Unwired Soul

Unwired Soul

Many years ago, on Indian television a serial used to be broadcasted every week. It was called “Mungerilal ke Haseen Sapne”. It was a comedy serial, popular, the protagonist much loved by viewers. “Mungerilal” that was his name, the main character. A simpleton. An honest hardworking, commoner. Living an absolutely boring life, with a 9 to 5 job, married, had a nagging wife, a father in law who criticized him for everything and a boss working for whom was no pleasure but just a necessity of life.

That was basically Mungerilal’s life, nothing exciting, nothing thrilling, just flavorless in all respects. Deep down Mungerilal hoped to escape this daily grind and accomplish a life, where he is a hero, respected by all, loved and cared by wife, living a life where there is no room for sorrow, no haplessness, never ever feeling like a loser. But it was beyond his capacities, courage, to escape the fangs of his cruel reality, facts of his life.

The only way he could live life like a Casanova, pumped with machoism, adored by society, was by day dreaming. And that’s what he did. Every episode of the serial was Mungerilal’s virtuality, depicting his day dream story, sabotaging his reality. At the end of each episode Mungerilal was humiliated, ill-treated for wasting, missing one more day for no productivity, sacrificed to his love of day dreaming. But Mungerilal the fool he was, didn’t mind any of that, because the pacification of virtual pleasure was worth more than his boring realistic life. A life where he had given up all hopes of achieving or feeling any good. That was an era when people loved watching “Mungerilal” and laughed at his foolish attitude towards life, and now we all a generation who more or less are happier content in our life of “Virtuality”.

The storyline of the serial was similar to short story “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty’”. “Walter Mitty’” fictional character whose life revolves around similar day dreaming concepts. And so is the term ‘Mittyesque” derived from “Walter Mitty’” commonly used to denote a person, who lives a life disconnected from reality, spending more time in virtuality. “Deleuze” the French postmodern thinker, who explains “virtuality” so well. Virtuality” a dimension of life which is nowhere close to reality but allures a person to an extend where one starts despising the actual framework of life.

How different are we to “Mungerilal” or “Walter Mitty’”? May it be social network, or some trendy games, applications, we are trying to derive the zing of our unfulfilled desires through virtual platforms. Our Virtual relationships progress fast and strong, as it’s not tied with any real day to day harsh, practical cycles of life. And we like “Mungerilal” are so subsumed by the these virtuality energy spikes, leading us to condemn, find faults, magnify shortcomings and eventually mess up our real elements of life.

It’s like a trance mode we all are living in. Incapable of changing or fixing the things that worry and trouble us in reality. An escape mechanism, where we feel soothed, with “The Virtuality”. Pretending to be naïve, acting ignorant, we willingly surrender to such virtuality every day, in some way, and then complain life’s too complicated. The longevity of such virtual connections, we believe is forever, may be after a decade, realization will hit us hard and then it might be too late, no reality to suffice, to survive.

 

Forgiveness

***Forgiveness ***

Winds of dawn

Have a magic feel

That promises peace

And makes one feel serene.

The glittering sky

Have guided my path

Amidst the sea

My resentment washed.

Now the waters are clear

The corals shine

I feel one amongst them

As they reflect my smile.

Muddled stream once

Now calm and quiet

With chirping of birds

That hum alongside.

Cool drops of rains

Caress my burned soul

Salts of this ocean

Heal, soothe, old wounds still open.

My fury, hurt, grief, vengeance

Now I have relent

I set sail

To new shores, unrevealed.

