Time and What We Know As Life


Sometimes you encounter forces so great and abusive, far beyond what is human and explainable, that you are confused whether you have to accept your imminent defeat or if you have to put all doubts about the reality of comparative strengths, and fight against the perceived injustice, which, for all we know, seems to drag on till the end, the end of either hope, or of breath. Without you knowing, you become a coward by persisting to be brave. Without you realizing, the principles you lived-by form a death trap you are destined to step on. Without you feeling, you become empty of the very emotions that once defined everything for you. Just when you realize you are too tired and cannot fight, the force pushes you down an abyss that you believed cannot go any deeper than where you already are. You are overridden with rage, that even in the moments that you believe are your last ones, the force still expects you to put up a fight. The rage helps you recover some sanity, and strength, and fight a little longer before everything circles back to your waning hope and tiring soul. It is as if the force throws you down a very deep abyss and the only way out is that you, a human, must grow wings to get out of the darkness and gloom. All the poems you wrote about flying don’t really mean anything, unless of course you find someone who makes you believe that you are not actually falling, but flying. Well, that again brings everything to the great and abusive force that snatches your only light, and the whole things repeats till the end, the end of either hope, or breath.

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‘Cooking Me’ For Dummies


Weekly Writing Challenge: A Pinch of You

This week, we want a window into the complexity that is you. We want the recipe for all the bits and pieces and quirks and foibles and loves that make you you.

This is going to be long, brace yourself.


Although my recipethe medoes has flesh as one of its large number of ingredients, it is vegetarian. So, you can expect to find a  , somewhere on my body, although I’d highly recommend that you don’t go searching for it. I simply can’t seem to make a list of all the ingredients that make the recipe. Even the thought of making such an effort is sucking away all the vitamins from me.

*Suddenly, a magnet enters the creation room*
Oh! No! Stop! Stop! Noooo!!! Not my iron, nooooo!
*Magnet escapes with the loot*
Why me! Why is the world so cruel and unfair!

Low on iron, the recipe was going to end up being tall and skinny, being able to both reach for the high apple in the garden of Eden and being blown away by a quiet breeze right before I pluck it. Darn! Someone added fate without my knowledge and I hardly know what effect it will have on the final recipe. Who was it? Is he the one who sent the magnet? Why? 

Later, by a happy accident, philosophy slipped into the cauldron in which raw good and evil were getting cooked at such high temperatures, the solution looked redder than what lava would look like if it was blushing. Although at first it did seem like a happy accident, I soon realized that it would have been better if it happened, maybe, 10 years later. The cauldron has been on flame for only 17 years, that poor thing exploded after philosophy got mixed into it, it was like a burden from then on. I looked at the world with disbelief, the stark diversity of a man’s actions, swinging from extreme evil to extreme godliness.

I needed to heal my wounds after that explosion, which kind of caused people to discriminate me, like an untouchable, although not in the complete literal sense. To be precise, the explosion made me an introvert. I added analytical and factual reasoning to my reality, the science of deduction, as Sherlock Holmes would call it. I saw people make choices, I saw what led to their choices, what the choices made them.  It all made sense. I saw people abuse power, I saw humble people crumble to dust. I saw a writing on the wall. But I am only 20, it all weighed too much upon me. I needed to vent these fumes of restlessness, rage and realization. I needed another world.

And I then added love, faith, hope and trust. This helped the ticking bomb in me stay dormant. Nature was always a part of the recipe, what fellow humans couldn’t contribute to my recipe, nature did and with love. Although, sometimes, her fury would scare the crap out of every living thing. But hey, she is not angry for no reason, she has us humans to deal with. Just beside this cauldron was a kettle in which a mixture of experiences was being boiled. The kettle started rattling fervently. Gosh! What is wrong now. Maybe I have to get some experiences off my heart. So I took out a cup of the contents from the kettle and poured it into a mold called writing. It conjured interesting shapes and patterns, and that gave a little peace to my mind in midst of such a buzzing ambiance.

