Truth about Social media and the people on it.

 

Running out of words

Today when I decided to write
I shiver with fright
I run out of words
The pen just stops
The ink feels colourless 
Ideas repeat in a loop
The paperweight is heavier than my thoughts
What is happening?
Why I am lost?

I am running out of words
I will keep this one short

The melody which is lost but not forgotten.

When you have totally lost hope in humanity, there you see a good act by some good-hearted people who actually care about the chirping sounds of the sparrows (chimani in local lingo) the birds were the everyday visitor of the town and people after time got  attached to the melodic nuisance created by the brown fur balls.

They build a small pond for the species to take a dip, swim in and get refreshed as the summer had some different plans that year. The heat was blazing outside evaporating every single drop from the pond, but someone or the other would always keep it filled with love. As the days passed the visitors were now tourists, hard to spot one. Seemingly the water in the small pond turned green and the ambiance turned pale.

You know why they disappeared and became extinct? Because the generation now lives with a different ideology if accidentally they see one, they would immediately remove their smart-phones to click a picture, instead of looking at their childish gestures. Why would they come to meet you? Your internet plan is capable of giving you the experience but their real chirpings would have given you thrills. 

Walk towards the unknown

Don’t fear what you can’t see

The roads are dizzy they would scare you at times

The fear of falling will disperse

The fear of getting lost will disappear.

When you walk the routes alone

without a direction without a map

you land up at the wrong places

but be proud you made it this far.

This is the start

Don’t stumble while you walk

Don’t hesitate to get lost

You might not find anything 

but you would surely find yourself.  

Wise words from a wanderer

The day I decided to be nice
the world stopped being wise.

Laughed at the way I saw the world.
Maybe their vision was weak and
the mind was not matured.

They would still judge and laugh at people
and say bad about me when I turn.
I hope their filthy souls blaze in hell and
never return.

I'd still be nice and give them a
glimmering smile, as my soul is a
wanderer and has traveled the
purest miles.

Another wasted Sunday!

Sunday Oh Sunday!
Why do you come once in a week and not twice?

When I wake up at twelve and think of doing something  

the day is half gone and the remaining half seems not very exciting.

The only time, Sunday is enjoyed to the fullest
is when the unexpected guest comes home

and delicacies are all ready to be relished. 

Some might crib, that the time flew fast and it needs to be extended. 

But however, you spent it,

rollicking or laying on the bed

A SUNDAY IS SPENT LIKE A POTATO ON A COUCH

Still, we eagerly wait for the Sundays to come

its the only day when you feel like being alone. 

.

Live life unconditionally!

Are you getting the euphemism, kid? Asked the hot summer breeze and the very next day the rain sledgehammers it and completely terminates the unpleasant feeling. The monsoon in Mumbai is started in full swing and has a romantic charm to it, but who gives a hoot about romance? For me my boys in my monsoon are a lot like Pink Floyd’s “the happiest days of lives”, and that’s because we live it to the fullest. We start the day with football, then take a dip in the pond behind our society, followed by some hot, lip-smacking bites at the bakery beside the church. The potato munchies with a dash of fenugreek sprinkling, dipped in tamarind sauce is titillating the taste buds to take a stairway to heaven and never come back. To sum it up a rainy Sunday is action-packed and nothing less than a Full Monty! However, I was clueless and had to call it day when the rain gods seem to be getting high on some next level smack, and won’t call it a day until the transport isn’t completely jacked up. As much as it may feel pleasant to be holed up indoors, causing severe infatuation to the senses, the paranoia outdoors is limitless. While returning back home, what I say completely changed my way of thinking and broadened my perspective of looking at life. Not carrying about the heavy showers comes a reverberating sound of growling Harleys and we see a group of magnificent men and their flying machines riding along the streets with pure gratification and enjoying the cold drops with merriment and gaiety.
By looking at the group of friends riding effortlessly and enjoying every bit of cloudburst it gave me a contrary vision about life. It made me believe sometimes the best thing you can do is not think, not wonder, not imagine, and not obsess. Just breathe and enjoy life today because in the end we only regret the chances we missed.