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: