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.)

Approaching Ambivalence

When all that you can see beyond is a mere blur - the future that you cannot read, the mist that you cannot trespass, a hazy shade of shadows in the deep obscurity of apprehensive incognizance, then there really isn't much reason in trying to permeate an unyielding wall when calm resignation to the present, a humble acceptance of the absolutist contemporaneous today, bound to garner greater peace of mind and a multitude of warmth as compared to strained hope?

Every blossom may not stay, yet to see the break of day, certain of transience, although a sight worthy of audience. The moment is now yours to change, to tweak, to twiddle and make that difference. Futuristic contemplation of what may and may not be is precisely a positive corruption of the essential now. Idealism prevails within our minds stoking a fire of hope, bringing the ardor and affection of love and a glow of undiminishing ever after. Whether there will be such a painted reality is inexplicable, but it isn't only the wand of fate playing the game in its creation - every spark of the human heart has an underlying ulterior emotive passion that surprisingly can turn your way, the direction of the wave upon the sand.

Life may seem to have brought with it umpteen problems, undecipherable, and yet its complexity is intriguing. There are many roads that lead you away from it, but to have the strength to brace it all and take that which is rocky is courage personified. As in the words of Ambrose Redmoon, courage is not the absense of fear but rather the belief that something else is more important than fear. It isn't in the blood of every man to yearn to traverse the untrodden. It is convenient to succumb to the evil of comfort and condescendingly dismiss the spirit of difference - to believe to have seen it all when you haven't turned a page.

The journey we began is long and the course unchartered. Every turn springs new dimension to what we thought complete, an explanation that may only await overleaf. Every event may seem incomprehensible, but there is a backbone of reason holding it all together, giving it the form that ultimately will show the truth of an awaiting destination justifying the heartburn, the pain, the trifles, the lost diversions and the tears shed, all in search, with a hope, of finding that one true love. Shakespeare did once say, a journey ends in lovers' meeting. And so it will, when every toil of today will bring to your tomorrow the cherished desire of a hopeful love. But till then, savour the moment and enable yourself to take it as it comes for the uncertainty of the future lies hither as is yonder. For now, just Live. Dream. Be.

A secret told

Acquaintance of one's thoughts is not as palpable a manifestation. There is no apparent visibility as the haze fades away. How far below are they submerged, to let your mind plunge into a bottomless crevasse, is intrinsically extraneous. Every sparkling blossom of intuitive musing lets you delve further within yourself, an element which subtly shows you as particular. Within the prosaic and mundane existence, the relief of your soul from what is commonplace lets you traverse lines untraced. The provenance of such profundity remains in the fascinating allure of the deepest secrets that are held in your innermost chest of treasured moments, moments woven into our lives through instances with people who hold in your heart a special place. Words have always been the perfect vent to enunciate what you truly behold beneath the pseudo realm of the bewitching dazzle of the eye. What is fondly embraced in a certain circumstance may, tomorrow, prove to be heart wrenching. Acquiescing to walk along the promenade of indelible memories, to want to kiss many of them goodbye and slowly edge forward, to experience ere long purely unquestionable passion, is what is best done to rekindle a spark that seems unwilling unless you set your heart in apple-pie order. Life brings with it a fair share of love and laughter and to be able to share its enchanting odyssey with someone who is uniquely distinguished in your life is a yearning wish I've made upon my wishing star that mystically sparkles within the precinct of the magical night sky.

I found my solace in a happening fortuitous, and for long after it seemed like words failed me. The incentive to write seemed to fade away. Life itself seemed, with a newfound essence, pretty perfect until I also realized that besides the zestful verve, a certain aspect of me was lost when a touch of it flitted away. The ability to bring out expressions that lie amidst the core and leave them without, to rest with an unburdened soul, as the notes play out in enrapturing harmony, feels complete - truly a love one cannot leave. 

Touchstone

I trudged along, up a hill, each resounding step stealing into the realm of silence. A warm sunny day, it was, one charmed to lure you out yonder. Each tiny leaf of grass and flower of weed wrapped with the mystic glow, reflecting the warmth of the sun. Isolated, the land of dreams - far removed from the bounds of every precipice and even of peripheral reality. 

Gaeity in stride, crushing beneath what was parasitically painful - I moved on. The walk was long but the dawn of day didn't seem to want to meet its better half and much rather seemed to be drawing away from the hazy warmth of dusk. The anonymous bliss of one who had shed a burden far too heavy - to walk away, indifferent, unmindful, free, sans a touchstone. 

Each step held greater renowned meaning. There was much to look forward to, as Pollyanna would have put it. What will tomorrow be? - I cannot say. But what is evident, 'beyond reasonable doubt', is the transient temporal cosmos within which our existence takes a new turn every living second. It is all very well when many a wise man will have tread paths untrodden and pass on words of wisdom but that which we unfortunately fail to imbibe. 

