A boy's journey through words and the mixtapes. I write every Thursday.
good sleep.
mixtapes.
nice food on the table.
roof over the head.
gripping books, beautiful family.
kick-ass friends, plenty money.
wild dreams, earned sweat.
dirty boots, true love.
green pastures, still water.
brewed coffee. pens. papers.
singing birds, floral, butterflies.
what more?
why more?
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before her,
i was happy, and contained, and content,
i was dancing in the dark,
i was i, i was awesome. an unbroken, untouched mess, i.
then she showed up,
damned all my cimmerian shades away, all of it,
strewing the un-imagined riches all my way,
:
but soon she set, she had to leave,
and this life after her,
there’s neither my affliction nor the stars left.
- -happy bhaitika didi & dai --
open mindedness is the new sexy.
taking responsibility and handling it well approves of one’s truest strength.
being faithful, being authentic and living-by-words needs the real courage.
Comments closedI have never seen her in my life.
I don’t even know her first name.
But from what mom told me about her, and her family, and their life struggles then and thus far;
I understood one thing.
Words couldn’t suffice to put that girl’s plights,
her fructifying rebellion, doubts, confusions,
her rage, disgusts, frustrations,
that mocking loneliness,
her unspoken scars, blooming sadness, deaf desperation,
breathing yet diffcult-to-breathe days and nights of hopelessness,
howling pain, baggage of regrets — of being born the way she was born, the way she was raised, the way she was living,
weaknesses, helplessness,
the blackish feelings of being crippled by fate,
the feel of being damaged, cheated,
companionlessness.
She took her own life that Monday morning.
I only wish i was her friend.
I only wish i could save her from herself.
We are not our feelings. We are not our moods. We are not even our thoughts. ~ Stephen R. Covey
- this is to her - you are brave my friend, the star for the stars.Comments closed
there was a point in my life when i wanted
someone who’d say and truly mean when they say it,
“i am always here for you, forever.”
Comments closedshe is the happiest tonight, all too shining, scintillating
blooming, jumping, living.
ball of fire, she is the closest star to me.
my guiding light.
Comments closedone day, with god’s grace, my breathe will lose her home.
one day, most certainly i’ll fade; returned back to the dust, to the blank where i belong,… to emptiness.
one day, my voice will dilute, dissolve in space, with the pace of time and tides.
and that ordinary day should i die, i wish my mixtapes be my epitaph,
the closest organic proof of my unpretentious, trivial existence.
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In the words of Friedrich Nietzsche:
Music unites all qualities: it can exalt us, divert us, cheer us up, or break the hardest of hearts with the softest of its melancholy tones. But its principal task is to lead our thoughts to higher things, to elevate, even to make us tremble…
repulsion,
the discomfort in your gut,
suffocation,
an ecliptic hostility,
a screaming impatience,
choking insecurity,
an itching, annoying fragrance of fear for the unknown, and for the unfamiliar — is not your fault.
Intrinsically threatened by the inevitable permutations of good or worsts, confused by virtue of finding yourself trapped in these many unpredictable, anew crossroads; these many possibilities of the matter-at-hand in conjunction with ‘time’, we are ever prone to culminate, cultivate false beliefs, lies, untruths. Ever.
Many-a-times our natural reactions towards anything different, people or circumstances, ought to be naturally questionable. It has to be unsubstantiated and uncooked.
Therefore. Think.
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