"Brutes"

Cold, detached and heartless, these are the characteristics of not only vampires. I don’t know why they are alone categorized into “the beings of the dark”, when there are people out there harboring such qualities. I don’t know any vampire but I am well aware of the existence of human beings that are in competition of being worst than them. Elaborating on the subject I would like to shed more light on the characteristics of these kinds of people. Pretending to be highly sophisticated they look like pigs in cashmere coats, present in the world only to add on to its obscenity. I pity them because they are human beings only for the namesake; otherwise they are miles away from anything that is human.

                  Let us call these people “brutes”. Love, relationships, bonding, warmth, all these words don’t exist in the vocabulary of our “brutes”. They are so detached from feelings and emotions that they can never have the chance to experience the pleasure or the ecstasy that one gets when one knows what is it to be a human being and values it. No calamity or catastrophe has any effect on “brutes” because they are heartless. They enjoy being alone because they have never known what it is to be amidst your own people. Professing the principle of cleanliness, they are devoid of the most exuberating human touch. They don’t know what power a human touch has. They may consider themselves to be above everyone else. They may feel proud in not having any “fickle” human experiences but according to me there lies the tragedy of their lives. 

my syllabus

Belonging to an age where everything is gloomy, where nothing is there to look forward to I am surrounded by the writers assigned in my syllabus that punctuates already heavy atmosphere with there sadist thinking. I am sitting with a hot bottle, a cup of tea and a question in my mind that why the hell Orwell has taken so much pains to add our pains through his writings in already painful and hellishly cold lives of ours. No doubt that he is a great writer and a great thinker but what does he wants to prove through his novel 1984. His views on politics and political terms are not detaining any political party or political leader from not doing so then why did he spend his last years wasting on such a work. Here is not the end of my misery there are many other writers as I mentioned above, then let me elaborate my statement a little. There is a paper in our syllabus called “criticism” where we have writers divulging in criticizing each other. Now why should we read them? What they are teaching us that we should pen down are thoughts in never ending sentences. On the other hand is Harold Pinter, and his “birthday party”, so gloomy is the setting and everything in it that you seem to collapse the moment you reaches the end of it.

                     Summing up, I would say that there writings have shown that there is no escape in the world, that you are stuck in a planet that is deprive of anything good or inspiring or imaginative. Whose fault is that. I wont say that these writers are to be blamed who have excelled in their genres and I will be perfectly dumb if I would do that. Their writings represent perfectly the dark future after the two world wars. The needle of criticism is on the people who have decided our syllabus without using any brains. With the odd selection of our syllabus they have denied us a perspective of looking at the brighter side of this world and to feel at least a little proud to be humans.

From the Window..

With a little lamp by my side.

With a little book before my eyes.

The chirpings of the birds, I hear.

The whistle of the milk man, I hear.

From the window, where I am sitting.

I see my grandma knitting.

The world seems to be at peace.

As a cup of tea is seized.

The dance of colors is seen.

With the sun rising in the scene.

Beauty is everywhere, I thought.

As I see my horse in the field trot.

Just LOVE...

Through the silk night to the rose petal dawn.
I saw the lingering smile on his lips.
The silence around us
And warmth inside us
Chased away all our fears and doubts.


Through the window we saw the valley
And the sun blushing behind the hills.
Through the window we saw the river
And felt the ripples in our hearts.


Time and reality were shut out.
Voices of others were turned down.
Nothing existed between us.
Neither god nor Satan.
Just love, love and love.

Fulfilled Wish...

In the pouring rain, I was standing

Blinded with rage, I was standing

Rejected by all and dejected by all.

Secretly wanting her happiness.

Secretly wanting her to be safe.

All the way, never wanting her to want me.

Fighting inside to stay away from her.

Fighting inside to let go off her.

But when her arms held me to her

But when her heart beat was felt by mine.

The walls were broken down.

The chains were broken away.

Her acceptance of me.

Her love for me,

Brought all that was locked up away.

Brought all that was dead in me.

I got the purpose of my life.

The reason to live, laugh and love again.

UnFulfilled Wish..

 As the sun was retracing,

The hesitancy was increasing.

The chill was descending.

Her rose like cheeks were crimsoning.

As i stood before her,

I remember her sleeping cozily in her room.

I remember the curves of her lips as she laughs.

I remember the little pearl like tear falling down.

From the eyes that has all the kindness of the world.

Today she was close.

Close enough to make me feel,

For centuries that I have never felt:

The beating of my heart.

I stand before her now.

The little wrinkle over her forehead,

Was because she got scared of me,

But I believed it to be out of care.

With everything inside me melting,

I said what I shouldn’t have,

And what I should have.

Wanting nothing in return,

But her ears to listen.

Everything was said without an utterance.

Everything was felt within the moment.

“god I wish you don’t have to forget this. But you do.”

The tear fell from the eye.

Erasing all that was created.

Erasing all that was ever dreamt.

SomeTimess...

Sometimes it is better to close the book, 
Sometimes it is better to close the book,
Sometimes it is better to sit back and muse,
Sometimes it is better to be careless.


And let the things go unnoticed,
And let the heart fly high,
And let the mind breathe easy.


Sometimes it is better  to conquer,
Sometimes it is better to let go of everything,
Sometimes it is better to yell,
Sometimes it is better to jump.


And let the soul free,
And let the self free from all fears,
And let your lips hum a tuneless tune

Sometimes it is better to sit back and muse,

Sometimes it is better to be careless.

And let the things go unnoticed,

And let the heart fly high,

And let the mind breathe easy.

Sometimes it is better  to conquer,

Sometimes it is better to let go of everything,

Sometimes it is better to yell,

Sometimes it is better to jump.

And let the soul free,

And let the self free from all fears,

And let your lips hum a tuneless tune