Thursday, 14 May 2020

What Would The World Be Like, Really?

In conversation with RoMa

If poets muse upon the sun as frequent as they gawk at the moon,
She would shine more on us with triumphant splendour, and we would stagger with the weight of light!

If there was a shooting star, every time a blossom opened and a tree sprung up for every child,
Starry nights would be streaky and trees might lose their innocence too, as they grow!

When we don't need rockets to hop between planets and stars,
The universe would forever lose the glamour of mystery!

When energy came from our roofs and not deep underground,
We would still take it for granted, as we always have!

If science isn't a paradox anymore and religions open doors to brotherhood,
Inventions would be limited by beliefs and congregations would be no longer relevant.

When we no longer have to give reason for a 'no', to end a conversation, a call or cancel a plan,
We would lose the joy of doing things 'Just' for the person!

When personal space is respected as much as social distancing during a pandemic,
Will we have anyone to force our pains out, for our own good?

When robots are just our assistants and not personal trackers,
There won't be answers to questions we didn't know we had.

When breeze flows every time a sweat drops or tears flow,
We would be engulfed in hurricanes of hope, too much to bear.

When colours no longer mean anything but stay as mere reflections,
Would we still perceive beauty as much through the same eyes?

When prayers were not demands and Thanks and Sorry really meant,
The Conversations with God would be really mundane and reading between the lines would be tiresomely futile.

When sapiens stop feeding the earth, all that she can't consume,
We might actually be giving her the chance to even out the score.

When survival wasn't the concern, but living life to the fullest was,
Then being alive would be weird, without the push and pull!

When food is grown at the reach of our hands and all we have to do is get some dirt on our knees,
We would, in reality, reap all that we sow! (Thanks RoMa)

When hunger is forgotten and the only poor are the unimaginative,
Actions wouldn't speak any louder than the words.

When judgements are discarded and acceptance becomes universal,
Morals would be history and 'reckless' would be the new law.

When money becomes obsolete and love opens doors,
We would all have a bunch of open doors and empty closets.

And ya, If life had background music,
It would be a horrendous ensemble of sounds! 


Monday, 4 May 2020

What Would The World Be Like?

If poets muse upon the sun as frequent as they gawk at the moon 

If there was a shooting star, every time a blossom opened and a tree sprung up for every child

When we don’t need rockets to hop between planets and stars

When energy came from our roofs and not deep underground 

If science isn’t a paradox anymore and religions open doors to brotherhood 

When we no longer have to give reason for a ‘no’, to end a conversation, a call or cancel a plan.

When personal space is respected as much as social distancing during a pandemic

When robots are just our assistants and not personal trackers 

When breeze flows every time a sweat drops or tear flows

When colours no longer mean anything but stay as mere reflections 

When prayers were not demands and Thanks and Sorry really meant

When sapiens stopped feeding the earth, all that she can’t consume

When survival wasn’t the concern , but living life to the fullest was

When food is grown at the reach of our hands and all we have to do is get some dirt on our knees

When hunger is forgotten and the only poor are the unimaginative 

When judgements are discarded and acceptance becomes universal

When money becomes obsolete and love opens doors

And ya, If life had a background music! 


Inspired by Words and Other Witchcraft

Monday, 25 February 2019

The Road Often Taken


Wanderlust noun
wan·​der·​lust |  \ ˈwän-dər-ˌləst \
: Strong longing for or impulse towards travel
To travel is to live.  
To travel is to escape from reality.
To travel farther is to move closer to understanding oneself.
To feel anonymous in a place you have never been to before is refreshing.
If you are in strong agreement with the last 4 lines, then whatever you are going to read further might be of very little interest to you.
With plentitudes of blogs, aeons of podcasts, exabytes of frames and bundles of literature on travel, have we not reduced it into mere hashtags of meaningless escapes, cliched roads of bikers' pride and never-ending scrolls of photographers' obsession?

Lately, I have this feeling that travel is overrated. And, 'I love to travel' is a mask! Where are we trying to escape? In fact, What are we escaping from? Jumping from one lonely Island to another? How long will it take for us to realise that what we seek is no different from what we have? To realise all this drudgery is to leap into the same abyss we are already floating in?

The so-called travel is tiresome. The aching stretch of no time and no home. The nausea associated while traversing in those confines. The dull pleasure of transforming into identity defying numbers and cards. Let me not even get started on the money and overhyped tourism business involved and being cheerily imbecile while we are drained by those expensive 'need-nots'.
Now I can sense you building arguments constructed with imagery of beautiful destinations and scrolls of history. Yes! destinations are beautiful. New places are intriguing. But are we really travelling? What good is an adventure when we rise and fall back into the same routine? What good is an escape when we ache to get into the comfort of our cages, again? Is it really a retreat when all that we are pulling out from is, love? There is this friend of mine. She often captures frames on her way back home (not in the mornings though. There she rushes like all of us), just to let us be a part of the undying gush of emotions held by her everyday scenes. No special destinations they are. No new occurrences there. But she constantly reminds me that, travel is neither measured by distance nor valued by newness. Am I adventurous enough to take a detour once in a while from my regular route? Am I gutsy enough to often reach to that 'second' tea shop and forego the comfort of the master knowing how I like my drink? Am I a wanderer enough to reap every day all the pleasures that travel has to offer? If there is anything I learnt from those little hours of travel I have been blessed with, is that Travel is not a plunge into the unknown. It is not a vinyl we would love to frame in our living room. Travel is change. Empirical. Irreversible. Constant.Together let us travel. Less wide and more deep. 


Saturday, 9 February 2019

வெண்ணிற இரவுகள்

He is the most ordinary person you would ever get to know.

Any day he fancies scorching sun over the soothing moon; Dreamy clamour over deafening silence.
As much as he loves the blues and the greens, Goes to great lengths to argue that Black is the only colour and rest all just faded out from it. 

Long roads he travels, adventures that he takes you along, only to loose you on the trail. 
When you stumble and slide, he plunges to pull you up with a hearty laugh.

Just because he is lazy to fill the gap between the head and the hand, he buries treasures that would never sparkle in your curious eyes. 
And once in a while, because he is generous enough, he lets you dwell in the cosy nooks of his thought coffers.

Don't mistake him for the forbearance he displays. He is patient enough to set it up, stir it up and in a blink, pour it all down in his mischievous ways. 
All you can do is to get confused between showering tender love over his merriment or hurt your soul by chiselling this stone.

What would you call him? Mighty? For being as calm as a tempest-beaten rock at the threat of trouble? or Fragile? As he faults at life's feeble little things?

An open book with secrets untold. 

Run to him for the warm heart he is, you might end up receiving a frostbite. Complain not, he is a devil with the halo of an angel. A rogue who plays fair. A perfectionist who slobs. Awkward yet refined. He is neither perfect nor a mess. 

If he was the Sunbeam, he wouldn't know which rock to harden.
If he was Stardust, he wouldn't care about all the glitter that is hidden.
If he was a Moonstone, he wouldn't bother to lay unbidden.

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