no way to nowhere III..

The people who read my scribbles have a complain that I am too serious, very unlike how they percieve of me in my day to day life, in my frequent mimics to jokes ranging from crass(exclusively for the male audience) to mundane, in my sermons about taking things lightly and carelessly at times, in my utter disregard for clothing most of the time as I find it too self indulgent to ponder over what am I going to wear tomorrow or the day after or the next week; well apart from certain occassions where I'm inevitably going to meet someone on whom I need to cast a favourable impression if my overworking head reasons it out with me that is.

I'll try to paint the vivid colors of existance that invariably spray me with all the shades, the pink of health, the pink of joy, the red of anger,the red of lust, the green of prosperity or of envy or the green of puke or of marijuana, the yellow of the fallen leaves, of the nature's call or the yellow of jaundice or the yellow of the moonlight or of the stars that coldplay somehow saw of the aforementioned color, the blue of masculinity or of denim or of rare clean water or the blue of a clear sky caused by refraction of light, the white of the clouds or the white of peace carried around by poweless red eyed doves or of an ageing powerless man, the white of chalk or the white of milk or of cocaine and finally the all enocmpassing black; The black of truth or of revolt, of sadness or of vigour, of beauty or of apartheid, black that camouflages all if in its elements..black of the beautiful night or of the horrifying unseen future, of the bottomless pit.
So its never the same, your being reflects your exteriors, so no wonder the ones who see with prying eyes see a lot of black around, because there it is, reigning from the nooks of a sidey alley to the unlit halls of the parliaments, black rules everywhere, unchallenged,unfazed.
However nature in its all harnessing beauty somehow tries to divert your attention from it's so called evolved beings.
A stream in the midst of nowhere, still uncorrupted by the effluents or geen trees full of lichens signalling that atleast till now the fumes haven't reached them. A lately spotted chameleon or a quitely coiled up snake, a free running rodent or a tree hugging snail. Try looking at them with the eyes of the creator, not with some supernatural force; No, but with a a feeling of unison and then you know how beautiful it is. It suddenly dawns upon you that all is not lost, there is still time; However not delving deep into the ways of saving mother earth or father for some, as that can be done in some other rhetoric by someone else. This monologue is just an attempt, a failed one at that to try and capture the vastness, the seamlessness of undiluted nature, nature at its best, wild and unleashed; why nature, why not anything else? Becaue that is the only entity that is true, unpredictable and unaltered.
Whenever there is a doubt about how can I stand against the waves hitting me right on the face, trying to take me deep down into the abyss. I just sit under the protection of an open starlit sky and stare, and all deissolves in the unfathomable vastness that has stood the tides of time and still stands and would for all the generations to come and for the hopefuls to gaze at.

no way to nowhere II..

Never have I written at this hour of the day, I mean why would somebody write in broad daylight when the ugliness of the surroundings and everfaking overflowing faces around obstruct the flow of words or thoughts or both? Well once in a while, it's good to blame the others for your incapibilities and limitations though some people do that too often for my liking; Getting themselves added in my evergrowing list of the people I love to hate. So continuing from my yesterday's monlogue over the times we live in, well I live in, to be precise, because I care about how I'm spending my day and looking at a much grander scale, my life, not what others are doing, very unlike most of the people in this country atleast, where before cleaning oneself up, people check out if the other guy is using a more expensive brand of soap. However sometimes I also add some people in my above mentioned list without knowing how they are, just by looking at what they are doing, that doesn't bother me the least bit, because anyhow humans make mistakes and how so ever much I beg to differ, I can't change this hideous countenance of my existance.

