optimism and pessimism

The world seems to rush ,
calm and passionate ,
The world tries to repulse
The being into belonging.

Thought less actions ,
Valiant and confident decisions
Through the never ending days –
Somewhere a calender must end.

Materialist needs and wants,
Bubble happiness and disappointment,
Leading hue filled raiment,
The bold look- deference.

Laughter a relief ,
Smile a belief ,
Grip- to show we aren’t meek,
A loud voice, we aren’t weak.

Infinite patience ,
Trying to make sense-
Where a blind reverence
Thrives on a sour penance;

The serenity challenged,
The need to be indifferent,
Yet to feel is human,
To think even more so.

As if wont ignorance
Can cajole a man into callous
Penchant for the stained
Land(as it is) and

Kill the need
For purity and inheritance
The right of every member of the clan
Of human-a hand in the making of a nation.

Religious pride,
A sacrilege, a blasphemous divide.
A universal good,
Killed in the would and could,

Buried with a blood dirge;
Someday it will all be purged
By a tenacious will,
Of those whose sagacity wills.

Optimism-
The day is not far away.

Pessimism-
Who does have a say?

The light shines the brightest

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Beyond indifference

Evanescences -the grin of happiness .
Yet beyond the smile there does lie ,
Tales of sleepless nights and endless fights.
Brawls with oneself ,as if the image in the mirror ,
Was afraid of what it saw in reality .

Some sort of truce ,
Even though the parties refuse ,
Is reached . Lest the wakeful
Hours be all too flee bitten by the scorn
Of the impatient self – impertinent .

Moments of madness ,
The bizarre gesticulation of reverberations ,
Endless syllogisms to accept life as if bound –
Painting the mind as a knave, who is chained by fate-
So that the misdemeanor of man’s whims
Can by buried , in a colloquy of ad libbing .

Yet something does ring ,
The cords of human ingenuity ,
The urge to break free,
See beyond the tainted tree
Of illusively constructed postulates
(The blasphemous baits)
And see the truth – still alive ,
As it is in the venerable roots .

Gravity maybe unseen,
But upon the ground we lean,
The feet do feel , the seal
Of some grave connotation,
The power of a greater imagination .

If being bound is an ambiguity ,
Then to break free a felicity .
The joy of appraising
The truth , the ego less divinity ,
The knowledge of belonging to infinity.

If only indifference could be smut ,
So that , it could be ignored like dust
Upon a windowsill ,cleaned with a cloth
Every now and then , when
A party is about to descend .

Yet its presence daunts and drapes
Into our very jovial spirits
And forces contradictions
To become an addiction .
By the presence of such negations ,
The mind loses its calm serenity
And hustles and bustles ,
In hope of finding a serendipity –

As if miracles can be whipped out of nothing ,
As if the Ether was detached from the weather
Of the stars and the galactic wars ;
Yet in the indifferent, the indifference seems
To take up a perch and poison the self
To divulge and indulge in its inaction-
A devilish penance .

For all that , belief is the quintessence –
the belief in yourself , in the waves
Of self trust , where you believe
That the light shines the brightest .
Where the path of ego less divinity ,
Leads to understanding of this transient Mortality
And the gory of indifference and its capacity .

The indifferent blows a conch
As if the final wars of the world
Were to begin at this new dawn .
Yet the glories of the understanding
And the sun’s first light ,
Kills away the plague within
Just like the dusk rays smother
The nonchalance of the day
And brightens the moon for a night
Filled with a serene , calm life .

The camphorous smile amalgamates
Into a deep deep profound joy ,
The belonging bound with understanding
causes the mind to feel the zest ,
The acceptance of life and the rest .

Mad moments ,capricious deeds –
Finally a epiphany to bring heed
To the one always known ,
The song of the one soul .

The light shines the brightest

The bakers

Once upon a time long , long ago ,
There was a baker who was known
For her bakes – which would melt
And disappear down throats
As fast as yeast could grow .

And as she grew old ,
She told her children the recipes
All made fine and woven ,
Created during many hours under the oven .
They all did hear her out –
Some more dexterous at the gateau ,
Others better at just making the right dough .

