There is more to baby steps than small steps

There is more to unbreakable than the mended cracks

Twisted lines that are toed are carved through the tireless countless breaths

Need to learn the art of doing my work and not looking up

saying no

I love my work - I hope my brain believes it

I need to stop time and change my brain - desperately required - at-least one of them is mandatory if not both

Average Life

Endless days of humming activity,
Shortening distances cruising limitless journeys,
Breathless spills, in binding expectations,
Borrowed dreams, weaved with pawned imaginations,
Shaving differences to earn exhausting excesses,
Savouring lifeless visions and dead conversations by deafening the verbose silences,
Stealing delights living on the whirlpool's edges.

Toeing the exacting norms, for escaping the routine,
Making disappear friendly walls, chatty gateways,
Visits that tied the extremes, to keep afloat  the drenched souls.
Trashing legitimate, demanding, high decibels in fearful turns,
Webs of hands for sagging souls that stood up to whimsical amoebic earth.

Drunk on fascination of creation you planted parasites,
Forgetting the call, to weed the rot, for each human tide,
Snipping the buds of ordinary, you wait for extra ordinary,
Choking by averaging the extremes, you forget life is lived at the means.

I hate leaky water pots.....

they just dont know when to stop.........

Teachers

Liberators do not exist, people liberate themselves - Che

This quote of Che, rings with deep insight into Human situation. But it is important to know how to liberate oneself and from what/whom. Therefore there are teachers, who teach you how to liberate, how to understand the structures/people/group/processes that hold you captive from within and outside. They also teach how to carry it forward to others.

(dedicated to my special Teacher (formal) at present and all other teachers (formal and informal) who have helped in various times - will keep the torch burning )

The Easy Way Out

Easy to be an ostrich rummaged by problems
Easy to hide and resign to doldrums

Who promised the land of carefree charms
Who got the security designed by ones want

Why are your dreams with rigid frames
When the act is wild so why the gait so tame

Fear of fall ruins your leap of faith
Hopes of joy hollow the realities breath

Uncharted was the pursuit, Unequalled it was always
For whom it is not who has treaded these grounds
Beads of care just sully the ground

Decide where you will tread
To live in the past or rise to what you not expect
Joy is in one but not a easy way out!!

The Dance of Indian Democracy

The dance of Indian democracy is played out LIVE from the media houses. The giants that are as inaccessible as the Indian Parliament, they are only accessible when there is a noise. A noise of frustration, noise of desparation, voices to claim their spaces maybe the last voices. These voices are stirred and presented, in a dish decorated for short lived titillation, that gets the people walk around as knowledgeable. The mind games that are played with the actual games of the voices have huge returns, for business houses.

The strings of democracy are with them. The actors are the audience and the audience are the people, but nobody is asking why the blood flows? why the innocent are killed? why there are media trials? who gave them the right to run a trial?why are the unfair trials suffered?  Their back stage is equally opaque as the oppressive government.

The blood soaked media wins again, a 9  year old well maneuvered battle of silence and titillation, for gains. And yet again a chance of democracy dies. It dies with the death of Afzal Guru. Hope it will not be followed with the blood bath of the chances of those unknowingly standing in the line. Here again is created a chance of more income with the death of the muted audience.

Long Live Media Long Live Indian Parliament and Long Live the Democracy held by them. Meanwhile rest of us will stand dumb, living with our squeaks from safe quarters (who still have a voice). Silently our days are being counted.

It is amusing and intriguing to be a spectator to people taking for granted a trusted one to the extent that they fail to realize when they breach the boundaries. The drama of exploitation, use, ridicule, self doubt and being inappropriate that follows mirrors the lows we can get to. How loosing face becomes irrelevant when only bothered with own motives. It makes me wonder this mantra of approaching others with trust should have footnotes or disclaimers somewhere that are not known, as falling despite or because of company of the trusted ones can be irreparable.