To the Best of Times.

The year is at its end, and it’s a time for a toast for all that happened this year. The good things and the bad ones, the ones I will never forget and the things I never want to remember again, the things that I am grateful for and the things I wish never happened. The year had it all for me, suspense, romance, action, drama; everything a good adventure needs and I know yours where just as much fun if not better. Now that we stand at the last days of 2011, one thought keeps me alive, much more alive that I ever was. It’s the knowledge that though a lot of good things had happened and many more did not quite work out just as well, I can rest assured that this is not over yet and the best of the moments are yet to come. Now that a beautiful year is finally about to bid adieu to us all and as the clock strikes twelve tonight, a new year will be born, an year of promises, hope and of the countless to be born memories.

As 2012 rolls in, I believe we have an obligation, an obligation to raise a toast to all the good things that made 2011 and eleven special. A toast to all the friendships we made, all the moments we lived in all the people we care about and all the people who care about us. A toast for the times we laughed out loud and all the time we cried alone tucked to a corner of the dark rooms, all the pranks we pulled and all the little things we did to make our special ones happy.

2011 was no walk in the park, it was an adventure and adventure we all shared and we together made a memory of. May 2012 be only better, may 2012 bring us more joy and prosperity, may we all go forward and not backward, may our future be just as perfect as we ourselves are. Friends some of you I know, some of you I do not, but nevertheless may all of us live a life that we always wanted. So guys please rise your glasses a for 2012 is here!....................................Cheers! To the Best of Times.

Happy New Year, Ladies and Gentleman,

May all of us live happily ever after…

Speak of the Devil and ..

How strange that I write this today, when all I see is darkness and I am tired, so tired of searching for the light and hope. I am doomed, I fear my own words and I fear the death of myself by my own ideas. Its not but strange that a few days ago I was blossoming in the comfort of the illusion of security and permanence that I have woven. But now in seconds they have disappeared and I am staring at nothing but darkness all around, I can hear memories sneak up me from directions unknown, I am afraid, really afraid.

A couple of day ago, I got a call, a call that has turned my world into a mess. From the precipice of luxury I plunged into a feeble being plagued by misery and fear, I can’t neither think straight nor respond to a door bell without being paranoid. It has come back, It has come back to avenge me, the lies, the secrets. My past has come back, a past that I have worked so hard day and night to forget, The nightmares that I have consciously abolished with sleepless nights and pills that I shall not speak of again in my life.

It is not strange, I should have expected it, I should have known better. I should have known that it will come back and haunt me again and again no matter how hard I run. The initial impulse is always to run, But now I know no mountain is high enough, no oceans wide enough to keep me from myself. I am my worst enemy, a nemesis that will not heed until truly defeated. I have to take action, I have to face him, I cannot run anymore, If I do I will risk more than myself, I will risk losing my family, my friends, my life and may be those some things that I have valued more than life, I will lose myself to it. I cannot run anymore I have to face him, face to face, I should look him in the eye and end this once and for all, otherwise I will lose it all, I will lose everything.

I shall not speak about it again, But I should talk now, if have to never speak of it again, else the devil will come back to haunt me again, it won’t heed till I pay for my insolence. I should face my fate and write my history myself, even if it means that it all ends with a full stop or if there is something left to it, then with that, But I should do it and I should do it now.

My First Poem

Guys! As you might have guessed it already, I am going to tell you the story of how I wrote my first poem. Technically it was not my first poem, in fact I am not sure how many poems I wrote before this one, but I am sure about one thing, they all s**ked! So my first poem … right!..

It was a winter morning, the class was shaking of the crispy snowflakes attached to the window railing, I was watching the pupil come in to the class one by one through the frosted window, wrestling the weather and dodging the snow balls…. Oh! Who am I Kidding, There was no snow, no snow flakes and it was a summer, a damn hot one too. And if these guys were wrestling and dodging anything they were the bullies and their unmerciful punches. I will just tell the dull story of my first poem and about the narrative I have been watching ‘How I met your Mother’ Damn… Good….

So as I said earlier, it was an average summer day in an average south Indian school, in an more than average neighborhood, in fact it was so average that the only neighbors we had were the unmistakably terribly old residential apartments and the crazy ole lady that lived in one of them, I will talk about her some other day, seriously guys I am jumping around a lot with this story. SO We had our English lecture for the first hour that day and my our lecturer  Mrs. (I don’t know a another very old lady, not crazy though) had asked us to write a poem and bring. Shall we call her Mrs. Lecturer? Okay! So as I said Mrs. Lecturer has asked us to bring about a poem. And to top it all up our poem would get read by a random person in the class.

