Tale of tiny leaf

Image credit: Google

Tiny leaf,

fragrance of life in all its forms and expressions.

It stood alone in a thatch of mud.

Spotless.

Fearless.

Braving storms.

Unblemished like a Queen.

A whole journey can be traced,

through the lines.

A force that draws us,

to its sheer beauty.

A friend to lonely hearts,

the leaf adds color to existence.

Caressing it,

it strikes the heart and soul.

Sensual.

Layer of dreams.

Comfort.

Harbinger to wind of change,

it's nestled on branches,

falls off its perch.

Mighty.

Scars cannot overpower it.

Divine force.

Magic.

Healing touch.

It brings hearts together,

singing tale of love.

Simple

yet mesmerizing leaf.

Glory, gloom and doom

How I wish!

Crystal ball rolling and tilting to one's deep wishes. 

To struck gold.

Life sway to my tune.
How I wish!
Holding the magic wand,
transported to the gud ole' days.

Madness, like fury,
holding us back.
Petrichor of cloud, often makes us become all gloom and doom.
Our extraordinary loses its shine.
We shall shed bucket of tears,
ravaged by regret and curse.
A life worn and shorn by past glory.
It hurts the senses.
Bruises the ego.
The mind goes mad, nursing the wounds.
How I wish!
To conquer old victories.
It was not meant to stay forever.
Nothing is permanent.
Success is an illusion.
Failure is just another name for greatness.
Past laurel is like mud.
Getting dragged and sucked into.
Be a torch bearer.
Stride ahead with elan.
Start again.
Carve new ground.
Conquer failures,
for nothing taste like sweet victory.

Love
Vishal

National Train Day: Railway memories

The National Train Day is celebrated on May 14. I haven't been a frequent traveller on Indian railway except during my Mumbai-Pune days and of course, was a daily traveller in our life line in Maximum City, Local. Let me try to go back to those days in Mumbai and Pune where I was a regular train traveler.

It was in 2005 when I booked a second class ticket (unreserved) in my favorite Deccan Queen. It was early 8 a.m when I had to meet someone in Mumbai. The family visited for few days and it was a do or die situation. I scampered inside the train when few guys were cleaning the berths. They asked me to give them a handful of notes to sit on the berth. I played along. It was much later I realized that the train was half empty and would have got the seat anyway. It was window seat and it mattered.

The train rattled and loved the sight as it whooshed away from Pune station. Chai was ordered and samosas to fill the empty stomach.On the menu, reading the Times of India and peeping through the window, admiring the picturesque view at Lonavla, Mahabaleshwar and of course, the tunnel ride at Khandala. I would get off my seat to stand near the door, watching the train speeding its way inside the tunnel. It suddenly became dark but a ride totally worth it. 

Image source:https://i.ytimg.com/vi/ISMEQWp0Zac/maxresdefault.jpg

It was a three-hour journey spent in peace and admiring the scenery. There was an envy to smoke and looked furtively around, where I wondered whether I can take a risk? Of course, I did hanging near to the door and curled smoke to be lost in the valley at Lonavla. Travelling by the Indian railway has such a romantic feeling where you could weave stories at the back of your imagination.

The train slowed its way on the track. It made me smile. I can see the yellow-and-black cabbies. It's Mumbai. We are in the outskirt. My heart started to dance. The feeling of stomping on the feet in Maximum City. Soon, our Deccan Queen suddenly sprang to life and zoomed with speed on the railway track. I felt like a King getting down at the iconic Chattrapati Shivaji Terminus (CST). Whatta feeling.

I was supposed to get back to Pune on the same day. No booking was made and pining to get a free berth on the way back to Pune. I got the shock of the life when I boarded the train coming from Hyderabad and halted at CST on its way to Pune. It was jam packed and hardly any space to breathe. My legs pained. I was like, how on earth gonna bear the voyage for three hours. I moved to stand inside the toilet. Trust me, it was quite a breather to get some space to stand and breath free. Finally, the journey was done and the moment I got down at the Pune junction past midnight, it felt like the skies and clouds conspired to make me walk freely. I felt like a free bird, evading from the cage where human masses and thick breath covering the cloud. I became the cloud. 

