prism

  What is all this for? What are we meant to do? How far do we walk to escape this trash realm of reality? “Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth;” -- Robert Frost I cave in, knowing nothing, hardly seeing the roads that I can take. Falling into a pit of darkness  looking for a ray of light to fall upon me, so that I can breathe again.  You know, sometimes I feel the dark clouds gathering up, to make us dance, to rejuvenate the inner child, make us forget for a brief moment about the choices we need to make and decisions we need to take. My oh my! Who knew the rain would drown me make me swim in  my flood.  I would wait for days for the clouds to clear up so I can buckle up and go move mountains and pave ways. And when the clouds finally move, I look up with those teary eyes and smile. 

That coffee-like eyes held a bucket load of stories for us. His porcupine mustache poked as he embraced us. As jubilant as he always is, those solemn eyes held a secret door.  

The small marble-like figure, filled with the essence of joy, falls on the pale green exterior, that’s when life begins. How often I wonder that we too have the inevitable turbulence that she has. Perhaps calm at a moment, as the drops of pebbles fall upon us, never expecting a storm to come. We suppress what we feel, hoping everything becomes stable. Something like we used to do it do a bottle of water, leaving out a small gap on the top, we squeeze the life out of it; letting the storm rage towards us.  She seemed like the amazing muse, pairing symphonically with hot chai and parle-G. That soft drop we succumb to hold, that teardrop we don’t let fall. Putting a smile upon it, letting the pearls roll over our face. But that’s it. It stops there. We wipe out the glaze, take in all that would have rained upon, thank that it wasn’t the storm.  Just as she gives life, she comes in strong and wipes out an existence. Breaking down, destroying what she sees, that’s what we see. What if it’s

Why is that you want something more when you know you can’t have it? That urge to touch it, feel it, taste it, have a moment with it, have that wholesome feeling in your heart, that content feeling when u take a deep breath I crave more for it. Why is this programmed in our heads? It’s funny because lactose intolerant folks can’t physically have a slice of pizza. But yet, they take that risk. Is that risk worth it? When you know having that ounce of something forbidden will give you maximum happiness but that can destroy you. Break you, make you suffer. Well if you take the pizza, I would say yes, it’s worth the risk; but what about people. The risk or the damage left by someone would make you feel like a meteorite fell on your heart. It's something like, someone is crushing your heart like a foil paper that is later tossed in the garbage.  It’s paradoxical. It's like a forbidden fruit. We would be in a brown study, critically analyzing the pros and cons so that you don’t

  What makes us overthink? I took myself as someone who never did any crucial thinking, who was constantly cheerful, joyful, and all kinds of happy happy words that there can be. It never mattered when someone got angry with me because I was just being me, being carefree. I giggle now thinking about how my classmate cried because I laughed when she got angry at me. Perhaps I was insensitive but really, the argument was unreasonable. At least that’s what we think, that people are unreasonable with their outbursts but it’s cool when you do it.   I learned that was solely because I was constantly occupied in some way or the other. There was no time to think about small matters. Being indulged in the pressing matters, or yet chilling with the things or people that meant the most to me somehow brought the sunshine in me. I sort of lived in my little fluffy cloud mind, some would say I lived under a rock because I was oblivious, under a rock with a ray of sunshine falling on a tiny sapling