Black

Happiness is not money,
And they’ve said so,
But what if money could buy you happiness?
They said, sure, it can.
I asked,
What if you don’t have time to buy it?
They kept quiet.

I’ve realized over time,
It doesn’t really matter,
What you do or where you go,
Or where you are, and how you do,
It only matters if you care,
About what you do,
And if what you do,
Cares about you.

For no one really cares how the day is,
Bright, cloudy, sunny, or rains,
But when the black of night sets in,
And when you want to dream,
Will the dreams come easily to you,
Or will you have to struggle?
That matters.

Static

I wonder how it would be,
If something lasted forever,
Just like it is,
And if everyone accessed it commonly,
No separate quotas for everyone.
I wonder if we could take inspiration,
From how we share the sunlight,
And shared our wisdom, and our abilities,
Towards the development of ourselves.
Where people are not focused,
On trying to snatch out,
The biggest slice of a cake,
Because all the slices are cut equally,
Where gambling is just a word,
To exchange money, without losing it,
If everything were common,
Like the soil and the air,
How I wish I could have said,
Nature itself is static,
But now we do not share it anymore,
We are busy trying to make the best for ourselves,
It is a rat race,
A race which no one can win,
And yet all try,
And lose so much in the process,
Before learning to give in,
Before realizing that it is not really worth it,
Because by the time we realize,
It is too late,
We are probably on our death-beds.
And we try to tell our children,
Don’t fall for it like I fell in,
But we already know they won’t listen to us,
‘Cause they are already too busy running in the race.

Nine

It is only when you have achieved everything you can that you realize that you have yet not achieved so many other things. Isn’t that ironic? And ironic though it is, it is true. “Nine” symbolizes the end of the path, the last rung of the ladder, the pinnacle of glory, the achievement of your ambition, the completion of your goal, and the end of a journey. In my case, it is the end of ‘Decagon’. But life is a decagon, and a decagon has no open ends. Reaching Nine means you will go back to Zero next. When you have accomplished everything you can at a place, that is your motto: to start afresh with something new and see yourself to winning laurels and gaining glory in that field as well. That, is the essence of life – going round and round in the same cycles, but with different circumstances. And we do that ever so often, without even realizing that we ourselves are making new turns of the cycle. And these turns are all connected. It is a mesh of decagons, tangled with each other, a decagon of your personal life, one for your professional career, one old one gathering dust and cobwebs back from your high school, another fresh one from college, one from the social network which has so many unknown people you cannot even begin to list them. And entangled amongst all of these, like the pivot for a see-saw, like the center of gravity towards which the universe moves, is you.

Throughout this journey, I have tried to open up more as an individual and grow closer to all of you. I want to know each and every one of you, from where you come, what you do, how we are connected, why you write what you write. Have we met ever? Will we? There are so many unanswered questions, so many uncertainties in life. Heisenberg once put forward an uncertainty principle. We are going away from the topic. Let’s come back now. So yes, now that we have come to the end of this category, it is time for the vote of thanks. I would like to thank each and every one of you for your insights, comments, likes, reads, short messages and whatever I have accumulated in the past few weeks. The last two weeks have been really momentous for me. We keep writing things, never knowing the consequences of our posts. This blog and these posts helped me make a new friend, Amy, who is now a co-author too. I tend to get bored while writing, post too less when the work pressure is high, but small inspirational comments, and tiny happy remarks make my day. I feel exhilarated to realize that somewhere in another corner of the world, someone is reading this right now, and may smile if it reminds him or her of something that is precious to them. For that is the only motive for me writing. To be happy and to make others happy.

I will come back soon with another set of posts, another category, another experience, another poem, another story. I will persevere and make this blog better than what it is. And I will see it rise one day to Freshly Pressed, but until then, I must be patient. I must weave this web gently, much like a spider. There are two kinds of webs a spider makes, one when it is hungry, it is stickier and helps others stick to it so that it gets fed, one when it is well-fed, that one is stronger, and although it is not sticky, it is tough to break it, and the spider feels protected. I have to decide which kind of web to choose, and I have to decide if I am already well-fed or if I am still hungry. But until then, I will be happy, because that is what is most important. Bye for now!

Previous: Eight

Eight

Hurrah, this is my 300th post on this blog! 😀 Finally got to one of my goals.

It is perhaps rightly said that too many cooks spoil the broth. Too many wishes destroy the mind. Greed and avarice. Selfishness and being self-consumed. Too many plans for one day result in none getting completed. Too much of information never gets stored on a small memory card. We may try to outnumber ourselves to seek the better of us, but quite often, nature sets its limits for us. We have to, and compulsorily must, adhere to these limits, or see ourselves to our doom.