A train journey full of tribulations but totally worth it.

Postscript: This post was inspired by Sharukh Bamboat who blogs on IndiaDestinationsBlog. Check his incredible post on luxury trains on National Train Day. It brought back my days being a traveller.

Mom's World

Wake up on time. Avoid oily food. Take medicines for upset stomach. Always reach exam hall in time and keep a couple of pens in case one goes Kaput. That was Mom to me during college days in Mumbai and Pune during our phone conversation. I just wanna yell, Mom!! I am a grown up now. Something that been oft-repeated to the 10 and 16-year old self.

Revisit Mom in 2012 where I reached 30 plus. I could have been married with kids but I am not. Wake up early to catch the bus to work/interview. You cannot trust those buses, they are never on time. Have your tiffin on time. How many times should I told you to switch off the lights?! You are not serious at all and you will never be. Mom's oft-repeated phrases ring a bell in my ear. I so wanna yell, Mom! I ain't a toddler and a grown up adult now. Or, she slowly walks to check if I am sleeping past 2 a.m, her dozing off interrupted by Baba dearest. Guess, some things never change with Indian Moms, scattered all over the planet.

I still hide and smoke, be it on the balcony or inside my room pulling the window wide open while she is watching TV. Still getting caught to an earful of the harmful effect of nicotine inside the body, not without being chided like a teeny weeny teen.

You must be wondering 90s same story, 2000s a repeat and 2016 a revisiting same dialogues. Guess!! The perks of staying with your Mom and trust me when you get married, it won't stop. The heart of a mother is still like the Nirupa Roys of Deewar or Subhash Ghai's Khal Nayak, Oh! Ma Tujhe Salam'. In outlook, they may have donned the mantle of a Lilette Dubey, sweet Reema Lagoo, Ratna Pathak, Dimple Kapadia or Jaya Bachchan but their heart remains in the right place laden with ladoo and gulab jamun the emotional way.

That's Mom on Mother's Day when I yell, Happy Mother's Day. She turns with 'Oh! Really!!' before mopping and making the Ghar ka Khana. That's my Mom. Teary, emotional, strict and lovable that what Moms do for we never grow up in front of their eyes.

Come fast and the food is getting cold. I think I better go before I hear the refrain. What your Maa moment this Mata Diwas? No!! I didn't post selfie on FB how much I love my Mom.

Love

V

Sun's fragrance

Picture credit: Google/ http://7-themes.com

Bright ray of sunshine,

brimming with zest on one's life and chakra.

Fragrant morning.

Morning hue and dew.

Aesthetic sense kindled.

Unlimited Joy.

Hot cup of tea brewing.

Awakening the consciousness.

Mind springing into action.

Oasis of calm mind and soul.

Sun offering shades of light and energy.

Natural vitamin for the mind.

Snuggle to shades.

Sit straight and stand to face the sun.

Internalise vibration, manifesting in soul and body.

Good Morning

Vishal

Oh!! Willie Willie William and Katie!! Bless our Kohinoor

Genie wish!!! A girlfriend like Katie Katie not Winslett, darling would do wonder to my ego and health! Tons of royalty, I mean money bags!! Kidding, I wanna the Kohinoor shipped back to India. The least our Government could and should have done is to sweep Kate and Willie William off their feet, mollycoddling them that they are the rightful owner of the Arabian sea. Anytime, they could have dropped in to watch the still waters. In exchange, for our Kohinoor. A missed opportunity like our first Nano version. Ask Ratan Tata about it!

