Traveler blogpost#25

From the depths of my heart, these words form onto my fingertips. Intertwined with the subtle moments of delight we engaged in; I write to you a final time. You came into my life as a fellow traveler, one who walked the same path as I, yet far more gracefully than I could ever imagine. And in the commonalities that we seek for in others, regrettably - we occasionally find it in grief. And you are coddled by the statement that “they understand how you feel”. Such a bad idea to pursue the meaning behind it, nonetheless; here you stumble upon a piece of my mind. But somehow, I feel that it helped us stand stronger in our own paths as well. It gave me clarity. Fate did not have our names etched aside one another, and that’s not something that I can pray for now. Father time waits for no man and my shoes are far too worn, treading this path alone. And as I take a step back and dream at what our lives could’ve been, I lose logic. And in that dream walk, I assume the role of someone who has a perfect world; and that world does not deserve perfection in your absence.

What started as the most unexpected stroke of fortune in my life, it turned bittersweet fairly quickly. I did not get the ‘instruction manual’ which mentioned that I’ll have no way of knowing how long a bond would last. Because if I did, I’d clutch these dear moments more passionately. And here we all are, forming bonds with people in our respective lives without ever getting to know the expiration date, set by fate herself. Fast forward to the most exhilarating ‘getting to know someone’ phase I’ve been in – because it felt so familiar and at the same time – so very new. It’s like getting to meet two different faces of the same person. I have no other soul to blame than myself for letting you dive so deep into my thoughts. In spite of that, you seem to swim so beautifully in this ocean, that floats with all the memories I cherish of you. 

The elders say that every time you achieve something you yearn for in life, it ceases to emerge in your dreams. Yet, there is one face that is a frequent visitor to my subconscious; yours. A ball of light that’s destined to gleam and let my shadows of doubts to fade. I feel sorrow for my severed heart, with the phantom pain still lingering. I haven’t seen you in so long, and I wonder where has the time gone. I’ve always had a feeling that it was going to be us against the world but now, and that we were meant to be. I’m just a solo traveler. I used to think that if I tried my best, I’d always win. Currently, things make me understand that perhaps – our names are written in the different chapters in the book of destiny. All I have left are these memories I adore and the moments we spent. All the times we danced under the fairy lights, laughing so wide that our eyes seldom stayed open. Your laughter still echoes in my mind, and it has never ceased to draw a smile onto my lips, even today.

It’s far too late to keep writing, even though these thoughts leave me awake. Accompanied by the gentle wind, sneaking in through my window to caress my face. I almost always wish it were your fingertips instead, holding me until the sun rise. 

 Alas, I wind back this cassette of broken dreams, only to play the tune once again another time. Reminiscing about the nights I’ve spent just staring into your beautiful brown eyes, gazing at two starts that are so bright. I know we will cross paths once again, my fellow traveler. Until then, I’ll be haunted by none other than the ghost of our past.

Opinion blogpost#23

~

We as people, have free will to choose our actions; be it significant or trivial. We have been in endless conversations and social situations, where we regard the opinions of others- in our day to day achievements or tasks. This is often to ascertain whether the subject has an acceptable reputation or is something worth pursuing.

A simple example is to choose an outfit for the day and presenting yourself before someone whose opinion you have in good regard, and asking "Hey, how do I look?" The outcome can go one of three ways; favorable, unfavorable and absent. Have you ever wondered why would someone not give you an opinion on something? and why is that often associated with negative intent? That gets you thinking, about the activity of qualifying something to be worth giving an opinion on. 

Ask yourself this; did they put in enough effort to deserve an opinion? Let's visualize. you've gone through the tedious task- of attempting to paint something in extensive detail, and it turns out to be unsatisfactory or inaccurate in your objective. I'd share my opinion you with in all honesty. Then again, beauty is in the eye of the beholder so perhaps some might find it to be exquisite. But I didn't. If were good, I'd be delighted to tell you  so.

However, if I choose to not give an opinion on something- it is due to three main things. The first being that I do not deem it worthy of an exertion to label my opinion on. The second, is that it’s something I choose not to provide a reputation towards. And the last being, the instance where many have already provided their points to the pool, and I do not wish to contribute to make it more complicated than it is presently. But none of these have an underlying malicious intent.

Now, ask yourself this; do you really want me to give you an opinion? And if I refuse to share one, does it imply that the only opinions I wish to share on the matter are unfavorable? No. Its likely not worth my time and it shouldn't be yours either. However, I appreciate the effort you've staked into seeking my views on the matter, as you find it to be impactful. I hope you take that into account when someone asks your opinion, next time. For everything else, shrug.

Initiative blogpost#22

 

Initiative; the power or opportunity to act or take charge before others do.

