Like fish in the sea


The awestruck fish was stuck in a tree
Thumbing it was, trembling, to get free…

Life twirled and turned it like a darn hurricane

Only to leave in hardship and vain…
Fishy fidgeted a few tiny leaps ahead

Then it realised that it just fell from bed…

But how felt the dream, you can’t fathom, just see…

The man turned- fish felt like one fish in the sea…

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The Desi Masala Story


Every story has a certain truth in it.

Every truth has myriad opinions following its course of existence.

Each opinion is important, as it is an accumulation of one’s upbringing, morals, cultural, religious and social standpoint, and more. It depicts one’s socially stimulated individuality.

The following events will instill piety in some of the readers, in others it will bring out a sick envy, in few it will originate an ethic debate and the rest will be sticking to either of the three or form some minor point of view. But what really matters is – the conclusion.

The place is the heart of India- Varanasi. It has a heavy stardust of ancient culture, beautiful detail of related structures and a million experiences all residing in that one place. The trio of Varuna, Ganga and Assi converging into a whirlpool of sanctity, and nesting possibly the biggest pilgrimage hub in whole of India.

It is a house a few kilometres away from the river bank. The house is quite lavish, with a few fruit trees in the backyard, a wall garden with Bougainvillea and Tulsi and some parking space up front. The fence is of a human’s height and whole construction is located a house away from the road. For a monkey to summit the house it must jump from the ground floor to the balcony of the first then make it to the roof or simply climb up either on the mango or the guava trees and leap. There is a room on the roof that one of the residents had built to comfortably give his board exams in a joint family environment.

It was the wake of 21st Century, but the time has no value in the following.

The family living in the house is a huge one. The building belonged to the great grandfather of the Kid. He was a very old, strict and just man living a next to yogi life. He lived on the ground floor. The house was divided into two portions – one for each of his lovely daughters. One of his daughters lived right above him with her family. The other half of the building was leased by the second one, residing in the same city. Kid’s grandparents are people of academia and at those times happened to be approaching the dusk of their careers. They are Brahmins by social status and are very particular about helping the fellow needy people they know. They always try to employ them, educate them, give them relatively better opportunities and perform numerous related acts of philanthropy. The dynamic duo parented a son and two daughters into the successes that they are now. Their son went abroad for studies, one thing led to another and soon he landed a job and married his college sweetheart. That’s how the Kid came into the picture.

It was the third time their son visited homeland after the Kid came to this world. This time it was different, the former wanted his parents to get closer with his newly founded family. The stay was planned to be 5 months long. Arrangements like schooling were made for the Kid. He was 5 back then. His father had to get back to his job and hurried back abroad. His mother and he were left to mingle even more with grandparents, educate themselves of Hindi and finish LKG & UKG in the given time. Funnily, the Kid was a foreigner to both of his homelands.

The food was delicious and the spices were heavenly. Both grandparents are great cooks. Both tutored their daughter- in- law the art of Indian cuisines. There was a domestic Help- a curious and friendly teenage girl who was given an opportunity to progress from family’s home village to the city. Grandparents helped her out, gave her ample different opportunities throughout her tenure and supported her even further. She’s somewhere in Mumbai now, married and happy. But back then, the kitchens were mostly ruled by the Grandmother, but whenever she wasn’t home- by the Help. There was also a Maid who came in the evenings or whenever there was a soiree and the volumes of the spicy art were not manageable by the limited number of chefs in the house. These were visits by relatives, but they were even relatively infrequent. The communication gap was a challenge, but was quickly overcome by the fertile young mind and motherly efforts. But even after that it was not allowed for the Kid to roam around and play in the streets with the rest of the children, because such an ordeal could’ve proved to be dangerous. The lessees didn’t have any children of Kid’s age, so he was pretty much left all to his own.

These were times when Cartoon Network showed great cartoons and looked like a checker board. A lot of hours were well invested into watching the television. There were a lot of self- strategized and self- directed epic toy soldier battles and numerous vehicle chases before one day the Help offered to play with him. It is practically fascinating how young children and basically everyone who’s not yet an adult find a common language fast and easily make new friends.

During a common day, the Help finished all her responsibilities and by the time she did it, Kid did his homework and was generally about to click open the cartoons.  The TV had its own course of life and magically was not allowed to stay awake whole day. They had it to themselves for an hour or so, then there was an optional nap time. The option was controlled by the Mother. The Kid slept with his mother in his room while unknown to him things happened around the house. Little did he know that the house turned into a peaceful sanctum with a kingdom of dreams ruling over it, as everyone napped. Slowly waking up, house always picked up its pace towards the evening. Whenever the Help was free, the Kid used to play with her. They were the Ludo masters, the King & Queen and what not. Whenever she was busy, the Kid always nagged her to allow him to help. As he was not allowed near the stove or any sharp objects, all he got to do was cleaning peas, pitching water and an occasional crushing of Maggi.

One day, she was cutting some vegetables in the kitchen on the first floor and the Kid barged in. His hyperactivity stepping a notorious melody, filled the atmosphere with playful energy. She looked at him and asked what was everyone doing. She got to know that everyone else was either asleep, busy or didn’t yet reach home from an extra detailed chirrup she heard in retaliation. A few minutes passed when she looked at the Kid and enquired, if he had any homework left to do. His patience wore out as he blurted out “No!” and started hopping out of the kitchen. She called him back. She asked if he wanted to play something new with her. She left the vegetables and the knife, turned towards him and added- “But you must promise me not to play this game with anyone else, they won’t play it nor will they understand it…” “What are the rules?”, he enquired. “Silence.”, she replied, “and your hands…” “Should I build something?”, was his first reaction. “No, you must feel something…”, she said, “give me your hands!”

He gave her his hands, palms up, the way he gave them to the teacher before he got hit with a ruler. He got worried, if that’s what was going to happen right now with some kitchen utensil. She held his hands in hers and as if studying the fair skin crevices turned them upside down. He looked up at her and asked- “So?”. She pulled his hands under her kameez and stuffed them up to her chest. The Kid was stunned, but turned playfully curious. She told him to feel her breasts and tell her the experience. With awkwardly straight open palms he traversed from the tips to the ribs and back both ways. He told her that it felt soft and big. Each scaled at least three of his palms in breadth and almost two in length. She instructed him to fondle them. He pressed them like balloons. In unease, she exclaimed to be gentle. He didn’t understand how so she took his hands in her own again and guided him. It was a strange, undefined, rather exciting feeling for the Kid- a brand new experience and he liked it. She seemed dissatisfied, so she told him to hug her from behind locate them again and massage the tips. She folded his palms and explained the light twisting movement that she wanted him to perform. He was more than happy to conform to her instructions. They stood like this for a while and once he got steady she started chopping vegetables again. In a few minutes, he got a bit bored and pulled himself away from her. She asked if he liked it. He said that he did. He asked the name of the game, she told him that it was “love making”, but if he wanted to play he should ask her whether “they could clean some peas together”.

The Kid was bedazzled with the new occurrence and developed an inexplicable curiosity to play it again. The memory of the feeling drove him to ask her every day, but only once in a few days did they get a chance to play this game again. They literally got a chance to clean some peas in the kitchen. As always, when everyone was either away or asleep, they sat in the kitchen. She laid the newspapers on the ground, spilled the pea pods into a pile on the wicker grain cleaner and put a kneading plate nearby to collect the cleaned peas. She told him to throw away the plastic bags into the dustbin under the washbasin while she latched the kitchen door. She sat on one of the newspaper edges and started to clean the peas. He sat nearby and moaned at her. She asked him if he wanted to play. He agreed. She told him to sit on her lap and face her. He climbed into her lap and sat facing the peas. She told him to turn around and hug her with his legs and hands like a monkey. He got excited with the reference and did as she asked. She asked him if he remembered what to do since the last time. The Kid complied to her request. He spent a great fraction of time figuring out a way to find his way under her shirt. He was unpleasantly surprised when he discovered that their texture changed and reminded him of some fabric. He complained, she smiled and single- handedly took each bosom out of the brassiere and let them hang freely under the shirt. He didn’t get the structure of the vest she wore under her kameez, but satisfied with recollection of the previous experience started to play. He kept on fondling her while sitting in her lap. She pulled him closer to herself and started cleaning peas behind his back whenever she got a chance. Howsoever bedazzling was the nature of the game and whatsoever effects it had on his body, he felt ecstatic under effect of what appeared to be something close to adrenaline. He kept on caressing her summits the way she wanted. It was only when grandmother came home and called for her that she asked him to stand up and rushed to unlatch the door. Grandmother saw the door opening and asked why was it closed. The Help confidently told her that they were cleaning peas and the air blew the door shut. It was convincing enough.

Whole house became their castle when the siege of mid-day solitude used to hit. They even played on the roof whenever it wasn’t that hot. Whenever it was as sunny as it gets in Varanasi, they simply played in the room on the roof or so it used to be before. They got into the room to the left of the staircase and sat on the mat. The Kid used to have these figurines of soldiers and a Batman Beyond which he brought to the roof along with an aeroplane and some Hot Wheels. She said- “I am tired today, let’s just lay down on this hot day.” The Kid made a grimace, turned around and played on his own for a while. He was running one of the figurines across the wall when she sat up and pulled him towards her. She immediately lied on her back and told him to climb on top of her. She promised that he won’t be able to get out of the comfortable bed she was going to make for him. He climbed on her from her side. He thought he knew what followed this so he reached out to fondle her. She stopped his hands and pulled his head on her breasts. She asked if he liked the cushions. He didn’t deny that they were surprisingly calming and homely. He turned his head to the side with his head planted right in the trough and looked at the wall across the bulging fabric of her kameez. He was content in his innocence.

