Contextual abstraction

So near, yet so far
Floundering over the piles and heaps
Of the end before a start

Paths and choices –
Seem to be omnipresent:
It would be a good time
To find the “dao”

Such an alien concept
Of giving up something
To gain something more
But what is more?
And what is less?

Benign tragedies of a
Lonely heart and a bereaved mind
Clusters of thoughts evaporating
As soon as they appear –
Making even more sense
Of an eclectic world

Colourless banter

The hues of green and brown
Trespassed by the smoke of human travel
A voice within, several outside
Making their peace with the burdens of life

Jibber-jabber: The scheme of things
Don’t justify the noise
All voices echoing the uncertainty,
Of mind, body and soul.

The comfort you need
To smile and stare emptily
Without a word inward or out –
Takes a stretch of will and imagination

Mindless banter, egotistical eyes;
Reflection can be more thoughtful at times,
It’s easy to whisper, hard to contain
The calmness of being one with Nature.

Wayside Countryside

Check-in –
What’s the time?
Are we ready to party out just yet?

Ingest nature’s sorrows
And turn it into our happiness
While waiting for black to turn white

Running away –
From the light of sound
Of the everyday mundane blues

Trying to capture
A picturesque moment for you
While searching for an alibi

Yesterday’s mystery and tomorrow’s history
Creating this void of time
Which is weaned away – high

Check out –
Where are we?
Can I forget everything now?

Painted Gray

It’s almost worrisome that the
Only annoying thing is a
Fan on full blast in the distance –
While life holds on pause…

What do you feel?
When you realize that
The enemy’s premonition
Did contain some validity?

All thoughts interwoven
To form a meaningful whole;
So much morality upheld
That it almost seems like an arcane world.

Finally discovering the beauty
Of presence in a time and place
Of question and answer
Of irrelevant conversation
That makes a star.

Insipid Countenance

And you think that all I ever wanted
Was a proof to make me happy;
That someone told me that
I was the chosen One.

And you say that amidst this hieroglyphics
Is some sentiment of vile emotion –
And that I moulded my solitude
From the present clay of nothingness

And you promise me of a future
That will wither away with distance and time
And ever so craftily
Look impeachable and benign.

Or maybe it’s just me:
It’s time to raise my hand –
But does it really matter?
Maybe just for some hollow satisfaction…

The Other Side

With the ticking of time
Does everything you ever stood for
Fade away into a distant dream
Along with the innocence of a child

All the illusions
That you thought to be true
And you held so dear
Crushed in the epiphany of a moment

The hope and ambition
Of a rosy distant future
Crashed by the sudden reality
Of this portentous today.

All the past yesterdays
Seems so brightly coloured
By the magic of the mind
The grass is always greener
On the other side.

Questions

How real is the “real world” out there?

How bad is the “big bad world” out there?

Why do we believe what we believe?

Who says what is right and what is wrong?

Why are there systems and boundaries?

Why do most of us work under the influence of some sort of existentialism?

And what is the end purpose to such a life with norms?

Apart from reasoning, what separates us from a herd of sheep?

Do we even implement “ethical” reasoning in a rational manner?

What is time?

Who am I?

Growing Old

These creases on your face –
Run deeper.
The wounds in your body –
Heal slower.

These nights you sleep –
Are shorter.
The hours you work –
Much longer.

The zest for life –
Getting weaker
The motivation to start something new –
Already slimmer.

And all you want to do is –
Just get by.
And at the end of the week –
Get high.
And that keeps you content –
For a while.
Before you start asking why?
And stare blankly at the sky.

Disparity

A dank corner under a thatched roof,
Sniffling, cowering by the side
Trembling caused by the force of the immortal
Nature is not by your side.

The cold envelops
Your senses and might
The rags that were on you
Are for your brother tonight.

And before the morning shows
You will be collecting water
To make that hot tea, you’re bound
By the society, there’s no showdown.

Just as the sun is on the horizon
You’re off to clean the waste
No respite for illness and weakness
For that’s what you’re told of life.

Questions come and go by
As you gaze in wonderment
At the Sultans and Sahibs of the other world
Hoping someday, you’ll understand why!

Why you’re collecting water and cleaning waste,
Why you’re bequeathed with only rags and pans
While they have their Mahals and cricket bats
Why you’re here and not there.

But really, child –
I can’t say you’re not better off:
No, only in this superficial physical state of disparity:
For ultimately, the both of you will have the same questions
And the both of you will rest in time.

And then it would not have mattered whether
He ate millet balls or gold dust
Neither of you were able to able to answer the question of time
And we all go through our cycles one more time.

The end of an era

You had given up on me
Even before I left
So it was hard for you
To even welcome me
Every aspect of life replaced.

A paradigm shift of sorts
You craved for your space and time
When all I tried to do
Was pull you aside and back in time,
To show you the old world.

Remember the time and place
When none of what you care about now
Even mattered in the slightest
The meaning of life was something more
And our hopes reached far beyond.

I may never understand
As to why you settles for the mundane
And stayed stubborn, not to budge
When all you had to do
Was open your eyes and see the world.

And now you’re resigned to your fate
Wanting hackneyed sentiments fulfilled
Thinking that the basic is unfulfilled
Not realizing that there’s a destiny
Far beyond: Calling out to you.