 

As time slows terribly around and you get a glimpse of what it feels like to exist past the pattern of time. Ever moving and unstoppable. A perfect clarity on the flow of it and being able to crutch it in your grasp, that’s what it feels like to be immortal. And as you raise your chin, standing before something three feet taller than you, your eyes trail the creature’s hairy form, following humanoid structure with pure muscle and anger. You’d wish time ended right here as you’d be away from the imminent danger that’s about to rain down on you with claws hovering fourteen feet from the grass. With every crack of bone is heard, you come to senses that theres another one of these taking form as go. Looking into the mouth of a werewolf that’s willing to bite off your head and skim claws through you like butter. There’s a certain pressure building around you, implying the space is closing in and you’re going to have to make a decision. So, like any wise person would do, you choose to step aside and shove your knife forward. A very simple two step action. Dancing the beat of life and death.

 

The pressure now engulfs, you. The strength you impose over the flow of time is killing you from within. And you know that the moment you let out your breath, time is going to continue. What’s happening you wonder? The answer is quite simple. You’ve spent too much time exploiting the luxury of being the highest initiative. As time once again sets in motion and the claw and fang striking down on you resumes. However, the werewolf misses its target completely and tears into his ally who now took the complete form of a werewolf. Time has not worked in their favor as you acted before them. You slipped past the trajectory as a blur who caught hold of time and ran with it. As and your knife drives into the gut of the enemy, you feel the subtle vibrations felt as cold steel shreds organs. At that point you’ve realized the importance of initiative. A boon to the men focused onto it, now being able to strategize his every move. You trained and you advanced. You have imposed more control on the mind itself, a trophy received from following the path of focused mind.

 

And it all came clashing down over you in this very moment of success in cheating death. But how many times can you cheat death? There is an answer. Infinitely, if you control time. And that became a goal.

embrace blogpost#21

The bulbs of the dimly lit corridor have exhausted their lives, barely glowing enough to draw forth the resident bugs in the area. A pulsating yellow trail of weak lightbulbs end fifty meters down the hall to a door. Suddenly, heavy footsteps begin to thump against the wooden floor, leaving prints covered with blood as long strides take pace. The bugs that bask in the glow of the lights now begin to scatter as something large enters their deserted hallways. It has been a long while since anything of this ferocity has drawn up the courage to walk these halls. 

The steps began to grow louder as the man made his way, fiery eyes glaring into the dark. His red jeweled necklace followed the rhythm of his footing, clashing against his chest several times. The weak lights radiate against his hairy chest that bares an ugly large scar. Something that resembles a claw attack, gained only by cheating death and barely slipping its clutches. Behind that lump of scar tissue is a heavily beating heart, rushing molten anger to every inch of his body. He lets out a low growl as his sights lock onto the door. 

Headstrong, the man picked up his pace and began rushing towards the target. As anger now consumes him, he perceives the world only in red and black. For he is an embodiment of Luna's strength, a bloody empress of the night. As his sharp fingernails begin to twitch, the man extends his arms out with grace. His mighty wingspan had a challenging intent. As he charges at the door with all his rage, moments that led up to this moment started rushing into his thoughts. His greatest battles, his greatest allies and his family. All thoughts unshakably portraying the man worthy of his power. Two swift strikes and the door's hinges bare no resistance. The werewolf's strength is unmatched, the door rips apart into several pieces. 

Wooden planks and splinters fly out into the open woods as the man, baring destruction in his path emerges from the hallway where few have walked. His countenance raise to stare across the murky skies where Luna shines her brightest. She peeks down at her lover and a gentle smile forms onto her lips. She has longed for this moment, her champion's return. The man meets eyes with her, for his intentions were pure. He has fought valiantly to share this moment with her. An emotion that has brewed for over two decades has finally become potent as ever. His wife, descended the skies, caressing the leaves of mighty oak tress to meet her most faithful. She takes upon the form of a beautiful woman, dressed in ice-white. They embrace and kiss. And as they share a passionate moment, Luna is drenched in the colors of his energy.   

red blogpost#20

Red, the most vibrant of them all. The shade that signifies power, fury and anger. The color of the blood coursing through our veins. It stands for danger and alertness. And as some of us humans like to live life on the edge, the color draws us towards it, grabbing our attention quicker than any else. A natural calling towards a spectrum of light that our eyes can perceive. Some stray away from it while some charge towards it like a bull to the matador, who is also flaunting red. How can we have so much emotion linked to a color? Perhaps it’s our primal senses. Maybe seeing something that runs under our skin latches out for our attention.

Pulling up to an intersection in the middle of a hazy, deserted night. Glancing over both shoulders and seeing nothing that refrains you from moving forwards. Nothing, but the red light of the traffic signal, basking you in its glow, shining against the rain drops that trickle on the windshield of your car. With each passing second, the sheer agony from your shoulder intensifies. Covered in the dampness of your shirt, you reach to soak your fingertips. You click your tongue as your pull your palm below your chin to see the same color smeared against your palm, red. You can almost taste the iron. One bright shade, insinuating danger if you were to cross the intersection recklessly, one dark shade compelling you to drive off to stop the pain sooner.

