My secret window

Slow creaking sounds from the anti-clockwise fan, monotonous rhythms of water droplets and dull flames of the melting candle broke the silence of my gloomy evening. Subtle lights from the yellow beacon illuminated the warm texture of the secret window.

It has been quite a while I opened these wooden doors. With curiosity at its brim and laziness overlapping my curiosity, a riot of mood swings ate my brains inside out.

Uff…

I sighed!

I removed the warm cloak of coziness and stepped ahead to embrace the semi solid light source to unveil that secret which lies behind these solid bars.

The closer I went near the window; ailing ambient sounds went sound proof. A desultory silence conquered and crept throughout the room.

POP

I opened the latch slowly allowing an ominous aura entering the room. It hit the candle light with its chillness, which was already nearing its closure.

And what do you know? That’s where I witnessed an eyebrow raising moment.

A blend of luminous silver and a hue of crimson rust enlightened the winter skies and festive lands.

Dumbstruck by its serene sight, three syllables escaped my mouth.

HoHoHo

It was Christmas.

Comfort and craziness are two parallel with one window.  Curiosity is the key to open up.

I jumped out of the window to experience the craziness. Without a balance I crashed down and woke up.

Everything was a dream.

P.S.- Never open your secret window, because secrets are surreal.

Moon

Its all simple frames. Right from the four corners of the world, a simple square dominates our sight. It’s the layout of our vision. The patterns, colours, movements, anything and everything are set to be seen through these four lines. Abiding by the line law, people stress their pupil for fresh elements and contain it. And thats how I tried to search and set a circle between these lines - Chandni. 

With a celestial complexion combined with a coco copper tone, this sphere is a timeless painting designed to delight your eyes. Only once in a lifetime, you will get a one in a million chance to enter stellar and explore it’s curves & corners. I wanted to frame this wonder for myself. I went closer. 

As the law of nature states, every heavenly body has a strong gravitational force. This body had a strong force attracting my mass towards its perfect symmetrical shape. 

Restraining or resisting is not an option. Naturally led by the art of collision, space vanished and time froze. A big bang explosion of passion and desire erupted inside me. Drowned by her blistering beauty, I was jut levitating over the air. 

Wow. That was picture perfect. 

All I wanted to was to play an impression over this pleasure plane. But, the friction just toppled my propulsion with a little peck of its moisture in my cheek. 

Yes, this reminds me of my place. Sometimes to capture an art within your frame, you can just imagine. 

Mystic Moon “ - Lights - Off - Dreams - HBD 

Camellia

Camellia - A rebellious yet calm flower!

Two sides of contrasts always add variations in life. But when the variations over take its cause, it becomes a highlight.

 Here the cause of my perception is her serene look and simple language. But when I indulged, the results over took my senses and highlighted her nature.

Yes, a friendly yet ferocious orchid. With strong roots clinging towards the ground, this flower actually defies gravity.

She neither can be controlled nor contained. She is destined to soar through the clouds.

Few moments with this flower, gave me a revitalising re-verb that invoked my inner voice.

Her syllables are a straight forward tones and frank statements which established her inside out.

Yes, silence was her symphony.

Camellia – a flower to be admired and adorned from a distance.

But, with classic assets like a sirens voice and a strong spirit, she can grab your heed.

{Camellia – A flower in sync with Bhavya} – HBD 

Magic I phone

Magic is mesmerising. 

Magic is captivating. 

It’s always an uncatchable catch. 

When I tried to catch it with my reason, it were all targeted deceptions. The more we go in closer, the real trick happens some where else. Apart from the fancy punchlines and the graphic showcase, its our immense thirst to see beyond what we see. It’s an extension of the inner eye, curious enough to define and refine each and every process around it. 

A pair of eyes actually proved it by defining the law of gravity with the help of a little enhancer called apple. It kickstarted the thought process inside a master mind which was just a spec inside an ensemble of great vision. 

Yes, now the little catalyst has become the sex symbol of this materialistic world - Apple. 

When you think, It all starts with a ‘WHY’.

But, when you cultivate an obsession for this deception, it starts with a ‘WHAT’.

“What defines you as a person?

It’s an I-Phone. 

I phone is magic and I phone is a miracle, which we can never comprehend. 

It started with the Idea of I kindling and catering to the complex and comparison of sensitive personas. 