The above is not the sole event that happened to the Kid here and neither it might be to either of you, readers. The events followed, less aggravated or even more despicable, then, now and might still affect most of us in the future. The essence of these events stays true even if details vanish in time. The following conclusion contains more points, but those cannot be mentioned due to possible “radicality” of some readers.

There must be no blames associated with the described act, neither it must be fine to accuse an individual for an unguided portrayal of their curiosity. It is only a common effort that might prevent such things from happening. Sex must not be a taboo anymore in a nation as dynamically affected by development as India. People must accept sex as a basic orientation of human curiosity. Instead of imposing bans on the mentioning of anything related to the theme, yet openly joking about such things in the dark corners of their abodes and developing high sex valuing mindsets and psyches, we must rather seek guidance, discuss the simplicity of this act with no attached value to it and educate themselves and people around them. India, the home of Kamasutra, must now embrace, guide and nurture sex, instead of exiling it altogether and leading to formation of secretive crooked minds.

For, as long as peacocks shed tears, the nation will stay in the darkest corners of dynamic, yet confused culture.

Impressions


Remember the first time you were scared, but not really…

Sometime around that time, your infancy left.

Remember the last time it all felt so easy, but not really…

Someone made sure your castle of childhood was built.

Remember the first time you lost, but not really…

Somewhere in that decision, you befriended your teens.

Remember the last time you risked it all, but not really…

Someday, thus somehow, we all matured.

Verbose at night


Lots of emotions + a vocabulary growing extinct day by day may lead to a creative envision of the events that can be visualized by an imaginative reader…

This is a first breach into this genre, I have no idea what effect will it have on you…

Please review…

A lady mind- centred foreplay erotica…


Verbose at Night…

Night of a Glance

 

My heart is full with love for you…
My eyes are full with gratitude
My feelings yearn for your attitude
But feelings’re tender things…
I think of you, I thank you
I wink at you, I thank you
Declared my love with heart on plate
I slipped, but I hope I ain’t late…
(My brave and lovely Sweetness, cat,
She’s sleeping on her lovely mat…)
My baby, baby- I will sleep…
For now, you listen-don’t be a creep!
(For I’m in love with curly hair…
And girl is fair, very fair…
Her wavy red sea all around,
Her wavy bosom.) “I’m on the ground
I see the stars, I see the eyes
But I fail more to fantasize…
My fingers weep for her lips a touch
Thank you so much, thank you so much…
Yes, maybe I am mad right now
But I am now, I’m very now!!!
‘She’s still afraid of both my eyes
That I’ll like her less than her disguise.
So I’ll look forward for her gaze…
She will amaze, she will amaze…’

‘Brave up, my heart, for we are trying…
Please, do it right- we’re not flying…’
I think of you, my eyes swell up…
My pounding heart- please, don’t screw up!!!
The thought just stays in all those curls…
All feelings, all like water whirls…
I see there maths and maths sees me…
My heart shouts out- cease me, cease me!
Those eyes, eyes of emerald are those…
I look at sun, I look up close…
Their blinding beauty finds me now…
I’m blinded, thus I ask-“Just how?”
Things, she claims she’s never heard…
Amazing, that had her, never stirred…
She feels afraid, yet warm at soul…
But all that fear makes her a ghoul…
Just understand he’s afraid too…
And she is too, and they’re too…
Of seven is afraid that two…
For it ate nine, but I won’t you…

(For those who get emotional a bit)

Sweetness, Sweetness, please don’t cry…
Look that’s dancing “chicken fry”…
What about that wrapping roll?
It grooves so bad to rock’n’roll…
Flying saucers, falling pans…
That’s how kitchen things are- they dance…
Clunck- a clunck they spring about…
Are you sane, damn,  are you sound?
Oh my God, my God- that a mess!!!
Oils, vinegars, sauces- on recess…
Cleaning up will be a  stress…
They’re shaking them legs no less…
My little curly mess right there…
Starts moving as if she doesn’t care…
She goes around and turns about…
With kitchen sink clapping, so sound…
Crazy wild girl and kitchen tools…
Prancing about the kitchen, like fools…
He walks inside and sees her that sad…
“Come dance with me!”- THAT’s very bad…
Chairs and table all vanish aside…
He’s lucky to have her by his side…
Now she is smiling all along…
His mission accomplished all so strong…