Yet there were a few ,
Who though heard all that the others knew ,
Who couldn’t spread butter on bread ,
Who were all fed to a starved death .

On one fine day , as the sun rose ,
The children were all on their own .
And so with there skills all set and perfect ,
The walked through the countries parks
And chose their shops ,
To spread love through their bakes .
A few boisterous mixed their flour
And added their eggs and yeast ,
Gave the world numerous feasts .

They took understudies to whom the taught
The skills , even as their coffers never stood still .
But those who could bake none ,
Lost their homes and had to run
From those they borrowed
And those they caused many a bad turn .

A few of such , idled about
(And that too all wrong )
And then the day came ,
When it was time to split
The estate of the one who was long gone .

With pens filled with liquor madness ,
They claimed that their siblings were unjust .
The harangued that their misfortunes
Were because the others were too good!
Pity , oh! pity the others felt ,
They thought that , at least their brothers’ kids
Would be better! So with their hearts
Filled with love , they wrote a decree,
Saying that the house shall be
Made of so much from the unfortunate’s
family , only so that they learn
And some day on their own earn .

Soon time’s ropes petered on those
And they left their bakery to their kin .
The kin inherited the dough
And so their demand never saw a trough .
All the while , the unskilled’s kids
Grew fatter under the provision
Provided and seeing success
Grew avaricious and claimed
That all this was through their pain!

A fight ensued and those successful
refused . They pointed out that
The bums had refused to learn
And that money cannot be earned
Without skill or working under the oven .
In a rage , the law book was brought out
And soon by popular vote , amended –
So that the unskilled got the majority’s share-
The rest just had to bare
These fat pigs who no more fitted
Into their own chairs!

In anger a few left ,
Others held that soon shall all be right ,
That under someone they will , together fight .
Soon that wonderful fresh bread smell grew ,
Longer became the queue.
The money came in and yet those
Who made them with honesty ,
Love and diligence ,
Lost their voice in the parliament!

One day a huge cake was made
It was for a festival’s sake .
The majority drunk in their inactivity
Got a big knife and cut in
For themselves and their kin .
And soon the pieces were
So many, Nothing was left
For the bakers
The actual makers .

For a while , they tried to reason
With their comrades and then
Realized with aghast
That lost was their cause!
Infuriated and cheated ,
They set out with bag and baggage ,
Landed in a better place
And baked a larger cake and ate
With grace , voraciously , singing
Praise to the new beginning .

Soon the old place ,
Ran out of money and food ,
Bickering , the people
First killed their kin ,
Then pealed their own skin
And finally lost everything !

A few survived , something
By nature , by blood had survived
Innate in them and in desperation something
Had come alive . The new of an old kind ,
Wanted to restore the past glory –
Though their memory was pretty foggy
With all that passed on being glossy .

One day , they called a baker home
And befriended him . They promised
To work together and to restore
Their pride . So the newly formed pride
Set about , the dough was bought
And the yeast all ready to dwell ,
But just before the first day’s bake ,
Someone found out the old constitution
And called the baker a traitor ,
Oh! he was no friend –
In vengeance into the oven
Went the baker
And baked forever was the bakery !

Pity , majority , democracy , atrocity
Ultimately a big big hypocrisy –
For that you eat , you gluttons
call God , yet the “makers
Are traitors” – so you say ,
Someday , someday ,not so far away ,
You will loose your way
And then wonder whose mistake it was .

You would then say ,
It was the man who decided to bake ,
Forgetting that , that was what made
You a big fat swine , Or maybe
You are right , you deserve less ,
Maybe a whip is a better harness!

The memories of the bakery
Were long after found –
After the bakers cult was tainted
And then erased to the ground .
The invading forces were butchers
And hogs were their specialty –
Enjoyed by the whole of (remaining) humanity!

flowers…

Since I got my new camera , I got back to my old love of taking photos of flowers….I like this cam better than my old one , Its focus is better and the macros too is better(of course it should be ,considering there is a gap of four years between them) . I like the 4th and 5th..guess next time I should experiment more with the ISO speeds 🙂 

From new camera1

From new camera1

From new camera1

From new camera1

From new camera1

From new camera1

Ego and divinity

Upon a peaceful ocean ,
A thought did rise . 
That thought did move
Within the worlds , as a screw
Would into a wooden hollow . 

