while rummaging through my writings from the past, i found something which i thought can be put up as a posting...this is about 3 years old and from my solitary phase.
Once again, the fragility of all things screamed at me. This time in the form of a road accident which left 4 humans and a machine injured (no deaths, thankfully). They were coming back from a succesful business presentation from Aurangabad to Pune. In fact, a few hours before this accident, we had spoken to them about the meeting which had just got over, and had also cracked some funnies. And a few hours later, we get this phone call informing us about the mishap. We got a shocker...any bubble can burst any fucking moment...then why do we keep struggling inside it? Why do we care, why do we cry, why cant we burst it ourselves, break free and kiss the sun? and while kissing the sun, melt within it and shine for the rest of the earths life? Guess we are weak... thats why, guess we need supports...thats why, guess we all have a purposeless existence... thats why, guess we are mere whims who take themselves too seriously...thats why, or perhaps because we are the cogs of this mammoth machine which is running without a purpose...cogs which can think and feel...this stupid machine fueled by 'time'.
The identities of the 4 and the us mentioned above are inconsequential. They are your regular people from everyday life. actually, these thoughts too are inconsequential but its just that i have to put them down. one has to keep breathing even if he cant predict his death - isnt this the ultimate irony of life?
Every evening a sun rises
Inside my soul,
Beckoning me to wake up
And bathe in its light
I get out of my daydreams,
Brush my mind with some codeine,
Make it ready for the day ahead.
With some coffee and bread.
I hit the roads,
To gather dark snaps of the world,
To hear its muffled eclectic sounds,
With my thoughts wandering around.
Loittering around the night,
I meet one dying morning light,
Getting ready with its sunset.
And i think, 'soon, it'll be time to bed'.
Taking out the pen,
To guide my thoughts into the diary,
I light the last 'cancer' of the night
And start writing by the dying light.
The words melt into a dull slumber
The smoke gets blown away
The slumber melts into sleep
And im back with my daydreams.
posting these words from the past made me happy...how did you feel after reading them?