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Friday, December 25, 2015


Under the gray autumnal sky
In silence, we stood
For a long, quiet moment,
Then she said 'let’s talk about something else'
We knew there was nothing to talk about
We walked our separate ways.

Monday, October 5, 2015

Chaotic Souls Are The Fuel That Drive Twitter....!


Antisocial beings are sort of rebels in their own subtle ways. Asocial behavior is a trait of intelligence in a world full of conformists, which is unacceptable in this conformist world. So, we don't try to fit in, and on account of that we are seen odd, weird for some. Some just say 'Nerds', while others call us misanthropic. I don't entirely agree. Antisocial doesn't necessarily mean misanthropic but this logic ain't without weight as @psychologicaI tweeted the other day...

So you do have a reason to believe what you believe. Anyway, This ain't the thing I'm going to ramble about, am I? Nope, I'm going to talk about antisocial beings and their love with 140. Antisocial beings are protagonists of the drama that is being staged on Twitter. These chaotic souls are the fuel that drive Twitter....
Yeah! these chaotic souls gave a whole new meaning to Twitter or as some of us put it 'Life in 140.' Come to think of it, we can't really be that antisocial if such powerful and popular 'Social Media' revolves around us? 
I don't know if our scruffy minds gave fame to Twitter or is it Twitter who gives voice to lost souls who usually hide in their closets? Maybe both.
Twitter is no place for verbosity. It's for people who are damned careful with their words, and 140 characters is the prefect length to fit snippets of depressive ideology.

I, for one, think Twitter spreads one's soliloquy in the realm which knows no boundaries. Twitter is like talking to yourself or thinking out loud for that matter. Now don't tell me you don't talk to yourself, because we all do. However, here on Twitter, a whole lot gets to read your thoughts when you're all alone with yourself, and some add their two cents at times, which, on occasions, turns into a limitless-timeless conversation. 

Here you can meet people who want to be alone. As Dimitri Zaik once yearned; 
“I want to be alone with someone else who wants to be alone.” 
Join Twitter, Dimitri, if you haven't already.
Though, introverts are quite okay with themselves but hey, little appreciation doesn't harm, so we take it to the Twitter......

It's the chaos of inside that always spawns the best tweets...

And there's a method to the madness...

And it's comforting to pass the buck....

And then we have philosophy that Cicero would have been in awe of had he been on Twitter.

Thursday, October 1, 2015


By the ineffable blue sea
Sit I,
Withdrawn deep into myself
I seem no longer glad nor sorry;
neither proud nor ashamed
The pale cold mask of my face
Disguises the silent duel,
I've been fighting within.

Wednesday, September 23, 2015

More Rambling..............!!

I strove with none, for none was worth my strife:
 Nature I loved, and, next to Nature, Art:

 I warm’d both hands before the fire of Life;

It sinks; and I am ready to depart.

Walter Savage Landor

''Life's a helluva lot easier to bear when you could forget,'' I exclaim as I lie on a beach staring at a pale moon pendent in a dark, starless sky. I can taste the salt from the ocean spray as waves chase each other on the flat beach.

Countless thoughts are buzzing around in my mind, and I want to swat them away. In moments like this, these thoughts grow so large in my mind that they seem to suffocate themselves, and then I get so confused that I cannot do anything. But tonight, the seemingly forlorn moon comes to my rescue, it catches my attention, and makes me wonder where all the stars have gone? Had there been stars, I would have wondered which of the countless millions of stars is truly the one that delivers wishes.

Ain't it cruel that just when you think you have hit rock bottom, the ground opens up again? It doesn't take reading Marcus Aurelius to know that everything I did made everything different, and if I dwelled on it, I’d go nuts. 

Every so often I go off like a cherry bomb. It takes days to put the pieces back together. I feel like I’m haunted, or maybe like I’m a ghost. The feeling fades, but never quickly. But, that’s what life is all about: getting knocked down, and pulling yourself back up again. Though, one way or another all journeys are circular. We never arrive anywhere that we haven’t been before. But, Sometimes, the world seems bleak as hell and you don't have a clue how to figure things out.

