Introspection

As each season turns, the leaves a shade lighter, whether it is or not is, a question in itself, left to perception, of what is for the better, never worse. Being rooted and accustomed to the weather prevailing, the slightest change of wind sends shudders of uncertainty that worries you down. The stability of existence is on shaky ground. But doesn't the end of every storm of change bring out a different beauty? 

Building Bridges

The prevarication of human relationships can be so highly appalling to the naive debutante of societal life. Insecurity, irrational deliberations, the act of deception well played; all seems like a convoluted conundrum that one may never get around. A bubble of forged reality we live in and to console ourselves, we look back at the generations gone past. Slowly becoming accustomed to the norms of this pseudo world, we begin to consign to oblivion who we truly are and continue in the all natural scheme of things, to live as your self concocted alter ego - your new self. What we say and do is a well crafted and directed act of illustrated brainwash that is taught to us as the lessons of life! It becomes an inherent part to ensure survival without which you turn out to be that odd one - which more often than not, you don't want to be.

Where is all of this leading us? Is this a safe retreat of pretension we prefer to the actuality of the omnipresent cut throat competitive lives we live?

Genuine is a concept long forgotten in our fast moving world. 'Unconditional' is mocked at as something surreal and impossible. A sincere call to those we thought close is only a failed attempt that shall break free with a louder shot.

An attempt to clear the air of all that remains unpleasant only lets your foot slip deeper in the unbecomingly and now common quicksanding negative force. The hurt becomes too much to bear and we generally succumb.

Life leaves us, thus, alone. When you go to bed, you don't have anyone but yourself. You realize that there isn't a soul who will stand by you except your own flesh and blood. Then again, for how long can they hold your hand?

As we fly out of the nest hoping to reach new and better horizons, being skeptical of what is in store may after all be a better approach  instead of hoping for the vibrant sunshine and a pot of gold only to be left disappointed by leaving our imagination to flow.

The world has become ever caustic and trust is no longer part of their new age dictionary. It is up to us to be smart and maintain  a reasonable distance while yet we try to build bridges to reach out to those who have yielded to this and could do with some help before crumbling. Then there are those others whom you think to have some similar ideas/notions as yourself but later discover, after pledging your trust, that that cannot be farther from the truth. And that is when you realize you've been tricked into what they call euphemistically 'raillery' of the improved big bad world.

Don't lose your head though. It takes a while to get that flow and play it smart to swing the wind your way. We can't afford to let it affect our otherwise mundane everyday. Life is after all an interesting yet vile game. So, hold your cards close!

Cheers. :)

Mettle Mystique

The uniqueness of character is rather misconstrued. What is acquired cannot be ascribed to what is congenitally inherent. And yet, we shun, into an omnipresent void, the mental faculty that empowers calculated judgment. 

The ameliorable position we self-assign is much too comfortable to leave. But should it be? Why the fear?

It takes a harsher beating and becomes inexplicably labyrinthine when it comes face to face through you against the people you love. Your unchangeable stoicism versus effusive enthusiasm. Every considerate appeal to welcome refining transformation is hastily palmed off. 

 It is ironic how negative influences, ideally to be disavowed, are not sieved and easily allowed to permeate, while anything remotely positive requires boardroom discussion between the angel and the demon in our heads. And even that in more cases than not proves to be of no avail as we pathetically succumb. The many mind games we play with ourselves seem to never tire out. But our tolerance to see another player in the arena quickly dwindles. While our action affects that other, sometimes irreparably, it cannot, to the stubborn mind, bear any responsibility on him to bring that forth or play the quarterback. Convoluted and chaotic a state of mind we call collected. What may not be so obviously evident at this point that on one unpredictable and fine-weathered day, it is all going to cannonade into something frantically fractious.

While each instance may effervescently fizz out, that same loved one holds your hand and puts you back up on a pedestal. Unconditional love but only allows vision through coloured glass. And our flaw, conveniently forgotten. Is it a repetitive sequence with no solution? The positive that is to be culled out is consigned to oblivion without a hitch until the next glitch takes you to a new rock bottom. Staying on an erratic edge in perpetuity will one day push you over. 

