Nothing….!

Thronged streets, brightened colors..
Fully loaded cafes and people running Marathon
Day equals night with same colors…
Visibility everywhere, but
Mystery knocks and passes…
Nothing remains usual…
Partners share nothing, about life..
Blood mutes, bloodline quite..
Expecting a whip, They lived,
Expecting a whip, They live on…
‘Nothing’ is a relief..
craved by everybody, as it
Rescued many of us,from many of us.
Fathers from children,
society from people,
Religion from faith, They all were saved,
May be for moments, but ignored,
Moments mix the ocean of life…
‘Nothing’ seemed attractive..
nothing else can veil up the truth
Like ‘Nothing’does..
It was always wanted, meant,
Corrected, used, maintained,
And ultimately loved…
Familiarity was it’s genuine
Utility was its feature…
fully enjoyed by its identity..
Every moment, somebody needed it
Even God would go envious,
seeing its demand, envy on its creativity..
nothing is much demanded as ‘Nothing’ is..
Flowing through blood, emotions.
And all the hell it could bear..
Nobody reckoned its presence,
But identified and loved..
‘Nothing’ has reproduced..
It is supplied till the demand meets..
it has copies everywhere, roaring population
Of nothing on Earth,
It drunk all the air, but
We never suffocated,cause we
Wanted it,needed it…
We started breathing it..
At times, it defined the whole of a human,
At times, it defined as the worth of living,
But its identity remained as nothing…
Many reasons found its use,
Many lies found it at the end..
At times, it defined as happiness
At times it defined,As cause of peace,
But its identity remained as nothing
Everybody believed,convinced, relaxed,
And lived happily for Ages..
But its identity still remains as nothing..
‘Nothing’ remained as nothing..
It became everything when,
It meant nothing…
Everybody believed, convinced,relaxed,
And lived happily for ages,
Among a population of nothing,
Earth’s air breathes of a realization,
nothing changes ‘Nothing’..

Privileged or Unprivileged….?

Sometimes after being a sloth for a long time,i set to write something. Unlike other great writers who my mentioning here is not at all justifiable, I have a bad habit of choosing thronged or messy areas to explore my unknown and less confident writing skills. So when i settle for writing something which can be politely reffered as litereary effort in the first sense, my business mind would come up and would do a cost-benefit analysis to check whether my exertion has been justified or not. Eventually this will end up in a trance where i will be holding the much aspired Booker Prize Award with a pompous smile. So many of my writing efforts are disturbed by this ridiculous idea of honouring myself and my skills which i hope is a undiscovered fertile land. When i even walk alone, i imagine strolling with the legends in the path of much aspired triumph which they could score as human recognition.
What is this called? an empirical example of my zodiac explanation as a very ambitious human….! Does being ambitious is a trait of seeing worthless dreams where you have been clapped by many.
Anyway i have feeble responses for these queries. Because if im being frank, i will become a less motivated and self accused man. But if i try to be diplomatic with my answers, i will be one with a veil which is halfly covered to contradict my truth and diplomacy in lying.
I dont prefer to conform either of this, cause silence is the best way to defend the battle which frequently questions your wounded, vulnerable soul. Now you may seem to be certain with a grin that i have conformed myself as a vulnerable identity.
yes, to the very point Am vulnerable to certain luring material things. But i can make sure that none of this would hurt any human blood or any prevailing nature laws. Because tears compromise many of my efforts to whip on others even when justice stands proudly behind me, leaving me vulnerable.
So being ambitious is a bad thing…? well if you ask that, i would say i really dont know. Because it is your collateral thoughts which assist your ambitions decides whether it is bad or not.
So while i do long hours of introspection, i realize an aspect that many of my efforts are in flow to achieve something which is often seen in my dreams. I can back this understanding by a silly job of mine. After spending enough time on watching a movie, i will end up positioning me as the protagonist who is socially, morally and intellectually exceptional personality. Rest is the action which is genuinely made for my success. Even when i realize it is ridiculous, i simply do that..the satisfaction on which my mind is relaxed that time is undefinable…these are very much satisfying jobs for me, since i dont ask people to come and fight with me while im being the protagonist, and take flash of mine while am strolling on the red carpet.
all this are words to declare one thing that i have a world where deeds are not justified with its significance, social adaptability and varied perspectives,..but where deeds are justified with a quest of reaching peaks which seems untouchable at each step and with a frivolous goodness.
all this is a real explanation of a boy who is privileged with a pair of eyes to observe, brain to think, hands to raise and legs to finish the race.
it is just a real explanation of a boy who is unprivileged by the circumstances and social conscious.