So I had a buddy who used to sit next to me all the time and whom I particularly love because he used to be take the major share of the beating because he was a tiny bit fat a little slower than me. I just ran away and he got beaten up, I would come back a little later to check on him with a tissue. So as she had asked us to write a poem and so far (taking my friends account then), I s**ked at it. We had only hardly a few minutes left before she would pop up in the class and treat a bunch of 10 graders like kindergarteners and kick them around. We were scared of her, really SCARED! So as I said my friend who took the beating for me turned to me asked to write him a poem. Yeah! Sure! He always stuck out for me and I always let him down, but seriously guys! A poem in five minutes is hard enough, now I had to write two.

So anyway I decided to write two, two poems. And I have absolutely no idea what I wrote, But I wrote two poems. I have a bleak memory that one was about winter and life and the other was ‘The Poets’. The one about the winter was kind of nice, or so I thought, It was a very sophisticated piece of words with nice hard to guess words, you practically needed a dictionary to read that poem and the other was in simple terms, really simple. So Somehow I finished and I gave him the Poets and explained the meaning of the poem to him, Okay there was nothing to explain, It was something like ‘Poets are Crazy’ themed. But anyhow I really liked the winter poem and thought this will be my great break through, I could even imagine the whole class standing up in appreciation and giving a great ceremony in honour and all those things, the girls asking for autographs, Okay! I admit I was a bit carried away.

So all that was about to be crushed, pooh! She called out my friends name and he went in with a paper clutched to his hand, Oh I forgot she forgot to mix the papers between friends, she just asked us to read our poems. So as I said he went in and recited out ‘The Winter Poem’ and explained how crazy poets are. I don’t think anyone listened but Mrs. Lecturer, she threw him out and asked him to run around the school, the first he did happily and the second he did not do. So then I was left with the poem ‘ that I wrote for him, Nope I did not get a standing ovation, She said I could sit in the class, As if I wanted that but then that got me into poetry and I have did good since then.

Oh! this has nothing to do with the post, I just liked it. So....

SO guys! That the story of How I wrote my first poem, and for the guy! He kind of did not like me sitting and he being out, once the class was over he trashed me, and now I had Another Bully to dodge and I had no one to share a beating with till I met ‘Abby’, Oh! That’s one story that’s full of lies and even if you like this one or not, I am going to make you listen to that one too, watch me!

And if by any odd chance you liked this one, give a comment!

The Many Dreams of You and Me

Every single night its in your dreams that I cherish, in the long voyages that we take through uncharted waters, in the beautiful strolls through gardens and boulevards from very pricey magazine pages. The colours and the emotions that we share and cherish are truly remarkable. Though I expect nothing less from a beautiful dream, you’re here presence makes it unimaginable magnificent. Dreams that I have are all so wonderful so are the ones I believe you have, but the ones we share like our heart and our soul are sure to be unworldly.

Its been a couple of years since I met her, I still remember it be on a very ordinary day in a very ordinary chemistry lab, She came and stood next to me , she turned and she gave a smile that told me that we are meant to be. But the blind idiot I was made sure that nothing happened for the many days to come. It was certainly not the first time we have seen. Studying in same class seeing would not have been a problem. As days went on and on, our hearts grew closer and closer, the cold winters made us come close in search of warmth and the sizzling showers in envy, the scorching summer in search of shades and finally the spring in search of love. 

I do know that every one tells it, but I promise you this that what I tell is the truth and nothing but the truth. I do believe with all my heart that I knew her way before the first time I  laid eyes on her petite being. I assure you I have enjoyed the taste of her delicate throbbing lips way before in generations unknown to me. Her being is not strange, not any stranger than that of myself. May be this is what they call 'LOVE', may be this is how being in love is, If it is so and this is what I get from being in love and being loved, then I require the warmth of no stranger bosom than that of beloved one.

When she walked into my life at the time of great crisis, A time when I have had lost faith in all the worlds love, I trusted no one not even god for that matter, sinking into the depths of despair, alas! those were the dark days. Her touch was the guiding light that led me ashore, when romantic voyages after voyages failed and I was no better than a sinking soul. I am no great lover but at the moments I despise myself I keep telling my wounded soul, its not all that wounded. But much latter only I realised that had I not made those mistakes I would never have been able to see the right things, when it appeared before me. Had I not seen the darkness and experienced the piercing thrones I would never have realised it when I saw the rose bloom before my very eyes. Love does happen but so is it a search, it’s a special journey like none other, it will show you what that is that rightfully belongs to you and you rightfully belong to.