Again, I is an Idea. I is a dream. I is an identity.  I is a promise. I is a system. I is a demand.  I is a rule. I is legal. I is illegal. I is stylish. I is selfish. 

I is just a mass hypnosis because in the end I doesn’t even matter. 

Now I regret why I paid for this. My inner eye failed to see beyond this I. 

My out of body experience…

Affirmative answers like yes and its ok are just a simple trick to convince our minds temporarily. I have never commanded myself to leave myself in a delusive state. To get the settlement and satisfaction, numbers comes in. Numbers are again a deceptive dilemma which reminds you of your limits and gives you new limitations. And that’s where identity is followed with symbols. Truth and symbolism are like twins. We can never get them directly.  They have their creepy way of crawling to us at failure. How do I understand why I am here?

Every day when I wake up I see two personas in the mirror. One is the bad guy as the definition of bad is what he wants to do. The other is the good guy who wants to be the society’s choice. Whom should I kill? Whom should I win? Sometimes I fell I am all I am and I have the answer with me for everything. The other times are the hard times where I feel I am not even a scratch. Scratching my head, I don’t have anything else to do, except building myself from scratch.

Now, the other confusing conflict here is what’s right and wrong. Subjective opinions survive but 

objective opinion depends upon the neighbouring brains and become an obstacle. Evaluating myself 

inside out, I am left with nothing now. More misunderstanding accumulated when the process 

expanded every day.

The only way to understand this is by silence.

First I got my place set. I sat upright inside a serene sanctum without any disturbance.  I gave some 

affirmative answers to tame my mind to set it free. Now I commanded myself to move outside the body. Suddenly an immense vibration startled my body, my entire physical form got heavy and numb. I couldn’t feel anything. Finally the silence prevailed.

I was floating outside my body. The non-physical form was actually formless. My sight was 360. I was able to sense everything around me throughout my body. Everything was formless. Everything was just levitating around me. No difference at all. Without any thoughts I saw my body lying down. I passed through my washroom door and saw myself on the mirror. Now without a form the vision was meaningless.

I suddenly snapped back to my old self and woke up with a light feeling of pleasure. I did not get my 

answer. But I am sure I got to know the importance of a process and the how to tame my mind both 

inside and out of body.

The Block

Blockages are like catalyst. It slows you down, hurts you and makes you look back. But, sometimes it stops you from going forward. It makes sure to appear everywhere possible starting from erupting emotions, stubborn statements and even in little gestures. The results are the worst part of it. It gives you nausea where you cannot swallow your feeling nor spit it out. 

When I first met my lady, I avoided eye contact, I took some space and sat away from her. I purposely concentrated on my smart phone giving her a dumb look. She gazed me like an electronic scanner and went away. She might have thought I hated her. But the lame truth was my shyness, not my attitude. The block between us was as big and solid as a boulder. 

What next?

Excuses.

Excuses are really interesting techniques. Just a single sorry can break the ice. I was waiting right outside to make a subtle excuse. With baby steps, she came forward, slowly piercing through other distractions and diversions. Like a poor kid staring at the melting moment of the ice cream cone , I was dumb struck by her. Literally dumb struck. The same flush feeling crept again. Not a single word came out. Like a sound proof stupid, I was air locked. I became an excuse to be ignored by her. 

How will I break the ice now?

Well, if you can’t break the ice, it’s time to drown it with some ethanol. with few shots of C2H5OH I lost all my inhibitions and stepped closer to make my first move. With more ethanol I lost my fear of failure. But, I couldn’t stop it, with more shots I lost my sense of direction and bumped into her. No more ice. No more block. She went to coma with a brain block. 

Mind games at Monteria.

"To go or not to go”

The most complex and amazing system live on earth is human brain. Psychologically it knows how to bargain, convince and corrupt you to do or not to do things you feel. Especially, when it comes to a challenge it gave me beautiful excuse to skip and escape. 

Snooze and escape to be more accurate. 

Everyday at the dawn of actuality, the critical battle to open my eyes, alarmed my senses to think twice.

"To go or not to go"

But when coincidence or concurrent events correspond to each other comfort zone doesn’t count. As an odd one I joined a bunch of misfits on the start. Hoping the journey would be smooth, my mind flickered to fit in. It started revealing itself with a regional tinge accompanied by other individual intellects inside the bus. Flicker turned into fickleness.  To add some awkwardness it opened up. 

"Just let it go”

"Buzzzzz"

The bus got broke down. As everyone stepped down, the temperature came down with some serene smiles. A rhythmic movement to the nearby waterfall kindled our hunger for more nature and vadapav. The first purpose got served. 

The second unexpected purpose got served too - waterfalls broke my vow of not taking a bath on weekends. 

When the new bus arrived, again we all gathered our consciousness and anticipation for a mind-blowing surprise - Monteria. 

"To join or not to join”

When we reached Monteria - we had team games and adventure sports. 

Though we inspire to become a leader, true leadership comes from with in. True teamwork is discovered in the process. On the process of fun and entertainment we all found our appetite to sync together. Each and every personality introduced the other one defining togetherness with tantrums. 

Together everyone achieved more. (TEAM)

"To stop or not to stop”

With a dose of ethanol and a dash of adrenaline your mind never minds for action.

With water inside and outside my barrage of sizzling steps took me to my trance. 

Wow…. we went in harmony. 

"Pelvic thrust…. wave…..pop and lock and pelvic thrust”

Finally, with all these ingredients I learned to go one step beyond my mind. I went in ease. 

“Party Animal"

While going back soothing strings of mozart resurrected the Devil. Right back from the last temptation, the thirst continues here.

The thirst for new quest. 

August 26 -

The birth date of an Indian noble - Mother Teresa. I respect her. But I swear on the mother of all God’s. I am not going to talk about her.

It’s about another women who changed me. In-fact women has the power to transform any complex structure into a cotton candy. In my case it was a girl. Now the story lies half way with too much of space and time filling in. Lets rewind and reload little bit. First year of college was really a lively part of my life. When my innocence and adolescence blended with new colours and concepts, my moral sense went crazy.


And just when your enthusiasm grows, a gentle breeze will kiss you and make you go for your first move. And yes, this girl was a subtle spice who added a tinge of variation to my life.


D**** ***********

Not that great for the first look. Little reserved looking, blunt nose, straight ears and funny figure. People say first impression is the best one. But its just our perception. And my perception for her was poor.

I got bp when I saw her dp. No offence. (joke)

Then how? you may wonder!


Everything we know is what we acquire from our early days. It’s what we cultivate and nurture slowly. More than falling for her I fell for the process of falling for her. As days progresses filmy friends and awkward acquaintance drove me more into the concept of crush than the real inner calling. But, the zing never happens without a spur. Of course she was one of a kind. I never knew or tried to learn about her, but just with the feeling of being loved, I came around her material manifestations like a crazy centripetal ball.


Slowly her reserved looks opened up, I saw new dimensions which was partially in sync with my phase. The more I tried to impress, the more desirable she became.

Her bluntness pierced my sight as sharp as her statements. In total she became a perfect portrait.


And yes the day came. The day I proposed her. More than her response, more than her thought, I was worried about my exaggerated expression to propose her. She said no, but that did not affect me. The real bond of discovering love or making a person feel missed was completely absent. Now, I really feel awkward for doing that.


I wish to turn time and astral travel into her and feel her reaction or to make her say yes.

The only thing I knew about her was MILO. When my classmates were hanging out with her, I felt jealous. More than a simple persona, I perceived the wrong way.


This is what cupid loves to do with immature kids like me.


Well, I am not a kid anymore. I had my turn of games. Some close ones and some passing clouds. But none brought back the innocence. Things are more rational and practical now. Only she had the power to bend rationality and spread imagination dipped with romance. (May be exaggeration, never mind)


Still I would like to be immature about her because, her signature got embedded with freshness. Her memories are pleasant under my memory line.


But, am adding another but here.

I would like to start over everything and introduce myself as a normal friend to you. Even if the moment never materialises, the memory will continue. And I agree, the real self is always a bitter broth to sip in. But that’s what make things make better. Well, these cheesy line are not to butter you. Just a little word play.


Happy Birthday to You! 

My relationship with food

A perfect dish is always a tantalising paradox. With perfect elements and balanced blend, our sense of savour gets seasoned with familiarity. What we claim as our taste is something we acquired from our ambiance.

Whenever the smell from the saucer takes me back to my early days, my satisfaction comes from my upbringing, something which was induced into me. 

Two spoons of sugar, spice, love and loads of imagination made me a mixed broth. As too many cooks spoil the broth, several components made me a confused soul. From the eyes of a foodie I wanted to explore the one secret ingredient that will zest up my taste.

