0:59 symphony

You lie awake, clean, glass transparent, clicking keys on your keyboard, thinking what is there to be? Memory, nightmares, anguishing air around rises, the tone of your voice shrills within.

You think… what is there to be?

A day with night infused in, beautifully shadowing the streets. The coldness in your ankles, cloths tying you to the ground. You want to let it go, trying to slip away, but it jerks you down, shivering the soul to reality. The forlorn bubble glistens, shines enveloping your universe within. Does it take drowning waves to make you feel the shore again?

Past midnight, as the black sky thickens, winds quiver, leaves whisper, and the naughty moon fickle gazes, you await redemption.

Cut loose that anchor, fly up into the thin air, ’cause there might not be any more to have upon. Bare soles slide against tickling clouds, gasping streaks between your toes. The city under you, quiet, asleep, lost in their own swoons.

And as you soar higher, you feel the eternal space above. Paint a lie or scream a truth, the canvas of your symphony stays uncorrupted in front of you. You raise your finger to the blank space, roofs beneath mooning at you, to reassure.

Staying suspended there, do you feel free? Want to go higher? If you could breathe through the vacuum, would you have gone farther?

You say, ‘I write sad verses, dripped in a lyric of woe-begone trajectory’.

It feels happy in that state, melody of sheer solitude.  The hands going around in space, unbridled by your arms. Pace with this heart if you can. The soul that visits thousand lands of unimaginable feelings. Happiness resides in little ways.

Embrace a new way of the same old. You may say it is a state of perennial ‘sadness’, but it isn’t sad here, it is just a calm peace untouched by any.

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Sky upon the dam

Pages rush as I sit to define my agony.

A dry desert, but ocean sky above.

Sit on the edge of the dried dam of the cracked canopy.

Its cement walls infused with stones in love,

the desert rocks, so uncanny.

Cool dry air, shivers and shows thousand feels,

millions stars of your own skin.

Blue sky, mountain rocks, everything conceals,

as you sit on the edge of that dried dam basking,

the cracked floor of intersectionality of unclarity enseals.

Your bare legs hang down,

all around you, the two colors are mixing:

sky blue and stone brown,

with the floor in white washing.

You sit at a structure, so feeble, to drown

in your transience of the universal unending.

There is no morning, no evening here,

just a long bright afternoon,

sky is lit up, afternoon hazes in care.

The concrete walls of mountains swoon

you with its boundless afternoon air.

You feel nothing, so powerless your vox,

but so free and confident,

A divine paradox

by forces beyond you to tend.

And you sit there with the clicking clocks,

your cool palms engulfing you in the eternal scent.

Make America ‘Grate’ Again

The government shutdown continues with 800,000 federal workers without a paycheck, giving rise to the probability of a national emergency in US.

Read all about it: https://youthforjournalism.wordpress.com/2019/01/11/make-america-grate-again/

Youth For Journalism is my blog where I pen down my journalistic rigor while trying to be the force for the fourth wall of democracy.

Rain of fire

If it burns, let it burn,

The wind will heave the wrath further,

The leaves burn crumbling to core,

And, you breathe universes beyond & farther.

Step out to the edge of tunnel,

Bright white light blinding,

Drop a pin into the lake, as it ripples, the pin disintegrates, kissing the bed.

Rain clatters at my window, mist in the skin and soul of the warmth…

You push open the doors, the air rushes out.

Drop by drop, rain falls to your fingertips, sliding down, dripping from your cliff.

And you stay put, hearing the symphony,

Discordant denominators going in sync with grand melody.

My soul swirls in me,

Breath evanescing from the leaves, crushed comics sparkle.

The symphony of infinite harmonies, thousand winds subsuming in each other

You sit by the wall, turning a page, shaking your bind,

You lie crippled on the edge of fire.

Eyes turn dry red with your flames.

Enchanted universe breaking into smithereens.

Walk, walk that leg, zlap, click, tick, tack, you go,

You can move into your new home,

When you burnt my nest.

Agony rushes with rainbows.

Clap, clap, clap, clurp, hands together

You moved to another land,

water between us of endless depth,

Dive home, will you?

Rain is pouring, still in its grandeur,

Face out your smile at the clouds,

Let the lightening gaze at your skin

Blood enters the empty vessel,

Heat steams, the water keys receding in,

Raindrops flowing into me,

My hands smell of memories.

Chop? Chop them off, chop, chop, you move.

Hope that sun stays burning, cosmos evolving and our days falling off.

Close? Hang my brain down from your sincere hook.

Let blood drop down,

Juices flow out, humors leaking,

Inspect, click, enter, saved, document what you think you see

Done? Breathe my smoke,

Feel my rain

Kiss the new universe.