I am no great lover and mess up a little a lot of times, but I have done no such thing that by which I had betrayed her. It weights down my neck a duty to remain faithful. I know that a girl like her deserves much more and what I have is too pure to be in such dirty hands. But I see no reason to let go, call it lust call it selfishness, for she is mine and I indent to keep it that way for eternities to come. I do wait for the days that are ours to live, and the dreams that we share are ours to realise.

-          A tribute to my other half.

 " You have taught me love and how to love, in your hands i blossomed and in your love I grew and in you arms I wish to die"

A Million Candles of Hope

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How marvelous and symbolic it would be if we could light a million candles on this eve, A million candles to celebrate hope. Of all the days that we could do it on, today it would make most sense. When over 4 million people alone suffer in silence under the evil reign of AIDS, we could instigate hope in their heart and light up their spirits. We would move them from the dark worlds they are now confined to and show them that there really are butterflies and gardens in this world and there is a world where the sun shines bright. I know I cannot do it alone, I would have done it if I could have done it alone, but still that doesn’t mean we can’t! If we all try and try hard maybe we could make the ‘Million Candles of Hope’ much more than a daydream.

Lighting up their lives

It is true that HIV is not all that taken lightly in the nation, the sadder truth is people are more afraid of the people than the disease. There is an urgent and imposing need to change the public perspective of this disease. It needs to be made sure that having HIV is not a crime and the victims need to be looked at with an eye of care rather than through an eye of discrimination. They are people much like me and you, they have a heart and they do have a feeling. To have a disease is no reason to tag them untouchables. We have made progress in instilling in many the truth of the matter, but the way is still long to the dreams that we share.

It will be but a matter of time before we have a cure and a real solution, a solution that is accessible to all. Then there will be no hypes that surround this disease, it will be like any other disease just like it should be. But till that day comes it is the duty bestowed upon us by virtue of the divine order to show men who are blinded by misconceptions the truth. The truth, touching a person or hugging someone is not going to get you HIV. A truth that everyone knows and many find convenient to forget and live with the lesser beliefs.

May be one day my dream of a million candles of hope will come true and though I have already lighted them in my mind and one in my room one day a million dancing lights will show the way. They will show the way to hope and better still will they stand to see the day when we shall all walk n hands, like we are meant to be, like brothers and sister, like one big family, one big caring family. One day a million candles will dance, A Million Candles of Hope.

A Million Candles like these for hope ?

Now! That's a Birthday

19Th of November is no ordinary day, Its my other halves birthday. Its that one day a part of me was created by god and conceived upon this crooked world, so that she could be all that she is today. Yes! you guessed it I haven't made such a loving opening because of how much I love her ( I do love her greatly) but its because of how terrified of her I am. Don't worry you will come to know what I mean by theses conflicting worlds I drew up for you, trust me you will come to know her today.

She is real cute and real small, she got one packaging that can deceive even the cleverest of people I know. Oh! no! I am not telling this because I am hopelessly in love with her and she apparently in her own words will love me to death, but I am telling you this so close I am to her that I know what she is. I am a happy to be small 5ft 3in guy with a 1.5in heeled Woodland shoe ( By the way me and fried has still not agreed to the exact height of the heel, He claims it to be 2inch and I as always ridiculed it, after all which guy in the right sense wears a shoe 2inches right). But to the point again, she is almost just the same. She is smart, she is cute and she is real small. Oh by the way I forgot one thing she is  a psychopath( Please don't tell her what that means).  

Now that you have come to meet her, Let me tell about her birthday and why this is a wee bit special-er that the rest of the ones we had enjoyed together. Today was one hell of a roller coaster fiasco. No! I did not take her to the amusement park, But she did have her fair of fun and bruises. Let me remind you, you are to read the story of a very special individual and the author of this blog is a very sweet young fellow who is taking for your pleasure a very brave move by writing this article without her permission.But even before I can get into the details of the birthday I have to tell you about one more thing and then I promise we will go straight to the story, no more excuses. 

So the last thing before we begin is about a special ritual practiced by some very primitive people who live in thickly populated concrete jungles under the influence of I don't know what, It is called Birthday bumps. If you have not yet heard of birthday bumps, let me tell you this Oxford dictionary would have to define its as an act of physical torture and extortion practiced by insanely sadistic friends on a persons body on his birthday, in the pretext of loving and caring for that person, when in their minds all they want is actually to beat him up. No apparent date is associated with the origin of this strange cosmopolitan ritual but it would be the same everywhere to both the practioners and the practiced upons. A typical Birthday bumps ritual starts with the cliched cutting of cake and once it is finished cut the ritual starts with the ceremonial application of cake on the birthday boy/girls face and then the viewers set the things in motion by kicking and hitting and do god knows what on the body of this poor chap.

