flowers…whats the name again?

Ooty has a few of gardens and the Botanical Gardens is one . And though this time I was determined to try and learn the names of the flowers , I managed to forget that I was supposed to try and remember 😉 So anyway lets see who can tell me the names 😉 And if you think a photo hasn’t come out properly , then it is because I was “experimenting” 😉 {actually I couldn’t see how the photos came about because my camera forgot its shade and got an memory card ache , thanks to the glare 😉 }

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Once I had a dream that I was a bird

From new camera1

Once I had a dream that I was a bird .

The world was below me and the world watched me . I was a crow , who flew over the high horizon of the city . Many saw me as a scavenger but within they all longed for what I could do , roam the skies . Yet there is this urge within which I want to fulfill , which humans have already part done – fly beyond this rushing ether. As I see the moon rise ,even as the sun goes down ( to visit my cousins across the enigmatic sky ) my heart beats with pangs of pain , the suffering caused by the urge , the need to touch the impalpable( that moon and those distant stars) , if only to know that the world is tangible.

 

From new camera1

I see across the terraces , many with their aims set , they bicker with the certainity of security  . And yet as time wans and nothing but the pale moon night throws shadows about , people become afraid and train their senses to the bright lights of their race’s creation . They never seem to think about the man who thought of those lights . The light shines the brightest , but the light is the substance , the sign but not the source itself . Even as it represents the origin , it is nothing but an extension. Maybe to us crows and birds the light is a sign of a  reflex glory , felt every time it strikes our senses . It shows that one day the divinity within will purge us and start the movement towards the unseen worlds .

Maybe it already has in me . Never have we seen anything but the dawn , followed by the day , succeeded by a dusk and left incomplete by a pensive night , peaceful  with a joyous melancholy . Maybe there is something greater in the universe , where in the trinities of belonging, i.e. instinct , person and thought are the mere stepping stones to  enter into the castes in the skies . Or maybe there is nothing , but I need to see to believe . And sight can be the most prejudiced of all senses , yet at least it garuntees that there is something .

If only we can see beyond the zenith , if only our existence was enriched by thoughts beyond the stars which invite and inspire and reinvent the sense of belonging .

The sound of life woke me . Yet the world spoke to me . The vibrations of my thoughts left me to feel that I was in level with the stars and that which is not truly palpable is the one which is beyond. There is something beyond everything . The truth is the means to an end – yet what is the truth?

For whom the sun shines

Early morning breeze ,
far away the sea breaths ,
The birds chirp and fly , free.
The crimsons slowly appear to be seen.

Clouds race ahead ,
The world wakes and slowly comes alive.
Almost forgotten the day rises
From the depth of the night .

The clocks go on ,
The horns will honk on ,
The sellers will sell on ,
Tube light filled cubes stretch like a ray ,
Yet at the sight of the sunrise ,
All seems by the by .

For whom the sun shines ,
Far away , for those who dare to smile everyday;
For whom the sun shines
Far away, for those who dare to smile it all away.

Walls built of stone and cement ,
Hours filled in thought ,all in vain , dormant .
Cries of war ,
Pains of lost wagers ,
Lives drowned in self pity ,
Birds who die as they can’t fly .
Lights that fade and blink their last days away ,
Roads that lose their path into dead ends ,
Bridges that collapse under life’s strains ,
Still there is someone ,
Who dares to smile it all away…

For whom the sunshines ,
Far away , for those who dare to smile everyday;
For whom the sunshines ,
Far away , for those who dare to smile it all away.

Winds of changes ,
Breezes that carry wishes ;
Colours which add life ,
Hues that fill the sight ;
Oceans that meet shores ,
Seas that have a deep and a shallow ;
A secret scent ,
A sweet bud ,
And of it is filled with a smile ,
At the sight , beauty , spirits arise .

For whom the sun shines ,
Far away , for those who dare to smile everyday .
For whom the sun shines ,
Far away , for those who dare to smile it all away .

Arms out stretched ,
Face high and pride less .
Belonging defined right ,
Beauty carved in the inner sight .
No clocks , no vaults ,
No faults , verses from forgotten songs .

For whom the sunshines ,
Far away , for those who dare to smile everyday .
For whom the sunshines ,
Far away , for those who dare to smile it all away .

Day after day , far away ,
A perfect sun rises in the east ,
The genius who arose from the waters ,
Who cares for none and has no masters .
In a set path , to the beat of the song ,
Yet the magnanimity and beauty is never gone .

Every night is a prayer for a better sunrise ,
As the clouds run stray and open a day in May ,
The day may be hot and severe ,
Yet the rise on every passing is lovelier
To those who dare to see beyond vice
For those dare to arise with the songs of life –

For whom the sun shines ,
far away , for those who dare to smile every day .
For whom the sun shines ,
Far away , who dare to smile it all away .

The light shines the brightest

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

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

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.