Night of Feather

To the lady with stars on her cheek…

(This pretty being have I seen…
Becoming hers I got so keen…
Has lots of thoughts up right her mind…
She all time catty, smiling, kind…
With emeraldy eyes at me she gazed…
With feelings’ coating soul my glazed…
She got entwined in all her thoughts…)
But I am there to connect the dots…
Fearless Sweetness, she turned mine…
Though that was not by my design…
Me becoming hers, she became mine…
Well, it sounds great and still goes fine…
(“Don’t get sexual!“- that’s what she said…
Yet, biting her lips, she lied in her bed…)
‘I went right on describing filth…
She imagined all, but felt her quilt…
I pushed the boundaries, controlled myself…
For her request, I ceased THAT self…
She went on saying, yes that’s right…
I had her then and I felt- might…’
She said: “No sex!“- yet dwelled ecstatic…
‘I felt her thighs and then it’s static…
Taming the beast, stopping right there…
It’s not just me, you too are there…
In my hands there is your hair…
Yet no kiss, all we do is stare…’
Don’t get sexual, yet please embrace!!!
That’s the most amazing maze…
Solving which I’ll pass my time…
Kissing you- committing crime…
Right I see the way she does pout…
An urge to have them in my mouth…
I can’t see things, a blurry vision…
To kiss or bite- a tough decision…
(He waits, he waits well past midnight…
And get a glimpse of her he might…
He thought he’ll catch her, then they’d kiss…
But to his left, in car left his miss…
His desperation growing old…
He yearns to feel, when her do hold…
Away with chivalry, away with thoughts…
He’ll have her then, with all the clothes…)
(She hopes, he’ll get the magic right…
To feel her, she’ll give him a green light…)
(He’ll cage his energy for feather’s touch…
He’ll give her things she’ll love so much…)
(She has her wings, but won’t let them spread…
Envisioning things all time in her bed:
She’ll see him climbing over her…
She’ll clutch him, make him own her…
She’s shy, she’s there right there in bed…
All kinds of things right there in head…)

(He can’t control, he can’t resist…
To find her soul, clenches her wrist…
Right on her, he falls all slightly…
His intentions she can’t take lightly…)
We can’t, no sex, no damn ways…
(With her legs she clings to embrace…
To get his mind, to help his mind…
She clings to him, so damn tight…
Her lips don’t leave his- tight embrace…
He truly, truly can’t feel his face…
With both his hands- he her head he takes…
He doesn’t care what is at stakes…
He pushes her head well deep in pillow…
Her fallen hair resembles a willow…
He licks her once as if she’s cream…
Then she wakes up- it was a dream…)

Night of a Touch

(She hides her mountains with them clouds…
Leaving all men die in doubts…
She hides the rocks right under waves…
He never knew he got one of them babes…)
(In rocking chair he rocks and types…
While his lady gets her shy vibes…
His mind right now, pounds and hypes…)
Why isn’t she from naked tribes…
(“Please stop, please stop!“- she says out loud…
But not for him, that’s all for crowd…
She craves and craves for each word that drops his lips…
That maybe he’ll kiss her with his hands on her hips…)
(She has that wink, she has that smile…
Her racy voice is heard from a mile…
She can seduce with “Mio  Amor…
He’ll let her in and shut the door…)
(What he’d have done if she was wild…
His efforts would’ve gone a mild…
For she’d done a lot of things, her own…
Forbidden things she would’ve shown…
The door is closed, the eyes wide shut…
The big bad wolf just blew the hut…
The huts-his head, the wolf is she…
With her on top that’s how sit we…
Right on his shoulders all her weight…
Get to the business thinking straight…
The warmth of thighs is turning on…
Look at her shyness all its gone…