You remain, deciding to not risk any more danger but a glint of red shines against your rear view mirror, radiating off the siren of a police car advancing your way. You change your mind and your boot settles the pedal against the floor. A blaring truck horn passes as you rush the intersection, fading behind you as you catch speed. A chill flows through your spine, all the way to your tailbone. The needle on your dashboard that signifies how fast you’re going is crossing into the red zone, a danger zone for your car. But there’s larger things at stake. As time passes by, your shirt becomes damp all across your chest and the vision begins to go dark like the night skies around you. With trees racing past you on both sides, you rush. You reach into the glove box to get a hold of your painkillers but your fingers prick against something, looking over you see the set of roses you bought at the store you’ve just robbed. A familiar shade of red brings a smile across your face. You fade into the darkness and you decide to shut your eyes, no longer wanting to know how far your headlights can throw its beam.

 The next thing you know, you open your eyes to find your world upside down and dust settling around you. The same taste of iron by the edge of your lips as blood flows down your neck and makes its way to your hair. The only thing holding you in place is your seat-belt and the gunshot to your shoulder is the last of your worries. A vehicle in red and white is all you see through the shattered windshield as your eyelids feel the weight of your night. The last thing you feel is the grasp of an arm reaching in to help you. You peek to notice the same roses against his wrist, the same shade of red on the tattoo. Existence is beyond you now, you begin to enjoy the silence, hoping it lasts.

Language blogpost#19

Language, the most powerful invention in the world. an absolutely stunning tool that man has given birth to, far sharper and stronger than any other he can wield. the possibilities are not just limited to a swirl of the vocal chords. you can use it with a mere flick of your finger or the arch of an eyebrow. the method used by the youngest of children to ask for food and the oldest sages to call upon the divines. the same tool being employed with different levels of comprehension and control. a way to convey your intent and idea. be it through action which is body language or by wording which is verbal language. magic. 

i find people who speak multiple languages to be very attractive and intelligent. for you have your way with a weapon so influencing, i couldn’t match if i had six arms with an armament of the worlds most damage-inducing blades or bullets. assigning meaning to the way your vocal chords tingle and dance to form words, the same way gargle or a cough manages to do so, but here, you chose to pick the sounds you wish to assign meaning to. not all of them but most of them. 

imagine how powerful the people who created these languages were. they are sole decision makers to the birth of something so precious and marvellous, they should be named Gods. 
here, i’d like to discuss something i came across while basking in a profound flow of thinking. the language hindi and it’s phonetically similar cousin languages have something in common. a beautiful language it is, the way certain words and sounds swirl the tongue and roll over in various nooks of the mouth. 

the word “kal” has two meanings, dependent on the way it’s uttered. tomorrow or yesterday. but if you were to dissect the word down to its rawest form, it has no meaning. and by no meaning, i mean it doesn’t have a definite meaning. it has either none or multiple. because i used standalone words in english for you to understand it. what if i just said “kal”?  

the small humour that the creators of this powerful language decided to play. they chose to accept a certain phonetic vocalisation to be a hindi word but has no meaning on its own. pure gibberish. if i said “harabarabarabal”, you say it’s pure gibberish cause that certain group of sounds do not possess any meaning in any known language, or atleast to my investigation lol. the makers of hindi decided kal would be worthy enough to be accepted into the language but it’d just stay gibberish until someone associated a motion or another word to it to give it tone and meaning. “kal milenge dost” and “kal hogeya tha” have different meanings that employ the same result. 

accepted gibberish isn’t it? my roomate who is equally ascended at this very moment in time has a different opinion. he says hindi is a very positive language and by default it looks forwards. therefore, the word “kal” on its own means tomorrow. and you’d need to add more words to make it mean yesterday. what do you think? 

faces. blogpost#18

there you sat, melting into the melodies that your speaker sings. you’re flowing into the groove of a younger self, where life was much simpler. you wish you could go back to your past every time you listen to a song that made you recall a certain phase. imagine having a playlist on your phone, all songs individually representing each frame, each year of your life. a journey into your mind's library, you will see pages flipping past you during a difficult exam of middle school. another one reminding you that sad bus ride home after a heartbreak. and finally, one to help you recall the happiness rushing in as your mother plants a kiss onto your cheek. here, you zone back into reality and realize how wrong it has gone. suddenly, your phone screams the name of your old buddy and for a few seconds, your mind frowns and puts on a disguise of comfort as you inform them you’re alright. a face to put on even to your closest friends. i ask you this, if you had one shot to go back and do everything again. at what price?