Darkness cannot but be overcome with the absence of it; and that we call light. And attempting to run afar from it is futile for you yield no different result. When each situation amplifies the hostility you hold against yourself, living itself will become deadweight. Every consummate concoction of the perfection potion bears one key ingredient: the ability to welcome change. That day when humility holds a higher place and you can unassumingly accept to consider that which another holds in capital position, is the day you'll learn why you were previously cut and bruised. Also, it isn't enough if we designate blame to the cause but have the reasoning to see reason. 

"I stand amid the roar

Of a surf tormented shore,

And I hold within my hand

Grains of the golden sand-

How few yet how they creep

Through my fingers to the deep,

While I weep, while I weep!

O God! can I not grasp

Them with a tighter clasp?

O God! can I not save

One from the pitiless wave?

Is all that we see or seem

But a dream within a dream?"

~ Edgar Allan Poe. 

Chimeric Consciousness

On many an occasion, we beseech reasoning for the rationality of a certain something without seeing it in the light that it is to be seen. We assume as always that the grass on the other side is greener and to see a patch of brown is as unacceptable as a snake in the arctic wilderness. There hardly ever comes a time when we choose to acknowledge how erratically counterfactual our reasoning is. Wearing our hearts on our sleeves, we tend to believe in every action we pursue, not for once realizing how it would affect or concern another. 

As each day passes on wearily, we don’t comprehend the change, but we slowly begin to seem less like ourselves, turning into our own stranger versions, ones we’d never have expected. Incident upon incident leads us to change the direction of our course and the complete structure of our meander. It is but human.

As one night, a ghastly face roused her up in waking dream, crying out damnations in heinous tones, she broke in to a sweat and awoke in a cold shiver. She was losing what was closest to her heart – her love. It was inscrutable why such dark imagery should play out even in her semi-conscious state, for the palpability of such an occurrence in reality was less than zero.

The promenade of love that life sent them through was more than what arduous can describe.  There was more than one instance when external interventions led them to nearly want to leave the broken pieces and walk away – a decision that was not easy to take, and not easy to survive through either. As time moved on, the reasons that could have been to leave diminished and it saw their love grow manifold – there wasn’t anything that could so much as try to draw them apart.

Then why, oh why would her dreams haunt her?

Although she knew in all humanly perceivable sensibility that no matter what, his hand will always be there when she reached out, the inhumane imagery still gripped her with an inexplicable fear. She couldn’t comprehend why she would even remotely allow her subconscious mind to process such thought. He, her guardian angel, tried calming her down, but in vain. She was unnerved and agitated beyond a point where logical reasoning was nowhere in the vicinity. Why won't she accept a dream to be nothing but a dream?

If ever there is a situation of hurt, emotionally agonizing or otherwise, caused to us by what is close to our hearts, the pain can never die. Even time may not be able to help us get a grip. A fleeting thought can make us want to turn recluses who don't want to tread an unsteady path not knowing if and when the fall might come.

Love doesn't come easy, yes and we may have to face many of such a hitch along the way, but it's all well worth the while. Life is still all a dream with it's share of nightmares just the same. 

Fingers crossed

There are a number of variables that play a role in the shaping of what is your character, your ideology and what is your belief system. Many of which we unconsciously imbibe even through our mundane and usually not-so-fruitful interactions, but people forming the most integral part. And through this course of time, we also make some strong bonds, some acquaintances, we acknowledge the ones we admire and then the inevitable human tendency also attributes 'dislike' to a certain section. The basis for such a distinction and apparent classification is rather inexplicable. It is just, lets say, the way we feel around them. There are deep rooted elements in society, however, with a bearing on rigid principles on the basis of which these relationships are governed and groomed. The artless veracity of these that are sunk deep in the so-called archaic morality that is rather obsolete and holds no water in the scenario of today. Well, they don't choose to acknowledge this fact and hence a vicious circle of rather baffling and unpardonable exclusions and narrow outlook is being passed on to a generation that is growing up in an environment that is echoing and resonating a voice quite clearly to the contrary. There is scope for debate amongst young and old, yes - they do honour us by lending an ear, but the hope for change is, as according to them, a closed door that they are quite unwilling to open.

