Convictions

This preemptive rumination painted across the white sheet on a babbage’s creation deepens the belief that no good can come out of Ignorance. Recovery leads to the cravings for stability, hope, success, respect per-se. The vigor encircling the being to achieve a joint dream gradually fades if ignorance is leading the way. The inevitable guilt makes your bed for as long as you want to lie in a dreamless slumber. Alternatives come into picture and industriousness results in complacency. The thirst for achievement persists in some nook inside the soul, progressive enhancement leads to compulsive motivation on the cost of sensitivity. The tilted beam balance is deemed straight. Love, empathy, care and concern do not make up its balancing load. The close concave focus expanding the hopeful though virtual image of self was constantly averting the disturbance or relocation. The source of this chosen survival is leading to an  familiarly  unfamiliar ripple in the eco-system. The o...

One of the most inexorable state of mind wherein its faculties tend to become the food of the state itself. The two components of it are guilty to oneself and towards others. Repentance and remediation come into play and assertiveness decreases. Mistrust and blames tend to make you a hangdog. The guilty to oneself urges one to incessantly ask the same question “Why”. The guilty towards other urges one to perpetually ask the question “Howcome”. The spectre and its consequences leave you with mental ailments. People lose faith in your words as well as actions. Recuperation from the result of your misdeed reminds the affected ones how they believed in you and within a moment you filched it.   You wish you could just turn back Time and rectify everything. You want them to look at you the same way they used to earlier, but that flare of confiding in you is missing and it kills you. How tired God must be of guilt and loneliness, for that is all we ever bring to Him.  ~M...

She exchanged all the pleasantries with me, the entire journey. She was whispering to me the engineering and design of deceptive labyrinth called life, and in it all the civil society living a pipe-dream . Her constant “wooshing” suddenly lulled as the brakes clenched the steel. The horn of the locomotive engine cautioned the arrival of Itarsi. The platform was comparatively less crowded in comparison to the platform of the capital city. Hawkers and vendors shouting tea (my favorite beverage indeed) urged me to slip my hand into my pocket to get my tab, in order to savor its aroma and thus aesthetically please my taste buds. This is another reason why I like window seats.  The only good thing about travelling alone is attention to detail. Never before was I amazed by the intensity of the nightly beauty, the fragrances of trees and mud, the weird sounds of creatures of night, all tranquilized me, made me forget the chafe feelings and soothed my chastised heart. The exacerbating...