Now! just as promised let me get down to my dear ones birthday, Being a cheeky chocolaty lover, I called her up at midnight and had already placed her gifts in her friends safe hands for giving it to her at the precise time. And by the way this time I let my mom pick up a gift for her and that was highlight of her birthday gift from my side. So as I called up and I wished I was a bit early so through the conversation I could here her friends all sing the birthday song in unison and then she cut the phone and I left for the bed. So that's when the big things happened. I should tell you uptil her birthday it was not a custom in the girls hostel to have birthday bumps but my guess is that there are quite a few people who love just too much. So while I was out this si what happened, they all ritually bet her and took her up by her legs and hands and started swinging her 21 times and I heard they got tired by the time they reached 15 and they stopped soon enough. But here is were the twist is she had a small a change of heart and decided beat all those guys who bet her on the birthday. talk about keeping tabs.

She was on a rampage until some one got the brilliant idea to run and my unyielding girl friend decided not to give up that easily and tailed her. The tailing only ended when my girlfriends was lucky enough to trip on the wet floor before catching her friends and that very friend had to take her back to her room. These thing could get much notice from even her had she not been having a tight pinching sensation on her hands then onwards. But she didn't bother she called me up again on own routine 'got to call before falling asleep' calls and she told me of all her adventures and how she enjoyed her unique birthday and by the way for the record, she did like the cake, even though she practically had to eat out of her face.

And the things went on calmly till I could see her again in the morning in our class, She was beautiful as ever but certainly not 21, she could easily pass as a 12 year old but 21 that's not a easy visualization to be made. She came in with a swollen ankle and a very bad expression of pain in her face. So, anyhow she decided to go see the doctor and I should thank my friend for popping that to her. Anyhow there she was gone again. Now this sis the better part, she went all the way to the doctor with the girl whom she was chasing around yesterday night. The doctor was quite a happy folk or may be was in a very nice mood that he was so happy to see her. Anyhow its not everyday that a birthday girl pops in with two ankles completely swollen like a pumpkin. The couple of hours she spend with doctor was so cool that at the end of the day she managed out with a free treatment, a free x-ray scan and a book signed by him as a birthday gift. He even said that had she managed to do more of some acrobatics, he could be happy to give her a bed in the hospital.

Now that's all that went bad if you do not consider the long lecture hours that we had to endure, five hours in length it was boring, really boring. But then again its her day and her birthday went in as unique as ever. I have got gifts on my birthday, I have got cards but treatment as a gift, she really nailed me to that. Anyhow I wish her a happy birthday and just if she doesn't know I wanted to say I do really love her. So Happy Birthday dear.

The Art of Savouring

If there is one thing about the subcontinent that no ever refutes, and every head nods in unison, then that got to be its rich flavours. Salivating is the one thing that foreigners and locals find hard to control when confronted by the vast variety of tastes in its arsenal. Be it the simple and humble 'dosa' or the much more intricate favours of its curries, its dishes has an unquestionable command over the tongue. As they release new shades of its taste in the mouth, we do realise that its gastronomical sensibility has no parallel. But then the bigger question arises, had we forgotten to savour it ?

Had you not enjoyed the flavours of your meal lately then probably you might have forgotten to eat it and 'gulped' it down. No! My purpose is not to point fingers at anyone, not as much as to show that the life we are living now. Which has taken from us that little what we had of our time to cherish things. On cue from what I have been telling in my post ' The little things in life, I insist that these little things in life are what will hold immense value in your withering years.

The art of savoring is not as much as an art as in the conventional sense, but it nonetheless one, a unique one at that too. Just like any other art form you would think up the art of savoring requires and artist. But unlike any other art there is, this is particularly simple to practice. We need no brushes and there is no need for a master class either all you have to have is the deliciously abundant and abundantly delicious dishes and the time and patience to savour it. The one thing that you should notice is to take care not to gulp it down by your typical impulses.

Now, to the important part, how to do it? Here I am at a loss because I don't know whether what I am going to propose is right; intact what really bothers me is whether my 'right' is the only 'right'. But nonetheless I am going to spill it out anyway, so here going my guide to the art of savoring, There are just three simple steps to it;

Step one is to take a meaningful chuck from the dish, not too small nor too big. Step two is as simple as it gets ' put it in your mouth'. Step three is where the actual savoring happens hence, it is the most important of all. The step three, fight the urge to gulp down and let the saliva get to the food completely, then you can see, rather taste its flavours melting into your mouth one after another, each triggering an unique sense and response.

