Just another drop in the ocean

I am looking out of the window while rain lashes down Mumbai this monsoon. All I can see is nothing and nothing at all. If I state that I can actually see the faint buildings standing against the wind and rain, then I am just forcefully imagining. Forceful imagination is something that drives our society. We hear stories about the Fukushima heroes aged all from 9 to 90. We smile with the thought of how great a nation they are before we go out and bribe a traffic cop. Well they say if we stop bribing, corruption would automatically end. May be true but surely not a remedy that we seek. The basis of a sacrifice done must be a selfless thought and not a selfish thought about a bigger gain in our forceful imagination.

Right from slavery to independence to global power to "I hope not". There are lessons learnt and lessons thought along with the lessons forgotten forever or lessons covered up forever. What I have learnt or what I have been taught are just funny stories depicting bright and colorful endings. What I should have been taught were those dark stories which are classified as stories matured enough for you to read and understand when you are 9. The same stories that are then classified as way too juvenile to read and learn when you are 10.

A place where the patriotic songs are sung with our heads held high. A place where I am considering not to offend anyone's feelings while writing this blog. A place where patriots are placed equal to god. A place where when I try being a patriot makes people smirk. Well people alone are not to be blamed. I mean my strong will fades away and doubts creep up my inner self questioning if I am doing the right thing. I am not qualified to be a strong-willed patriot but then who is? The answer depends on how many me(s) populate the place. I do not wish to be culminated in an idea to have selective breeding produce better offspring. I do not wish to be genetically modified. I just wish to be educated. But then is it up to me to wish?

And yet again.....

I have been attempting to follow the trace of the lightning every time it strikes the evening sky. Every time there is a flash lighting up the crimson sky, it has found a secret admirer in me. The fascination about the bolt of fury has drawn me to the open sky when it is wet and bright after dusk. Feeling the grass with my hands i walk till i reach the spot that I call the roof of my world. I can see the shining reflection of the lightning strikes on the drops of rain water holding tight onto the leaves, petals and the blades resisting to fall down. I could sense a fear among the drops to fall and mix with the puddle of muddy water. Though I was smiling to myself thinking about the inevitable fall eventually. Still, I was admiring the reflection within them of one of nature's strangest and most fierce spectacles. The glory of watching it from the closest proximity was to those who were ready to embrace martyrdom. Today I had to change this, that is the reason for my presence at this place that I call the roof of my world. I wanted to embrace the bolt but escape being vaporized. The final battle between the puddle of muddy water and the ocean was on the verge of being ensued.

Let me give you a tip before you bet your money on one of us, well I am going to bet on me only because I assume after a defeat my possessions would no longer be mine and hence I need not pay. But the faint blue lightning strikes again a little over a few kilometers away. I could hear it approach me now. Well not being scared as I remember from a TV documentary that the lightening picks up its victim at random. I still have hope that it picks up the old tree next to me for a battle instead of me. I still have no idea why I am calling this a battle as its a one shot n game match. Not a fight where I get to pick up or swing my sword. The lights flashing across from the city towers at a distance baffled me. I see these majestic structures installed with lightning arresters. None stand tall in front of the bolt's might. But I am not deterred by this just encouraged for not being a tall building with a conductive strip in place of its spine.

There is a sudden silence across the field, a sudden gush of wind against my face. It felt like the last warning before the face off. The sweet and captivating smell of rain in the wind just made it look more like an advice than a warning. A slight drizzle was next to follow the wind I could see the ambiance getting a little relaxed now. The green blades were shining again in the twilight as the moon was still behind the dark aerial bully. The sound of thunder and bright flashes were still making there presence felt but not anywhere around me. I was still alert even though the fear on my face now was more of an anachronism as things were peaceful now.

It was time for dinner and I had to head back home. The wait was not looking fruitful as the sky was clearing up and now all those drops clinging on to the leaves were an inseparable part of the muddy puddles below them. The moon was shining through the leafless branches of the old tree next to me. It looked very much like a truce from the world war stories and what re-affirmed the truce story was that all I could see in my immediate surroundings were puddles with the crimson sky reflection and an old leafless tree.

Walking back home should have been like a homecoming of a war hero. I had won the battle finally. I was there ready to fight but the lightning called for a truce, so I win and I am alive to tell the story. The sleepless nights dreaming about this day are finally over and I can sleep finally after a life time full of dreaming and planning for this big night. I turn back one last time to look at the battle ground and smile. But wait why is the old tree on flames and when did this happen. I never even heard a sound. It was a silent strike of death perhaps. The silent assassin wins again and yet again an innocent random victim and this time it was not me.

The same old worthless thoughts.....

It was just another evening when I have got caught in the rain without an umbrella. The open air café by the road side was an amazing place to sit and while away my time till it stopped raining. I had just ordered my double shot espresso as I did not want the rain drops to dilute my coffee. I was peeping through the windows of the café after smiling briefly to the waiter who asked me to sit inside. Inside I saw a bunch of scared lowly mortals. It was another reason to smile, but this time I just looked away. I was feeling brave and free to be sitting there feeling the rain drops on my face. I was searching for the sun to shine from behind the clouds and to draw a rainbow for everyone, the blacks and the whites. Blacks are the ones who save and protect you from the evil and none actually know who they are or where they come from, much like the warrior black knights out of fairy tales. The whites comprise of those who do their duty bravely and everyone knows them and respects them for their right ways of doing things. The others breathing are all just transparent and colourless like a glass. This is very misleading as the terms colourless and transparent sound very positive but I see it as something that does not hold the sun light and lets it pass through as if nothing existed in between.