I started to shed my sense of familiarity. From being a subtle sausage I evolved into a spicy sizzler. As fancy flavours garnished me, my spicy senses went overboard. I was not able to handle it. Next came in some sugar coated savouries. In the beginning everything was fresh and fine. But the smoothness lingered longer than I expected .Swimming through the syrup of sugar was too sweet to me. I craved for something bitter. But my veteran tongue had a mind of its own. Bitter was something it has never tasted before. That was the harsh reality it has faced in its gastronomical experience.

 Trying to blend with every individual ingredient, I lost my original flavour and taste. I lost my authenticity.  My appetite for consuming everything together was more suitable. There was no secret ingredient.  A twisted tongue is meant to taste something twisted and mixed like me.

Even my confused soul is meant to be confused to gain a greater clarity.

So my relationship with food is versatility. 

A humongous tale

Fiction was always a figment of my imagination. But becoming the fragment of my fairy tale was something ahead of my functions. Every fraction of my filaments was filled with fructose. Quite a Frankastine marched from me. Being a F-maniac, I moved on to T & K.

Tung and Korigad.

Comic sans is a font style which goes in sync with thought bubbles. My comic sense scripted its own serene statements on the shimmering roads of Tung.

I requested mercy. But without compromise it scaled its majestic manifestation up, up and above the clouds. On 15^th august 2015, with patriotism at its peak monsoon marathon pushed me on the toughest terrains of Pune. Adjusting on space and time, I completed one of the complicated and coveted trail.

What’s next? -  The roads of Paradise.

Ever went on ride on the clouds? Ever levitated away from the hassles and the hurdles of city?

I did.

With natural fuel sprinkling on me, my mileage for adventure pierced me through the curvatures clouds cleansing though our souls.

This is where you stop and stay WOW! A heavenly experience!

As soon as I crossed these roads, I witnessed paradise on my path. Soon, I had to stop because the path ahead was just extra rounds of rumbles and rubbish. My expectations exceeded, my expressions exclaimed energy, pure energy.

The clouds cleared and feeble colors were feasible to be witnessed by my elementary eyes.  Engaging all the vigor my tempo raised with the number of steps.

But, at this point, I missed some selfish selfies and some pretty portraits from my previous trip.

 (I-Phone ka mahima Or Mahima ki I-phone)

Well, the gap was filled with the slow torrent of reverse water fall.  Dipping my domestic and dynamic body on the cloud kissed ponds opened up my senses on Korigad. And this is where true illumination enthralls in you.

6 feet of pure h2o filtered and filled with little kandha baji and hot cutting chai added spice and salt to the ambiance.

Slowly I got lost and reduced to nothingness. (Nirvana)

The return journey of 70 km and buffalo baths was a perfect add on to this boon.

What more can you expect?

Monsoon marathon hits a hat-trick and ends here.

RAJGAD-A CELESTIAL BEING ON EARTH

Since my inception, I started my unquenchable quest for a superlative quotient. My paradox for this celestial being went deeper than oceans, wider than sky and faster than gossips. Rapid rumors and mesmerizing myths drove to different altitudes and bestowed me with wrong attitudes.

My 24 year expedition for beauty was just meaningless, literally meaningless. Neither Mumbai nor Pune, none of them were convincing.

From the eyes of a connoisseur even a feather is just lame filthy foam. Well, by the time you cross this phrase you would have judged my taste. My perception for personas protrudes beyond your senses.

As my narration goes on its peak, let me also introduce my sliding point in a while.

My quest ended at Rajgad.

(GENDER DISCRIMINATION)

It must have been Ranigad.

When you go to an exotic place, you get morphed and merged with it. Your soul gets soaked, steamed and stirred in its beauty.

Ranigad my second love (Don’t get curious)

Ever heard of the philosophy of true love, you escalate; you elevate and finally become elite. This celestial, heavenly chic has crazy curves and wild turning points. Moving on her was a blend of pain and pleasure together. I was almost on the verge of becoming an Olympian. (Keeping Aphrodite in mind)

The magic monsoon rains gives you powers. Every moment I died and resurrected again and again just to get astonished and get admired by her splendor.  When you dig or drill down the roots of Davinci or Dan brown they say, god was revealed by orgasm. I experience it here – Enlightenment. 

But, beware of this bliss. They are contagious.