Now that it is time to get into the boring epilogue, to tell the truth I am still caught up in the wines of the previous sentiment. The fact is I can tell no more on this subject that I already have, for I do not know anything more. The art of savouring is my little idea, an idea that I stumbled upon savouring my sundae and its million vibrant tastes. I say enjoy, enjoy these little things that can give your life a whole new aspect, a new perspective. After all life is too short to cry over it. When one goes to bed today, tomorrow is just a hope that we take for granted.

Love: A Search for Meanings

Love is still as strange to me as it has always been, in my many pursuits to understand it; I have only succeeded in failing again and again. There was a time that the very search for its meanings made me tangle myself in thoughts, so strange that I myself wonder how I ended up brewing these thoughts in my mind. Strange as it may be, I still search for its meanings, even when it had cost me many a things.

In and out, I went of many relationships. Some were a ship wreck from the very beginning while others just went in through a series of unexplainable and unfortunate events before it could finally settle itself into a sense of awkwardness. But, believe me when I say, ‘ Every one of those relations were a lesson learned’. I should also admit that some lessons were much more than what I could have ever bargained for. The sense of tarnish and humiliation that was inevitable, even when I have done it all to keep it afloat, now that’s a wee bit uncomforting.

I beg pardon from all the ladies that had to read these words, and I do accept that not all the women are of the nature I may be discussing. I would also assure you that I have always thought highly of women, but these are a few that I had to face in my small life. There were quite a few women in my life that had come at me in ways that I myself could have never envisioned. The fact is they had in me vested interested that either I have not seen or have cunningly enough hid from my eyes. I have to say this that second one was of higher probabilities. The way those things turned out were particularly humiliating for me for one simple fact, they were not of my doings.

Those were events good enough to make any reasonable man lose faith in love and I do consider myself a reasonable man indeed. The real thing I had no more trust in anyone any more. All that I loved turned out to be more of a wreck and less of any help. The one factor was common, the one thing I could no longer find in any of romantic relationships were ‘Romance’.

Magic do happen when we are least expecting it and it did itself to me. It took me over a dozen years and a couple dozen relationships before I could see it. There it was in all its glory presenting itself to me, an offering from the gods. May be the heavens had enough of my little whining that they finally decided to show me the way. There was a  new day break and there was this girl nothing special , nothing profound, simple and natural. I will tell you made her special, it was not me and it was not love, There do exist a thing called a good heart and I could see one for the first time. She touched me in a way none has ever had, her touch was not of lust nor licentious, but it was of care and it was of sincerity and guess what I was in love again and I still am.

It would be a lie if I say I have not thought of any other girl since her, but this is true no matter whom I saw and whom I fancied and the end of the day she was the one whom I wanted to go back to. She was the only one whom I would care to care about, other were just beautiful to watch but she was beautiful to live with. And hence here I am happily committed and no longer in futile searches of meanings of this that I now believe are meant not to be understood but to be experienced.

Post No : 50

Of all the fancy topic that ran through my mind, this one made most sense. After all it’s the 50^th post that I am publishing. So I thought away with the fancy ‘Fabulously fifty’ or the ‘Now that’s a fifty’, instead just keep it plain and simple. This may not be a great achievement in any sense, but it’s the little things that we have to reckon in any long journey. As wise men have realized ages before, it’s the journey not the destination that matters.

So what new on this 50^th post, frankly nothing. But I thought maybe we could just get to know everyone better. To look at our journey together so far has been superb. To tell the truth when I started blogging, I never imagine myself writing this. Yes, I dreamt of this, but not in the wildest dream did I have the courage to imagine this moment. The fact is that this started just a fancy and slowly and steadily it grew in my heart into a bond. I have accidently but surely discovered a true friend in it and through ‘her’ I found many a new friends, friends who like to listen to the little this in my life, The things that does not matter to anyone, Things that hardly have a real consequence that needs reckoning. But, still you managed to listen to me, cherished my little heart as it bleed out its little secrets one by one.

So in this fiftieth post I am going to tell you what made it all so. What made it all that special to me and what made me come back again and again with things that I have always feared to tell? What was that little things that convinced me that some secrets needs to be confessed and the sins need to be lifted from upon me and most importantly how much it matters to write. But to tell you another truth, writing is worthless without a worthy and appreciating audience that can listen to you, and just as you might have guessed, I am really thankful to have you all. I consider it my privilege to been able to write for you all.

Just one little more thing to say, why don’t you all tell me something that I could respond to, to converse with, make a more enjoyable crowd around us than just write and read, would you like to engage in a conversation, a conversation in a level that is stripped of all materiality. I am Rupertt wind and I thank you all for having listened and beard with me with patience and for supporting me in the many ways you have. I thank all who have read and did not read my post, all who have praised and even more the ones whose creative criticism made this go all the way from 0-50.

