Fry in the Summer

Though this lousy summer is a little far, I feel this damn summer is already here in Bangalore. This year, unlike last year the weather has become much hotter. Last year, it drizzles at this time. And this year, everybody’s talking about how lousy the weather has become. It surely is! Damn this global warming.

Last week, there were two holidays. On Tuesday, it was a Holi holiday and on Friday, it was a Good Friday. And you bet it, it was a goddamned holiday. I never celebrated either of these holidays. They were lousy holidays. Sitting on my lousy bed, I did try to engage myself as much as possible in my own activities. Not knowing what to do on my lousy bed, I most of the time opened the internet, and then closed the damned laptop, flipped those pages uselessly that were lying scattered next to my bed, read those phony writings, walked to and fro in my rooms, wrote something bullshit and you know when I write I typed on my keyboards, opened the refrigerator and drunk a cold drop of water, visited the toilet and came back to my lousy bed. These, I did over again and again. Goddamned it. I felt I was inside the cell. I did.

Then i thought i need to do something, so there was a long walk I gave. In this sweaty, blistering sun, children were playing cricket. It really killed me. How could those little craps bear the heat of the sun? I went to a shop to read the temperature. The number on the wall flicked. It was 31. Not so bad a number I heard. New Delhi had just reached half boiling point and some other parts of the world too. I don’t know how people live in those blistering places. The thought of it killed me. It did.

The room has been sweltering like anything, and the fan's blades couldn’t be seen when they move. And you look for a cool shower. The shower is not as cool as you expected. The heated warm water drizzled out heavily. Bet me. The warmness is enough to make you sweat. God, I hate that.

By evening, mosquitoes dance all around. I don’t know where they come from. I close every gaddam tiny holes, windows, doors, etc. Do they come from the sink’s hole?  I used coils, sprays, creams, etc, but they always loiter around hunting for prey. They literally killed my sleep. One day, when I woke up in the morning, I saw three mosquitoes sleeping next to me, permanently dead, their tiny bodies filled with red blood. I nearly puked. It killed me. I meant it.

This World is Yours

The sun has the whole universe

And you too have all

In front of you a vast stage;

To play the game you have never played.

You have all;

Generosity, merriment, cry, hurt, love, care, good, bad, all.

It’s how you see…

How you go…

To me,

You are always joyful and have a piece of good heart!

You are optimistic as you are,

And powerful as a man needs.

And a person’s personality.

Shine through joys and goodness.

Good in all, to become best you try

And sometimes in life- independence

Bother not what others do

And bother what you do.

Let no one hurts you at last

Let others say well

Self-hope sometimes uplift you

You need that expectation.

Your future is as shiny as coral

As you have everything

That a man sometimes doesn’t have

Health, wealth, character, good rapport, confidence, persuasiveness

That will really win through the life

And may God bless you always

And my wish is the god’s wish, my son.

The Canned Dream

People care about the fruits, not how a tree is nurtured and taken care (I wrote a similar topic in this blog called ‘The Roots of a Seed’)

What do you feel when the most expected fruit comes as a disaster? Or worse, even so, axing the whole tree, or rooting out the tree from the soil.

The hope of life is the root and if the root is rooted out, there is no hopeless hope than this. Likewise, for someone, the most desirable thing in life comes as what many friends called as ‘killing the life,’ ‘demoting the life,’ ‘what is these?’ all blames, blames and more blames; blames to your life, blames to the people around you, blames to God!

A few of my friends time and again blurted out often, “I know everything, but what’s wrong with this result?” It’s like saying, ‘life is empty, but what’s this suffering?’ It’s almost time to complete courses, and for many dreamers, the end of the course will be the end of their lofty dreams. Not so. Never end. I tell myself, always. My house owner was once a rickshaw puller. He narrated it to me. Now he has twenty-seven buildings of his own. He eats gold, I think. No one can say life. Just dream and relax, and jump and hold tight when that dream knocks at the door. But my door always remains open to welcome dreams. I hope I have not missed the dream. Sometimes, the future, which seems illusory and out of reach, does not concern me at all.

Anyways, I mock those ‘canned dreamers’ and think to myself, ‘Nobody knows everything, only God knows.’ But deep in the heart, I ask many times, that how unequal is it, that God doesn’t know some people, (those people who deserve) but there is always ‘BUT’ in life. Why so contrast and comparison in this life. God is the one, say politicians. But if you ask any layman, he/she would say their god is the best, meaning others are false. That is a huge debate and to answer for an unseen thing like the god. I give up.

But, everything is unequal, and let me leave with George Orwell’s ‘Animal Farm’ book, “All animals are equal, but some are more equal than others.”

Sometimes

Sometimes, darkness can be too dark

Not having a single spark

Dingy, long unending days

Seems no light at the end

And all things look empty and vain

Things fall apart

There, I wish hope.

Sometimes, silence can be too silent

Without any rustle or any breath

In a lonely place, and alone

And feeling and sensing so down

Feeling so diffident and so forlorn

There, I wish love and joy.

Sometimes, stresses can be too stressful

Without any prospect of solution

When troubles are troubling

And things are all in a hotchpotch

There, I wish peace and homely beauty.

Sometimes, love can be so hurtful

When a wounded heart breaks into pieces

Spread; all round me everywhere

On the carpet, on the sofa, on the pillows, the beds

Everywhere

There, I wish a truelove

I wonder why I am the only one at fault

Alone, bearing all these pains

My mind goes over the brink

Where will I set the foot?

Where will I rest?

Why do I get sucked into this tunnel?

So often

So dark, so indistinguishable

I try to hide

But especially from myself……. DARKNESS.