Dreamer

As far back as I can remember I always wanted to be a dreamer. I loved to keep my eyes open and dream of what would I do in life. I remember watching DDLJ and totally falling in love with the movie. There were numerous occasions when in my dreams thought I was the male protagonist of the stories I weaved in my dreams. They were dreams not of career making or getting rich, they used to be dreams of falling in love. I was always fascinated by the feeling of falling in love with a girl, who would just slip into my life like a beautiful angel and would just be mine. Every nook and corner I crossed I looked for her. Every girl I saw reminded me of my dream girl. And I knew some day, some point in time in my life, some juncture of this estranged journey of mine, I will find her and I will be loved. Being loved is always better than loving. I craved and bollywood added to my fantasy runs. Another great movie called "Pyaar to hona hi tha" hit the theatres. And I was totally in awe with the movie. I still sing the title song with maximum amount of feelings I can generate. I was always an emotional guy. With time taking its toll on me, I lost that competency of mine. I sort of became practical but then one is what one was. I, at heart was still an emotional fool and I wanted to fall in love. Only I fell for other things like fleshpots of the world. Skin defeated heart, only for the time being. I thought and then I stopped thinking at all.

I went with the wrong flow, I don't know if it was the wrong flow or wrong me but there was something very wrong. I stopped writing at all because I couldn't feel anything and if you can't feel anything there is no way you can write stuff.Then sometime in my life which was very eventful otherwise, I read a book and I fell in love with it. One of my seniors and friends gave that book to me and I thought to be like the author of that book. The book was " Catcher in the Rye". The author was......chuck it, google it readers, it's a very famous book. The author died right after I read that book. I saw it in the papers. But I felt good about my awareness. That was the extent to which I was feelingless. Now all of you can imagine what kind of a person am I?

Apart from this romantic inside me, I was always hungry for power. I wanted to be a powerful person not physically but otherwise. Like those politicians or those bureaucrats. I loved the power their names and their signatures had. I loved the red lights they put on top their cars and care a damn about the red lights of the city. That is the concept of power in my head and I wanted to achieve that. However, one has to sacrifice a hell lot to be there and I was not willing to do that. Rather I was just getting fascinated about what it would feel like to be sitting inside that car with the red light on top of it and soaring ahead on a crossroad when the lesser mortals just wait for the lights to turn green. That obsession was always there and I never could translate that either to reality. I needed to work and all I did was just dream.

Then a good sunny morning when I happened to wake up early enough to see the sunrise, or probably I never slept in the night, I realised I was not/never meant to actuate all this. All I was and all I am is just a dreamer..just a dreamer!!

Of mothers

Of Mothers
Slipping down in the abyss of affection, I was wondering will life always be like this. Probably at 5 years of age this was one of the improbable thoughts to have struck me. I prayed to the god who I asked for almost everything ranging from a small candy(which my mother could always afford) to a four rupee bottle of Thums Up(which was totally out of budget)one more time."Never make my mummy old”. Praying has got immense powers of smoothening (allow me the authors’ liberty) concerns specially if the heart is clean and motive is innocent. I at once felt my prayers were going to be heard and registered high on "his" list. My mother was the prettiest woman I ever saw. Well, she still is, just that at times she has competition from someone quite younger than her. While I used to be busy capturing every corner of her lap, she would ask me at times, “You know will grow old and my hair will grey someday"."No! It won't happen because I will always be a kid, so you will always be how you are today”, I used to assure her and myself with lot of confidence. After all I had prayed! After so many years I feel there is a god, because even though I grayed pre maturely, my mother still looks the same. The prayers were heard. Love is something which we all discover about as soon as we get that first touch from our mothers. Although we hardly remember that first touch of immense love, which is so cruel of nature. This goes to all our" would be spouses" that the reason why we love them has to be our mothers. Spouses are a difficult breed to handle after all. Lot of us know it already, and for those who are still to bite the chilly, I’m sure enough you will do it soon enough to realize the factual authenticity of my statement. A mother and a child have a mutual liking which is funny and inexplicable at the same time. The child finds his/her mother the most beautiful and vice versa. If we actually believe in this hypothesis, there would be billions of "miss worlds" every moment living on this planet. However, the good part is there are. That is what people call the feeling which exceeds love, which exceeds the vocabulary. We must be thankful to whomever for giving us all eyes to express. They come very handy in such situations. When I was scared in the middle of those nights or was acting to be, my mother would just engulf me with her protective cover. Arms which were weak and short by normal definition, would seem to have all the power to resist any force and I would quietly just hold them as I spiraled away in slumber. Can the NSG make one sleep like that? I’m not seeking an answer, just reiterating on more time without any tolerances! This is the fourth straight day, I haven't slept properly. Guess I need similar prayers and cover. I hope he still puts them high on "his" list.

Of Beauty

Beauty fascinates, but then isn't the beauty contextual here is predominantly the apparent one? A burning question with a temporary answer meant only to fool oneself. The essence and charisma of appreciation lies in the stream of emotions and the springs generating from the tilted left fist alike (read heart).Love generates all the beauty that we admire throughout our lives. Beauty is as meaningless without life as is a dancer who cannot listen to the music but still mechanically carries out the well rehearsed steps given by the efficient choreographers. Doesn't it then take the entire vibrancy out of the beauty bubble? Shutting those eyelids upon those eye balls brings in darkness with peace that is beauty. Walking by the road side and finding the poor smile even after all adversity, that is beauty. If something is real, trust me for one moment, you can play your part in adding just a touch on your behalf that is beauty.
This life, let's all learn one more time how to beautify!