We the escapists, we the vagabonds

Hopelessly not in love with love, yet craving for affection, always at places which had nothing beyond than companionship to offer. Oh such was the story of the vagabond, bound to nowhere.

But, look closely! A vagabond is nothing but a misdirection- from the truth of our lives. Our lives have long been inflicted with the perils of emotions - happy or sad, nobody can escape them.

And then, there are the escapists, who escape into thoughts, deeds; merely to escape what they carry within themselves, or rather as others say; what they think they carry within themselves. Some deem them cowards others may hail them as survivors. But nobody asks them - an escapist or a vagabond, what they are and what they want. The looming souls of the earth, always feeling loneliness beyond the earth's horizon; yet relishing it beyond heaven's nectar.

The vagabond does not expect any companionship, but secretly desires it. But to be one's own companion is like smiling at the sun, laughing at the rain and flying in the wind - the untamed desire and lust to live life at one's own will runs wild.

Again, look closely - we all want that and at the same instance have done that as well.

The escapists - the vagabonds, are nothing but mere reflection of our most purest, darkest and  yet most innocent desire - to live; and to be able to live with the choices we have made, sometimes in the name of responsibility and sometimes in the name of selfishness.

And yet, despite all our flaws, despite all our righteousness; we live! To see another day. To dream another night.

End is Liberation!!??

There are times when the human soul is shattered beyond repair and then there are times when the human soul has become an inhumane beast beyond redemption. Nothing seems wrong anymore. The mind spirals out of control. To some it may seem an inevitable demise of sanity but to some it may be the ultimate liberation. Prolonged and much awaited. The shackles of society are broken and the soul is set free of any guilt and baggage.

The world may not seem full of new opportunities but it is free from the intricacies of the society. The “devil may care” attitude does work. The possibility of embracing the world on your terms seems tantalizing. We deny that liberation would do any harm to anyone. But every denial has a phase- and when it ends the eminent question arises- if end is LIBERATION? Or COWARDICE?

Cowardice because getting up and facing the world seems more difficult than running from it- into the corners of insanity, but neither do I deny – “my insanity keeps me sane in this world”.

Liberation or Cowardice- end is inevitable and ultimate truth of life. What matters is whether one meets it like an old friend or reluctantly accepts it as fate and destiny.

Conversations one night

"From where I see, you have everything you need but not what you want!", said the girl with dark hair. A solemn look of understanding towards her friend's predicament showed on her face, and in the mind a storm raged of her own dilemmas. Looking beyond the hills, both reminiscing at their past. The old days when their hearts were young and had its own way with the world. They indeed had held each other's hand through inferno and paradise; and today was no different.

The boy sighed and continued,"It seems like another age, a different time, when life seemed simple, when laughter hummed in the ears like an everlasting symphony. When nights were lit with twinkling eyes and dreams were adorned with faith and belief. When dawn brimmed with high spirits. Today the laughter is shunned, the twinkling extinguished, dreams abandoned and spirits faded. Darkness looms overhead...it did so before, but now it lulls like a silent storm. How we came to be here? How did we come to be this?"

"That my dear friend is the ultimate quest! What fun would it be if the secrets were revealed from the beginning. Remember how it used to be 8 years back? It was both of us against the whole world. We had each other's back, didn't we? We held each other's blindside! And we continue to do so." Saying this they both continued to stare back at the world, saying they might be tired but they are not down!

Such is the treasure of having true friends -when you have them, don't leave them because they are the magical mirror which may not tell you who's the fairest of all! But would definitely tell you how you fare against the world. They don't tell you to tread the road less traveled- they walk down the path with you. And whenever you feel like failure or much worse and think that nothing in the world can ever be fine with you; they give you the most important thing -hope!!

Now I know why engineers turn writers

Ever wondered what is it that actually compels a "techie guy",a person assumed to be breathing technology abruptly starts sprouting from their pen instead of codes? It all starts in their first year of college; sigh, the beautiful college days and each year having its own importance, is an adventure through a park- the park being the Jurassic Park! Each teacher may seem like a different dinosaur with their own humongous heap of assignments and issues!

All through the four years, one's life experiences many turmoils and ordeals. The child entering the college emerges as a grown up- having been tormented and hazed emotionally but also gaining friends along the way. Smiles and tears are the two faces of the same coin and this thought becomes evident for all reasons in those four years.

Then the question arises how and when is it that a tech junkie turn  philosopher? Well the answer also lies in those four years spent in college. somewhere in those four years one starts to question the very reason and purpose of them being there. Such amount of introspection stirs and awakens the dormant philosopher within.

Then comes the job! Its called a job because to most it is just merely a job! There the same question starts cropping again.The job becomes a mule's burden! Too heavy to carry around.

And finally comes the break point where the shackles are broken and old beliefs are amended and the new ones held. In such circumstances one does or has an affinity to become a writer. To let their guard down and tell the whole world- their story. 

A forgotten path

A path once forgotten beckons me again
afraid of the darkness awaiting
I look away in vain

I had once walked those roads
when rain had drenched the earth
Today I have lost my way
and walk the dearth

Yearning to tread the path again
I move ahead feebly
but shadows of the forgotten path
haunt my continuously

We shall not leave you
they say to me
I fight the tears which drench me

Spring had once colored those roads
Today autumn reigns there
and yet I dream

Yearning to gain
what i had once lost; again

La Belle Epoque

Each one of us has one place where we return....always. In our most feeble and fragile moment we give ourselves the much essential diversion...to the good old days.