The dearie couple visited India and was guffawed by our symbol of love, Taj Mahal. Thank God, they didn't ask it as a return gift to Buckingham Palace. Our country folks are drooling on how hot Kate is and she got the charm and oomph factor, donning an Anita Dongre dress. She could have been our phoren and imported Maa Durga ringing in Lakshmi. Wonder what Sonia-ji will think with so much pandering. At least, Sonia hasn't lost the crown of Indian Bahu to Katie Katie and can take heart we haven't adopted her.

Image credit: Google India

She came and conquered hearts, this lovey dovey Kate, mother to the future heir of England. At least, we could have kidnapped, patented and adopted the little boy, this future King of England. Nah! We prefer to pander to his Maa and Baba and our celebrities losing their USP to royalties, secretly humming Kaash Mein bhi Royalty Hota!! A tale of Gods and Goddesses of small things blessing our land. Our Mann Ki Baat is still stuck like the old gramophone, K for Kohinoor. Trust SRK to serenade the royal lady, doing a detour from K..kiiran to K..koohinoor!

Saffron hangover. Think again! We go gaga over the Katie and William of the royalty relishing the juicy stuff of the world and how we love throwing ourselves at them. I prefer Lady Gaga rather than going gaga over the royal family.

Now, our Government is ensnarled by the lovey dovey royal couple that they have started to rewrite history, educating us how our prized possession was not stolen but given to the Queen of England. Have they been drinking a magic potion specially concocted in the Kingdom of England? Or!! Or!! Playing Lagaan in the middle of the night with the royal couple.

A rare selfie must have done the trick for us, grateful how our once colonial masters have accepted to be framed and how great they are to visit us. Athithi Devo Bhava!!

Where is our Kohinoor? After all, it has shifted so many hands before landing in the lap of the 'rightful hand' pretty much like the tale of Arabian Nights. The same old bedside stories, matlab nani ki kahani in a new package that would put us to sleep. And, to think we were the most prosperous nation in the world and our machines was shifted to England.  Ooh!! La! La! Nah! We shall not dig in the past and a kiss on the cheek from Kate would be enough to marvel at how perfect her skin is.

Perhaps, Katie and William can be our goodwill ambassadors of Incredible India in England. No Fair and Lovely or Kohinoor babes. A flying kiss would do...chalega chalega.

I am thinking where to shop for the Johnson Baby powder to go fair and turn into a very handsome boy!! Better I ask Kate darling to get me one for free and in exchange, I shall put a stamp of approval that her family is the rightful owner of our Kohinoor. But, dunno whether she'll love this unique piece? Our own Kohinoor, the Vijay Mallya.

Kyon Ki Taher Shah bhi pari hai!!

Hai re Allah!! Jal Pari!! Angel in human form. Pari hoon main!! Not me, you dumbos and trolls!! I ain't a self-claimed angel reclaimed through pop songs and videos on social media. I am cringing and whining. You know the culprit, right!! Our apna homo sapien, Taher Shah and Pakistani friend aka pari is making me look and feel so horrible. How I wish there were no purna janam or reincarnation!!

 I wouldn't give anything to be re-born as an angel for Taher Shah has taken swept the mojo under  my feet.   Born this way!! It shudders me to think Lady Gaga wanna do a reprise of her video wearing Taher Shah robe and wig. Our apna Kareena Kapoor Khan must be cursing herself for lip sync Papa ki pari hoon mein and wished in lieu of Pankaj Kapoor, she could have hummed to Taher Shah with 'Mere Papa hi pari hoon.' Trust Sooraj Barjatya to remake the song and make Alok Nath, our apna Sanskari Babu play Taher Shah on screen. He'd look dapper on screen.

Image source: Google

Just imagine, I was an actor and got to play a man in love with a Pari or mere bachi singing Papa ki pari, I would have abandoned the role on the spot and cut myself to size. I take a vow: I shall never get married for I don't wanna dear daughter singing papa ki pari for every time she'll do that, Taher Shah face will haunt me. Who wanna play Papa ki pari to Taher Shah? I bet! Many stars, daughters, and believers of Pari will stop believing in angels. I am already having day mares of not having a night mare of Taher-ji accompanying me to heavenly bliss. That would be horrible. right!!