Once I heard a remarkable man say, 'Everybody is running away from something. We, somehow, are persuaded by a false belief that if we run fast and hard enough, we might somehow escape our past or our present, that we might even somehow escape ourselves.'
'Strange notion,' was my thought but now it makes perfect sense to me and makes me realize all over again that the world is not only broken, but beyond fixing. No amount of glue can ever make it right. The world is just broken; that’s all there is to it. You glue together the cracks you can but you don’t let yourself fall through the ones you can’t. Not if you can help it. It won’t do you any good and chances are it won’t do anybody else any good either.

So to run away, I come here to watch the dark sea and the white plumes upon it, to listen to music of waves, to reach out of the random in search of a pattern. I always find a momentary glimpse of the peace out here. What is it about water, I often wonder, that settles the soul?

Perhaps I love the peace of this deserted beach. Perhaps I love these lonely sands, with their vast stretch of sea and sky, and to be away from vile beings. I don’t do anything else but sit there and read, and get lost in my own thoughts. The sea always makes me feel like some detached soul, watching from outside the glass bubble that is my life, filing facts in my mind, filtering them, and coming up with some sort of explanations.
I’m beginning to sound like an editorial that has forgotten the point it wanted to make. But the gist is that in life there are some battles you have to fight even if the odds are insuperable and defeat guaranteed. That's just one of those things you have to learn along the way. They don't teach that in high school..

Wednesday, May 20, 2015

True Companion...!

There are times when you go through intense pain while you are amidst a crowd, you wish it rained...
so that no one could see your tears. You look around, to find someone to talk to...but you
realize you are left all alone....
Because sometimes in one's life you meet people who are like a waft of breeze,
like a raindrop,
like a rainbow color,
like a withered leaf or like mist..
when breeze wafts away, raindrop hits the ground and losses identify, rainbow colors fade, withered leaves fall and mist evaporates in the sun...
You realize the true companion in life is loneliness, that never leaves...!

Tuesday, March 3, 2015

Where is home when you're feeling soulless?


He didn't have a word to utter when the moment arrived. His mind went blank as if it was unfamiliar with thinking.

"Fuckin' acidity, it'll kill me someday," all he could think of. He felt like throwing up. He came a long way just to say goodbye but when the moment came, they just stood there staring at each other, utterly clueless, both of them.

This all consumed less than five minutes but it seemed as if a whole day had passed.

"Why doesn't she say somethin'," thought he, leaning back against the beautiful marbled column."Fuckin' ceremonies."

Announcer said something about the flight but he didn't grasp a word. He hummed for the umpteenth time a couple of lines of a half-remembered poem he had read somewhere,

"Where is home when you're feeling soulless?
Where is home when you have no direction?"
He had been prodding his memory for the early part but couldn't recall it, and it was bothering him.

"It's time.", she whispered, breaking his train of thought.
"uh," he held her gaze, "yeah! you should be going." he said.

Where is home when you're feeling soulless? He stood there gazing at her. Uneasy memories surged though him and took him a few months back in his head. It was a night of heavy downpour. Lightning flashed and thunder cracked. It might have been the end of the world. Darkness reigned between the lightning flashes, The storm had long since blown out the electricity. He found her on the bus-stop, five miles off their place.

"HEY!" Said she, raindrops could be seen dropping off her hair in the light emanating from her cell phone screen, she must have walked in the rain.

"Hey! Got caught in the storm?" he returned the civilities and took a deep breath, holding it for a count of five, exhaling for a count of five, just to normalize the rhythm of his heart, which got disturbed in the sprint he had taken from library to the bus-stop, trying in vain not to get wet.

"Not really, it's only 10, pretty much routine time for me," she said.
"Feels like midnight, any chance of bus coming?" he asked.
"Yeah one is due in 15 minutes, why were you running?" She said, "It's futile coz one hardly takes five seconds to get soaked in this one." Added she.