(His head in hands they dance in stance…
That’s a tornado for a foreign glance…)
(He bends right forward holding her back…
Her butt- the table, with a smack…
He frees his head and behaves right…
Goes from the thighs up to her might…
His waist on hers that feelings warm…
What happens next is just a storm…)
(Her hairs’ on table, back’s her bent…
She kisses him, impacts a dent…
He holds her tight amidst her flight…
Their closeness feels perfect and right…
Her lips on his, she bends her neck…
Her hands go down… He’s:- “What the heck?”)
(That naughty- shy girl spreads her wings…
Now, she is doing crazy things…
His collar is clutched, neck is licked…
He was leading, but now feels tricked…
The raging monster to him she clings…
Back unto the wall their union springs…
The wall’s a cheat, it’s not right there…
He’s on the ground out of nowhere…
The fall left him out of the breath…
Breathtaking- that’s how she looks- a bet…)
(She takes his hands and leads the blind…
For things he might not ever find…
She says- “Be gentle!” Less she knew…)
(He was an artist- her he drew…
He drew on her like on canvas paper…
He felt her arms, like sticks- the draper…
His slightest touch left her like goose…
Hands at her back unhooking them loose…
After much time she gives him to lead…
He feels her up with no less greed…)
(Enlightened, she lifts her eyes to ceiling…
He touches her lips- she’s very willing…
She slides away her plans on tips…
He lifts her closer by her hips…
She looks at him with funny discontent…)
(He gets this- lady is crooked and bent…
With open palm he goes through hair…
Her skin so soft, babyish and fair…
His other hand on her back gets under…
Her skin, a touch is just a wonder…
He leaves her hair and gets tight pressed…
His interest got her impressed…)
(She backed him off and in a jest…
Removed her very skinny vest…
The boy astonished, mouth wide…
Is that adulthood by his side…
He meddles, waits, her to give a cue…
She sits like that for moments a few…
She saw him brave, but now he’s not…
She sees how helpless, shocked he got…
She then rewards him with a tight embrace…
And heard his heart in chest run race…)
(Two points of excitement pressed against his chest…
To interpret he does his best…
He feels her hands slight down his waist…
His shirt was pressed- oh what a waste…
Unbuttoned him like in that game…
He then got lucky- and for her- fame…
He sees them right and firm and tight…
Touch them as well he maybe might…
He feels all grateful, all again…
In her embrace he does that drain…
Her warmth against his jumping chest…
He feels her breast, yes that’s her breast…
He didn’t figure- the switch got on…
To give her he’s got feels a tonne…
His hands run free & wild and got behind…
What he did there is on your mind…
That’s hard to stop, high is the tension…
He longs for this moment’s extention…
His first encounter with a her life…
To catch his breath he had to strife…
He lifts her up and lay on ground…
To her body his mind is bound…
All he sees- switches a bunch…
He sucks her lips with upward hunch…
He leaves her lips and licks downtown…
He is her king, but where’s the crown?
His lips on left, on right- his magic…
Hard- soft, hard- soft, to make it tragic…
She kissed his head, he kissed her bosom…
And overall it feels so awesome…
He gets some teeth right on her nip…
She gets so high- a marijuana trip…
He’ll stop it there, let her think…
Next time at him when she’ll wink…
She will undress him-  and so will he…
His hands so gentle- where they should be…
They are free, this can be true…
Now she can think of things to do…)

 

4SJ

 

Please, tell me how this is…

Perks of Adulting


Oh dear, beautiful, jovial Child!
Please, do not grow up!
Do not get happy, when freckles show up…
Refrain from the yearning to do Adult things,
For they will chop down, cruelly- thy wings!

Oh dear, beautiful, jovial Child!
Happy, you are, on your own!
If you will Adult, you’ll be happy, as shown…
You fall unto thorns, take them out, forget,
But Adult once, in thy soul thorns will set!

Oh dear, beautiful, jovial Child!
You, only you are the one who can love!
Once you mature, empty feelings they’ll shove
And you’ll be sitting in empty a room
With Emptiness by thy side, facing thy doom!

Oh dear, beautiful, jovial Child!
Don’t hide in the closet, don’t hide under bed!
Perpetual fear is on what Adult is fed…
There is no way out, for Adult is a ghoul…
Thy only safe house is in depth of thy soul!

Oh dear, beautiful, jovial Child!
I beg you, don’t die, however they try!
Get stronger, get childish, wipe your cheeks dry,
Be stupidly brave, face this heinous cult
Please, don’t let me Adult!
Please, don’t let me Adult!

(Yes, you’re right I just used word Adult as a verb, noun and adjective)

Love of my life…


Hey lady, hey lady, hey lady, hey lady…
I am ready, I’m ready, I’m ready, I’m ready…
Let’s dance tonight… tonight… tonight…
Let’s dance tonight…
Oh, love of my life…

I see you, not far off, in that dress, with blue strands…
And I feel like heaven, descended and I am in trance…
Oh- oh- and I am in trance…
Through all this turmoil and my drunk big heavy head…
Blinding my eyes. my star is right there ahead…

Oh Tulip, oh Dahlia, oh Lily, oh Chrysanthemum…
My lady ‘s, no flower, but thanks to her Mom…
Drinking her gaze, makes me drunk even more…
But looking at you, my eyes, can never go sore…

Hey lady, hey lady, hey lady, hey lady…
I am ready, I’m ready, I’m ready, I’m ready…
Let’s dance tonight… tonight… tonight…
Let’s dance tonight…
Oh, love of my life…

My eyes, wide open, as if it’s for first time…
To say that to you, oh you, will be a crime…
Oh- oh- worst crime…
It’s crystal, today, but I feel, way back in time…
That finger, tells me, that love values no time…

My left hand- your waist, my right hand- your hand…
We freeze, hands raised, you twirl, I stand…
I cannot resist, I hold my breath and you so tight…
With your heart beside, I feel so light…

Hey lady, hey lady, hey lady, hey lady…
I am ready, I’m ready, I’m ready, I’m ready…
Let’s dance tonight… tonight… tonight…
Let’s dance tonight…
Oh, love of my life…

I’m Sorry


I fooled around,
And I felt sound…
And I was proud
-Ooh, so proud…
You were shy,
And I was loud…
Never thought…
What was that all about!