As judgements were passed , 
And prejudices concluded ,
To all but a few the truth
Eluded . Virtues and vices
Are relatives at war , 
Divided by a single wall . 
On either of that does lie
A way – somewhere , infinity
They do meet and there 
Contradictions nay exist . 
Yet till that point there does
Seem , a world at a brawl ,
Within itself always ready 
To start a fire at the scent of smoke .

Forces greater than the container
Are contained , by the sheer inept
Of those contained to recognize
A frail misnomer . The forces so contained
Do pray to the within to discover
A better lens to notice the
Venomous drops , the poison .

And once the mind does locate
Where it seems the simple twist
Of fate seems to be placed ,
It does try to frame a case
Of revolution , an air of arrogance ,
The charm of ego and deliberation.

The ego is a way to feel the abyss
And not that which we pit against those
As wise . The ego is a virtue to protect
And feel all those below earthly morality .
The ego is to break the walls of discrimination .
And that ego is a screen drawn  not to
Close love but to open the eyes of justice.

The only justice is poetic
And as each action churns a reaction ,
The world watches with concentration
And tries to balance with a fervor , a penchant
Soaked in a universal beauty ,
The song of which brings a deja vu
And belonging becomes de rigueur
For every creature .

At such a stark moment , the ego
Becomes a wall upon which you do
Stand and observe the obsessed world .
As a prophet to the mortal , the immortal
Sires the world and becomes the inner star ,
Set at a spot , showing direction ,
The venerated divine , the harbinger
To the future , the holder of the keys
To completion of an ultimatum .

With such a serene posture ,
The hand and the paper become
One . As one weaves through the other ,
That which is drawn breaks the beauty
Of stillness and the mesmerizing silence
Only to carve a beatitude beyond
The revealed rites of revered veneration –
The ode to world through perception.

And on such paper and as the hand
Becomes the mouth that disturbs the air ,
The thoughts on the ocean form
A known citation , seen within
And calm the diligent ego to mere strength .

As towers upon an unseen base ,
You do stand and watch the height
Of the sea , knowing that written
On the shore sand is temporary .
Yet that penned into memory ,
Is the message , to be visited
Again and again , in time’s rein ,
To establish the threads ,
To relight the blown fire
And rekindle the presence .

Everything is an illusion .
And so let the world be .
yet within each sketched ,
Does lie a world , the creativity
Of another illusion – reality
Mounted idealism , The final
curve to the straight column ,
The finesse of mind’s design .
And as the illusion’s illusion ,
Takes strength from its perceiver ,
The creator , it does add a tantamount
Code to the encore of the world .

Yet a while it does take
For another to conquer
The imagination and rise
The almost moribund ,
A final twitch before disappearance
And cause agitation in
The being’s bosom .

At such a moment ,
The negations seem to add up ,
All in whole and almost real
And thought aware ,
Such is the nature
That the being allows
Th virus to infect ,
If only not to let the world
Be poisoned.

And such and such is called divine
By plenty and worth a merry hail
But they do fail , they fail,
To see that it is not scarifies
And the ego’s penance ,
But that it is a discovery
To thrall the abyss by
The sheer resistance of life –
The strength of the wall
We do sit upon , the power
Of that which sits on the wall
And the stars whose lights do connect
The world by illuminating the world .

If not for anti , the ego has no existence .
If not for fear and guilt ,
The world would not be built
As it is but would have been formed
By the hands of creation –
The procreation of thoughts upon
Thoughts , the pro evolution
Of mud into bricks , of dusk
Into a dawn , memoir
Of man’s visage when he
Did see that he was free
To contemplate the way to the stars
And to carve a transient image on the shore
And letting the ocean the one to hide
That which is at the other side of sky’s brink .

The soul of life is divinity .
The beauty of movements ,
The culture of souls to choose ,
The ability to be alive .
Divinity is the way we feel ,
Divinity is the veracity .
And that truth which it represents ,
Is a means to an end .

At a solvent moment ,
The ego dissolves .
The viruses are none .
The illusions float below
And the world is a calm proposition.
Life seems to be drenched
In itself. The containers break ,
The Pandora box is overridden
As the world feels the hands’
Alacrity to be itself .

