Showing posts from 2012

Discovering Thyself

I do not know if it is because of the sun sign that she and I share, but Ayn Rand’s theory of Objectivism and her ideas of ‘selfishness’ being the ultimate truth of human nature, came as little shock to me. I found an easy acceptance of her thoughts, which echoed somewhere deep within me as my fear of voicing it aloud had prevented me from sharing it with anyone for the fear of sounding almost blasphemous. ‘The Fountainhead’ has helped me overcome this fear and I now am all set to reinforce my belief in what perhaps might sound as one of the greatest anti-moral endorsements.  Among the many differences between human beings and all other forms of life, the most vital is the presence of Ego in the former. Ego, or the sense of ‘I’, taken in the positive sense, is a gift every person is born with. It is what gives a person his identity, and is the reason for his having taken birth in this world. The ‘I’ is therefore extremely essential for every person in order to live and make his life me…

The First Shower

The feel of cool breeze over unwiped sweat The first drop of rain that slides down the temple all the way to the neck The tongue reaches out to lick the trail of hot chocolate that has drooled down the corner of the lower lip The leftover drops and mist on the window annihilates photoshop.
With strands of curls dripping down wet She moves like the trail of the first shower Slithering in and out of the undulating tar The setting fire of the senses catching her glimpse from the door ajar.
The smudge of kohl around her eyes Rivals those floating masses in the sky The rumbling thunder is belittled by the melody of the trinkets on her bare feet.
As the puddle fills up, so does my heart Saturated with desire ready to burst Ah the agony of holding back.
In wait I sit, for her to come and rain Come and rain upon me Till eternity.

Describing the colour red to a blind person

It feels like blood, slithering down It is sometimes hot, sometimes warm. Acrid maybe, or a pungent smell, Once recognised, it isn’t hard to tell. It could burn your tongue; or be completely sweet, It is festive and happy, like a child’s treat. You can hear it rushing, like a city bus, You can hear it soaring in a robin’s flight, The sign of danger, cautioning your tread,

This is how it looks, the colour red.

To The Only One That Was

It has been the finest era You helped create, brick by brick. You converted a mere game Into the lifeblood that made every Indian tick. Sixteen years is all you chose to give us, Leaving us asking for more… Not another man has the game produced, That we could so much adore. You’re not gone, you never will be You’ll continue to live in the memories of all, Thank you for the sheer delight, thank you, ‘the Wall’.

After Hearing ‘God’s Channel’

I was asked by some one very close to me to close my eyes and listen to this song. The following was what I felt:

When the song began, I could see a vast open area as if on the top of a hill. It had tall grasses that came up till my chest. The time was sunset, so all around it was bathed in orange colour. There was a strong breeze in which the grass was swaying. The point of view was mine, and I saw another girl, a young child a little away from me. She was wearing a plain white sleeve-less knee-length frock. She had open hair till her shoulders which was also blowing in the wind. She was fair and had a big wide smile, and her mouth was open in happiness. She was ahead of me, wading through the tall grasses, parting them and making way for herself with her hands. She would pause from time to time and look at me.
The scene then shifted to a beach scene. The same girl and I are in water that's till our chest. The waters are very calm and ther…