The Drought...

It strikes me gravely, to write such as this. This is not ability to write that I share but the inability to do so. It is no story of real drought and hunger that affect many a millions in this world. This is the story of just a single person starved on the keyboard. This is no story, in fact this is the absence of any story that I would like to share.

I must be frank, this is just a weeping. This certainly is going to be a boring piece to read. It has no happiness in it at all. No happy beginning, no happy happenings and certainly no happy endings that I know of. This is the grim story of myself and my pen, sitting together to write nothing. Its our explorations in the dark unfathomable shadows that we fear the most. If the darkness is what that scares the least, its the fearfully personal happenings that seemed to carve in the most.

Its been sometime, sometime now that the pen and paper had shown any mercy to me. No matter what I start writing I inevitably bump into that invisible wall that separates me from making any sense of what I write. Either I end up making a hash of it or even worse I end up stuck in the middle with both my pen and my mind refusing to budge a single inch. Its certainly not the lack of ideas or topics, but its the matter of the flow, no longer can I caress the piece of paper with ease and it has started to show.  All those brilliant sparks die out the miserable death leaving me to fend on my own. Talk about being ditched by myself.

I do not know how long its going to be, till I can get a hold of myself and come back to the good old times. I can but only hope that it will all be alright, Anything more is too much to ask for. One thing is certain it has came back every single time it has happened to me. May be its inside somewhere in the hiding and if I look hard enough and let myself be inspired by life around me, then certainly it would come back one day

The Things Around You.

Its is often a bit too much to ask for to have the ability to observe. It gives great option to the things that you see every day, adding a new level of detail to the monotonous. The way one sees the world is entirely different from that of any other, this subtle but crucial difference make them poles apart on many a occurrences. May be this is what we mean by the word 'perspective'. And we do know that perspective changes the world around us. 

One way it can touch our life has a significance that surpasses Many things, your perspective can alter things in such a great manner that we owe a very large slice of ourselves to it. The way we see and interpret things shape the way we think, the way we think dictates how we act and respond to a wide range of things and finally the way we act out makes us who we are.

Many things may add to this making of a man and those have been debated upon for times immemorial and rest assured we wont be finished with it any time soon. But as of now that is not we started out with, have we ? I apologies to have got carried away but still that was worth it, like the good old times!

The ability to observe can in itself be a sin or curse, it becomes just a question how we come to deal with it. These sides of the coin I have seen just enough times  to have come in terms with. The large part of it may be just a prick in the hand, but some go real deep, sometimes a bit too much for your comfort. The things you see can bring within you a vibrant set of colourful feelings, from the light ones of joy to think ones of fear and angst. This vibrant world is put open to all but many shut their eyes to the dark ones and eventually the lighter ones too disappear. So naive are some that their life is but a gruesome monotone to live. Their is a world of rainbows they trade off for the fear of a dark one they have not yet been condemned to. Its such a shame that the fear of a few

It is even more creulsome to watch man after man chose not to feel, man after many take What is not life but a life that destroys any vibrate the word still holds. It is so sad to watch men waste the life of a dreams for the pretence of security.

But for the few who chose to see there is matter of great significance that they have to perform , they have to chose. They have to chose what to see and what to think of what they have seen, they have to chose what is that, that they have to take and what is that, that they have to un-see.  Those who whose to see the darkness turn up to be abominations of the sense those colours seems to posses., and the others who have opted to be on the brighter side of the place, gets to be the ones to set it all right again. To have chose is a quest of Philosophical value yet again.

The castles of greed...

Stand they tall on the face,

Of all good and all that is moral.

Stand they with indiscriminate disrespect,

off all pride the papers bring

like the dead, they fear to feel,

Thinking in shades of darkness.

With no furore they break coffins,

Open the vaults of doom for pennies and dimes.

Heart they have lost to concrete jungle.

With life so fast they doth not think.

Like roaches they spread the streets,

Running blind and thoughtless.

Doom they bring upon them and all.

Heard of no responsibility but to churn gold.

A life of rot and no foresight,

Cards need not tell what tomorrow hosts.

Bring down the chapels of greed,

Bring down the priests with no mercy.

Let not our tomorrow be ruined at the hands,

Of creatures of vice, devils incarnate.

Bring them not to the gallows they made,

Lock them not behind the walls they build.

Bring them to light and bring them to love,

Bring them to the world they destroyed.

Strip them of the coats and medals

Strip of the evil instruments of deadly sins.

Change them, make them see,

Give them a chance to set it right.

They are lies and they are sly,

They can out do the chameleon with ease.

Trust them not till they act,

For greed is too evil to leave so soon.

The castles of greed, proud and tall.