As time begins, we evolve- developing, living each day. Sometimes making each moment priceless and sometimes barely surviving them. With each breath we move closer to our destiny- or rather the destination we choose for ourselves.

During this unintelligent rat race and the tides of time, sometimes our most heartiest desires shatter as waves crashing the shores, and we wish to go back to our cocoon- a safe haven, where we knew or at least could predict the outcome. Life comprised of a simple pattern- monotonous and mundane, yet the most comforting. The good old day...sigh; may often seem a far off dream, an ever eluding illusion. But seldom one may feel they are living their dream, when life was simple- no! tough indeed but it was also a composition of all the notes of a symphony called life, all the ingredients of a gourmet.

Tired by blindly following the masses, today most of us can neither remember nor recognise our dreams.
Nobody stops to catch a breath- for they are afraid they might be left behind.

Such is the life we have made for ourselves..that we don't even have time to count what is it that we have gained and what is it that we have lost along the way.

La Belle Epoque, indeed- one could recount their life. It seems like another lifetime, another age- when humans walked the earth..raw with emotions! Not machines in just raw flesh!

Stranger in the mirror

Many of us have come across a certain dilemma where we deny our own selves...refusing o eve recognise our own reflection. And a question dawns in the mind- How is it that I came to be here? Came to be this?

We start out nascent in our journey of life without any demeanor, but rather some ideals and principles which we hold dear. But along the way each has to face their own trials and tribulations and somewhere there we begin to wonder whether our ideals are apt and just. we wonder if those paths deemed unruly are actually so. It is during such an introspection that people evolve from  naive beginner to something superior- sometimes more pious and sometimes more sinister.

At some point one feels if they made a wrong choice. But if it s our choices that make us what we are then why refuse to recognise your own reflection. For what we chose- didn't we desire it at some point in life. Maybe because we; as humanly flawed human beings, are never sure of what we want and the utopia of a fulfilled life is continuously altering as we proceed in our quest; growing at each step.

Quest- indeed for all of us are searching. Some of us know what they desire others are only familiar with the feeling of emptiness or rather that something is amiss ans what precisely they are still unaware and searching.

Alas, to recognise the stranger in the mirror one must be fully aware of one's own self. To conquer the world's most nefarious monsters- one must conquer the demons within!

Choices

Every word of admiration may seem insufficient and less for the works of Khaled Hosseini, a writing genius, who has been capable of weaving such picturesque stories of a land with an illustrious and enchanting history, but whose recent past has been marred with a war whose origin has been lost and manipulated over the tides of time. Afghanistan- a land where the words of the poet Rumi once echoed; today is struggling to live in peace. Years of war have tattered its roots which were once nourished by the lores and music of the land.

These lores and music changed into orders,issues and abuse of the innocent. Khaled Hosseini gave a vivid picture of hat can be imagined as the tip of the iceberg of social and cultural desecration of the country under the Taliban regime.

The horrors of those times are still live in the hearts of many around the world. Those who escaped built a new life for themselves while others tried to salvage what little was left of them.

Yet the author gives us stories of hope entwined with despair; for there can be no hope without despair. Each of his book presented a different world; which the larger part of the world had chosen to forget or ignore ; thinking what can one do for another struggling across the world.

Each of the characters are as human as one can be, with flaws and the will and the thirst to overcome their fears, and be the person they wanted to be. Each had their own personal demons and their search for redemption; and finally coming to terms with the truth and shaping a new future with the hope of a better tomorrow. His stories tell us how fragile life is and how one decision or choice can echo its consequences through the coming years, how one's life can have the ripple effect to all others' around them. They reflect how life truly is for many- a long struggle to survive against the odds of time. The characters's own tribulations may seem familiar to many readers, for they are from among us.

From the grim portrayal of the realiy of life his stories take us to the fact that there is still hope- in our choices. We are what we choose to be and what we become is nothing but a cumulative consequence of all our choices.

One can easily relate to the whirlpool of human emotions and relationships indited by him. He writes eloquent tales of a common person's struggle to survive.  

Dreams

Even pain and damage are a comfort. One may be afraid of happiness because one is never sure whether it is surely theirs to keep or rather just another illusion, another dream about to be shattered.

Every author talks of similar pain felt by the protagonist, and then the protagonist embarks on a life altering journey which would write their destiny- depending whether they rise from the ashes like a phoenix or fall into the abysmal darkness.

Such is also true for real life. But real life has an asterisk of conditions applied wherein one may or may not have an ally, and some of them turn to books for their aid; to escape to them, to their world from which they draw courage and inspiration to conquer their fears.

But its not just a handful of people who do so; if we observe closely we would find a substantial, if not great amount of people who find respite in books. To one it may seem like the world is divided into two kinds of people- one who create the world of illusions....the world of realities and those who immerse themselves in the words and worlds of an author.

Those words ever so green which have the power to stir even the most dormant of one's feelings. Indeed words are very powerful, and those which sprout from a writer's pen....the thoughts and imagination of one person whose origin lies among the feelings of many.....some lost in the struggle of survival nd some wishing to be lost.

Losing one self in the worlds of the words is the most easiest way of escaping...from their mundane, hard and sometimes pessimist life.

One's imagination gives wings to not just them but to many others who peep into them, and emerge with twinkling eyes of an innocent kid..still uncorrupt by the ways of the world, rearing to fight for what they believe in...what they dream.