After 2 hours hard trek, I reached an arch, where the almighty resides. With silver clouds on the bottom and the mount, everything was white with a little tinge of purple pop ups.

What about the welcoming pat?

Percussion beats and sizzling strings of the dreamy drizzles filled my ears with honey. Yes, I was in paradise.

Fiction and fantasies always fascinates you to flap your fragile wings to cross lines. But a single fact can slap you to slide from the A – Z. Her heavenly beauty was way beyond my reach. I became a star on earth, a laughing star. (Tare zameen par)

Every step I went I way from her, I slipped and slid all my way down. Struck by her celestial beauty, my sense of salvation went berserk. She is an addiction. I just have to mark an apostrophe and abandon her right now.

Let me catch you with the next stop. More divine than desirable.

 Its Tung and Korigad.

Monsoon marathon continues….

GANGS OF VISAPOOR

Impressions are dark. Impressions are intense. Impressions gives you a high as hard as the old monk who accompanies me.

But, for the first time they were wet, muddy, squashy and refreshing.

On august first 2015 my impression for the day ahead was sober. Subtle Saturdays are like boiled eggs. Sometimes they are half boiled and sometimes they are over boiled. Nothing was neutral about it.

But, this is where the anticipation comes in.

What’s next?

Anticipation ends and action begins.

Monson in pune is equal to Stephen Hawkins parallel universe. I am not sure about the Hawkins part but I am certain about the fancy fairy land everyone wants to visit.

Yes, now am in the right place and right time.

With all ammunition (food) and gadgets (More food), I headed to meet a gang.  A bunch of terrific and scientific personas were waiting round the corner of the highway.  

These gangsters work under a drug discovery company called Ad-Venus.

First, I was little scared to fit in. But, you know what?

Misfits join the misfits.

We all kick started out four stroke engine with a nature to nurture the nature.

First few married men, then some youngsters and very few attractive women (Exaggeration: P) froze their sense of socialism to mingle and twingle with others.

How do you break the ice?

With water?

 No, with a water fall!

Water is an amazing elixir which liquefies any solid stuff. With water inside and outside we started to mingle. Few selfish selfies and picturesque portraits brought us together.

Here comes the tough and tantalizing part.

A beautiful landscape covered with shrubs, with a narrow pathway and embedded with humongous rocks with water flowing on it crossed our way. Sounds sizzling, but trust me, it broke my back bone.

 

We made it.

Our gut and grammar for adventure grew stronger at every fall.

Like 1974 raj dooth (Royal enfield) our lungs and heart pumped out fresh blood and pure oxygen from visapoor.

Like a desi sharuk, we all made our signature victory pose after reaching the fort. We became the GANG OF VISAPOOR.

Next stop to this monsoon marathon is RAJGHAD. Stay Tuned.

Say scientists……:P

My Butterfly Effect

School life was a cocoon . I never worried about how I carried myself. Right out of the cocoon, things elevated. A sense of colour, taste and excitement overpowered my rational thinking. New varieties, new people and new statements changed my perception. A fresh vibrant pair of wings blossomed out of my back. At every flap, I reached new heights of atmosphere. 

First friendship, then fashion and of course few show off clouds in-between.

At every flap, there was a new lap. And at every check point, there were distractive elements which made sure to keep me off the track.

Again when i reached the right path, I realised that the concept of journey was more interesting than the destination or the tolls in it.

The concept of friendship and style was more appealing than the friends.

I stopped my flight and wondered how true signature comes out of every individual. 

With a hazy and foggy cloud blocking my view, I bumped into a big bird.

No it was another guy with wings. But little different. He said he was cupid. I said how stupid you are. Don’t you have a sense of direction?

Can’t you see?

He responded me with a sarcastic grin and flew away. 

What a weird guy, I said to myself and entered a new zone.  A new sphere.

Now, my life levitated.

This was something I was experiencing for the first time. Like a breath of fresh breeze, a gust of wind gently brushed my wings and tingled my nose with alluring aromas. 

It made me turn anti-clockwise to notice it. Wow, I felt like a life line waiting to embrace me. Gradually, I found myself at the epicentre of new pretty, gentle and mesmerising group of personas. 

It must be the opposite sex I guess! 

My angle for these angels went absolute. 

Is this love? It’s so amazing.

As, I was wandering clueless behind every women, I again saw cupid giving me a sarcastic grin on his face.

Actually I liked it this time. 

Love is stupidity.

