Skip to main content

Kismet...

As I reach out for my twelveth fag tonite,I realise how much this need for smoke has become pivotal to my existence. These curls of smoke help blur my vision of walls around me,the stuff that they are made of. Chasing dreams,I unconsciously wove a surreal web around me and I seek happiness, a transient one.

A year back,I landed here with a desire and umpteen ambitions to create my mark. Juvenile and vivacious, I gave my mind, heart and soul to the dream I nurtured. And was I rewarded- I climbed up the corporate ladder at an envious pace,made formidable contacts,lead a glamour tinted existence,built impressive bank balance,talked business over endless cocktail parties,but somewhere down the line,lost connection with the guy who was part of me for the previous 22 years of my life. He was an 'emotional one'-that's what someone called him fondly,with a heart as sublime as morning dew on fragile flowers. Years of manic paced timeline based struggle has lent my soul hues I detest-am self centric,narcissistic n brutal. I survive on weaving illusions for you, you fall for my sycophancy.

I desperately try to chase completeness, the totality that spirituality preaches. I need my share of pleasure,be it a delusion,I dont really care a heck!

Yet I havent lost touch with myself,I seek love,I crave for love. Nostalgia is a bitter sweet pill u know!

I ve walked too far into unknown destinations and oddly enough I dont suffer from guilt pangs. Every strange visage will probably have same story to tell,same chapters through their history.

I want to feel the serenity of pure sky above but my vision only ambles along the innumerable sky rocketing man made wonders,I feel asphyxiated sometimes.Thats when I turn to drink-my haven for peace,indulge in my favourite wine,the sensation of it tingling down my throat tantalizes me.I live in the moment.Am a self professed sybarite.

Rocking on my chair,lost in a mesh of thoughts,with just my breath n shadow to give me company,has become a habit,am heading towards compulsive insomnia. Why am I starting to feel I live a programmed existence?The first rays of dawn disturb my reverie. My journey meandering this vicious circle begins NOW.This is my Hell.This is my Heaven.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Can life teach?

It actually began, quite reluctantly. Unnecessary as it may seem, life teaches you what you allow it to teach. Even Life cannot teach you what it offers you. One has to let himself dissolve into the experience and let it sink in, and that I might call religion or education. Whatever the other person is willing to accept. Nay. Does it matter? Nay. Life is about teaching oneself. Being a self-thought-taught "person", picking up bits and pieces from various experiences, I tread on a path; I have myself laid out for myself. Never have I asked, in other words, begged for words, from "messiahs". Never did I think myself of having enough virtue, call it patience, to learn from others. So "rich" were my experiences. Things change, dynamically. Responding to an open question, throwing caution to the winds, I immersed myself into a debate, with people who thought, had streamlined their thinking apparatus and abilities. Gradually, they pestered; read "lee...

Can you hear me?

When the last tree has fallen, When the last drops of water are polluted, When the last bird ceases to sing, Will “they” realize that money cannot be eaten. Reading these somewhat crazy lines, I was joyous, at being finally able to have convinced myself, that this human race has faintest of hopes of living out the new century. I had been troubled for a pretty long time at, what seems to me, a race to extinction. I am an educated, liberal and informed individual. Having been educated at the best of the institutions, I developed a deep admiration for Mother Nature and her so “wily” ways. Listening to my Guru and his talks on “biomimetic” methods, I sensed a deep concern in him. Of late, all he talked of was “Green” Chemistry. I connect to people, people my age and people “not” my age, irrespective of who and what they are, thanks to my rootless upbringing. I used to be appalled at how short sighted “genuinely” gifted men can be. Talks of Dollar salaries, Ivy League scholarsh...

The void...

I feel empty. I feel raw. I feel rotten. I feel like not feeling. I have nothing to show, if someone to ask me about what I have achieved in my stay on this planet. Nothing. what is a few flirtations with literature, knowledge, pain and sweat. No blood. No tears. No medallions. No gallantry. Ah! I am disgusted with myself for being so ordinary. I deserve the void for I do not work half as hard as I could. I am wasting my life.