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Saturday, January 26, 2013

Life or freedom

Written on Sept 29

What is more important ? Life of a person or the freedom of that person ?

Is this topic also very much subjective ?

I am afraid this topic is also subjective. This question's answer will vary from person to person.

I thought earlier that everyone would of course fight for his freedom as it is the dearest thing to him. But I ignored 'fear/bondage' that many people hold in their minds, either consciously or subconsciously. Those people are not free and they are content to be like this. They cherish existence as more important value than freedom. A continuous flow of time and space, irrespective of whether the situation is fear inducing or freedom inspiring; this becomes their primary cherished feature of their world.

Who knows who is right among them. They both stand on their own pedestals with no one beside to compare with.

Soul

Written some months back

I do not understand it very much. But whatever idea I get, it seems like pillar of glue to which various features of a living being attach, unconditionally. It's too naive of a definition for soul. But I am unable to come up with a better one. I assumed that soul is a constant unchanging ingredient, inclusion of which in body makes it living and exclusion makes it dead.

I am fascinated by the diversity of the contents attached to the soul. 

Friday, January 18, 2013

Congress, Indian National Congress

It started as a representative body of an all nation collective conscience filled people. The senior most member was it's president for the first time.

For the next 60 odd years, it would shape up the fetus of an Independent India so that it emerged strong enough to stand without any support.

As far as I recollect, during all those years, every year the party president changed. Raja Ram Mohan roy, Sarojini Naidu, Bal Gangadhar Tilak, Motilal Nehru, Jawahar Lal Nehru, Annie Besant and so many others presided separately over annual congress meetings.

After India became independent, why was this trend changed ? Why has only the Gandhi family headed the party since then ? Why is this family being treated like a dynastic family, destined to rule people ? Why are the members of the party keeping their hands open, apparently begging for their roles from the Gandhi family ?

Is it really a democratic party now? 

Prasiddha

An ambition has ended abruptly. I do not like this.

picchar baaki reh gayi. I do not like this.

Life, uff!!

Try to enjoy the journey, Prasiddha, my friend!

(written on 18 Jan 13)

Monday, December 24, 2012

2 mins silence pls

I do not understand it very much. Why is there so much commotion every where around ? It is really not like any one is dead, or some accident has occurred. Then why is every one moving so randomly ? There are specific lanes and roads for each of them to traverse, and that too with comfort and peace. I have seen them already having driven like this.

These ghosts of my thoughts were under my control for long. I had trained them to order my commands. They thought themselves to be invincible but I put them behind the bars, tightened them with chains and put them in a place where no light or imagination could enter.

I thought, I thought I will be strong forever like this and I would never need to look at the lock I had put. In fact I made this a mandate for me to never look back at the lock, because that would remind me of what's in behind it. I, but forgot that even iron gets rust on it with time, and weakens its strength, if not looked into regularly.

I was sensing its pressure from behind for quite sometime now. Still I did not look back. Then I saw my pillar of bars burst open one day. The ghosts set themselves free. They again hovered over me. They are making noises which are not pleasant to my ears. Their sight is deadly and inhuman.  I wonder how they were created ever by God. They seem to be much bigger than last time I saw them. I wonder who fed them inside those dark cages. They are even hungrier than I thought I was. And strangely, they are not ready to eat me up, but are acting like kids, in front of their mommy.

No I was never their guardian! NO! I can never be the guardian of those ghosts. These ominous creatures, these dark, shoddy, creepy ghosts, spreading sadness, disappointment, pain and yearning everywhere; they could never have found a safe refuge under me. Never! I am a source of peace. A bringer of goodness and justice to all my mates, I could never like these things, forget about even having an acquaintance with them. I have brought happiness in people's lives, have seen smiles reappearing on their faces, have seen the wounds of the friends heal. No, I can never guard them. I hate them. I have suffered a lot because of them. I don't want those ghosts in my life. But now I see them again. My lock is broken out of rust and pressure from inside the prison. I am again helpless. These big ghosts are bigger than me myself. So big that if even one of them sits on me, I don't think I will be visible to anyone in the world now. Why God Why ? It's not good.