With cupid, its cupidity.

And cupidity is cute.

But we tend to love the love stories more than lovers. 

I gave a harsh thrust with my wings and came out this stupid atmosphere.

The next phase called maturity was awaiting my arrival . I peacefully flapped my wings and flew away to make my own signature. 

Magic monsoon

A draping beauty.............................................................

Magic monsoons grant you any wish you want. The down pour has the power to simmer down any stress. It has the fairy tale quotient which took me to a beautiful land marvelled by warmth.

But before that, my usual day way barbecued by hot sun and steamed by hectic pressure. To add spice to it, my colleagues made me tensed, panic and anxious with my work. I was just waiting for the time to ring a bell, the bell of freedom. As soon as the needle crossed 6 30, I took a sprint towards my bike. It was a red stroked Hercules adult cycle. With a deep breath of relief, I hopped on to my cycle and started pressing the pedals of rejuvenation. My slow movements pulled back my lost liveliness. Connected with a greased chain, my moods and thoughts went in sync with repeated rotations. 

Yeah… finally some peace!

The best thing about cycle is riding it on the slopes. It just sweeps you off the pedals.  The road I cross has loads of ups and downs. Literally a lung breaker will be the right word for it. I reached the peak, pulled my legs up and made myself ready to let go. WOW… more the momentum, merrier the bliss. At the last point of the slope few drops of cold water kissed my bare skin. They came from the dark clouds which followed me down the slope.

Here comes the monsoon.

I drenched and drove through dreamy drizzles till home. After reaching home I seasoned my tongue with a hot cutting chai. Now the last thing which was left was a cozy cuddly nap.   

Drip…drip…drip…I dropped my head counting the water ripples made by the droplets. Drip...drip …drip, my heavy shuttered eyes embraced each other to share the load. I could feel the warmth seeping into my senses.

Well, after sometime I opened my eyes and the windows to take the second dose of pleasantness. It was a heavy pour.  

I opened the doors and took a look at my ambience. The concrete floors, dark creamy toned walls, hanging money plants and a common corridor to connect the small 1 BHK houses almost resembled the 1940 retro set up.

Now recall your teen-hood or any old movies, this setup comes alive only with a beautiful girl and a guy with a weird beard. This episode of my life had both. As wired as my beard, I hanged a portable mirror on one of my windows. The first half revealed the corridor and the other revealed my face. Later, with a spongy brush I started applying the shaving foam on my face with synonymous squashing sounds. I felt good. Slowly the squashing sounds turned into footsteps

A sudden alarming sensation made me to peek on the other side of the mirror. Wow… like a frozen fire, my outer sight got froze and my inner consciousness opened up. A celestial being was on the floor. A star was on my corridor. Shining smile, sharp shimmering looks and a fabulous frame to cover her serene eyes distracted the direction sense of my shaving blades. She had a small boy cut hair style swaying up and down combining with her gentle footsteps. Her big glasses, green top, and a white patiyala were carried well by her perfect curvature and symmetrical shape. This woman added a new meaning to my dictionary of beauty.

Nikitha…

I have never spoken much to her. Just like a kid gazing at the stars with a telescope, I use to admire her from a distance because beauty is meant to be admired, not disturbed. But, this time I wanted a clear view. I shifted my mirror to the next window and saw her crossing my home. As she approached, the wind around me got lightened, enlightening my breathing. Her scent served an exhilarating experience to my senses.

Just as always, I thought she would cross without noticing me.  But here is where the sign board of my life indicates a turning point. She stopped and took few steps backwards.

What was happening to her?

My anticipation grew heavier. My heart was pulsating 100 km per hour. The brain was boggling with questions. A little chill passed my spine. She opened the window on the other side, saw my reflection through the mirror and raised her eye brows combined with a devilish smile in her lips. Embarrassment, shyness and every emotion I knew was at its peak. Without knowing what to do, I stumbled and fell on my cot near the window.

She burst into a hearty laughter watching my craziness at its core. Again with the mysterious smile, without giving me an answer, she closed the window and moved away. As the wooden window closed, the window to my retro world also closed.

Does our mind create desires or does it desire distinct happening?

I opened my eyes with the fresh feeling of this desirable dream hoping it will come and continue again like the seasonal monsoons.  

Give in to your senses to this season and get showered by magical moments.

Magic Monsoons – Don’t miss it.

