Thinking on the move - A Serene Submission

Lounging out in the backyard, feeling the cold nipping at my toes, I am led to believe that it is for nights like these that philosophers live. Surrounded by such harmony, as if the heavens hear you out and do your bidding, one cannot help but feel eternally fortunate and humble. The great sky above hiding an army of stars, nebulae, galaxies and black holes and other cosmic wonders that I am too ignorant to understand. It saddens me to think how my meager capabilities cannot afford to help me even begin to understand what lies beyond. A wealth of cumulative knowledge to base upon and ponder, lies at my feet, and yet I stay a mere fool who turns his step at the slightest breeze that happens to graze against my fickle skin. Curiosity lies gasping for breath under several heavy folds of seemingly worthy desires; such is the folly, the vanity, that I yearn for the sugar of a rotting apple in a blossoming orchard.

Shadows cast themselves governed by immutable laws on plastic chairs, made by machines of steel, hissing and snarling under concrete buildings - all of them conceived and brought into existence by the mere sparks of a limitless mind as it toils away. Perhaps towards a higher errand that is worthier and greater than what we are capable of perceiving at this point in this apparently pointless game. Who am I to take on this challenge of unraveling the eccentricities of a supreme will that passes majestically, unaltered and oblivious, despite our zealous attempts at affecting a change. Having understood all of this, if I call it foolishness to go on, I should also understand that it is outright sinful to submit and stop. Right here, in this room of thought, lies what is probably the central dilemma that stifles and inspires us at the same time.

Given that we submit to what's transpiring all around us, we would fail if we were to cease our attempts at understanding our surroundings. We would most definitely fail if we were to stop appreciating the complexities and intricacies that are incessantly unfolding and folding back into themselves. We are all staring at and dreaming of purpose on a tiny piece that is all of a speck in a giant jigsaw puzzle. The immeasurable cruelty of this situation being that, this speck is all we have. Riding on the pomp and self assumed grandeur of our feeble steeds, we wish to give birth to a shrewd eagle that will carry us to a higher ground. A vantage point where we may gaze upon a more meaningful picture before we set out again to quench a never-ending thirst for purpose where there maybe none.

May the novelty never die, may the glint of a far-fetched notion of completion ever spur us on like a distant island of diamonds, may the wind restlessly ebb us on to a purported haven where lie the answers to all our disquieting questions - may we always find beauty in our paths that lead us to a destination which is no destination at all.

Thinking on the move - A blotch of ink

Money, relationships, food, people and places - they all get gobbled up, assimilated and spit-out without  making even as much as a blotch on the answer sheet. I continue to wonder if this is nothing but a passing phase in the cycle of development and ruin of the mind. Did my parents feel this same way at some point in their life? "Of course they did", I tell myself. Or could it be that I have been gifted the liberty of this thought, the price for which my parents paid with priceless sacrifices?

And what of the multitudes of unfortunate folk that struggle still to fill up their family's plates, once a day? Are their minds stuffed stiff with worries and numbed by the coldness this world shuns them with? Do they feel happiness? What is their motivation here? Screw that! What is MY motivation here?

Semi-anchored to a quasi-stationary continuum of time, kept afloat by a source-less desire to learn and tied down by material and emotional bonds alike, what the hell am I supposed to be achieving now? Given the blunt truth that points to the sheer cliff of purposelessness, am I supposed to find a way up and yonder? Am I just an incremental change in an extremely long series of mutations that will one day create an all-knowing being, at the culmination of evolution? Is there something more to me than the throw-away trinket that time makes of me? If this is indeed the way of the world, where do expectations, love and emotions fit in?

Giving it some thought, I am led to believe that these are all implements devised to goad an individual to push oneself harder and harder, sometimes against all odds. Maybe these are all a means to an end, just like my salary, my job and status in society. Society in itself being a continuously evolving contraption, a social structure that dictates norms, urging the majority to fall in line on one hand and at the same time, stirring deep a rebellious potion within some, to construct a recursive, ever raising bar of desirable achievement.