I wonder who fed them inside those dark cages.Was it me ? No one else could see them I am sure, because there was dark all around. Was it me who, passed on food secretly into their room, while keeping my eyes turned away? Was it me who, while looking at other's lives, compared their ghosts with mine own; whom I thought belonged to my past but in fact were always pushed to present by me, by comparing and giving them accolades for being better than other people's ghosts ? Did my mind really tie them ?

I can not put them behind the bars again now. They have proven me wrong in this strategy. In fact I myself feed them when they are put under control. These ghosts, I see, they are my children only. They can not eat me. But I can not feed them either.

I need to think of a way. I need to find out a solution. Under this huge commotion, I can not sort out a plan clearly. I need isolation. I need to stop listening to their voices and hunger.

I need just two minutes of silence.

Thursday, November 29, 2012

SM

Aakhein jab iski khulein
to lagay ki suraj saamne aa gaya

aur jab milay isse nazar
to ho jaayein bekhabar

khud hi ko bhool jaayein
aise dhal jaayein uske rang mein

entertainment uske phone ka naam hai
lekin din bhar usay hota bahut kaam hai

one man woman kehti hai apne ko
lekin maaloom isay nahi kitne fisle hain ispe
kitne one woman man ko
multi women man banaya hai isne

khush hone mein
zyada samay nahi lagati
lekin sad hone mein to
pal bhar ka bhi intezar nahi karti

sochti hai kya koi ispe kavita likh sakta hai
isay maaloom nahi ye ki
ispe koi poori pustak bhar sakta hai

mukhaakriti jiski jhoothi nahi hoti
aise mann waalo pe kaun nahi fisalta

apne jagah ki shudh pramaan hai
wahan ki guno ko poore samaye hui hai

par kya wahan ke log dukhi hote hain
ye to kabhi kabhi dukhi hoti hai

mera mann bola ki kaun dukhi nahi hota
ye to iski shudh prakriti hai
ki dukh chhupaaye nahi chhupta
warna jhooth ki chaadar
odhne mein samay nahi lagta

laddu bhale hi isay bura lagay
mithi ye bhi kamm nahi hai

kitna bhi pareshaan ho ye gyaan se
gyaani ye bhi kamm nahi hai

iske gyaan se bandar bhi insaan ban jaaye
cylinder bhi gas pipe line ban jaaye

khush rehna hai zaruri hamesha
chinta kabhi na karna
dance karo, like Keisha  :P

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Humans

A child, born with all the fresh and delicate organs, tender, yet cute, protected by mother's sack, soaked in blood but still pure, born into the world as an alien.

He is kissed by everyone. His coming into the world is rejoiced by everyone. His mother feels proud for having carried such a beautiful piece of creation. His father can not but let all his tears of joy flow out to show to the world.

The child sets his mind for nourishment then. He turns his head every way to grasp all the features of the world. He observes what he will have to do to get what he wishes and what he is prohibited from. He learns which person to trust and kiss and whom to not. His strengthening muscles teach him when and how to use their power in times of need.

Throughout his ever learning process (life), he filters out some items and attaches them to his permanent memory. He remembers when he kissed his grandfather as he gave him a chocolate bar. Even more is the memory of the slap he recieved when he stole the candy from the shop and showed it to his father so proudly. He remembers the first person he fell in love with. He remembers the oaths he took. He can not forget how unwillingly tears were rolling out of his eyes when he could not save that girl child he was treating. His first steps into business, when he lost the whole money allotted to him for promotion, the memory of which has made a dark void in his heart. Even his victory in a long fought fight...

Then after all this, the person leaves! He again becomes an alien.

I love this life. But this life is not what I am looking for. Redundancy is not the factor I want to live with. I believe there are many more who think on this line.