Writing gave my recipe a new dimension, and only then did I realize how much I needed it. Even before my recipe(the me) was complete, which is going to take 40-60 years depending on the course of action humans take to counter the growing insensitivity in humans and the global warming triggered by them, I was able to visit new worlds through imagination and other manifestations of the burning need to express. So, I soon kind of learned the craft of multitasking. I faded in and out of all these worlds, all the same trying to continue completing my recipe in this world. But sometimes I am lost in thought, wondering if I have to regret not taking the orthodox path to cooking. The general approach of the youth in this world, that seems to have so much energy and fun in it. But the reasons why I chose the path I am currently on quickly surface back to the fore and I continue stirring. But my recipe would be incomplete, no matter how much mastery I learn, if all coal became ashes, if all the water is evaporated and if all the fire was dead. What am I saying? That I need help. Love. Trust. Faith. Freedom. They make up the air I breathe and in their absence, I move to my end quickly.


If you made it this far, visitor, then I bow to you and thank you.

I Miss You More Than My Eyes Show…


i miss you more than my eyes show,
my eyes never lie though,
because it is for a good reason that they act so,
nevertheless, good is being done with me watching from a distance, staying low.

i miss you more than my eyes show,
my eyes never lie though,
i am one secret admirer you have now,
i will stay so forever, if the acceptance doesn’t grow.

i miss you more than my eyes show,
my eyes never lie though,
seeds of love i sow,
how and when they get the rain and sunlight is left to nature, to whom i bow.

i miss you more than my eyes show,
my eyes never lie though,
will watch over you like a pure entity, like a rainbow,
for you shall admire me at least as so.

i miss you more than my eyes show,
my eyes never lie though,
i don’t measure distance in feet or words or hugs, but in how much i comprehend what your eyes show,
jacket on or not, new or ragged, there will always be winter’s snow.

i miss you more than my eyes show,
my eyes never lie though,
respect is what my eyes show,
for you can still share it all, the pain, telling me what transpired in life – what?when? and how?

i miss you more than my eyes show,
my eyes never lie though,
i miss you more than you are allowed to know,
sometimes tears flow,
sometimes smiles bubble and blow,
and so all the time, my eyes glow.

i miss you more than my eyes show,
my eyes never lie though.

The Maze – #2 The Maze Runner


Racing behind the mist was the girl with monotonous determination to reach the end of the maze, which she thinks was a quite a simple task. The seamless walls of marble paced past her with no sign of a possible end. She noticed that the marbles grew darker in tone, quite different from the white marble wall at the start of this passageway.

Was that a sign of something? or was it just a natural thing?

She pushed away her thoughts and squinted onto the path ahead. She had been running for almost 10 minutes, or that was what she could estimate, without any change in the surroundings around – the same creeper plants breaking ground and crawling on the side walls of the passageway, the same dense grey mist behind still celebrating its success in luring her into the depths of the maze. She wondered if this was a maze at all, because she ran so much and yet she found no new passageways branching away from the one she started.

She comes to halt and stares in amazement and horror. is someone hearing my thoughts? It is just now i thought there were no branching passageways and suddenly, 6 different ways come out of nowhere.

She slowly observes the new surroundings – there are six passageways, each adjacent to the other with a common dark-toned white marble wall. Each passageway looked similar to the one next to it, but she had a weighted feeling that what she chooses now would be the next most significant thing after her strong will power and psychological endurance.

just as the significance of making the right choice in one’s life. She sighs.

She stands at the edge of the end of the main passageway she came through and idly looks ahead of her, her brain is working.

Its six passageways. So, it is 1,2,3,4,5,6. I think… i would first rule out some of these. i want the passageways which sum upto ’13’. why 13? well, 13 is known and believed to be a horrific number. If i am to choose a path and go through it, i would choose the toughest path.
So there, 6+5+2 is 13 and 6+4+3 is 13 and the rest all combinations need more than 3 passageways to sum upto 13, so i don’t need them. So, 1 is eliminated. The common thing and the highest number is six and
THAT IS WHAT I CHOOSE.

She laughs out loud as if intending to let the surroundings fill with the knowledge of what she chose. She looks at the last passageway, if this choice is wrong, it is nothing when compared to the wrong choices i made in life.

Bracing herself, she dashes into the sixth passageway marking the true starting point of the maze.

was her choice right? was the ’13’ method a foolish one?
she is about to see what she chose.

To be continued…

Note : “The Maze” is the second post in “The Maze Runner”, which is a set of posts. So, for the complete story refer posts which contain a “#” before the name of the series, which suggests the order of that particular post in ‘The Maze Runner’ series. I would be glad to have this reviewed by you. Thank you.
First post : Unwelcome – #1 The Maze Runner