If this is indeed the truth, I must set out on a quest immediately. A quest for perfection or something like it, of the mind. And to give my mind all the time I can, I will probably need to keep the material body, now a mere carrier, healthy and capable. But I forget about the worldly distractions that hound me incessantly, that smile at me from the sidewalk, ever enticing me to digress. Soon I will have to discover a meaning and purpose for all these aspects of life that I now conveniently yet unwillingly label as distractions. Until the time that I am able to do so, I must think, read, question, whet my brain, and revel in the joys of learning. This for now must undoubtedly be my immediate and unwavering goal.

Leaving Bangalore

How can I tell you
About the cool evening breeze
That floats in through the window
Like a deep pleasant dream.

About how the sombre clouds
Burst open and cry for me
As if the merry birds did fly,
And bear tidings that I would leave.

Potted plants in the dusk do sway,
A sight so fine, I have to sigh
As red bricks turn redder still
From the rain that for once, lights a blazing fire.

The streets are alive with piquant nostalgia
As the smell of fresh bread wafts into the air
Oh how these corners dance with yesterday's pictures
Midst vendors and their varied fare

So many fond words, faces and memories
I need to leave behind yet again.
Damned be these farewells if they
Do not ride on the wings of pain.

Keep breathing, keep heaving dear bangalore,
Soaked in your spirit, may life sail on.
May laughter ring in your bittersweet streets
And adorn the veils of a sulking dawn.

Insignificance

Why is it so surprising
to see treason in your eyes?
Were we all not already meant to
Speak this language of lies?

Treading upon each other
To claim a hollow victory
Spitting at another's castle
From a black burning tree.

Rat race, some call it,
Ambition it is to some.
Sometimes a resolve to win,
And sometimes a smokin' gun.

Spare me and my hazy world
From your schemes and designs.
I'd  rather wonder and wander
Smoke, laugh, drink and dine.

In the cold clutches of the material mace,
Speeding to catch a blazing train,
Did you find the diamonds you were after?
Did the brazen gold ease your pains?

Oh! would that I were a free man
Free from this toxic clay
I wonder how it would all be
Outside this rehearsed play.

Many before me have had this ague
I'm sure this thought has travelled its course
I guess I'll need my copper coins,
To unravel the mysteries of an untamed force.

That binds us all in this vivid dream,
Daring the mind to leap and trust.
Led by mere projections and cues,
Into an eternity sprawled beyond the crust.

A cosmic game gets underway
With twinkling stars and thunderous chimes.
I sail a heavy, purposeless ship,
Knowledge, my anchor in this sea of time.

Recurring doubts

Visions of tomorrow
Deep in your marrow
Churning a yarn
Black and white.

Ghosts in the dawn
Of a widening frown
Searching the haystack
For an elusive respite.

Grease and grime
Tears and ticking time
Gears of the world,
Forever slowly grind.

Mirages in the night,
Awaken sordid dreams
With golden paths ahead
And gray clouds behind.

If I were to live
And live like you
Would I know happiness?
Will I know love?

Or do I tread
A lonesome path
And strive for the grail,
At the cost of a normal life?

Submission

I'm often told
There's a way things unfold,
That ruled by creases and lines,
This enchanted journey unwinds.

Neither have I crafted
Nor tried to affect a change
For I dont think I know yet
Of where I'd rather be.

Than right now in this moment
That I'm blessed with,
Right here in this gray limbo
Of duties and of dimensions.

So much to comprehend
Beyond the shadows of every  bend
Would that I was gifted enough,
To choose and be chosen.

Lost beyond reasonable doubt,
Intricate bonds fetter my soaring thought.
I'm guilty as charged,
I'm guilty for not giving it my all.

Submission comes easier to me
Than the will to pave my roads.
Moderation resides deep within,
The walls of an extraordinary facade.

I'll forever be a fool I know,
Incapable of making a difference,
Yet, I trudge to bring meaning,
To a life that's not just my own.

Forever in debt,
Forever in doubt,
Fueled by a fickle whim
I'm lost, completely lost.