Rain

Tis a mile away from home

The usual stroll was unusual

For it was pouring in torrents;

Roads turned into rivers

Cars drove like boats

I, drenched from top to bottom,

In gleeful smiles and selfies

The rain energised my soul.

Who knew, a stroll,

A stroll in the downpour

Could be what I needed;

To go soul searching

In the heaviest rains.

A great big world

It’s a great big world out there. 7 billion people. 510 million square kilometres. 8.7 million species of flora and fauna.

Natural wonders, like the Angel Falls, the Norwegian fjords, the Northern Lights and the Amazon rainforest.

Feats of engineering, like the Burj Khalifa, the Eiffel Tower, the Great Pyramids and the Taj Mahal.

Yet here we are. Living and breathing the dust and pollution in a metro of the South. The daily grind having made us robots with flesh and bone. Where is the adventurer? Why is he buried so deep within?

Unleash him. For he be a wandering spirit. A soul seeker. A life giver. He shall take us to places we ought to lay our eyes on. He shall carry us to utopia and back. He shall change our very cores.

Unleash him. Just for a short span. Unleash him, and be rewarded. With such an elixir, that life will not be about the grind anymore. It will be passion. Goodwill. Strength. Hope. Happiness. Peace.

Let the forests bewitch you. Let the rivers enchant you. Let the vast rolling fields calm you.

It’s a great big world out there. Let it see you as an untamed spirit. As a colourful soul. As a human being. Let it see you be alive.

Money

He opens his eyes

A long day ahead lies

Of strife and tire

For people to admire.

.
He toils for hours

Through hurdles he powers

With anger and stress

In fear of regress.

.
He drives many miles

A face devoid of smiles

In thoughts and feelings

Of the month-end dealings.

.
He waits for his paycheck

A lifestyle in a wreck

Months and years of abuse

For fancy pairs of shoes.

Goals


“What do you want in life?”

“Where do you see yourself in 10 years?”

“What do you want to achieve?”

“What is your goal?”

Silly questions encountered far too often. 

Of course, one has to prepare oneself for the future, but that doesn’t necessarily warrant having a ‘goal’ or a final point one must reach. 
I don’t have a goal; doesn’t mean I’m aimless. I shall continue to do whatever I like doing. I’m in control of my life. 

Whatever happened to YOLO and living in the present?

Baggage

Ever wanted a break from yourself?
Be someone else but still be you, but devoid of the baggage you bear?

No.

The baggage you carry is part of who you are and it made you to be who you are.

So if you’re without your baggage, you can’t be you.

Wear your cuts and bruises with the bravery of a soldier, the grace of an athlete and the beauty of a ballet dancer.

For, without them, the word ‘you’ denotes but mere space. Where your identity used to be. 

Who are you?

It is a question a lot of people, including yourself, ask you. What do you say?

Your name. Where you’re from. What you’ve studied. Where you work. And so on. 

While this might suffice as an answer to the average nature of said question, none of it is explanatory of your core identity. I.e., your roots- who you are.

Seldom, for short moments of time, you feel like you belong. To the people around you. To the place where you are. To the world. To yourself.

It has nothing to do with where you are from, what religion you follow or what your parents do. It is much more abstract than that. Much less explainable. 

It is when you are in touch with your roots.

It is when you are you. 

When you are truly fulfilled in every sense. 

The wandering nomad

I am but a wandering nomad

Travelling from corner to corner

Of this hallowed Earth

Much trodden upon

In seeking contentment.

 

I am but a clueless soul

Skipping from dream to dream

Of the expansive mind

Much thoughts thought

In searching truth.

 

I am but a lost being

Stammering from phrase to phrase

Of this oft-used tongue

Much words spoken

In finding meaning.

Having been a jack

But never a master

I be ready and steady

To not run further

To stay and be;

 

Till I find a haven

A place of welcome

Unto where I shall bask

In glory and power

Forever.

Wounds 


“Time heals” I was told.

No it doesn’t. It may provide temporary distractions. But it will never have you forget what you loved and lost. 

Maybe you’re not meant to. Maybe you’re supposed to remember. 

After all, memories of them are what you have left. 

Painful, aren’t they?

Just wake me up when it’s all over.