Life is life .
The world is alive .
Everything is an illusion
And we live in our perception .
Veracity and its integrity
Are the natural scales which we adhere
And as the notes of a song
Whatever pitch we breath
And ours heart’s beat
The love we feel
Will set us free .
For revolution is action
Where we reveal to ourselves
What we are , the action
Which frees us from the ordinary
And makes us to be the divinity .

Love is a essence ,
The flavour to let out the strings
And understand the world .
Love is the soul’s delight ,
For it is the fire of the fight .

As the world comes back alive
And the waves do eat the sketch
And reality is set alight ,
We do feel we belong ,
To this , that which is a metaphor
To our life , that which hides
From our sight , that we seek
For lending a meaning to life .

The joy of ego less superiority ,
The joy of divinity .
The God you are is what you will be ,
The God the world is ,
What you want it to be .
The God ultimately ,
Is the God that has to be .

Truth is not the end
But the means to an end.

 

The light shines the brightest

City of blinding lights?

First of all thanks for voting for the blogging means freedom design 🙂 The result – 35% of the people liked it . Now I got designing again and decided to do something for the city series . One thing which I learned while trying to do this design was ,  that I needed recogonize more things about the place I live in . I realized that Chennai has lots and lots of landmarks but what the city really is represented by is the beach . 

First I tried to make a sort of collage but then having never bothered to capture a few most of the landmarks , I realized that this wasn’t the way forward . So just played a bit with photoshop and came up this :-

I decided to call this city of blinding lights …well I think I am improving 😛 what do you think?

Ops and almost forgot if you like this , you can vote here – http://www.infectious.com/voting/laptop-skins/visheshunni/the-city-of-blinding-lights/1381

🙂 🙂 🙂 Isn’t this better than the previous one?

 

Update:- The title is actually name of a song by U2 … see here

Sometimes you just smile

Sometimes you just smile
And there nothing can hide .
Sometimes you just see 
And the sight sets you free .
From the depth of the sky,
To the height of the seas,
The world is what it is meant to be –
From the jiggle of set chimes,
To the babbled nursery rhymes,
From the chirp of a bird,
To the early morn crimson skirt,
The world is what it is meant to be , 
Always there to set you free.

Touch of nature ,
Touch of humanity,
You do feel , that skies are roamed
And that all you see is owned,
That the breeze from the sea , 
Is meant to push you to see , 
Those trees who do sway far at peace .

In the beget of all rhapsodies,
One in the sky does merge
And within does emerge ,
A world on the verge ,
Of a smile and it does purge
As the smile sets alive.

Sometimes you just smile
And there nothing can hide .
Sometimes you just see
And the sight sets you free.

The light shines the brightest

A comment

I have been off politics and anything to do with it for a while .Simple because I can afford a shoe right now and maybe afford to even throw it (things look like a luxury only till you can’t afford them) .But still there are a few posts which draw you to read on(very very few bloggers have that ability) and so this post.  The reason for me not eating anything political is because I have had  too much of masala –  by nature my teeth are sweet(no they are not made of candy or gold :P){and get it I am making fun of things [people now days!]} so just don’t want to trouble my senses.

As I mentioned there are a few who just draw you into reading and this particular post is a very good read especially for a fellow who loves history ( how much do I love it? Enough to ask doubts in a history class) .

Here is the post – Pseudo Secularism and Congress. And this was my comment to it:-

I do not know. Simple right? But what you and me say doesn’t matter…you see kids are thought to say all Indians are my brothers and sisters…then where does it go wrong? It doesn’t matter who are the people we keep pointing fingers at ,for they will keep coming . By doing that we are not identifying Mr.Satan himself but only lending a face to him and once we burn/he burns us at a stake,we just go back to where ever for a while, nodding our heads as if its all done . I have repeated it over and over , the biggest mistake in this country is that the people with quality have now been discriminated and the country handed over to people ___________ .