But now,
I come along,
You walk away…
Day after day!
Day after day!
I start with “Hey!”
You look astray…
Some other life!
Some other day!

But there’s no way
You can mend a heart from shatters…
Nothing one can do that matters!!!
Something in my heart, that tells me
She was the only one for me…

But there’s no way
You can mend a heart from shatters…
Nothing one can do that matters!!!
Something in my heart, that tells me
She was the only one for me…

All of the girls
And the ones I like…
Had every single,
With my mic!
But with them
It all felt alike…
I fell for you,
I did not “like”…

But now,
You’re in my head,
Even when I sleep…
Your love to keep
-I failed to keep!
My heart’s fallen
Very steep…
To save it,
It’d be a giant leap!

But there’s no way
You can mend a heart from shatters…
Nothing one can do that matters!!!
Something in my heart, that tells me
She was the only one for me…

But there’s no way
You can mend a heart from shatters…
Nothing one can do that matters!!!
Something in my heart, that tells me
She was the only one for me…

Still, I remember
Our little thing…
Her in my hands
And I did sing…
In her eyes
Why did mine sink?
I was in love,
Now that I think…

But now,
I caught her up
And touched our heads
Same old feeling,
I can’t see less…
I’m sorry,
I’m such a mess…
No one, but you,
I’d love to kiss…

And there’s a way,
You can mend a heart from shatters
Something one can do that matters
Whole of my heart, that tells me
She is the one for me!

And there’s a way,
You can mend a heart from shatters
Something one can do that matters
Whole of my heart, that tells me
She is the one for me!

To Old Friend


I remember that,
time- diamonds bought
Barter an emerald,
gold some, caught…
It was a simple
game on board…
Imagination, grins,
no fear of sword…

It’s been years,
years, since we played…
But my dear, friend,
in that day, you stayed…
Your biggest sacrifice,
though I understand…
“Is progress worth
                 of what we stand?”

No time to stop,
no time to sing…
“Into your work,
                 our friendship sink!”
In clock’s hand, left,
you’re left to guide…
Less and less,
you’re by my side…

A proper guide-
all fear and respect…
“I gapped away,
                 what do you expect?”
Moments cherished,
in past years…
Tiny friendship sparks-
my fears…

To seek your guidance,
to seek your time…
I do things…
not worth a dime…
No better ideas;
and you are annoyed…

Philosophical storm,
armies deployed…

With barmy grin,
taking on, I stand…
Whilst you’re hurt,
out of my hand…
With all the feelings,
I’m torn apart…
My ordeals
– a hole for your heart…

With all your heart
and flimsy memories
You still call me a friend
in front of families…
With all the love,
we still each send…
I say: “You became my guide,
                but no more- a friend…”