The lively corpse

Solid as rock, constant as darkness and surrounded by algae, the environment felt quite weightless. The lively feeling of feeling the heartbeat was missing. The heart was missing. The gust of air bubbles popping towards the surface was exhausted. The air got exhausted. The primary sense of distinguishing the world underwater was missing. Nothing can be sensed anymore. Like a rusty broken bunker ship, I am lying on the bottom of the well. 

What an absurd end. Deeply sunk into this stagnant pit, the world appears literally round on the top. Though my existence on land doesn’t exist anymore, my ominous aura will haunt this well for eternity. Instead of pushing myself to the extremes of this well, I could have pushed myself to the extremes of life. Now, I cannot reverse what I have done.

With the failure and shame of losing my soul mate, I lost my soul to this well. I thought killing me will take away all the sorrow and suffering, but the life really begins after life.  Both my mind and soul are not bound to time anymore.  Without a body to channelize, this well will be my body from now. Every drop of it will be composed with my properties.

Ashwin Muralidharan, ready to possess you. 

Extensions

Tucking my second shoes, fitting my second toes and setting my color layered second eyes, I set out to sail my new journey with her. When I entered her green zone to open my feelings, an abrupt absurd foot print joined her tender tracks. That was precise enough to push me to her friend zone and leave an impression inside me. The signs said she was a wrong turn. I came back, released all my second suits and embraced the second warm womb which gives me solace every night. Things around us are just an extension of what we are. Dress to skin, feet to shoes, and eyes to shades, signs to significance and bed to womb because the medium is the message. Well, now with my chillum I am leaving to my second state of meditation – Trance. 

Ashwin Muralidharan in trance. 

A Scent-sational Feeling

Plain black is spread across 180 degree of his sight. It was constant, not darker and not lighter. His two set of cameras, mike and speakers are technically down. The only sensor working in his body is his fragrance detector – nose. He cannot give any type of outputs anymore. The inputs were just hard pipes of plastics for breathing and food. Tangled and injected with several pipes and wires he is clinging to his last essence of life energy. 

Well, what can he do now? The death bed is his last chance to recall what he did. First he recalled a familiar aroma. The aroma gave him inspiration, safety and coziness. He sniffed twice and gave a small smile for this smell. It was his DAD. Then, warmth overlapped this scent. It was full of emotion and affection. This smell took him back to his toddler days. He exhaled a heavy burden of air to lighten the thoughts of his mother.

Now sweetness overwhelmed him on all sides. Like the side effects of a sudden elixir, his youth hood returned. The scent of the first women he loved waved his nose buds. The fragrance from the valentine rose reminded him his first kiss. He muttered her beautiful name on his mute lips. A big sigh broke his romantic recall.

Now a stringent smell alarmed him for responsibilities. This smell raised his pressure and reminded him of his failures and hardships. It carried a pungent stench with it. He suffocated for fresh air to breathe in. Then, in time, a pleasant aroma hit him like a gust of cool breeze. It gave him confidence. It reminded him of him. This was his wife. This smell balanced and completed him.

Finally a pure scent of innocence and fragility gave him solace. Happiness he received when he smelled tenderness. It was his grand kids.

With all these combined fragrances, he inhaled his last breath and left his body to explore new scents of life from a new body.

Without Strings

What a funny kid.

Lost in deep slumber, he is not even bothered to play with me now.

I met him just a week back on a flea market near a carnival. He just snatched me from the rest of my people and kept me for himself.

Gosh.

What an obnoxious annoying brat.

Why me?

Of all the people, why me?

Am I so special?

He took me everywhere and introduced to everyone he knew. He did not leave my hands even for a second. As days passed, I went to his school, playground and sometimes even to swimming pool.

Well, to think about him, he is not bad. I started a liking towards him. Maybe he is the purpose of my life.

But now I am nothing. Look how he is ignoring me. Probably he will find a new guy to play with tomorrow because Sundays are carnival days.

Should I leave him and go or will he leave me. When I was deeply thinking about him, the door opened. His dad brought a new handsome lad to wake him with a surprise and dump me with a shock.

As the door closed, the windows opened. The boy cut the last thread connected to him.

Now, I have nowhere to go. I can neither go back to the flea market nor to the kid.

I started going upwards, guided by the wind. I don’t need oxygen to survive. I wanted helium. It’s lighter than oxygen.