Heaven of Evils….

Windows are open..

Breeze is ushered in..

Brightness glows

causing the visibility of everything..

appetite is invited by tempting

stench for the nostrils…

silence creeps in..

just like a pause after the continuous

emotional amusement…

i remember we are squatting

on the cold floor,literally

letting the cold to usher into the sweaty flesh..

i could feel the enzymes,

awaiting for a long digestion..

i could see the masala pouring out from the meat..

But no saliva is oozing out

contradicting my hunger…

i could see my mimosa sister flinching

like a chicken waiting for the slaughter

to bleed her out….

i could see my mamma’s eyes

filled with fear and cold tears…

it seems to me that,

that drops not willing to roll down

to her whitish face…

may be simply representing her

tenacity to conform a defeat in

a chaotic cold war…

But it was adding more sympathy

which i don’t know who among us

craved so much…

i hoped, no wished, a rain would come

And splash out all the memories of these days..

but i know bad sustains more than good…

i could see, from the keyhole of that protective cover,

the threshold, my recognised father

inhaling anger and exhaling smoke…

i found smoking as a merit…

it lets people to be tranquil

And relaxed even after causing a storm..

A great invention for all frustrated souls..

i knew its not he, my father

causing that terror…,

it is the liquid roaring inside him,

which cannot be accused when the morals

even standardise it,

elating him to break out with

crimson thoughts to which only

deprivity can hold hands with…

i could hear a murmuring, my mamma’s..

a murmuring of a strong lament..

she says ‘ it is a heaven, why this..’

i found it as a claim.

to conceal her itching guiltiness…

Probably an effort to push her innocense into

our grown up minds…

before the next round,

for that my father filling energy into…

with a helpless motion,

i stucked with a paradox…

i could feel my lips,

whispering it…,

not wishing that whisper to direct to whom

it may concern…

i let myself…

yes, mamma…it is a heaven,
A heaven of evils…

An Illiterate….

They blamed me..

“You are an illiterate”.

I sighed,

And reckoned my degrees..

They claimed..

“You are an illiterate of emotions,

feelings…”

i start counting my pulses..

i debated with my history..

i exhibited the testimonials i got,

i challenged them with,

what im proud about…

They laughed..

they blamed my history,

im ruined with my complex..

i demanded;

they said “no explanation”

im not satisfied,

but i accepted…,

because they are my best..

They were happy for that moment,

they should i guess..

conforming is a nice way of

feeding what they look for…

I trusted them.

They promised me,

to take care of what they felt as inferior in me..

The next day.

I went with them..

i laughed, mimicking them..

because im learning..

we fed our stomach together,

because im learning manners..

They taught me,

to fabricate things…

i started telling stories,

that never happend in my time,

that i never heard of…

i acquinted ‘f’ words to show my affliction..

And i mastered it at the time of woe..

i started loving things..

i started caring things..

i learned what im illiterate of..

but one sudeen day,

they started blaming me again..

i was obstinate for a reason

they said;

“You involved in love when we asked you to show,

you involved in caring when we asked you to exhibit it,

you involved in what you are not supposed to..

you are an illiterate..”

i realised..

im an illiterate,

because i loved,

because i cared

because i fell in that inflated wonders..

im an illiterate

because i dont know to exhibit,

what others expect..

for that others, im being an illiterate….

Dare….

Dares…its there every where…sometimes i think it is a strong attribute attached to everyone’s life….as the time moves on, we confront with different kind of dares..but we rarely accept it…as it may cause our pride entity…i think life is just like riding the dare…a dare to express..a dare to accept…a dare to believe…a dare to see…a dare to ask…ultimately a dare to live where others draw your emotions with black nibs and urge you to be a hand among their long live revolution…life is just like that…dares…which confines your dreams…dares which immensely provides you the so called experiences that you mix up in the end and decorate it as memories….and let ourself recollect it till the blood stops its journey..a long collection of dares…a life span to endure dares which seemingly good and bad…but never fails to back the reality..