Eight represents the penultimate shell, the last rung of the ladder in a sense. You’ve come far up now, from the base, from Zero, from where you started. Yet, you must keep in mind that you might be close to the top now, but aren’t at the top yet. You must still strive as much as you did when you were on the first rung, because, because if you fall now, it will hurt hard. A scrape when you fell from the first rung, but now you might fracture a bone, you may even die. Why will you, though? You can simply jump and get on the highest rung, get to the top, everyone below you, a dream fulfilled. But no, you should not do that just now. You must wait, and be patient, for there is someone already there, waiting to stamp at your hands whilst you hold on to the rung, and push you down so that you would have to climb the whole journey again. And so you must be patient. You will find the use of all the virtues that you have learned but never implemented. The ones below you will give you all their support, and you would think that it is because they want you at Nine, but no, it is only because they want themselves at Eight, at your place. And when you fall, do you think they will come down with you? No, they will shove themselves like dogs fighting for a bone, the one you left happily for them.

But don’t be dismayed. You won’t have to wait much for Nine. If you’ve reached this far, you will make it to there. You definitely will. A blind man has only four senses, yet he makes such good use of them, that it is almost as if he had all five of them. You must not only make-do with what you have right now, but make the best possible use out of them, and you will see the rays of the sun, as you climb out of this well, into the sunlight, into the grasslands, and dry yourself in the morning sun, from the waters that you’ve been trapped in for such a long time. And you will smile, as you wipe the moss off your face, as you bathe again in fresh waters, as you run and free your tied legs, and as you see things in color, not anymore in black and white.

Seven | Nine

Craving

Wasn’t there a time when we really craved
For each other?
When we could not spend a moment apart,
When all we thought was about each other,
And the times that we were together,
We created so much of hotness,
That we could not handle it ourselves?
What happened to all of that,
Why is everything so cold now?
Where is the craving, and why have I lost it,
As much as you have?
We still love each other, right?
Or do we not?
I am really not sure about it,
But that raw feeling, like a winter breeze on a naked shoulder,
I miss that, and I know you do so too.
Am I being too straightforward here?
Should I wrap this entire thing up in cotton candy,
So that it is easier for you to gulp in?
Am I being rude, ’cause I don’t think so,
I just want to tell you tonight,
That may be, may be,
We could recreate it somehow,
Time-travel back to those days,
See how we did it, how we really liked it,
And how much different it is now.
The path we’ve taken is horrendously wrong,
You know it, and I know it,
But even so,
We keep walking, nervous much to retreat,
Because we really do not know,
If at all after we get back to the starting point,
We will find another road,
Or if this is the only path possible,
And then we would not want to redo this,
Because no one rereads a book that he knows will end sadly.

Seven

It has been almost a month since I posted the last post in Decagon, and Seven is out now. Seven is the most special post for me, and it is because seven has been my lucky charm number since childhood. I remember how when we were small, we had this Children’s Day Fair at our school. For those who don’t know, in India, the fourteenth of November is celebrated as Children’s Day. It is the birthday of our first Prime Minister of independent India, Mr Jawaharlal Nehru. So the schools usually try to make this day special for us; sometimes they show the children a movie, sometimes the teachers perform for us, you know, like dances and one-act-plays. We used to have all this, and along with these, we had a ‘Mela’ or a fair. This fair was only for students, conducted by all the teachers. There were food stalls and game stalls, and a ‘request corner’ where people could dedicate songs to others purposefully and anonymously. The others would keep dancing there, because most of us, at that time, were relatively middle-class people. We did not like to spend much on the fair, so after a while when our money got over, all of us used to come and dance. That was fun. Sometimes a teacher would join us in dancing, before returning to her stall. ‘Her’ because most of our male teachers did not dance, ever. Oh, I almost forgot to mention how seven being my lucky charm is even remotely connected to this.

It was in my class seventh that I first fell for someone. I really liked her a lot, but I could never muster up the courage to go tell her. A year later, in our eighth grade, the same girl dedicated a song to me at the request corner on Children’s Day, and that is when I got to know she liked me too. The entire affair was very short-lived, I was a lamb back then, too afraid to speak up, too afraid to say or do anything, and too concerned with what others would think about me. Turned out that wasn’t girls really looked forward to. Once we broke up, things were never the same again. We stayed friends, got disconnected when we changed schools in the eleventh grade, got back through a tuition class, but never dated again. It was strange how I had mustered up all the courage to take it forward and again lost it in a matter of months.

Seven is the number of evil, much like three. The Seven Deadly Sins, also known as the Capital Vices or Cardinal Sins, is a classification of the most objectionable vices that has been used since early Christian times to educate and instruct followers concerning (immoral) fallen humanity’s tendency to sin. I read about these four years back, and it is a really nice article which shows the development of this theory and how the seven sins have changed over time. I never posted it here because it was not an original article, but I can provide you a link to it, if you ask; but I am sure most of you already know about the seven sins. Martin in his books is very fond of the number seven, he has seven kingdoms, seven knights, seven Gods, and as per latest news, there will be seven books; if things are kept in concordance, there will be seven seasons of the television show it is being churned into right now, though I really hope Martin really lives that long to tie up all loose ends of the book.

February is already here. A month over; this year is moving faster than I thought it would, and rather uneventful. Time passes fast when you do not have memorable things to count at the end of the month. It may be so only because of the work pressure that is trying to bury each of us deep down, but as they say, one hand cannot clap. You need two hands, similarly, you need efforts from both ends, much towards the same goal, so that the resultant force does not become zero because of opposing forces, but doubles due to aligned ones. Have a great month ahead!

Six | Eight