Apprehension to change is fair but such mustn't lead to a complete negation of any positivity that will be of benefit. Having inculcated staunch values in a certain regard, that today doesn't seem reasonable more than acceptable, being set in a radically strange surrounding and succumbing to irrational forces of some invisible iron hand that is refusing to state a valid purpose is distastefully repugnant. Having acclimatized to the filth of their fenced-in environ, they'd rather prefer to stay in than step out to experience a fresh breath of air that could but only do good to one polluted and ridden by custom.

Maybe it is our turn to stand up for what we believe in, show them what we see and enable them to look at it from an absolutely different angle, that although contradictory to their set of norms, does have reason in its being. Every conflict has a solution - whether big or small - judgment of nature is relative and open to interpretation. It is just a matter of time and perseverance. A comprehensible vision of the 'light at the end of the tunnel' may not be in sight, but it is the light of hope within our hearts that will shine out and show us our way through. And at the end of it all, it will be worth this spasmodic malady. This is no fool's paradise. This is life and we'll live it by our standards. Trust me.

Pellucid Pursuit

There may be rather numerous objects of grace, articles of elegance, that capture otherwise contradistinct hearts, and then there is one that all look up to - the moon. Undeniably splendid as it evokes a concoction of  varied emotion, it opens out in you the deepest love. Many a night she stood by the window as the delicate drapery fluttered in the gentle breeze of an oncoming pleasant spring night hoping for some insight, wondering whether the rays that shone so bright would bring with it a glimmer of hope for the much tormented soul of a poor mortal unable to handle the variables of her very existence. Every blossoming day brought with it a new angle to an already contorted situation making the simple prismatic effect rather a far cry and unpleasantly psychedelic. As your heart is leaping bounds in unspoken joy, there is a subconscious force pulling you back and is unallowing in proceeding fruther without killing the ego of uncertainty. The carte blanche may be hard to derive and every turn along the way has you anxious of what is to come, but at the end of the day, it is how you choose to move on, move along, how you choose to survive. Life brings with it a whole pallet of assorted problems and for some the package looms larger than it looks. In situ, what you do matters more than what you could have done or should do. The factors that influence your life lie in your hands alone and if a certain consequence ensues with relative respect, then that too is of your own making. It is for us to realize that nobody can bring about the change we want to see, for we've all been born different and if you want to see something happen, then go out there and make it happen. It doesn't help to further worry and analyze permutations and combinations. Follow your heart. You and only you know exactly where it is leading you and where it will. Second chances are fair for us to give another but whether we will be given one remains ambiguous. Every step forward is in pursuit of your dream and every action is only to fulfill it. Life itself happens just once. Don't think. Don't say. Don't feel. Just DO it.

Tempus Imperfectum

A dramatic flutter, in archaic splendor with stupendous fervour, and as I wonder - the breath taking, mystifying charm of it all. Surreal, enrapturing gaiety and the poised elegance make seem the ardous endeavour of the eversmiling artiste all but strivingly strenuous. A thousand gasps echo in absolute disbelief - a picture cannot capture to tell the beauty of sights seen as such. And then the curtain falls.

Life itself has evolved much as a stage play, whether small or big, the reification of character to not just bring out that touch of absolutist perfectionism but also a character that stands out, a character that the audience can't help but notice. We may, many of us, prefer to remain somewhere there, in the background, in quiet subjugation to the rhythm in tune, fearing to make a slight change - maybe a mere addition, a personalization that could only add a touch of further beauty to the presently colourful ensemble. It isn't the betterment of the present that matters as much as our perspectice to shape our predicament to voice what is our prerogative, without having prejudiced eyes upon us set, and without hassle, but in subtle appeasement make accepting to an audience that would probably be in expectance of something rather different. What to them seems perfect may just be ametric and the suggested change a probable shift in the regular order of existence.

A departure from the norm may come as a welcome surprise to those willing to welcome/accept such change but there is never a proposition that can be brought forth without opposition. It is the intriguing complexity of human nature that makes further interesting the trials and travails of those who set forth with a certain determination to enable them to see the benefits of change. It may not be a successful pursuit, but there is never harm in trying. Perseverence is by itself a rewarding virtue and if there is a certain something that you really desire, then these are just hurdles testing your finesse in bracing it all. 

(Tempus Imperfectum refers to imperfect time signature in music - a departure in a certain section from that time which is prescribed in general for the entire piece.)