 

Better Beginnings

Better Beginnings

Her vehemence of love for him she yet wasn’t aware of…Love the exotic weed…Weed that was now sown within her, was growing wild, and crossing boundaries which it shouldn’t have… But a weed no matter how exotic its undesirable for others…The soil where it grows never complains, but others do, the weed is unwanted…Alas!! Her ardency, her delight, her fondness, her sentiment, had to end, the weed had to be uprooted…But the soil where it was sowed still nurtured its seeds quietly, hiding it from the world with a hope someday someone will value its worth  ……

 

She sat across me, her sensuality was striking, engrossed in her thoughts. Her brown eyes and suppressed lips, and her thoughts. .I wondered what her thoughts must be about. It definitely wasn’t work, it definitely wasn’t about organising daily chores… It evidently was more than ordinary. Our eyes have a strange ability sometimes to speak what we refrain to talk. As she was musing; her eyes, were prankish, were lustful, her eyes were holding an image she loved most…  And then suddenly I could see her teary eyes and she holding her breath to be able to gulp down the sorrow and have a perfect blank poise again…

 

It’s not a sacrifice  and it’s not a compromise at all … It’s just a pain which you believe you can survive with ;a lesser degree of pain ;the preferred pain of letting a loved one go rather than the pain , that both suffer, while being in love …

 

Have you ever heard of any mermaid getting drowned by the ocean …have you ever heard of a flower stung by a bee … Have you ever heard of cloud burnt by the sun … That is how pure love is…they two belonged to two different worlds yet truly in love; separated by definitions set by the world; but there love unified them.. Unharmed….

 

Intrigue, Fling…What was it? Different perceptions, varied ideations, isn’t it? Two people with each other, she told a story of intrigue, and he boasted of his fling…And then, End!!! Her story ends vowing never to have an intrigue ever again… His story ends hoping to someday find a beautiful intrigue tale…

His every word was a spell. The spells that amazed her, hypnotized her. With him she flew to places she had never fancied. He was her prince and he a wizard. A gimcrack wizard who stole hearts. But she was a desirous ruler. Be spelled, robbed yet she ruled that enchanted all…

Lingering thoughts…

Lingering thoughts…

Loving you made me a better person

Losing you made me a stronger Woman….

***

I loved you with love that will accompany you in all lives

And you gave me dreams that faded with time…

***

I loved you, missed you from dawn break till night escaped

You loved me, missed me, I hoped you would, my heart cried…

***

They said these mountains are famous for echo’s…

So I screamed at top of my voice “He loves me”

But even the nature today decided to defer its laws…

***

I thought

     I was “The Woman” in your life

     The woman who makes you smile.

    And The Woman whose loss would make you cry….

I felt

 Your love for me most divine of all

 Love which wasn’t just disguise 

 Love that comes from an innocent heart

I thought and I felt… just missed the lies….

***

I dreamt of this day everyday

I painted this moment in different hues always

With hues of passion, love, laughter

Today we finally met, you carrying shades of darkness, repent, regret…

***

I never thought loving me was such a challenge

That you had to fake it to make me believe it..

***

I wish my heart was like a mirror

Just a reflection of others emotions

But nothing of its own…

Walk of Nomad…..

Walk of Nomad…..

 

Amidst the crowd and faces unknown

I find peace and comfort in unfamiliar zone

 

Away from loved ones and lost in crowd

I find joy, a rhythm to dance ,to sing aloud

 

With people like programed robots around

I enjoy my presence in unpredictable surrounds

 

The haste, confusion these stranger friends carry

Help me with my fights, complains, weakness to bury

 

This place filled with abstract people

Make me smile without any reason

 

As I move away from them closer to my world of actuality

My heart gets heavier , scared to return to the facts of reality….

Twilight Dreams…

twi

 

The sun kissed sand, the twilight is breathtaking here they say

On the waves stunning birds, dive, afloat, every single day

 

Orange, blue hues, dance on the frothed waves

Whilst gushing sound, echoed by the rocky caves

 

Amongst this wilderness and tranquility vast

Their reflections wither with the rising sun, fast

 

She holds his hand tight, as the waves swirl around

Submerged in his arms, drenched in his love, drowned

 

He whispers to her, aware of the creeping dawn

Not ready to let her go, as the day is about to start on.

 

“Twilight dreams is all I have “he sighs

“The world waits for this, but I hate to see the sun rise.”