The ” Haunting” of humanity


“A plea”, right now, direct stream from my brain
Engineering seems void, progress seems void, I think only science can be considered to be an ultimate goal less aim…
All the scientists, running about in their labs, researching something, not knowing what, accidentally stumping on some poor poop of a theory and naming it- “Poop 1, Hamiltonian poop, Bose- Einstein poop, Crazy poop, Wacko poop, Taco poop, Subramaniam poop, Mendeleeff poop…” and on and on and on… Others- What do they do?- They take out the carefully preserved old poop of the others, poke it, smell it, look it up in the microscope, think of it, overthink of it and then finally they either die of void efforts or the same old poop they’ve been throwing around falls on their head and they invent “gravity”… Funny people all over the Earth, leading funny, pointless lives… Businessmen, what are they doing?- bartering, exchanging food, medication, shelter, clothing (old man’s animal skin or fur) in exchange of either butt swipe (credit/debit card) or some leaves which in their solo existence have no value…
Engineers, people taking pleasure in taking things up, twisting them, turning them, burning them, squeezing them, knowing that their efforts will go void next year, but still aiding man to become even more lazy, get into more void soul barter, or poop poking… Engineers- people, who take up the poop from scientists, bake it and present to all the common people as an applausible piece of cake, which gets stale in few minutes, if not seconds (years and months respectively, of course), because just about then some other engineer, arranged for some cholesterol dug out from the heart of the Earth (gold or some other metal) and converted it into even a better cake, soon to fall stale again… Man has emerged on Earth, with purpose, what is the purpose, nobody knows, none wants to think of it, so what they do?- They take up any random activity, like digging poop, baking cakes from it or delivering and bartering all that to the rest and spend their precious lives on it… What preciousness is in them when neither you, nor me can see a bigger scene above the- “become a mother, a father, continue the race along with either digging some new poop, baking some new poop or bartering the best one as soon as new one is baked…”
The sportsmen, the explorers, the models… all of them- chiselling their muscles, watching the world, grooming their fur- who’s got better stripes, which stripes will make you “different” this year… they at least live up to the name- “animals”, that we all are…
Look at those puny fools- the farmers, working their lives off- whole year, killing the Darvin’s “poop”, seeing and understanding that they’re being used, but being kind and simple enough to thank for that and continue their job, so that they don’t have to sit like us and being haunted by thoughts wandering about the palace on our head, be constantly knocking in the wall tagged “the meaning of existence”…
Loneliness of humanity has evolved to such an extent that it multiplied. All of us are schizophrenics, but when it’s a global syndrome, why calling it a disease? We have separated ourselves from the animals, we don’t care about them, don’t even know about them, though we live on the same planet… We sit under the sky throwing empty hopes in cans called rockets, waiting for the “species of equivalent or above intelligence” named bride will see, catch and accept our ring embossed with “hope” on it… “People come and go”- simple and one of the most common expressions depicting the pathetic condition of mankind stuck in the corner of self made egoism and its schizophrenia sprawling in such magnitude…
When he felt alone, his schizophrenia engineered him God… He told this to others, others like him, those poor creatures standing around him in the corner, banging their heads- together, yet separate in their pain…
Now, you can see how easily they bring that “cake” up whenever they’re in trouble or whenever the “people come and go”, the statement they’ve been using as their birthright, with no emotions, no regret, comes to action on them  and when it’s turn of the rest in the corner to use it…
We come alone, we go lonelier… Along the road we just make up all the emotions, all the actions, just to avoid the ultimate, all penetrating question- Why are we here?
We love somebody, when we try get rid of all the frustration of failing in answering that question… We blind ourselves with anger, sympathy, any of them, all of them, just not to look into the burning eyes of that question, directly…
Universe is so big- we comprise barely an atom in it, yet our fear of pursual of the answer to that question made our schizophrenia to convince us, that this and only this is the world, that’s it- these humans, not beasts are my brethren, and I come alone, and in pain I die even lonelier, because I’ve bartered my soul and borrowed some from others so as to entangle myself good enough, so that from behind of that web, I won’t be able to face and even see that same old question?- The one of few that haunt you before you die- “Why was I here? Did I perform well? What will be next?”…Live feed snapped…

Please, do not discriminate the mode of presentation, it’s written in style to go in hand with current generation…
The rest- discussions, critique, advises are welcome…

3000 Days for you


So here you are, sitting, staring at the screen, waiting for something new or interesting to spring out at you from this essay, article, philosophy- call this whatever you like…
I’ll call it my legacy, a teaching to all of you…
Let’s kill the grandeur of this introduction and confess, that none of all this is brand new…
But realization of the same is revolutionary…

The secret of a day:
How  much do an activity of sleeping take up time in your day?
6 hours?- maybe 10? Or maybe even more?
How long does it take for you to finish off all your daily activities of eating, grooming, transportation?
Lets say, for a common man all the above- 12 hours?  Maybe even more?
We work, we study, wo are doers– all of us, different as we are, of certain age- nobody sits idle… I can say, and with a strong base that we do for 8 hours… Some people, even more
Well, we all know that much of mathematics, thank god to 21st Century and the educational bill being passed in all constitutions, that we already spent more than 2/3rds of the day?
You feel tired reading upto here, so what you probably going to do?- Take your eyes off, look at the ads, change the tab, watch the dumb box, the cellphone or maybe some other useless activity, that you prefer to do, without even knowing, why do you do it?
Even if I’ll gift you 1/3rd of the day, part of which you already lost in all the previously described activities, you’ll be doing all the things I just mentioned you do when you get bored and nothing else…
Hobbies, very few people do have them, and those who do, actually fail to pursue them…
You feed your 1/3rd of the day to useless activities…
The above sentence, is a negative and attacking statement, judging you, your habits, your day…
But let me rephrase it, my deqr reader, all you’ve got is 1/3rd of the day and oh, how you want to use it for yourself…
Now, let’s tone things down and move on to the next part…