Kaise kaise sapnay dikhate hai world ki pari, Taher shah. He has already given a bad name to the Shahs of the world. Now, our Gujjus bhaiyon and behenons must be fuming and thinking of throwing dhoklas and not andas on the dude. So much waste of our Gujju Dhoklas, singing Dhoka hua hai with the Shah namesake. 

See!! I trust my angel always but not Taher Shah, hell bent on spoiling my childhood and dream of meeting my pari, to do a duet. You horrible man, I dunno what to make of you and your ardent desire of making the cut as a mini celebrity! I would prefer you to blurt out some rubbish..racist rant on Twitter. A better way for folks like me to troll and make you famous than donning this pari avatar. I don't feel like trolling you, dude. You are making trolls badnaam. Munni hui badnaam, Taher pari ki wajah!

Papa ki pari! Jal pari! Pari hai tu! Kis ko pari! Taher Shah ko!!! I am racking and whacking my grey cells to come with funny words to describe you, man. But, but! You making the post look lame and horrible as you are. One thing is sure, your pari video should be distributed to the Taliban in Pakistan and I bet they won't venture in the open and wreck damage. Rather than making bombs in claiming innocent lives, they better share your videos to scare the shit outta ISI and Pak Government. Ha!! Your Government cries hoarse over India attacking your country or the fact that we conspire in pretending that we are the victims of terror that never happened, why the fuck did they make you wreck havoc on humanity. With a pari like you Taher Bhai, the world doesn't need bombs for you are such a big one on the head, eyes, and ears of people. Nobody ever told you that you are such a burden on the world, you atom bomb.

Heard emergency has been declared in Pakistan and they  are attempting to tighten all screw in your head. Screw! It should have been security for letting a mad mad pari going by the name of Taher Shah on the loose. Hey!! Hey!! Ever wondered on visiting the likes of Asaram Bapu and Shankaracharya of this world? Of course, singing and dancing pari to their tunes...like Basanti did for Gabbar!! I am sure they will abandon all penance and go a bit cool on religious crap or better shed celibacy.

Nopes! I ain't giving you idea of performing a sexual orgy in your next video. Dude!! That will exterminate humanity from the planet if you ever do that or you wanna be the next big thing to land yourself on Big Boss or Comedy Nights with Kapil. You shall be a blessing in disguise Tahir Shah for we will stop making the non-sensical soap operas or reality shows.

How I wish you giving Ekta idea on how not to make Kyon ki Taher Shah bhi Pari thi!!

We are all 'Ceiling Fans' of Rakhi Sawant

Who stole my good ole ceiling fan? Trust Rakhi Sawant to save me from the jaw of death and preventing me from committing 'suicide'? How I wish Rakhi was born before Sholay was made!! There would be no suicide scene...Dharam Paaji mouthing three times 'Suicide, Suicide and Suicide' and she would steal him right under the nose of Hema Malini. Maushi would die of heart attack on the spot and no Lambu would go to coax her to marry Basanti to Veeru. Just imagine the new version of Sholay with Rakhi Sawant. Bechariyon!! Basanti and Mausi would be outta job.

I am a big 'Ceiling Fan' of Rakhi Sawant for solving the problem of suicide in a jifffy. Our Mika Singh must be wondering on inviting her for the next birthday party to blow all the balloons  and getting rid of all ceiling fans in his apartment. Guess, there would be no smoochie smoochie this time but only ceiling fan removal like hair transplant. Now, Mika is getting all the grey cells working on how he would look on Comedy Nights Bachao with one single thread on his head. First there was Garibi Hatao and now Ceiling Fan Hatao.

