Labyrinth of mind’s intricacies

The things you find while lost in the labyrinth of mind’s intricacies! Explored and unexplored paths in the depths of your own self, exclusive inadequacies and idiosyncrasies that define you, delicately stored layers of precious moments that were crafted carefully in your solitude, pearls of wisdom hidden in the big black ocean of unconstrained emotions, snippets of long lost happiness, fragmented grief from past tragedies, looming dread for an unforeseeable future, disintegrated prejudices, non-degradable biases, human and inhuman errors, serenity, singularities, chaos, fear, pain, darkness, colours, void, love, desire, satisfaction, longing, obligations, obsession, compassion, pieces of your own tumultuous explosive soul, conjured up images of bygone moments neatly stacked away in strange corners, haphazard pile of crumbled thoughts corrupted by mental blurs, intangible things that have stuck on to the multi-dimensional fabric of time. A wandering soul can discover a complete, distinctively rich, self-sustaining, spectacular world within oneself.

Clouds

In the languid vastness of a rain feverish evening sky, contented clouds good-humouredly dance to the tunes of ruthless evening winds, which callously toss them around; unaware of any labels of class or colour that are rampant just a few miles beneath them; untouched by any business propaganda to establish ‘supremacy’ of a particular class or colour; against the breeze; against the wind; against the abrupt sighs of the sky; against the stillness that don the world right before a rain; against the daunting expanse of mighty rain-charged clouds; against the shadow of gloomy darkness that engulf anything and everything that appears in its way; against the loneliness that is palpably scattered in the sky.

Tear down the wall, Simone! But, don’t break the glass

Meet my friend, ‘Simone Original’ (yes, I have named this one, too), a red-vented bulbul (‘nattu bulbul’) who always makes it a point to visit its shadowy hazy friend, ‘Simone Reflection’, who lives ‘on the other side’ of the great gloomy glass ‘wall’; everyday unfailingly.

Simone Original can be identified from the rest of its kind, by a discoloured feather at the tip of its tail. Even though it is customary for a large group of its friends to occasionally attempt to ‘break down the wall’ by repeatedly pecking at the glass, in order to free their contemporaries ‘from the other side’; Simone Original is distinctively daring, and quite a revolutionary too, I presume. I have seen it hopping back and forth on the sill with uncontrollable indignation, inspiring and educating; while the others stand in attention, inspired and educated, and listen to its rants about why the ‘wall’ should fall. Interestingly, its counterpart ‘on the other side’, Simone Reflection, does the same to its followers, who also respond and even peck at the glass in the same way.

However, as time passed, its revolutionary movement lost its ground to other shiny flowery colourful priorities and Simone Original’s followers dwindled to just one (was not available for a picture), who is probably its best friend/partner. Now, this backlash hasn’t stopped Simone Original from persisting in its fight against deprivation of liberty.  Simone Original still determinedly pecks at the glass with all its might, and untiringly continues to motivate its one faithful comrade on the need to help their friends ‘on the other side’ achieve freedom.

The most noteworthy quality of Simone Original is its perseverance in bringing about a change for others by relentlessly fighting for what it believes in, while its friends would rather fret over petals and florets and fruitlets. I’m sure Simone Original’s name will go down in the history of red-vented-bulbul-kind as a great inspiring social leader.

Way to go Simone Original!
Tear down the wall!
(But, don’t break the glass!)

Lost in nature.

Leftover drops of rain caught in the flora trickle down aimlessly from leaf to leaf; while languid rays of a setting sun reluctantly pierce through the dark clouds to draw surreal shadows against an alluring canvas of an orange but cloud-ridden sky.
Yet, the mind can feel only the sad emptiness of lost yesterdays looming in the unkempt corners consumed by longing, suffering and loneliness.

Existential ‘Why’s…

Why wouldn’t time let me stretch all the beautiful moments to span a lifetime?
Why wouldn’t life let me hang on to the little things that can create happiness?
Why wouldn’t happiness stay with me forever and not leave me with depression?
Why wouldn’t depression get tired of forcing me into bleeding torrid loneliness?
Why wouldn’t loneliness stop scorching my mind and not fill it with irrationalities?
Why wouldn’t irrationality understand that all that it gives me is perpetual pain?
|Why wouldn’t pain stop hurting me and not constantly make me yearn for death?
Why wouldn’t death hold me and let me sleep peacefully in its arms for eternity?

Shattered Love

How your voice still rings in my ears!
How your smile still appears on my eyes!
How your love still touches my soul!
Oh, how your absence still singes my mind!

My soul is shattered into little pieces,
For, I am made of delicate glass after all.
As I pick up the scattered little pieces,
I listen to the echo of a deathlike silence.

Remembrance.

You are made up of memories of the people around you. Remembrance can make even a deceased person come to life. Two minds can be impossibly distant but miraculously united in a moment frozen in time. If you forage through the jumbled thickets of cognitive wilderness, you come up with a precious something of a long lost memory.

You, the reader, even if you don’t know me, you will probably save a few bits of my mind scattered in this piece in one of the deepest easily forgettable corner of your mind. And, even when we are universes apart, I shall retain that little part of your mind which has put aside an indelible piece of your life for me.

Haven’t you noticed how our heart can preserve a heart that’s not our own? Connections constantly reverberate through the vastness of space and time, to reach our hearts. Just like the bond that has percolated through this piece, from my mind to yours.

How our minds can travel through time and gather even the tiniest crumb of a long-forgotten memory, is a beautiful occurrence, which is, but, impossible for our physical existence. So, remembrance can be a sweet escape into a fantasy world knitted in time, from a dull reality!

Drifting in the high of life.

Blissful serenity in my loquacious mind.
Jovial memories trigger opium smiles.

Senses bathed in transient excitation.
Heart receptive to instant gratification.

Rampant accumulation of thoughts.
The earth answering to my songs.

Perseverance of tenacious tunes.
Nature succumbing to my moods.

Building levels of consciousness.
Gradual accumulation of happiness.

Blithe gaze falling upon contentment.
Wandering in unceasing amusement.

Lost in the labyrinth of sensations.
Peacefully adrift in the high of life.

The lazy fat gecko on my wall…

On the ceiling shelf of the wall that faces my bed, lives a lazy lizard, a lethargic fat gecko, which does mostly nothing but lie near the edge, and stare at me with one of its half-asleep pair of eyes. I am almost certain it is the same one that had displayed its cannibalistic urges by gobbling up a smaller member of its own kind, not once, but twice; both times beneath the fluorescent lamp on the adjacent wall and both times arousing a lot of nauseating disgust in me. I remember deeply thinking about its cannibalistic urges, wondering if it was acute hunger that could have led to these brutal acts. But, it could not have been, since I have seen thousands of unsuspecting insects beneath the lamp; more than enough for the other hard-working, fun-loving, non-cannibalistic geckos to feast on and even conduct hunting games.

So, all Hannibal (yes, I have named it) ever does is, stare at me and observe my every move for hours, without moving at all, except for an occasional twitch. I am not sure if Hannibal is watching me, or watching over me; plotting my murder, or conducting a study; amused at the equally lethargic way my life moves forward, or pondering over the divide that centuries of diverged evolutionary process has brought in between our species. Nevertheless, I think Hannibal is surely entertained by the uneasy glances and infrequent short conversations I throw in its direction whenever it stations itself at the same spot and commits to its favourite and only hobby, which is mute observation.

Right now, as I type this, Hannibal is peering at me from the edge of the high shelf; possibly wondering what it would be like to gobble up a human.

Happy Valentine’s Day, Hannibal…!!!
And, get a life, Hannibal…!!!