A fairy tale

In my dreams I do believe,
One day I will achieve.

 

Fairy tales begin with ‘once upon a time’ and so does this one. Once upon a time, in a world far far away  from ‘reality’ there was a little boy in a big city. He dreamed of reaching the stars which he saw and thought that if he could keep improving his paper plane design, he could build a craft and finally go and see the stars closer.

 

From photoshopped

He was a good old chatterbox,non-stop super-sense  if not to others ,to himself. But what was more shocking was the way he could observe people and things. Though people around made fun of  him,he loved the stars and told himself, he would go up away from this world and see them some day , some how. But at that he didn’t know one thing-that when people decide your dream is ridiculous they try to make sure you can never reach it.

And so the time came when the kid entered first standard and the bright lad, now hated school,because the teachers some how didn’t like him.The smart boy he had been in kindergarten was now gone. He realized he liked a certain girl ,who was popular,got good marks and whom everyone wanted to talk to-things he wasn’t. Oh! he and marks – Some how,they never seemed to matter to him,yet they seemed to give people a reason to say why he can’t go to the ‘space’ and visit the universe ,he wasn’t getting enough marks!

But that didn’t stop him,he was a determined kid.In his mind,he could see himself peeping out of the window at the stars and enjoying the serene silence. Where ever he thought of that,he felt on top of that world,below him called earth,how those people tried to tell him he can’t fly,but he was little bird wasn’t he? 

In his dreams ,he achieved plenty more. He lead a life,away from the reality. And as life would have it,he was never popular in school, though he wished he was , but that gave him plenty of time,to live in his own little world of ideas and ideals. But his marks saw a bit of daylight and slowly started going up for a while.

By the time he entered his teens,he still thought of his stars but he now understood,what the world would do-he was old enough to understand people and their ways. So one day he sat and told himself,no matter what life throws at him,he would get there.

But within a while,all changed and his dreams seemed to have gone away.Someone seemed to have stamped the little paper plane -he hated it,he never was a earthling,earth was meant for creatures who wanted safety,not for heroes like him.Then suddenly,a thread stuck from the sky and he started to climb towards the stars. One the way up,he knocked on God’s door and give him his best smile.

But suddenly everything came crashing,some human was pulling him down, this shouldn’t happen,to the little boy,the young man told himself  , would this be the end of the road for his dream. Then something struck him, there is another path, to his dream,not one of climbing up a thread, but one which he had to discover and on the way he would learn more about humans and the way they act . He told himself that he would make it , he felt the warmth of the dreams .

During the day,he observed the race he was left in and tried to figure out why people were people and why they might be so. Then they called him a idealist. He hated it as much as he hated the way people behaved. But he knew,if he ever was going to go to the stars, he needed to tell these people , it was they who showed him , his ideas and ideals , they who showed him how to build a paper plane and it was they who crushed it and pulled the ropes. This was not helplessness . If he wanted he knew, there were other ways, there were people , who would love to have him(or so he believed) but he despised helplessness , if not this, than that , the stars kept calling. 

Year after year,he tried; Then one night,he wept,the man did weep, he wanted his little paper plane , so he took a paper and made such a plane and as things would have it,in the plane he saw what he had missed , he knew that all the while he had made the choices towards love ,he knew that got him here. But he also knew, in the heart of every child,there lives a star and if you remain that kid,no one can steal the dream in your head. So he lay dreaming…..Yup, this was the path of love…

 

                             X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

A fairy tale should have a good or a positive ending ,  will this  end is such a way? I leave it you to write what happens to the young man…

A new silence

A new silence,
The gap before a new penchant.
In it,seems to lull,
A song once in which life was dwelt.
 
A memoir,
A remains,
Yet the strands of belonging curtail.
The inertia maybe strong,
But I will move, to where I belong,
Even if only in my dreams,
That Reality is far from perceived
By anyone but me.

Myself I will never give,
And whatever the world does ,
Never forgive.

For the shores can be further away,
But some how,some day,
I will reach it,for only to understand
The limitless ocean,
Free from words and relation,my penchant.

The gaps do sing,
But their meaning
I do know,
Let the hours go,
I dare to watch the flow,
Never mind what of mine
Is lost or hurt,
I will get a chance to flirt,
With the destiny I do wish
To reap, For my efforts,
Are not meant to be vain,
I will surely something,gain.

The light shines the brightest

The puddle and the sea

At a puddle they threw a stone,
And my bearings did spill over,
At my plight they did take pride;
The stones kept coming,
But so did the showers and my belief
In life; As time swam through its
Pristine verses,I did evolve,in spite
Of those stones and with a prayer to myself,
I did evoke a sense of belonging
And evolved into a ocean.
 