The fascination of the year:
Close your eyes, and try to remember a face, I bet first of the faces which you can so easily remember will be that of your mother or father…
Let’s go absolutely patriarchal on topic (no offense to feminists, I am one) and say- bread at your house comes from your father…
Look at him, all energetic and fierce and ready to work, because he has an aim for existence- family’s welfare…
Look, how he sweats all his efforts to keep you up and going…
Let’s try to get into his shoes and see it through his eyes…
‘I wake up in the morning, get ready as fast as I can have almost no breakfast and barely make it on time to the work… I try my best, competition in the atmosphere hints on smothering me all the time, crush me, my colleagues and even the work, at times, but, sometimes I, sometimes we all break our backs sweat and stain our shirts, but push all of it through… 8 hours, all done… not less than a gym workout, ah, don’t remind me, have to do that pretty soon… Long journey, I’m home hon… Atmosphere, here, now, home- ah, miss you all, love you all, try to spend some time in the evening, but alas, I’m tired, they’re tired, I’ll watch the idiot box and kick my shoes off…”
Weekends- he takes us all out and tries his best to spend time with us…
But, the big picture, the work- he works for 2/3rds of the year, all the left time, it’s family time- Saturdays, Sundays, a week long vacation, and a health leave converted into family time…
Of course, family comes first for him- that’s his aim, his hobby, his quality time, but again, it’s 1/3rd of the year…
Let me check my scientific calculator- well with all those days, roughly, hmm, it’s slightly above a century of days per year…
Oh, what magic is 1/3?
Leave all the magic behind, move on…

The Quintessence of Life:
Now, present, reality- all are the same to the roots…
Dusk of dinosaurs?- no, too slow, too clean, too big…
We live in the 21st century and how a modern will phrase it- quite amount of six figure age salary has the Earth earned since the dawn of the great reptiles…
Look around, you live in a dirty city, everything is deadly fast- even you, all things are small and getting even smaller… A Century old man?- How many of those you’ve possibly seen?
Average all of us out… we’ll be remembered for like what?- 60-70 years? Then dust will cover our tombstones, if we are lucky to have one…
Say we live 30000 days…
I’m just stepping into adulthood, so I’ll continue from my limited perception from now on, but I hope your adult “wiseness” will help you to extrapolate things further and understand what I’m saying…
I’m almost twenty, so around 7000 days are gone
I’m a student, so let’s say I’ll have this mark upto 10000 days maybe less…
The question- myth- ” What walks on four legs in the morning, two legs in the afternoon, and three legs in the evening?”
I should say, our evenings are the longest… Why?- They start when we are 50, but with all this- ‘fast’ ‘small’ and ‘not so clean’ believe me we all step into our three legged existence at the start of 40ies…
Oh, the energy… Adulthood- the period of maximal human efficiency… We get only about 20 years, or let’s even say more- 9000 days of full mental, productive, physical, emotional and sexual efficiency…
The later years prove to slowly flat line the above, eventually flat lining you…
Well, so?
We get 9000 days of fully efficient adult life, right?
I bet you forgot something…
Ah, yeah- the magic ratio- the 1/3!!!
So, my supercomputer suggests that we get, like, around 3000 days for ourselves?
How sad is that, all the laziness, all the idiot box watching, it all just splits the magic ratio to even smaller pieces?
The clock is ticking… And by the time you read this, few seconds from your 3000 days got substracted…
Catch them, hunt them down, capture them, don’t let them go useless…
As I said, I won’t tell nothing new, but the realization itself, of this fact is so important, that I believe, from now on, you’ll make every second count!

Want to get more days?
Stay fit- it will give you more days.
Live by the day.
Stay happy- it makes it worth it.
Don’t let depression crawl into the next day.
Trust humanity and live for it.
Do not be living. Believing is must.
If you work, choose your work to be something, you don’t consider to be work.
Do not do anything planned.
Now, be a rebel and extrapolate all the rest of advises on your own, because if not you, then believe me, I do know that you got what meant…
Just remember, all you have is 3000 days- that’s my gift to you…

(I invite all the criticism, queries, suggestions, guidance and will entertain them, just do comment- it’s my first blog- essay)

Перемена


За окном не выпадает снега
Хотя это всё то же начало века…
Всего лишь только прошёл
Такое ощущение- пол мира перешёл…
Все мои друзья остались там
“Вы уж извините, сюда пришёл не сам…”
Живите вы там с миром!
Но меня не забывайте,
Пока уж я останусь с новым миром…
Это время перемен- глаза не закрывайте!!!

“Be always- a book”


The written proof of man’s existence…
With all thoughts, emotions, milestones
With all it’s friendly, stubborn persistence
Sits on the shelf and slightly moans…

Happy, a book, pours knowledge, a tonne
When gazed through the lines, by somebody’s eyes…
Then back to the shelf, to be taken by someone
Be always- a friend, not fluttering lies…

“You read through the shelves, they never give up!
You pass through the lines, as friends they’re up!”