Trust Rakhi Sawant to solve all national issues in the country and me heard, that her 'ceiling fan' removal will prevent earth quake from happening in the world. We would be saved from corruption for you know ceiling fans offer fresh air on the head of our netas how to take kickback on fat projects. 

Our Rakhi is joining the brigade of bans and the latest victim of course is our dear old Godrej and Usha ceiling fans. Ab ceiling fan ko kaun bachaega Rakhi Sawant se. Bhago yaar!! Bhago!! Rakhi Sawant se bhago!! The only person who is safe! No prize for guessing! Bhaag Milkha Bhaag. Farhan, you are safe, man.

Image credit: google India

I am a fan. I oft repeat. A huge 'ceiling fan' of Rakhi Sawant for solving all problems on the earth. You know the solution right! Hey!! hey!! She can the self-appointment ambassador to make Donald Trump run away from 'Primaries' oops 'ceiling fan'. No banning of beef, no Ghar Waapsi. It's the banning of ceiling fan. BJP, are you listening? After all, what all the hullaboo of preserving Indian culture and tradition when Rakhi Sawant has solved everything chutki mein. Ab aayega asli mazaa. Trust Rohit Shetty to make her first female oriented action movie with Rakhi Sawant in the lead to blow all ceiling fans in houses, cinema, office and where not!! Rohit Shetty, just one problem. How about putting ceiling fans on the trees, next to traffic lights and crowded streets. Don't worry, Be Happy. Rakhi is here to blow them apart.

I trust the Indian Government is (not) getting ideas of appointing Rakhi Sawant the next brand ambassador of 'Swach ceiling fan abhiyaan' to ban the unban: 'Ceiling Fans.' Or, being made the Minister of Ceiling Fans. Lara Croft is already getting competition for our own desi version in taking on her in the destruction spree of the poor and defense less ceiling fan. First there was tobacco companies and now ceiling fans companies to shut shop in becoming 'ceiling fans' of Rakhi Sawant. Aren't we all?!

At Night Fall

Night fall.

Crescent moon.

Blank screen.

Dry ink.

Story untold.

Lush romance.

Unquenched thirst.

Hungry for words.

Troubled waters.

Loner.

Unrequited love.

Mind brewing with countless emotions.

Fragmented emotions.

Picking threads.

Unfulfilled narration.

Trouble waters.

A mind filled with stormy waves.

Closing the eyes,

I find the story in my dreams.

Capturing emotions.

With love

V

Kiss of petals

Music to the heart;

String of madness;

Passion;

Thy call it love;

Eyes longing for each other;

A valley of spring;

Roses blossoming together;

Kiss of petals;

Sound of guitar;

Singing a new song;

Love like never before;

Lose all sense of balance;

Just love;

Pure madness;

Innocence lost;

Fuck morals;

With Love

Vishal

Anushka Sharma trolled: Ugly patriarchy, anyone?!

Frustrated bigots, misogynists and morons occupy every possible space on Twitter. They are not called trolls for no reason and it doesn't matter whether they cheer for the Indian team and the smashing hero, Virat Kohli. They are so dumb that they forget Cricket is a gentleman's game. Blame it on their lack of empathy, self-respect and education, perhaps.

Unfunny assholes need to shamelessly peek into private lives and dragging a lady's name unnecessarily into India's emphatic win against Australia. You know the story, right? Film actor, Anushka Sharma, who is super successful in her own way was dragged by useless people celebrating Virat Kohli smashing success on the pitch yesterday. Worms who come uninvited, living up to the adageMaan na Maan mein tera bin bhulaye Mehmaan. I mean, it's so ridiculous when we see trolls dragging Anushka Sharma into India's win over Australia, bearing the mark of Virat Kohli. It is gross, vulgar and shows a lack of respect by barging shamelessly in the private space of both Virat Kohli and Anushka Sharma, two highly accomplished individuals in their respective professions.



