Waswas!

I have authored so many books, I’ve given so many inspiring lectures, I’ve been a major player in achieving freedom from the oppressor, and I’ve even fulfilled the wishes of my parents but never I have been able to see what happened after I achieved these feats and sometimes when I am aloof from those busy minds, when I get time to ponder over the unfinished conversations with them I tend to think irrespective of my resistance-which was never strong to resist compassion - I  think and I am instantly immersed in a reverie accompanied with beautiful things and everytime I get stuck and couldn’t see beyond that darkened wall. It seems to  prevent me from witnessing the other side and I fail to find an answer and then I solace myself that perhaps it is in order for me to understand that I would never be able to achieve these Feats or I haven’t done enough even to be worthy of fantasizing about what lies beyond!

You make me truthful!

Dear Beloved,

Here I stand submerged in the blackness 
of the night waiting for the morn 

As if a red rose is awaiting for the rays to   fall on it only to make its ‘naked beauty’ wrapped in dew drops visible to the human eye”

Your effect is fading with the slowness of the darkness.

It is like an intoxicated person coming to sobriety, 

The only difference is the awareness!

And the unawareness of the recurrence of this prolonged colored darkness.

Though the feeling can’t be figured out clearly at the moment but there is a weariness and independence – soon to be realized.

The remembrances are concealed by the opaque veil or perhaps they have come to know of their unworthiness to be remembered.

It is strange but there is no anxiousness, no remorse, and no regret but there is a satirical myriad of thoughts constantly brewing and continuing to emanate as if all this was done knowing the fate of this virtual so called sojourn.

If you are pointing out to the symptoms which somehow happen to arise then don’t be judgmental as these are the ones of care and worry shown once as after all I am a lesser mortal like you all there and forgive me for my flaws for there are manifold.”

The memory has not yet entirely vanished but  it now comes as an infliction and like concrete bars are piercing my head only to put me asleep perhaps acting in a way as 
if making it easy for me to abhor them.”

Random!

What kind of drudgery is it? To keep yourself preoccupied with someone without letting the person know! Isn't it unfair... Isn’t silliness! An ailment.

Howcome someone hover over your being.. Divide your senses... And howcome someone Confine your imagination upto the same person’s likes, dislikes, worries, wishes, hopes and plans.

Howcome someone's voice be an elixir and silence and venom at the same time.
Howcome someone be so big to render all your dreams into minuscule atoms only to be seen by you!

After all what does one wish for other than the place in that other person's heart, the realization of the amount of care, affection, worry, compassion, and anxiousness one feels about the same person.

How painful is it to know about that other person's unknowing about what you believe with all your heart that it is in the knowledge of the other person.

Response!   

Response!   

The Mute trunk with all its awareness and knowledge of the injustice, suppression and chaos created by the so called ‘peacekeepers’, still has something to cheer up for its’ doing all it can and doing it well. Moreover, what isn't in its purview for it stands like a standalone creature enjoying its own Grandeur - frequently made known to it when a bird from a different world – a world where emotions are understood without expressing them, rest on its lofty branches - neighboring clouds to take a stock of the conditions below only to be disappointed by the noise and futile preoccupations around; and contended with its river of humility whose waves are set in motion when its roots are trampled by a weak mortal.

It stands witness since ages with no dilution, with no burden to express the same, with vivid visions and details of nightmares and dreams forgotten everytime one is awake. It expresses rather everything in its own way and moulds itself in color often made visible by the highhandedness of the oppressor and with a color of sublimity depicted by the suppression of the oppressed. It becomes deserted like being left alone when your companion is snatched – It presents an epitome of empathy without boasting of doing any favor to its fellow distinct beings.

The strength may appear to be its weakness rather as it doesn’t know what to do with its vast amount of knowledge imbibed through the suffocating air and dark light and if at all it knew it can’t do anything to change the course of this mis(administration) interim though.

BUT it isn’t true as it is detached from its weakness by a greater weakness of ours for again, if we would have only been aware of our weaknesses. But Alas!

It is a terrible drudgery to pursue what is not destined for us, what we are not worth of and what we attain and get swelled by the pride of attaining the same thing though only a mirage, which when known leaves us, desolated with nothing but pain to writhe in its waves.

I was too preoccupied with the young minds inebriated by things - which no matter what, at the end of the day will translate or reincarnate  themselves into words like lust, power, and material well-being though entrapped in the disguise of freedom and development – always whirling and left with nothing other than ‘doubt’ of being ‘right’ or wrong, ‘good’ or bad, honest or a fool,  ‘wise’  or ‘boring’, ‘reasonable’ or ‘diplomatic’ pious or pedantic, social or opportunistic and suppressed or  spineless.  

I fails to forget the streams, those mountains and the greenery which soothes our eyes and intoxicates a person with the physical recalcitrant appeal but at the same time the same streams - streams of ominous liquid of souls irrespective of their age, gender and region; and the streams of saline water shed on their loss, the mountains of grief, separation, loneliness, betrayal and failure hidden under the clouds of virtual goals, objectives, illusions and hallucinations of the virtual world. The greenery accompanied with daffodils which exhibit a serene view to the melancholic tombs of those who were deleted by the erasers, sharp enough to go through their hearts and make them forgotten and render their significant others insignificant, ensuring to  arrange for your rendezvous with yourself and make you smile a mysterious smile. A smile comprised of the ‘eternal debt and sacrifices above appraisal’ though their smiles were made static and their dear ones' (smiles) vanish at the same time. They have been pushed into subconscious perhaps unconscious waiting for that irresistible thunderous shrill enough to awaken it from the depths of our slumber.

It is with these and many other traits which one hesitates to draw out of my shame and humiliation and surrenders oneself to that ultimate strength of the ‘Mute Trunk’ and resort to not what one is capable of doing but what one feels easier out of the same weakness.

That is to put one’s sadness, dilemmas, doubts, fears, fights, apprehensions and beliefs onto paper in an endeavor to look at these and always put one’s contentment into question!!!!!!!!

 (…………..Still)