 

She kisses him, runs her fingers through his hair

As the wind gushes and messes with it again.

 

She says “I will be back my love, so wait for me, when its twilight here”

“Because Twilight dreams is my only existence, till your dreams for me disappear”

Love again….

 

Days were filled with dreams

Nights with impatience like a teen.

My thoughts had shed the wrinkled skin

The dead emotion in me, had got a new beginning.

 

My eyes sparkled, my smile blossomed

Yes now I felt awesome, a change, for years who had fallen.

Like flower buds of early spring, bright, beautiful

My spirit suddenly again felt so very youthful.

 

 

For a change sorrow seemed distant, gone forever

Life looked brighter, such a false belief however.

With a wink of eye, the veil of love, unveiled its evil power

It choked again, it crushed the bud, before it could flower.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

BEING ME…

Words are finite sometimes, for what you want to express

Dark Thoughts are infinite sometimes, when the wrong words are not suppressed

Wheels of life are driven by the actions thoughts and these words u say

A wrong move takes you on a journey unplanned in an unexpected way

You hinder, you curse, you fight, you cry

And life follows the path you may not have desired

You call it destiny, you call it bad luck

But it’s always the outcome of what you have done

And most of the times because what you have not done

Desires and reality are always such an irony

You swim through storms, you fight the odds, you cross the mountains

In a hope to meet, at the other end, your dreams and colourful fountains

But then you look back with triumph and power, feeling like a conqueror

And then realise, your helplessness to achieve, dreams lost long and u a failed warrior

Life still goes on till your stream of blood flows

A spark of hope still exists, amongst the darkness of anger, devastation grief, it glows

You absorb the darkness and ignore the hope

You blame the people, you blame the god,

With jealousy, hatred, rejection, despair filled within you

You take the life on a path, filled with gravels

And then you complain Life is such a rough ride, not worth the travel

But the hope still ignites

It still awaits for you to ride this chariot of life on a better path

You question the hope sometimes

The path of hope with hurdles many and with dreams unfulfilled

How can it still free you from the pain and promise a better life

Hope smiles shyly and says

If I had promises any and dreams which come with guarantees and warrantees

Dreams would be finite, with limitations many

Sky no longer would seem pretty

And stars would seem like a waste of galaxy

Yes my path has bumps and end result is unpredictable

But I am always the reason to make life pleasurable.

The time you absorb this hope and rise again

They say your life has taken a transforming U turn and back on right trail.

Your desires may be new, your fights will be different

And to be honest desires and reality will always be an irony

There will always be time of sadness, pain and defeat

But to rise from it and cling to hope

Your passion, your spirit, your outlook

Will make this reality good when you close your life book!!!

108 Prince Street

WindChimes

108 Prince Street.

     It was his first day. This new job, his new ladder, his step forward, to conquer and to shine in the cooperate world. It was one of Soham’s dreams come true. He always dreamt, working for this prestigious law firm. Whenever his university had speakers, successful lawyers, from Ryan & Ann firm, Soham made sure he put aside all his pre scheduled activities , pick up the front seat and listen to them ,attentively, in awe, in admiration and a dream to be there colleague, to earn the prestige ,and to stand where they stood. .

Dressed in his finest suit Soham boarded the bus destined to 108 Prince Street. Prince Street, the business hub, the posh buildings, the well groomed streets and the flamboyant crowd. Soham in his sleek suit equally well suited in that place. His broad shoulders, tall stature, tanned skin hue, well-trimmed dark brown hair which flirtatiously fell on his forehead and his confidence, made him a perfect fit for 108 Prince Street.

The bus braked, at the prestigious street and Soham stepped out, he was one of the youngest lad in the crowd, good looking as he was, smart enough to acquire a position at such a young age. Very few in their late 20’s could achieve success, and establish themselves so well in career as Soham had. Along with the crowd he walked down towards the crossing junction, passing by the high end cafes trendy restaurants, well-manicured footpaths and the huge advertise hoardings that hung along both sides of the road.