 

Hope

Why do we paint such beautiful pictures of us? When our societies are corrupted, why are we trying to color them good?

A good place of pious morality, untouched with any wrong. Does it even exist? When you look from distance, it appears all bright colors, stretched smiles, glittering eyes and glassy happiness, but it’s when you delve deeper that the true colors actually reveal. Then why are we so obsessed with drawing the divides between right and wrong, establishing a socially dictating binary? You grow up listening to stories of triumphant victories over vices, lullabies of good ‘natural’ things and many school lessons of moral science. The entire scheme to instill a morally upright individual in you, ‘morally upright’ as per the norms and standards of the society, all culturally aligned.

Then Kaboom, Kaboom.

You see the actual sides of the much told stories. People you look up to as walking embodiment of ‘goodness’ turn out to have malicious content and unfathomable flaws. You begin to question the existence of such didactic norms. What indeed construes ‘wrong’? Falsehood? Adultery? Theft? Murder?  The revelation of such question hits a realization.

The world thrives on ‘Hope’.

We hope that things will be good and if even though times turn ripe, there will be an eventual sunshine to make things good again. What if everyone has some bad in them, they also have good too? And as Rousseau espoused the belief that man by nature is good, the humanity dwells upon the hope that everything will gradually be good. Even though we have our shortcomings, drawbacks, baggage, past, mistakes, we still have a today to rectify them and strive to better ourselves. Hope maybe a myth for some, however, it does have the potential to be the driving force for many.

There is a very popular proverb in Hindi that goes like ‘Umeed pe hi duniya kayam hain’ which translates into ‘the world thrives on hope’. So even when moralities are debatable, goodness subjective, hope does pave our belief in future. So, the stories will continue to be told, children will be given instructions and hope will persevere.

So even in dark times when I feel humanity is losing its goodness, I tell myself, that we are capable of change and with that hope, continue to believe in goodness of all around me.

So keep hoping that things will get better, people will change and the final picture will be brighter. 🙂

The sun of your eyes

Close your eyes

Black and lighter black passing in lines, rows by rows, warm heart grows softer.

You scratch a white stroke across the rows, like a tiny twig being drawn over sand, striking a pattern, broken glass making a poetry.

In that blackness, you span your hands out, reaching out to dark empty space.

You and you in complete symphony

Sound of music escapes through the wind struck strings of harp, touching a tone in you, and you pause, the world in its petals buds in, the petals enveloping inwards, a closing bud, and sunrise recedes behind the horizon. The chord of darkness strikes complete blackness around you.

Wild youth firing through the cold desert. The shine at the peak of a pencil, feelings receding in, waves retracing their routes, your eyes getting number, closing forever in the silence of unsaid words.

A gasp shivers through soul, and the feeling of you being alive radiates in sea waves across your sand of the soul. A glass bottle full of blinding smoke, as it whispers through your eyes, down the curve of your face, breathing the new air through the cleft between your eyes and skin.

As your cloud of eye lifts, the sun rises. With its thousand hues, the iris shines.

Open your eyes

A ride through the white desert

When today I opened my diary, the thin thread that binds it was loose, the essence of the pages flowing out, the perfume of stolen moments escaping into the air…

You sit in the corners in years in row- thinking and hoping for light years of better happiness. You realize that the pages have the sound of eyes blinking, palms almost touching and fingers about to entwine

I tied it- tried to open it by the leather edge, ensuring it is tight. My secrets safe, days donned, nights nailed in, the treasure tightly tainted.

Wear a tank top

Pull on some shorts

Walk down in your flow

Their eyes will speak a thousand stories

You reach out to the front

Hug him tight

They still watch

You dare to do more

You want to kiss him,

Give a peck above his beard,

He wants to lift you in air,

But your hearts pound.

He and you. You and him.

No loose ends, no triangles.

Just a line, where your life will drive through,

Chasing the sunset,

You hold him tight by the shoulder

Deserts, beaches, waves, mountains, sand, flowers, sunsets, stars, moon, dawn, morning sunshine, blue sky, trees, falling leaves, snow passes by, lands stretch again, eyes close and you feel the sun again.

Tightly hold on to the grip, cigarette smoke may suffocate, lines may grow in, lies churning days, but with the right hand, even fire melts away…

White sand on either side,

Ageing skies,

Black bike, your eyes at the road,

‘Sesame Syrup’ sparkling the air in you

You got a long list of lovers,

I got a long list of lovers,

As the seasons develop through the song,

You WAKE UP to see that if even there is absence,

There is more.