"Yeah I realized," he tittered.

It was their first conversation since he had moved into her building six months ago. Though they had been living on the same floor, hardly few words had been exchanged between them.

"I'm Sarah, but you know that I presume," she said, extending her hand, which he shook but she didn't let his hand go, starting to rub the back of his hand with her other hand instead. It gave him a shiver.

"I'm sorry," whispered she.

"What for?"

"That bothers you, weighs on your mind," she said, "the angst."

He recoiled, taking a step back. In the meantime the bus arrived.

"I told you so," she let a joyous cry. They got on the bus, there were only four people besides them.

"Let's sit in the last row," she said as if she knew he would assent. And he did, albeit unwittingly.

With a bland, expressionless face and nearly colorless eyes, here was something uncanny about her that kept him quiet. A long stretch of silence had him holding his breath—then a whisper conveyed what was on his mind to her. "How do you know that....?"

"I know for I'm an empath." Smiled she as if she had an unfair advantage on him.

"Empath? What exactly is an empath?" he was flummoxed.

"An empath's touch lets him/her know emotions in other people," she said, "like joy, sadness, longing, fear and all, but sometimes we can tell more, we touch souls."

"What else?" he asked.


"Touch of my hand, what else did it tell ya?"

She cast an eerie glance before touching his face, a look had come over her, "You're soulless," she whispered. He let out a stunned gasp.

He couldn't ask for more as though he had revealed too much too her. So he journeyed in silence.

For the next six months, they had many conversations but an uncanny barrier never let them cross certain lines.

"What's this person like you were talking to?" He asked offhand.

That evening they were sitting on a rusted iron bench in a corner of a park that looked off over the hills, watching the summer dusk devour the rays of the sun.

"Seems a good lad," said she.

"Seems? I thought you could peer into people's souls," he said hesitantly.

A melancholic smile appeared on her face, "Well, I don't," she said, spreading her hands.

"What happened to that empath thingy?"

"I lost it for I'm soulless now and you cannot feel others' souls if you don't have one. And you don't have to be afraid of me anymore, we are on equal footing now."

"What happened to your soul?"

"And what happened to yours?"

"I dunno, maybe I sold it to the devil?"

"For how much?"

"For nothing I guess..."

"Guess what? We got the same deal, I feel like me too sold it for nothing."

He labored for breaths and felt as though he could hear her heartbeat, and wondered what was coming.

"So why did you really do it?" she asked after a beat.

"I read some wise-man said 'Don't be too good when you're young, or the devil will get you later‘, so it was kinda inevitability I dunno," he said realizing the answer was far from convincing.

"You are quite dreadfully demoralizing...," she laughed.

"And you're awfully mysterious," he joined the laugh.

"I don't know how to explain it to you," she said gazing at the hills. "Something seems to tell me that I'm on the verge of a terrible crisis in my life. I grew afraid and turned to seclusion. It was not a conscience choice: it was sorta cowardice. I take no credit to myself for trying to escape."

"There's no escape," he thought out loud.

"for whom?" she asked as if telling him he wasn't alone with his thoughts.

"uhh! well," he stuttered, "I was just thinking, nevermind, what time is the flight?"

she smiled "I gotta go, I know you don't have anything to say." before he could bring anything to his lips, she leaned into his rising face and caught him with a kiss on the cheek and sighed " neither do I." 

There did they part without paining themselves to think of something they couldn't say or didn't want to. He stood there thinking about his time with her and about the half-remembered poem but he realized it wasn't half-remembered anymore. And he walked away humming,

"Where is home when you're feeling soulless?
Where is home when you have no direction?
This is the feeling of lost.
No answers. No meaning.
I'm still searching for the feel of completion
There's no feeling like lost.
I love it, I need it,
Like there's something more to live or to die for.
I follow the horizon.
Where is home when you're feeling soulless?
Where is home when you have no direction?"