Soham stood, on the crossing junction, waiting for the signal, opposite to the Ryan & Ann tall glass building, watching the luxury cars pass by, one of his other dreams to own one, someday soon. As he was waiting to cross, surrounded by top notch architecture, fast branded cars and humans like perfect alive mannequins, the music of hundreds of wind chime, drifted away his focus. He looked in the direction where he thought the music originated. On his left, behind was the ultra-modern café and besides it, stood an old but beautiful little house a total misfit in the street.

The house was a typical little English style house, painted completely in white, with white terracotta roof tiles, with the edges of slanted roofs colored in brown. It was difficult to make out whether it was red or brown, as most of the paint had bubbled and scrapped out. The house had huge glass windows, and Soham could see that part of the living room was converted into shop, selling wind chimes .Every time the main tinted glass door which was shaped in round arch at the top, opened, the breeze gushed in, teased the hundreds of hanging wind chimes, which in turn smiled and giggled, creating the beautiful music. The soft cheerful, soulful, music was quite a contrast to the artificial layered lawn and cold steel frame buildings of 108 Prince Street.

The signal flashed and Soham along with the crowd, crossed and changed ways to stride towards the magnificent Ryan and Ann tower. The reception interiors, the lounge, the stairways, the office layout, everything boasted out the success, the status, the power of the firm. The smart young new employee was welcomed with smiles, cheekiness and loads of friendly gestures. Today again Soham was as intrigued by everything as he was, when he first had visited this place for his interview, but heaps more confident, more keener and much more excited about this new journey. Curious as he was always, he asked many questions about policies, people, prospective projects on and of course the surroundings. The day was passing fast, filled with new information every single moment, so was Soham getting acquainted with people, with systems, with the different logins and there jumbled password for each.

As the culture was, Soham’s new team mates had arranged a team lunch, outside the building premises, a causal way to get along and to help him to know them and build the bond. That’s what the HR intended, but for most it was just an officially approved escape from there busy schedules, have a free drink and enjoy a scrumptious free lunch. The team headed towards “Tantalize” café, just opposite to Ryan & Ann, which thrall besides the old house. The café had a lovely rustic architecture, with wooden ceilings, pine timber floorboards and raw unpolished wood furniture. It was adorned with modern element for interiors, with Italian cutlery sets, fancy pendant lights equidistant on the ceilings, modern art spread across the walls, a café which blended well with the 108 Prince Street setting.

The team was busy chatting, discussing, sipping wine, nibbling on the platters, it was a beautiful day, so they preferred sitting outside on the deck and enjoy the pleasant breeze and lovely sunshine. Amidst the loud laughter, jokes, discussion, Soham senses enjoyed the soft music of the wind chimes. Not long enough, Soham couldn’t help but peep inside the tinted door of the old house, right next to the café. The house inside was filled with different kinds of wind chimes , bells , tubes ,rods, suspended in different sizes and shapes, made of wood, steel, bronze, colors of red, gold ,silver and many more , that tinkled , jingled , and created different melodious notes of music .Perfect music , that made the simple house look much more beautiful ,serene , warm than the ravishing “Tantalize” café on 108 Prince street.

His manager noticed Soham’s delightful glimpses at the heritage house.

”You see the house there Soham, old deteriorated that can break down on the rumpling sound of the wind chimes, that’s Ryan and Ann’s great win for this month. The house owned by an old couple , struggling and surviving on mere business by selling wind chimes, Ryan and Ann settled the deal for the house last week and soon it will be vacant , demolished ready for a state of art sky scrapper, a new lovely addition to the renowned 108 Prince street.”

Soham smiled nothing much to say ,had the last sip of wine, enjoyed melody of the chimes which had a sense of freedom, carefree spirit and then he headed back to the tower to be tied back to dreams of success, power , richness, fame, to be a trade mark of 108 Prince Street.