And the old bus thing too . You and me write just to appease ourselves . No more and no less. Why don’t people like you or me take to being the Hero? is that we can’t ? No, we know the way people behave. I was sent out of class today ,when I hadn’t done anything wrong .The fellow in question was just yappin yappin without give us time to think , I stopped tried to think and then when I missed what he was saying looked into my neighbour’s book and he sent us out. But thats the gist of what is happening , if you try to think , they send you out.We have to learn and go on…for it is about us and not them…

Of course to a few , my comment may seem from another world and not  looking at the reality . All I can say is , I haven’t seen that reality and so I cannot talk about that . The place where I live is relatively peaceful for the people here have better things to do ( Or at least I hope so) . To actually think of people killing each other in the name of religion , I can’t . But I have seen instances where it is the audacity of a few people which leads to some tension building up . One thing I hope I always would remember would be that

arrogant are those who are ignorant
Tenacious are those who are diligent .

Anyway I don’t think I will be posting about politics as such , even though it seems to be everywhere. I personally think that there isn’t much use talking too much, we need to get into doing . Someone ,pointed out to me that changes are always happening . True. While we cannot change things but are mere catalysts , we need to remember to play our part properly . By looking at each other , no one is going to take the onus .

The “bus thing” which I mentioned above is this :-

The country is a bus and a person whom we all feel is not a good driver is driving . We have two options one to get out of the bus or take over the wheels . So in a way I have decided to get out of the bus for a while , so I am going to shut up and not talk about it . Without full information we cannot judge what is happening . We are but seeing those things which a few people want us to see and hear what a few people want us to hear . We need to dig deep and try to evaluate after we know enough .

To sum it up , religion was started for something and now is being used for something else . Personally I take God to be a metaphor(read this poem – a metaphor called God and this one too – God ) so I cannot understand why people should fight so much . We are on Earth to live and not survive .Using that thing up there , we have created a world for ourselves ,why instead of enjoying do we bicker and try to make it all worse for each other?

Barriers and justice

Something stood still-
A barrier to his will ;
As if efforts are meant to be laughed at,
And the world lived far away from the facts.

A day would come , someday,
Where all that was not his would fall;
In a sudden breath of brilliance ,
Life would seem high away in the stars.

Until till , everyday and night ,
He dreamt and saw them high;
His morning star ,he waited for,
The time for the inner call.

Till then he lay , his dreams
never dormant , yet for a few moments,
His mind did torment and remind him
Of days , when love scant and fray.

The wall did stand still ,
But he did paint it –
till it does fall finally,
The paint was a coat of sanity.

And as he does see it as just another wall ,
For the world, he is just another brick in the wall*
But nothing else matters*,
Someday*, things will flipside*,

An overture will break it and give him life
And as the first allegro breaks from the largo,
Life then slowly does seem to raise to the Prestissimo ,
And to the ulterior he can move and grow.

What is within is forever,
The spirit, the will of one will never
Fade into the common commotion of noise
But will rather stand out-the voice of the insane poise.

What does matter does lay in wait,
Down the path ,through the fare way
Placed by our own actions and our plays
Which do make , a butterfly ,

The harbinger of the universe’s fate.
A picture is never complete,
For the world never accepts defeat,
For its desire is to seek,

The purpose and raise higher,
To where the rising sun is lower
And the plains and hills of Earth a blur,
Beyond the bright tempting azure.

But it was about him and not the world,
But it is about him and not the world,
But it will be about him and not the world,
A conceited almost nullity,

Yet if not for him , what could be?
And where will be the ability to see
And hear him and his temperament
His staunch vivacity?

The picture is complete,
For finally The artist does paint the eye,
And the work does come alive ,
And the protagonist does abide,

None. For he is born out of a will ,
And until it is fulfilled, he will walk
The land , how ever long it is spanned
And fulfil the thoughts plan.

Independence contingent upon man,
Destiny presupposed , yet a juxtapose
Did did I rise and it did choose,
And so it will never lose.

Man’s work is to break Inability,
To achieve it or not is destiny.
Mortality is lost ,
When sense of reality is found.

The only justice is poetic,
And it is set into a music,
The matrix when one does act,
The feeling we know it for a fact.

The light shines the brightest

*- Name of songs.

What do you see?

Take a good look at the pic , what do you see ?Can you recognize anything ? What do you think about the image?