If I stay here, I will find more people and they will pull my strings and make dance like dolls. I don’t want that to happen again. Now I have no strings attached.

I am above all.

I don’t need a thread to be pulled. Look at the stars. Look at the moon.

I deserve a place above these pity people. I deserve the sky. May be I can be the GOD someday.

HA…. HA… HA….  “POP”

Laughing at his thoughts, he got poked by a sharp building corner and burst into pieces.

The remaining rubble's muttered – “BIG WORDS FOR A BALLOON”.

“BACK TO HOME”

It found itself back on the flea market.

A Frozen Fairytale

Dad gave a sense of security. Mom gave me a sense of responsibility. But my sense of story came from my grandmother.

Once there was a time when I believed a cricket bat as a machine gun and orange juice as a toxic chemical for super power. I literally drew heartens instead of a biological heart.  

When I look back, my childhood was a peppy jazz track, completely composed by my grandmother.  Every syllable and word had a tone for itself. Her modulations and tempo of storytelling designed the dreams I envisioned every night.

Higher the pitch, higher the anticipation! Flatter the dialogues, shorter the stories!

Overall every tale connected me like a series of strings which made me dance like a puppet thrilled and excited with mysterious stories.

Though there were many off tones in-between, those were the minute imperfections which added variations and detailing to her stories. Her imaginations added grammar to my dream world. All of my holiday seasons were seasoned by her unique genres of stories.

But, the concert ended one winter night. That was the night I found an excuse to move away from her.The fictitious fairy tales sounded alien. There were no more interesting.

The same night I found my macho moment. (Just grew a beard)

I drifted far away from her. She never stopped me. She gave me a send off smile.

Later, on the next phase, what I had with me were just questions.

To find the right answer, I ran, I flew and even crawled to many places and met many people to know who I really was.  Why was I here?

 No one had an answer. They just made statements. Few were style statements. Few were ego statements. But, most of them were show off statements.

They were just trying to define who they were even before knowing who they really were. Everyone followed a conventional cycle, going round and round and round.

I got lost. I stooped. I went back to the beginning again. I wanted to redefine myself. When I went back I got my answer. The answer was within me. Instead of searching inside, I was searching outside all along. It took me 45 years to realize this simple thing.

I am a story teller like my grandmother.

As the mood is set, now I am fine tuning my chords to compose a beautiful story to my son. But he is in his pursuit to define himself. 

I can wait. 

Ashwin Muralidharan:- Hey people. If you like my story give your valuable comments. 

A synonymous shoe

Comfortably Numb 

It was a monotonous monday morning. Well, melancholy and mundane can be added. Confined to the corner table, my ear drums went numb with the sounds of fluttering papers, jarring fax machine, alarming phone calls and the typewriters off tone.

Every time I typed harder, the keys got cluttered as my thoughts. Everything around me needed a hammer touch to kick start. I pulled out the ink smudged paper, crumpled it and threw away.

It fell on a heap of crumpled junk.

Huh, this is what I have collected all over these years.

What lies there is a heap of hope, expecting myself to be the smartest and perfect of all.

Oxygen, I craved for O2.

I moved the teak table and went near the window. As I rolled the curtain screens, the first quarter revealed shoes and footsteps of different people.

For some reason I stopped rolling up the screen. The scene was interesting. I dragged the chair and sat across the window to notice what those shoes say. I strained my ears and eyes to find a meaning out of it. I heard whispers.

Yes, I heard them whispering to each other. The elegant shoe had a husky tone; the rugged boots had a rough tone, the cute heel buzzed like a melody. The shoes actually defined who they were. They were happy the way they were.

I opened the shoe rack and found my colleague’s sports shoes. Nice.

I stepped into it and went for a long walk down the lane. No difference at all. My walking style, thoughts and actions, everything was the same. I came back, removed it and threw it back inside the shoe rack.

One more whisper. It was my shoes. It was my real size, style, thought and persona. I stepped into it and felt comfortable. Though it was numb, it was comfortably numb.

A slight satisfaction sprawled up inside me. I went back to my desk, pulled a new set of paper, and inserted it inside my typewriter and started typing.

A king or a pawn, both are unique. No one can do their role better than them. If you try to exchange their shoes, you won’t fit in. If desire is the cause of all problems, comparison is the cause of all desires.

Be proud of your shoes. Start walking and smile at every mile.

Ashwin Muralidharan:- Hey people. If you like my story give your valuable comments.