There is something called, moving on and it's unbecoming in this sheer lack of respect for two individuals who were in a relationship in the past. Credit goes to them for maintaining a dignified silence by not invading each other's space but no some people don't get it. They need to barge in. Dragging Anuska Sharma in every cricket move by Virat Kohli is the stuff desperate and useless people are famous of. No wonder, Twitter has become a slamming ground for every fucking bigot and morons who don't have anything better to do in life.

What a nation we are becoming? Indulging in character assassination, sledging on this pitch called Twitter and slanderous remarks. It has become our favorite sport to shows such lack of respect and human dignity. Respect is something we sorely lack as Twiterrati, be it not battling an eyelid to insult a journalist or someone having a contrarian view or push our ego button to drag Anushka Sharma with the childish jibes. It's so ludicrous.
We can do without some slam show in a bit to show our worth, Tweeple and there are better, intelligent ways to attract attention. Or, is it that the narcissists that we have become on social media need to vent out our daily frustration by pulling a fast on celebrities to gain some mileage? It ain't funny guys to hit someone below the belt.
It shouldn't take a Virat Kohli to remind us how our vile acts characterized a lack of education and cheap to blame someone for his action on the pitch. Credit goes to him for being a gentleman in setting the record straight on the positive role played by Anushka Sharma in his life. Respect that relationship. Ugly patriarchy, anyone?!

Spread positivity and cheerz
Vishal

Happy Holi: Rainbow of colors

Image credit: https://farm4.staticflickr.com

Colors.

Faces.

Happiness.

Identity.

Spreading energy, love and happiness.

It's Holi.

Celebrating vibrant energy.

Gamut of colors.

Blue, green, red, yellow.

Smeared on the face,

in love we revel.

A new season,

opening up gateway of happiness and new promises.

A spirit of together.

Rainbow of colors.

Hearts and souls strung together.

Be jolly like colors

Always and ever

With love

Happy Holi

Vishal

Sensual words and words

Hi folks, 

World Poetry Day was celebrated on Monday, March 21. A poem I wrote on Facebook and thought of sharing on the blog:

Words, words and words

Hungry!! I ruffle through brain cells to seek you.

To quench the soul's thirst.

Sensual, lyrical and emotional fest.

Flowing in the river of thought and spreading like a virus.

Reaching every inch in our body and soul,

words take contour.

We express love, emotions, anger!!

What to do without words?

Syllables giving birth to poetry.

We revel in awesomeness.

Gushing at its beauty.

Can men and women stay alive without poetry?

Who founded poetry?

Gonna the feet and carve a place in doer's heart.

Happy World Poetry Day.

India vs Pakistan: One Voice always! India! India echoes

A gentlemanly game is truly genderless when men and women find an echo, a common voice to bring a nation together. When you have a common cultural aim in all fun, beat Pakistan? The game is cricket that brings seamless Indians together. Forget the intolerance and war of words among fellas in the country.

Indians swear by cricket, Sachin Tendulkar, Amitabh Bachchan and beating Pakistan to maintain our record. When the blockbuster sixer combo is rolled together, you know what happens? Fire sparks. We debate fiercely debating about everything that matters. After all, we are not called Argumentative Indians for nothing? We are at each other's lungs about intolerance, beef ban and extremism on both sides.

The fury is forgotten when the country's monument and national treasure, Amitabh Bachchan recites the national anthem, Jnana Gana Mana with passion and pitching for our win at the stadium with the God of cricket by his side, Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar. Yes, it brought the country together and Team India could do no wrong against Pakistan, maintaining our clean record against our lovable neighbour. We fight on the pitch with good stead. India vs Pakistan that was played on Saturday brought me back to the memory of World Cup in 2011 when we smash and fought it the hard way. India, men and women became one. There was no caste, sex or religion or for that matter, Bhakts or Sickulars. Perhaps, we should coin a new word, Cricket freak. India won not just on but off the pitch.

Beating Pakistan with Virat Kohli smashing it out makes us feel that we have won World War 3 and the T-20 World Cup.

