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Who are you?

Throwback 2012. Give it a read! 🙂

Mirch Masala

The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say. Sometimes a writer’s job is to say something that can catch eye of the readers obviously.

*Caesura*

Have you ever thought even for half a minute that who are you? and why are you..?
You ain’t just the bones of your body that are carrying the load. You’re not your body, because living cells come and go and are generally outside of your control. You’re not your location, because that can definitely change. You aren’t your DNA because that simply defines the boundaries of your playing field. You aren’t your upbringing because siblings routinely go in different directions no matter how similar their start.

You have some responsibilities!

You have some role that you’re here, in this world!

Everybody has.. No one’s created without a meaning. Living a life…

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From fear to love

OK so I am afraid of heights, not that on the extremes but a little. Call it a less intense phobia.

Standing at the grill-side, of the fourth flour, had many times seemed like a jolt of wind – flying down to hit the bottom end line of the floor. It seemed like things will fall from my hands and as I grabbed them more and more tightly, the fear of losing  became greater. Fallen things are hardest to pick. And that’s the fear. Well it’s not actually the fear I was afraid of but the suffering it will may cause afterwards..

Leave, lets not talk about the fear and the suffering it may cause (which is really very confusing), lets talk about LOVE (a fantasy world as most of people call it to be).

The things I grabbed tightly were the things I loved the most, things I never wanted to loose. That love is just a need and we don’t understand this realism. Our associations with things, our love for them is just a human-need-becoming-a-desire. Until or unless the need’s not fulfilled, you won’t let things fall by.. But once gratified, you’ll let things fall and there won’t be any regrets.

So all in my opinion, fear is suffering of fear and love is need. Fear can never replace love neither can love replace fear. The distance from fear to love is just a materialistic-human-desire. Nothing more than that. The ‘thing’ people call love, I call it a human-lusty-need. Fear is not bad itself but the suffering of fear is the worst!

 

A Cure For Insomnia

Dark Matter

New Poem.

You find unexpected wakefulness
before dawn. You say to yourself

there must be some reason
to be awake, some insomniacs-only lesson

to be learned. You are correct.
Here it is:

there’s no point to being this awake.
No prophecy to be delivered. No importance

to be found in soured stomach
and aching neck. To assume so much value

for your problem, to assume you were meant
to go through this because it was necessary

to activate some gift or hidden power,
does not make you anything more

than typical. Everyone’s sure
they are paying dues on some 

postponed glory with every tribulation they face.
Truth be told,

when we are awake without reason this early
it’s probably safe to assume

that we are struggling with lying in the dark
strictly because we are lying

about there being a purpose 
to such struggles. We’re just not

that important. We aren’t 
the…

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INSOMNIA

Being a complete INSOMNIAC.
2:27am.
Nobody’s awake.
Passing with every tick of the clock.
Silence that not actually but actually cries a river.

Reverse

Moving forward but stuck in reverse,

Letting things happen but don’t want them to happen at the same time,
Or not just ready to face them.

Hey you! You know the feeling? Yes? No?
Oh whatever it is, MOVE! We all have to.
Life’s beautiful. Say it aloud. Say it all without fears.

2014 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 500 times in 2014. If it were a cable car, it would take about 8 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

WHEN – WHY – how – from where

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 I don’t know WHEN? or WHY?

But I do know HOW? and FROM WHERE?

The story

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And as they turned on the music, something that died centuries ago, came back!
And they were, together but isolated, hopeful but hopeless.
And they stood there, counting things in their heads endlessly.
Without even harming each other..
It’s not! It’s not the story of love but the story of dreams..