Risk, one word that just stands out by the way it sounds. Beautiul, the rasping sound like a throat has just been slit open, the pronounced sound of air escaping your orifice when u reach the letter S in risk. One should not be averse of taking risks, but yet this is how we are; we need to put a tyre or sealed drum arund us before we even step in water, without knowing if it is really as deep, or deeper than we think it is, or is it just a puddle. Taking risks gives a kick to some; it feels like you are a trapeze artist in a giant circus and after several to and fro oscillations, you have let the first swing go and are in mid air, wondering but still focussing, if you would be able to grab the other one or would it all just end with a thud, with your body and your ego hitting the ground, the latter getting the more severe battering of the two.
Still one takes risks all the time, even the 'cowards' do, unknowingly though. While riding on a high speed motorway ot driving on the skiddy roads or getting down the wet staircase, standing under a tree taking a shelter, foe who knows if you are facing's the wrath of the man upstairs and the tree falls over you, or just hitting on a person of the opposite sex, not knowing his/her history or medical record for that matter.

People have a weird habit of walkin in and out of people's lives, as if they are entering or exiting from a restroom..just open the door..piss all over and leave. I do it too and hate myself for that, I mean noone, including myself has the right to enter, mess up the clean surroundings that were just painfully and ardorously cleaned of the mess that was left the last time one had come in..but humans do a lot of stupid stuff on the pretext of being on the highest pedestal of evolutionary chain, the claim that I doubt more and more, the better I get to know myself and the similar beings around me..
However I wish all the judges to be prudent and advice them to refrain from thinking that I am writing all this because I'm going through torried times, what with not being with my girl anymore. This drive has more to do with me wanting to throw up everything that is getting in and clogging my system, depriving me of sleep and rest. I think I need not write more today, because whether or not my system is clean today, I can sleep tonight, thanks to the brewries.

no way to nowhere I...

These are weird times, the times of joy the times of tears, the times of bravery and times of fear,the times to crack a joke and times of mulling over the past, the times you despise and the times you want to last,times to think of tomorrow and times to reflect at the past, times to forget some old and times to acuqaint few new, times to think of the times that one is going through...
Everything from the title to the starting lines of this scribble "inspired" from the writings of Mr. Dickens depicts that these are the torrid times..We are the children of nowhere, the offsprings reproduced as a by product of a leisurely activity, leading a life of no or almost nil consequence for anyone including ourselves; Breathing in the times where nothing is exceptional till made by the news channels, the age in which one laughs only when a laughter track in the background prompts one to. An era of no individuality for the fear of getting branded as an egotist, the age of mingling and confirming with people just to satiate the hunger of acceptance..pathetic, that's what we are, I firmly concur with one of the lines of a movie that I don't exactly remember but in short just tells how futile times are these we are living in..or living in this time around, if you believe in resurrection.

SO what does one do when he or she realize that he is actually doing nothing but working to get money to eat and find a place to sleep and a rag to cover oneself up, well he works more to earn more money to buy more rags and go under a bigger roof to eat more junk and finally utilize all his sweat pouring by buying all those expensive medicines which are a consequence of what he did in the first place, vicious circle if you like to call it.
Another tilt to look at the scenario is the knowledge that you are in a blindfolded rat race with blind rats in a dark endless tunnel, so what do you do? Drink,smoke or sniff some toxic chemicals to numb oyur senses and shut the realization outside your head as those voices echoing like steel equipments in an empty vessel don't let you sleep..
And then under the influence or not the writer in you writes, writes as if there is no tomorrow, writes on pages, writes on e-pages, on pages in the head to copy it on tangible pages later..just writes because he knows no other way to express himself.
It's not a trial,it's a decision which has been taken and the tip of the pen broken sealing your fate with that click. Telling you that run all you can but you will end up at the same place, vicious circle as we discussed earlier.

The fact that you are not alone who feels so strongly against something but you can't keep your hands on it, gives you some respite; and who would that be, another person drunk on the diappointemnts and alcohol simultaneously or as a consequence, which follows the other is as tough as answering the age old hen or egg question, though I know the answer to that; I'm a writer remember, live in the surreal world of premises and assumptions, I know all but can't do anything as all is fixed, all decided; call it a fatalistic view but I always knew you would say that.

However I don't have time to think bout the times I'm going through and I know that you are occupied too. SO would continue later, maybe tomorrow, maybe never..time will tell