It’s pure ecstasy. We freak out and after all, it's a matter of life-and-death, looking how quickly and back-to-back we lost 3 wickets in the match. It was a close shave and we won by 6 wickets. The best and cherished moment for fans was when Virat Kohli, the man who blasted the match with the memorable shot bowed to The Man who carried Indian Cricket on his shoulders for 29 years, Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar who gave a thump up, showing his emotions that he never left the game. An inspiration, Sachin Sir remains forever and what moment when the Indian cricket team saluted after the match. It's the kind of emotions that triggers in us patriotism and sense of belonging to the nation, no matter where we live.

India vs Pakistan, the match that frays our nerves and passion be it among commoners or netizens. It's a matter of do or die.

It's been after four years that I followed the match yesterday after I almost courted heart attacks post Pakistan semi and Sri Lanka final in 2011. I vowed that I won't be following cricket after the God, Sachin Tendulkar retired. I kept the promise. But, yesterday, was different and was like the old days. Amitabh Bachchan and Sachin Tendulkar, my icons at Eden Garden cheering against a side we love to see losing and celebrating. Yes! We did! I am not in India right now and was alone at home yesterday. Turned the wardrobe upside down to fish for an old version of my cricket tee.

Team India won! Bleed Blue.

Unknown destination

Fear of the unknown.

Alien destination.

Mind wandering in alien territory.

A seeker searching for truth.

What a pack of lies he led?

Ordinary mortal!!

Obsessed with materialism.

False ego and pride.

Lust.

Anger.

Facing the angel of death,

he asks, Who are you?

I am your shadow, angel says.

Illusion of a life,

led in darkness.

Face to face with truth.

Thick black fog blazes his vision.

He wore blinkers all the years.

Sowing seeds of doubts in their minds,

he faces them.

Dancing,

bowing to him.

Performing fire rituals.

His time was up.

Shrouded in darkness,

he saw half truth.

An unknown destination and path,

is not the end of his journey.

Infinite journey, perhaps.

Love

Visha;

FB prompt: Writing for writing sake

Hey folks,

It all started as an idea for a prompt on Facebook tagging few folks on Monday: Have you ever wondered if you wake up one day and lose all your blog followers. You become one illusion. Will you stop writing? I write for myself and will do it for the self..I am my own audience.

Wrote on the FB status on a jest and Soumya was the first one, among many tagged to play along. Here, I come with my own prompt, tagging myself to play the game. Feel free anyone to be a sport for the pure love of writing and rack your creative grey cells.

***************

I write for myself. The emotions are completely mine. After all, I am a human being, I eat, cry, munch chocolates, make love and lust. How writing can be different. The blog or for that matter keying in words is an intrinsic part of my existence and oxygen for survival. Call it, human instinct.

Play a game today: Imagine that I woke up to realize that all blog followers and comments have mysteriously vanished. The FB tribe is not existent and suddenly blocked me. After all, who will read my blog posts now!! I press the panic button. My hits have whittled to zero.

All sacrifice has gone in vain and the hard work poured during the nine years has been washed away by the storm. What the fuck will I do now? I go into a depression mode and hit the scotch bottle, turning into a new age Devdas over the blog. After all, I am a ‘has been’. A Difficult and almost impossible task to accept this writing Tsunami.

It’s gloom and dhoom for couple of days, weeks and months. I pick up clothes and pack my bag on a solo trip.  Inspiration hits like a flash of lightning. After all, my blog is all about my individuality and never wrote anything to please anyone. It’s my human emotion at play and why bother for an audience. I start writing again. After all, I always write for ME, MYSELF. Writing is all about selfish reasons and is food for the soul. In the start, I never craved for attention when the blog was started and wrote at length without being bothered about the audience reaction. It was about free will.