I crushed the stones into the sand-
On them they thread ,upon their
Very words,the hypocrites
Try to act dignified even as they
Gape with awe at my size and life.
Their stones,now are no means
to hurt,they are lost in my own gait
And if any were harsh I do return them,
At their feet and they do wonder
Why they sink in so right-
Ignorant,they fail to realize,
That in the mirror they do see
Themselves and not another,
They worship their gullible darkness,
But nor can that eat an infinite begin
For though I have shores,
I move upon a strong ground,
Intricate-we are one and the same,
The world is a passage and the sea,
Me, an observer,a prophet
I do try to warn,thee humans,
But you still are blind
And throw waste with tremendous haste,
And avoid my message with false chaste. 
 
While it does worry me,
And tears do fill me,
My God does allow me,
To watch the world and all the while love
Myself and the ulterior Goddess;
The stars do twinkle,
I know what they are,
They maybe far,
But within we do know,
That we are moving with a flow,
Ultimately we would meet,
If today at creativity’s peak,
Tomorrow at life’s peace.
Dare listen to us,
You might then seek life,
Otherwise oh! human,
You are no more seen.
Animals are born to survive
And man is born to live,
So seek the truth,
Truth is not an end
but a means to an end,
Listen oh! listen,
Or you will become 
Humanity’s stone,
Unknown and long forgone.
 
Listen oh! listen,
And think oh! think!
I am the sea,
Dare to see and hear me,
You will know you are free!
Once they did throw a stone,
I did crush it and now spread
It ashore see and learn,
Yearn and listen! 

The light shines the brightest!

The mirror shone…

And the mirror shone,with the image,
There stood the love,
There was the symbol within.
The sight was beyond might,
And the will of man,was his own.
He did belong to himself and Earth,
And those who see no face in the mirror,
Are the once who are in darkness.
Switch on the lights he did want to tell,
Yet how to address that which has no face?

That which rots will always rot,
That which grows shall always,
For you cannot be discriminated
Unless you your self choose so.
If the sky looks dull and glut,
Then the spirit shall be alight,
If it does choose to see the light within.
If the tools of men failed be perceived,
Then shall darkness have a victory,
Let the spark of solitude and the society’s
Misnomers do isolate ,in fear of itself.
That ,that curse is a gift,
That not  to belong leads to a search,
And the identity that which is googled,
Will be found,in love,in what we value.

To that we walk,we parade,
Those whose spirit is in integrity,
Who refuse to lie down
And to all that,bow,
For the sweetest rebellion
Is victorious when it seeks not to avenge
Itself in the name of revenge.
To rebel is to accept yourself
And that the face you do see,
Is not meant to be bound but free.
For in freedom alone dwells love,
For a bundle of life is in projection,
To seek the stars and greater levitation.
In dreams love does haunt
To seek the greatness so perceived,
Accidents lead to discoveries,
And so love to solution of mysteries.

Love to be alive,
And to abide to your light.
Humanity is at par with destruction when
In comparison of virtue-
Beyond that lie a very very few.
Sin is sinister and love is not a dagger,
Yet to preserve itself,shall it spill blood?
Is ale  spoiling the unspoiled to give
Negation a victory and to rejoice,
The death of our kind? Or is it the spirit
Of invention,to the man who drank it
As an unknown poison and found heaven?
Or neither but a state of natural invention,
Just so to place the mind a while away
And ultimately free from the bound day?
A metaphor to freedom?

Why is man bound?
And alone his love,with wings,
Always to be flown?
Why is it that we seek solace,
Even though we know out own face?
Now do we bind words into form
And say a noise is right,
The others utter and see your rite?
What sense of order do we see,
And beyond that what do we perceive?
Is disunity,A state of mere callous
Misinterpretation ,a stray mutation,
For us to marginalize our life?

But finally does come a day,
When we do breach innosence
And climb the ladder and pass the grey,
And into the clouds we do pass,
This a metaphoric heaven,
We seek not bliss,
But mere sense of equality-
Be valued as you are and not
What you are meant to be.
If earth was to be such,
Than a beggar will not be a king,
But to do so,must learn the arts
To raise and in character appraise,
The minds of those who fought past
The fiends,those many armed monsters,
The cruel nature of human disunity,
A stark stray-hail! OH! Hail,the society!
In spirit,realize the curiosity!

Love is such,turn on your light,
And in it you shall see the face of life,
Be bold and smile,for what you see
Is what you perceive,illusion or not,
It is a de reguier reality!
In the light of truth,
One will lead,not mere instict
But that which speaks logically,
A known or unknown tongue,
Hear it and learn to be,
Yourself and in that free!

Love yourself and forget disunity,
The world will be what it wants to be.
In scarifies and sacrilege and absurdity,
It sees joy; Then,love to be,
Be not tamed but be free to set free
the wisdom of freedom,
To the rocks,they might wake,
To restore the order of insanity.
Love is that we lend ourselves value,
And that is the end we seek,
Truth is not the end but means to an end.

The light shines the brightest