The castles in nations of meniality.

Bring them down and set them right,

The beacon of a newer tomorrow.

-          Rupertt Aryeen Wind

A Time for Reflection

Yes, I am disappointed, I am so disappointed. I am disappointed not because I lost, but because I know that I worked hard and this is not what I deserved. Life is not fair by degree of perspective, life if often the sly friend you have to live with. It would hurt us more to realize of this fact that living with it in ignorance. But that does not change anything. Does it? Every one of those time that you stood a startled witness to your dreams crumbling down like an house of cards. Life is not fair and I stand a stupid witness to its wrongs.

Nevertheless, that is no reason to give up, That is no reason to be pessimistic. Remember there may have been someone who worked a little bit more, someone who had put in that little spec of extra perseverance that you forgot. The universe does have its own ways, ways it does its doing. This may appear rather spiritual, but there is a definitely justice in the working of the universe. There is evidence everywhere how one compensates the other and supports the system in its own rights. We call it nature’s harmony. The definite abyss that you see may just be the exit from the dungeon. After all the night is the darkest just before the dawn. The imminent failures are but the final lessons to be learned before the inevitable victory, it is the duty of the universe to take care that the deserving gets the glory.

It is not for you hand the prize over is it? But it is in you to run the marathon. It is your job to stand up when you fall and it is of you to finish the race. The laurels and the parties will come along, strive for the last missing piece if the puzzle till the whole is done. Finish it, that is just the beginning of the journey. The things that went unfinished will be but a waste of effort, when you set your heart onto something, don’t you wish to see the dream blossom. To see it in all colors, with wings of gold, soaring in the sky like the birds of some forgotten fairy tales.

          

                                                              

There will come the time, when you will win, because eventually you have to win, eventually you have to be honored for your hard work. This is just a battle lost, the war still to be won. No time stand and mourn, no time to run for shelter. It is the time to rise above it all and fight, it is the time to win and this time the fate will be made different. This is all it takes to rescue the sinking ship and finish the votage.

From the Journals of a Lone Man by Rupertt Aryeen Wind:

The Burden of Command

To wield these stars and to hold his medals, to don this cap and to fill this chair. There are many things in life that may be happy but this is not one of those. To do is not an option, it is the only thing that destiny has in store. Either this or walk away. The latter is worse than death. The Command has its power and its status so does it has a large baggage that has to be dragged to ones grave. Nor the salutes nor the Laurels does anything to ease the pain, but persists an humble remainder of all that is to be dragged along alone.

There are times when the facets are to be put up, even when you desperately desire that you would be spared, you have to do it. The dictum is such that the failure to perform is unacceptable, even when it means to put everything you believe in to put at the front line. There are times when great men will be fools and hearts of steel will start to melt. No matter how high the principles be held, the man in the matter is but human. There are times heart remains a heart and there are times the head refuses to comply. But still the weights upon ones should bear down you as albatrosses from yet another tale.

Leadership is a quality that is tested and retested every now and then. It is not the making of the man it is breaking of man again and again such that he is immune to this pain of severance. To remain intact at times of peril is not an option, not when there are men who depend on you, not when they look up to you and not when they refuse to bow down just because you manage to hold it together, it is a necessity. The life that is yours is no longer just yours, there are other who willingly surrendered theirs to yours, just because they do believe it you who can hold their together with far more force than they can. They believe in you and with that come responsibility. You are not you anymore you are the culmination of all their interests and the holder of the higher truth.

It is not for you to not to fail, It is for you to fail as equally as it is for you to win. It is about you never letting them down, who willingly let themselves be lead. It is for you to never give up on anyone and hold it up for them; It is for you to see the light when the herd has lost its eye. It is for you not to believe but make believe the ones behind. To lead is a great feeling, but it is not about the celebration but about conducting it so that everyone can enjoy and in their enjoyment you can enjoy. It do feel great.

One thing that is asked of the leader that is most difficult to perform is the use of the whip. There are times, times you are given no other resort, but to crack the whip. Every single act of harshness you provide has a toll on you, every now and then you have to raise your voice there is a part of you sinking. To love is to be a good leader but to beat them up and make them strong calls for a great leader. He can inspire and so he can command, He can praise them and with the same hand crack the whip upon them. Yet at the hands of a great leader they feel no pain nor no grudge just the desire to correct themselves and lead a path of righteousness. Their feelings have to be upheld and they protected, but at the same time a mask is forced upon our face that shields the real one with a sterner perfect leader.

Yes it calls for a great leader so do should one selves, none is made a leader they are born, not from the mother’s womb but from the amongst of you and I. There is a leader in every one of us, a leader who shall rise when the time calls for him. When he is really to fly, he shall rally men and pick up momentum. When this do happen to you, call upon him , cheer him, cherish him because he not only can change you but can change the world.