“Excuse me sir your Espresso with hot water”. He got me a cup of hot water and put it on the house. He had earned himself a hefty tip. There was this cold chilling wind touching me and making me shiver every time there was a thunder. Or was it just because the loud sound woke me up and brought me to life. Anyways, the coffee was good and with the rain water mix it was just great to taste and not very hot. The chair had started creaking a little by now. May be I must visit the gym or may be the rain water washed away the lubricants in its joint. The coffee still tasted very good like it was freshly brewed. I remembered the flags flown in pride and thought whether there was actually the pride or was it masquerade. It was just another evening when I have got caught in the rain without an umbrella.

Maya.....REALEST Reality

What if someone tells you all you see, touch, feel, smell and all you hear is all unreal and a virtual reality bubble. Anyone would laugh back saying "Hey.....go get your brains ANALYZED hahahahaha". Well I am not saying this reply/ response is incorrect or foolish. I totally agree that all we see around is not virtual even a bit. And I firmly believe that if told so, the preacher is just another lunatic on the street. I mean we were shown the first bird and the first tree by our parents how can they lie to us and why would they. Also, I am well educated and I know there is a scientific explanation to all that we see around us. I know why the white light splits into seven visible colors on passing through a crystal. There are hundreds and lakhs of scientists working every moment to make new discoveries and accrue many more explanation to the already existing explanation set explaining Reality to us. Our favorite rock bands to marijuana. The divas and the ugly classmates all are real. The ones we love and to extend the discussion across different species, our pets who love us. I just sat back and took a sip of Luke warm tea while keying this in. Trust me the tea that I had is also very much real and so is the heat absorbed in it.

We have a million ways of explaining reality as we know and all of us should work in the direction to explain it more and more every day. But when we take a moment and look back as we all know or may be believe, truth never needs an explanation or reasoning. When we think about this we see how involved we are in something which has probably engulfed the whole of this universe as it looks to mankind at least. Breaking out of this virtual reality is impossible and even if someone does he will be considered mentally ill. The truth or the REAL reality is so bizarre that it sends shivers down my spine just to imagine how it would be. But then as we have been explaining ourselves this virtual reality and believing in it for many millennium now, there is no way that we break free out of it to face the real truth. From the moment we are born the world has made sure we are completely engulfed by the spell cast on the whole universe. Those who don't succeed are decently marked as mentally challenged.

Maya the biggest of all spells or rather the biggest addiction from which no one could break free and be alive still.

Last frozen drop of life!

The last book I read. the last time I winked and smiled, the last time I listened to my favourite song, the last time I felt the rain drops on my face.....

I havent been through any of the lasts I mentioned above, but I havent forgotten that there is one last time that I would be doing these, well except for the reading book thing as I never read a book so there's no last time to that! That reminds me that something that hasn't had a first time doesn't have a last time either! But then what about all those things that have had a first time? The once who's first time were like very long ago, those that we refer to as reality and yes the once who's first time were not very long ago, those that we refer to as mankind's discoveries.....

The rule says that " Anything that has had a first time has a last time"..... well I agree that this is not exactly what the rule states, but is something that we could easily infer out of it, but still does this mean the end of the reality(as we know it) or does it mean the end of mankind's discoveries(that we are proud off). Well whatever may the answer be but trust me I don't want to know it neither do you nor does anyone alive or for that matter dead.

The last dry rose petal to fall on the burning ground doesn't indicate anything nor does the last suicide attempt by a teenager scared to live. The last patch of red grass trampled over by a stampede comprising of all possible species doesnt value its color. The last music record played in the pub down the road means nothing anymore. You might ask "what matters then?" I feel what really would matter is the LAST FROZEN DROP OF LIFE waiting for the warmth of love to come and breath life into it.

Angel of Retribution

Everyone prays for the angelic savior to come and rescue them, to come and pull them out of the swamp that is slowly suffocating them and trying to make them free of all worldly worries once and for all. This angelic savior comes and saves us so that we continue to live in the world of greed, lust, sin…..the list never ends! Well I should make a point here, that my thoughts are partially inspired by the very famous music album with the same name as the title.

But somewhere down the lane there is a sure and a well anticipated transition in our mindset. The outcome of this transition are two sets of believers, the first set consists of believers who after being saved from the millions of evils haunting us all every single second, get used to the angelic savior to arrive on time every time. The second set consists of believers who are busy portraying a figure with partially burnt black wings, dressed in black attire that has red spots all over, with bloodshot eyes that seem to contain the energy of a thousand suns, standing tall holding a sword instead of a magic wand. They comfortably call this figure their angel, the angel of retribution. I personally believe all of us have an angel of retribution inside us, whom we have thrown in a dark corner inside us chained without food and water, running cowardly towards the angelic savior for help.

The angel of retribution is something that people in the second set of believers are searching for all their lives with many breathing their last without finding it. Some of them join the first set on their death beds and the rest resort to self-cursing for having believed in the angel of retribution and to have wasted time that could have otherwise been utilized to appease the angelic savior instead. But a very few among the set two believers succeed in finding the figure. These are people who have looked inside and were able to spot the otherwise invisible dark corner. These are people with true revolutionary traits and with fearless hearts, people who pass their time trying to feel fire with bare hands. These are people who change the world. Good or Bad is not the point of discussion here as none can be judgmental about the elite group of people who have finally deciphered the mystery of the angel of retribution and are now showing a way to the lesser beings.