HELL YOU WANT ”