The house of wood…

The house of wood…

There was a house made of wood,

10 feet above the ground,

On the large tree it stood.

There were windows which brought fresh air,

And there was dust,

which accompanied the air.

The rustling air flowed from one window to the other,

and the soul sitting inside was peaceful,

It felt as if in a limerence.

But the dust kept accumulating,

disturbing the soul’s dalliance,

with the air.

The soul realized this in time, and  played a trick,

It covered the window with a long net,

which filtered the dusty air.

The dust now sat outside the window,

and watched the peaceful interaction,

of the soul and the air.

What if my body is a house made of wood?,

What if my mind is the window?,

Lets say, it is so.

Then,for a peaceful life,

I only need a net,

To filter my thoughts…

Eluding life…

Eluding  life…

 

 

the eyes full of innocence,

the heart full of love,

the inquisitive mind,

and nothing to bind…

 

 

the crying passion,

the need to make impression,

the exuberant  desire,

and a burning fire…

 

 

the mature comprehension,

the nostalgic emotion,

the practical dreams,

and the thirst of solitude…

 

 

the fear of dying,

the reality lying,

the rekindled curiosity,

and the heart feeling pity…

 

 

the longing of soul,

the mind’s goal,

the medicated body,

and  eluding  life…

Touch the land…

Touch the land…

Was having a regular desultory conversation,

inside a costly coffee shop,

the heart’s interest was ephemeral,

and the mind went off…

Towards the window across,

the eyes wandered,

crossing the glass rimmed with dirt,

it saw the real world…

There outside ,

were the penurious children laughing,

and their susurration,

was spellbinding…

Was still sitting,

with the coffee in hand,

lived enough in the skies,

now desiring to touch the land…

Free within the mind…

Free within the mind…

She came rushing inside the house breathing heavily. Fear was dancing on her face. She directly went to her room without talking to anyone.

What was there to talk?

Some men kept looking at her on the bus stop. So what?

They can look. They have their own eyes and a right to look.

But why was she feeling as if in a cage.?

It was the same feeling as when in the childhood we had bad dreams about being alone in the jungle and all the animals chasing us from different directions. She felt exactly the same. But she was helpless.

She might have told her parents, but she knew that nothing will change. It was not just the bus stop. These happenings followed her everywhere, only the faces changed.

The next day when she went for a walk, she heard whispers, of men talking. She knew they were looking at her and were talking about her. She increased her speed. Once they were out of sight she took a deep breath.

She was sitting on the bus stop and was looking worried. She knew some eyes were still following her. But she never looked in another direction, she just kept looking downwards until the bus arrived.

Almost 69 years have passed, since we, as a country got freedom. But as she was sitting in the bus she was not free. She was caged by those eyes which followed her every step. She was scared of what might happen next.

But at the same time, a war started inside her, a war demanding freedom, not as a country, but freedom of the soul. Those eyes will soon suffer the blow of the mightiest power.

And it is not the fight of women. It is the fight of every single soul who deserves to be free. Free not just by boundaries but free within the mind.

The lost ones…

The lost ones…

shreyanssite

Look towards the centre of the sea,

the water particles mingling,

bonding with each other,

creating something big,

the gigantic hills,

were an evidence,

of their dalliance,

more like a conflation of ideas,

and those particles came flowing,

all of them,

together,

at the bottom of the hills,

continuing the susurration,

and as they hit the bottom,

the unity was broken,

the particles got mixed,

into the infinite sea,

the scene was heart breaking but real,

it seemed like our lives,

struggling to maintain unity with each other,

flowing on the waves of time,

and finally meeting with the hills of death,

to get lost in the infinite sea of time,

and then again seeking the lost ones to unite…

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The lost ones…

The lost ones…

 

Look towards the centre of the sea,

the water particles mingling,

bonding with each other,

creating something big,

the gigantic hills,

were an evidence,

of their dalliance,

more like a conflation of ideas,

and those particles came flowing,

all of them,

together,

at the bottom of the hills,

continuing the susurration,

and as they hit the bottom,

the unity was broken,

the particles got mixed,

into the infinite sea,

the scene was heart breaking but real,

it seemed like our lives,

struggling to maintain unity with each other,

flowing on the waves of time,

and finally meeting with the hills of death,

to get lost in the infinite sea of time,

and then again seeking the lost ones to unite…

 

A somnolent Morning…

A somnolent Morning…

 

a somnolent morning,

the birds chirping,

the cool golden rays of sun,

mingling with the azure sky,

mind got lost in the past,

it went to those halcyon days,

Back then, the scene was idyllic,

the wind was lyrical,

its rustling was like a rhapsody,

and all of a sudden,

the dream broke,

from the beautiful past,

came back to the present,

the wind was now sonorous,

it guided the mind into the infinite,

the body woke up,

and realized,

that the fear named despot,

ruled the mind,

and made it feel torpid,

and blamed the morning,

which is never somnolent…