If we cannot live for the present, then what are we living for? - Reveling in dreams past will not make the ride ahead any easier, rather dream on, don't stop. Somewhere down the line, when you're running out of gasoline and hope is a word whose meaning doesn't hold anymore, from the midst of nowhere, that hand you've always waited for will bail you out.

Until then, trudge on and never look back. 

Enthusiastic Elan

It is that time in our life when arrivez le weekend and you dab that last shade of rouge, grab them sunglasses and head out. Out beyond, the social world is beckoning. We’re young and full of life and this is supposed to be the time where we’re having the time of our lives! The unwritten norm doesn’t allow you to resist. A sociologist or any professional in a related field would call this peer pressure but we would bear it out to disagree to it being more like our second nature.

But every theory will inherently incorporate the concept of the ‘level of satiety’ that wouldn’t take too long to attain – our invariable penchant to be only replaced by an unlikely distaste. A point beyond plain equilibrium after which no amount of coaxing would let you stir from not wanting to do the same things that lured you out but at a time before of the recent past. It varies from person to person, the reaching of such a point. But, it is more than certain that it wouldn’t take forever for us to keep going off on the same uncanny tangent.

There comes a time when all you could possibly care about, on those very same weekends, is the smile and shine in the kaleidoscopic eyes of innocent children who look up to you with renowned hope that was lost early. While not caring about those few winks of Sunday siesta and the cheer it brings to see their adorable innocent yearning, it is also wonderful to see the increasing number of people, especially those tenderly young and blessed with hearts of gold,  who oozing with oodles of enthusiasm are willing to give it all up for a cause noble. The veritable proof of our capability being seen in the genuine characteristic smile on a visage innocent.

An organization/enterprise/initiative of the youth – technicalities would associate different nomenclature to it – has seen many a member come, make a mark, linger on till time and circumstances permit, and then without option and much of a heavy heart, leave. As we bid tearful goodbyes to those whom we’ve grown much accustomed to, we also open our arms wide in welcoming our newbies, the ones with a new found enthusiasm and a quest for satisfaction. With the hope to connect with more people around the world in pursuance of a common cause, we open ourselves as a network, a platform to realize not just your dream but those of many a young one who could be your protégé. With tomorrow blossoms the tender leaves of hope. 

Tumultuous Thespians

Genuineness as naïve as ours, at a time ensconced within the era of uncouth, immoralistic, uncreditable corruption can sometimes scathe scars deep. Trust none, my mother, she told me, at a time when young, impressionable as a child, was I. Years hence, realization slowly creeps in to show the veritable honesty of a simple but wise statement. To grow up in atmospheres that teach you utopian values, the nudge and urge to lend an ear, to listen and to bear faith and not severe a second chance, was but inherent nature.

To err is human, to forgive divine is what the idiomatic phrase enunciates in simplistic terms and so is also what I believed. Mankind however, has the supernatural trend of assaying wrong most, if not all, of everything. Nature brings to fore at periodical intervals, tests that manifest and substantiate to us, the naivete, and gives much of a real shake up shock treatment.

Character, values, morals, ethics are all words which have long lost their haloic sheen and are best left buried in the ancient chest of virtue; the sanctity of definition to leave undisturbed, unchallenged. The absence of these little bagatelles of virtue governs the intricate framework of democratic organization. Rationality of any degree has taken a beating while pseudo flimsy reasons take up centre stage in passing the so-called ‘value judgments’ and imputing such unreasonable irrationality to their consensual notions leaving the innocent marred black. It is good upbringing on the one hand balanced by the inability to step down levels as low that leave us plain appalled and immobile – lacking the mere strength to raise an arm in opposition for we are rooted to the ground, paralyzed.

It is in small institutions like ours where it doth blossom young, the spiteful, vile and conniving basis of differentiation that place the very elements of sense and sensibility far outside the doorstep. Ugly is the scene that unfurls and plays out so dramatically to the tune of ludicrous venomosity and into the hands of truant tabloid appearance seeking ersatz spineless invertebrates.

It isn’t in my position to make utterances that, on the dawn of tomorrow, in all invariability, will turn contortedly controversial. Passionate responsibility with dignity of labour, in pursuance of causes and issues at hand have taken the inconspicuous back seat while riding upfront, loose and aloof, is the vice of power.

What we are is as much an issue in conflict as what we would be if we were not. Being apolitical is impassionate ignorance, or so it seems. At such a point in time what really comes to my mind is the one line from the soliloquy in ‘Hamlet’ by Shakespeare, that has become much renowned among literary architects of the day, and is now much relevant – ‘To be or not to be – that is the question’.