Remember I have a voice. No one on earth can influence or muzzle that distinct voice belonging to me. It’s the true mark of my character as a human being. The pen and thoughts dictate my existence. After all, I am not seeking a stamp of approval from society. Of course, if someone can connect with what I write and not saying agreeing to my stand point, I’ll be happy that we can connect. I seek fulfilment that somewhere, a difference can be made to someone life and bringing a smile to a face (s). After all, isn’t it the true purpose of writing?!

Who says that I don’t bother when no one reads me or the hits are at an abysmal low. Of course, it does! I am human and affected when posts are ignored. I love to write and churn poems that will fetch me hits and words of appreciation. Alas! Hits should not be the sole purpose of writing. Sometimes, the blog works in a tipsy turvy manner when the whole post is lost and the fuck word is uttered out of sheer frustration. I don’t abandon writing and will never.

Love as always

Vishal

Storms

Glittering sun.
Stormy weather.
Settling calm.
An illusory life, perhaps!
Broken heart into pieces.
Unrequited love.
Grey hair.
We never won the game,
sitting at the shore.
Night fall beckons souls,
to slug it out.
Fight the inner demons,
lose yourself a bit.
Torn into shred and pieces,
life may not be the same again.
Upheavals!
Curse it today.
Tomorrow, it will define it.
Dark tunnel is an illusion.
It exist at the back of our minds.
Cherish the black spot, disappointment and woes.
Life was never stand still water.

Celebrate the woman

O! Woman!

Who stole your affection?

Robbed you of your identity!

Hunger to love, lust, provide emotional warmth and care.

Hiding under the veil,

it's time to break away.

Bear your body and soul naked.

Let them judge for it shows their character not yours.

Discard the cloak of pretense.

True freedom lies flying in quest of your human fulfillment.

Dabbling roles,

they will thrust upon.

Fulfill them at your free will and not to their whims & fancies.

Bare your heart open,

stand naked.

Slap them hard if they dare,

for you are not weak.

False pride and ego,

archaic traditions to exploit you in the name of religion.

Walk your path,

for your eyes never lie.

The fault lies in them.

In the name of religion, caste and gender roles,

they will bark forever!

Be an inspiration to the new generation.

It's your way or the highway.

Shed darkness.

Be upright for your ethics can never be traded.

Barbing insults calling you loose, they will.

Since when, the world has stopped at insults.

Explore the world for it belongs to you.

You don't need a day to celebrate your identity, sexuality and awesomeness.

Still,

Happy Women Day

Love N Respect

Vishal

Desire and love

Tresses of hair stroking her innocent face;

Smile that belie wound and angst:

Soul pierced by dejected and forgotten love buried deep down:

She will not let me enter her heart and soul;

Shoving me violently:

Contented to play with her body,

Gently caressing and kissing her belly,

Frustration gnaws on me:

Our bodies are intertwined together,

Yet our hearts and souls are stranger to each other.

Locking her hair in my fingers,

I stretch them to pain her.

Yet, she is resistant to hurt;

Nothing shall pain her or inject wound to her existence;

Never tired to tell me, you can do whatever you may with my body. It's all yours:

Don't ever think I will let you enter my heart.

We are linked through sheer intimacy and it stops abruptly as we penetrate each other;

What's the point of making love to her? I wonder;

I wave her good bye till she finds another forlorn lover, craving to touch every inch of her skin and breath;

Our hearts can never become one with universe,

No point in fulfilling each other's desire;

She shall remain a muse forever etched in my mind.

With love

V

Sensual mind and stroke of wind

Gentle stroke of wind,

touching the inner chord of one's soul.

Sensual morning,

birds singing a flirtatious tune,

and couples kissing in a no hold and no barred moment.

A fresh day to be remembered,

as the freshly brewed coffee is gulped.

Holding hands and brush of intimacy piercing the soul.

Distress flies out of the window,

making the moments ecstatic.

Flurry of thoughts holding the mind firm and free at the same time,

life is but a celebration of awesome energy.

Laughter, joy and happiness gains momentum to strike gold.

# Sunday musing