If not all with you, at least ‘you’ is still there- laughter, smiles, their eyes

Cinderella had the prince,

Long before that, she had herself

Follow the string left strung of a guitar, the beat getting lost in cracks of the world.

The wait is good.

How good is the wait!

Getting wasted, stripped off dignity as you know it.

His eyes will turn glass,

Your hair will grey,

The summer days, fresh air, warm cuddles in the winter, ice creams at 1, the twisted sheets, your head over his shoulder, his smell your smile for him, all these memories will bun as you smoke till the last stub of your life.

And as you will die, they will stay there…

But what if those remain in your imagination?

What if I have been telling you a lie till now?

That there is no him, just you and you. Does it end?

No,

Altogether becomes more exciting- why?

Cause you keep hoping to finally taste those thoughts,

Live out your learnt stories,

That curiosity keeps you invigorated.

I haven’t experienced most or any of them but I have stories, thoughts, feelings, waiting for the moment…

The wait is good?

It just becomes your medicine.

You can still be what you want to. Medicine. Medicine. Medicine.

You got till here,

You will get till there.

With or without him,

Life will be always yours,

Live it now,

Don’t wait, because you might reach the dead bed still waiting. Why to regret later?

Live.

The Grey Scale

To love is to take in all of the person, the flow, the good, the past, the secrets, the bad, their future, their plans, their everything…

It’s not an easy job to love. There is too much pain, effort, tears, judgments, and an entire vase full of crackling glitter- it can sparkle and it can shock.

So be ready- I feel like a shattered rose, losing its self, burned and stroked against the dry brick wall, and then shook in the distance- disembodying its self- disrobing his petals in the air- the thin bleak air tasting the burning wine- I fall to the ground- crashing to my core- Why? Why this sadness?

Running this life- running through the wood, dry grey sky watching over us, walking deep into the forest- the green, the grey & the bark- coarse like your boyfriend’s beard.

A leaf falls over me,

Touches my hair, kisses my rough edges- slides down that pale curve and falls to the ground-

Fern leaves- the brown bark- green moss and the dry grey scale- fog in a thin wave, just eludes the surrounding in its cover,

You and just you,

The woods

The darkness soothing you

Is it the evening?

Is it an early morning?

Dusk or dawn,

The grey is beautiful.

 

I walk further,

There is a place out there waiting for me to tun to it like a baby to his mother.

Splash some water in there, sparkle of the distant sun, prisming through this drop, sun, here it comes…

The great wood in front of me,

Majestic, tall, exalted, then the clouds fly in again, like curtains being drawn to the waiting eyes.

 

Dry? Cold? Like stone dead?

Life is in us, some taste it with the sun, beach, and fun, their screech, some sit in a dark wood, sole, alonehood, dark holes,

Or just walking…

Rocky rocks, sea shore hammering, whipping cold waves at you…

Or just a field, garden, a leaf, a stream, we have our own ways- but why do we have no more days?

India decriminalizes homosexuality

Section 377, the 150 year old ban on gay sex, has been officially removed today in India, when Supreme Court ruled saying that consensual adult gay sex is not a crime further stating that sexual orientation is natural and people have no control over it.

Read more at:

https://theprideembassy.wordpress.com/2018/09/06/section-377-decriminalized-a-new-chapter-in-indian-history/

Climate Change can derail the development in Arab states

United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) launched a new report today that revealed how climate change can hamper the development in the Arab Region and may render efforts to end poverty and hunger by 2030 futile.

As per the report, the Arab region is now the planet’s most water-scarce and food-import-dependent region with malnutrition rates rising. The world’s largest population of refugees and displaced people reside in this region. The Arab region includes 14 of the world’s 20 most water-stressed countries.

Adriana Dinu, Director, Global Environmental Finance, UNDP, said, “Over the past decades, the region has seen significant economic and social progress. Climate risks threaten to derail these development gains. This could disrupt efforts to build peace, cause a spike in ‘eco-migrants,’ and undermine efforts to end hunger, poverty and inequality by 2030”.

In past, the region has seen cycles of drought, resulting in situations of famine and food insecurity, loss of livelihoods and life, consequently, the displacement of millions. The report stated that the Arab region’s environment is prone to rising temperatures, sea-level rise, and increased risks of floods and droughts. Climate change projections reveal that by the year 2025, the water supply in the region will be only 15 percent of levels in 1960.

UNDP is supporting countries in the four sub-regions of the Arab region to adapt to climate change impacts and build climate resilience. Mourad Wahba, Assistant Administrator and Director of the UNDP Regional Bureau for Arab States, said, “UNDP works closely with our national partners to build resilience of institutions and communities to anticipate, absorb and adapt to increasingly complex risks from climate change”.