Breaking Away . . .

Severance is a pain that we all invest in. Every day, every hour, Year after year we live in its shadow. It’s not something we choose it’s something that’s forced upon us. Yet chose not to rebel, we conveniently forget to fight, we take it on our shoulder and bear with it with finesse. The matter is delicate often so delicate that acknowledging it in itself is a herculean task in itself. The pain and anxiety that it causes is great, yet we decide it’s not time to give up hope yet.

It causes immense pain, but why do me, you and everyone we know prefer to live with it and fear the freedom the lack of these chains offer. Why does freedom, boundless and absolute, of colors more vibrant than the rainbows scare us? Why do we prefer the strong yet ephemeral fortitudes to the wonderful world of boundless possibility?  These are not the questions we ask ourselves every day; these are the question we come across in those times that we are truly left on our own. These are question we ask when we truly at our weakest. These are questions we ask when we lose those things we endured all those torture for. These are the questions we ask when we actually realize the transience of our ‘Perfect World’. The questions are harmless in a way, but they are the ones that truly know when to strike.

But no matter how many time we come across, other than those few who turn unacceptable to the society finds their way back into the cobwebs of comfyness they have already knitted for them. They find their way back as the lost ant finds it way back into the swarm. The allure and pseudo -opulence this world offers seems to surpass the many flaws it seems to possess.  We never even bother to ask ourselves whether this is what they want. Is there heart to torn open again and again? Is the abyss the best place they can ever afford to have?

Then again, is that the case? Even when you feared the inevitable, there was hope, there was pleasure and there was happiness. The little things in life that many preach, Aren’t they the ones that make life worthwhile. Life many not be perfect, in fact life may not be even fair, yet there are those moments in life that gives joy sans boundaries. Aren’t we living for those few moments, aren’t we working hard in the day so that we could return to the loving families. Don’t those weekends with the family make as pray every hour for the week to get over. Be it the sip of coffee or that one game, Aren’t they what we live for? Yes there are perils, there are dangers and there are evil lurking in every corner, yet don’t we live for that all these, these few little things that make life worth living?

But remember one thing dear friends, There is a better; life out there, there is a life where we can have the best of both worlds. There is a life were we do not have to make compromises and yet live the life that we dream of every single day. Believe me when I say there is a life where you don’t have to make up excuses to keep the family together. There is a life where love and fear, pleasure and sin, happiness and crime and Life and Lies do not come in pairs.

A Lone Man’s Journal: Rupertt Aryeen WInd

Surviving Today

Days are moving on at snail’s pace and to live through them is the most horrifying proposition to live with. The acts are not measurable in anything worth and time spend is not things gained. The methods are questionable but the object is clear. This would have been a better case had not been that the objective was to survive the day.

There are things you could do with your life that the whole world may deem as wastage of one’s time. But there are things that the world is yet to learn of you, there are secrets that are buried deep within you that the world doesn’t know exists. But one thing is there, one should be convinced of ones stand at the very least. It is difficult to convince others of a school of thought when one himself is in self-doubt. This conviction is what differentiates an action of need from an action of passion.

Passion has driven, and will drive men for many more years to come. It is this passion that has made the space and tech possible. The world when refuses to see you as someone, it is up to you to succumb to the marginalized life being proposed or you could rise above them and break free. You could do things with life that would show them that you are more than just talk. The world has ways, ways to kill of the things that it sees as competition. It is not a reason to not to try, it is but just one more reason to try harder and succeed.

Even as all that is said is said, there are time you become powerless, so powerless that you are confined to some mediocrity. There are places you find yourself, where you have to live through it, even if it is fathoms below your level of performance. To live through them is a horror for some. But for some it does something even more sinister. It kills them. It kills their skill and eventually they realize they are just that good. They refuse to see their potential that they once knew they possessed. They suicide to the demeaning life.

It is at this time, I stand. With thoughts creeping in like weeds. Thoughts that can take out the mighty and get them begging on their knees. The evil ones, the bad ones and the crippling ones. I know I am good, I know I am better than most, but to hold on to that single haystick in the polluting ocean of thoughts. Now that is a challenge. I can rise above it and be crowned the next king of France of fall below and drown to the dark depths of misery and monotony. The melancholically of this life is evident, Sun neither rises here nor the moon basks us in its radiance. The eeriness of a graveyard and the loneliness of the dark forests. With nothing but the skies to guide. To live through today… Hmm that’s the task ahead.

A Lone Man’s Journal: Rupertt Aryeen WInd