Katharsis

There is something strangely peculiar about solitude . Interestingly, in physical world, solitude and loneliness share the same space. Think how a sort of emotion - happiness or, its opposite extreme, sadness render different perceptions to this physical space where one unites with the self. This state of deprivation has many facets and thus nuances. I write this article in solitude and find it strange that when I upload it on my blog and make it accessible to strangers, I stand a risk of getting it plagiarised. I could have instead published it in a magazine or journal and have earned a byline. Or I might have instead saved it in my diary and 5 years from now when I 'd have had more interesting experiences to write about, I could compile them all and write a book - a greater probability of earning novelty. But as of now I have no such plans, no great story. So I'd just upload it in the online world of anonymity, make my blog appear more active, share on FB and rest myself i...

Once again, I heaved a customary long sigh. My breaths have deepened over the years, for I have been running....running away…from a trap. It is too bad to be caged. I have shed countless transparent drops from my eyes, drops that merged with my skin so amicably that no one could see. Even though my efforts had minimized my hope didn’t. So, I struggled over and over again so I could break free through the cage. I dug my way out of the cage protecting myself on my own. And ever since, I have been running. My feet need no rest. Once again right now, the magnificent view ahead of me put me to a halt. I'm seeing a flowery meadow.... Its luminosity had been blinding my eyes until this point. But now I'm so close to it that it is soothing. I’m picking up my pace once again….faster, faster, faster. As the distance is shortening, my breath is deepening. Once I’ll be there I won’t have to run anymore. And here I am. The scenery of this meadow is straight out of my dreams….purple ...

This deep dark desire of penning down my most conspicuous thoughts always arises at a particular hour...the hour of surreal silence piercing through my heart, sensations and soul...the same that wanders in darkness tirelessly at stretches. And so when a mighty beam of light strikes at, it reflects and engages itself  in the most authentic activity true to its being...analyzing its justification for being...putting the body at unrest...for the carrier is deprived of its lascivious wants in a jerk ... like a lover who departs leaving behind just a goodbye note in material.   And then this deprived soul goes for hunt...unwilling to come back without finishing its quest...quest for reason ... quest for its lover . When it feels illuminated, becomes devoted because more often than not, many of its like are only traveling from one chain of thoughts to another...losing in a labyrinth leading to nowhere ... elongating the distance from the departed lover . But, it doesn't stop...

Sweety Boy, t his one's for you I love you, I swear it's true. I was strolling for long bare feet The pebbles under my feet pierced through my skin The cool breeze that drunk the river hit my face When I looked at the shimmering sky,  the star that twinkled brightest broke away. I made a wish that you escape from your troubled life And come right here, by my side  Hold my hand and I'll elevate my feet Intertwine your fingers with mine, pass on the heat Blow a kiss behind my ear and whisper, "Baby, don't worry, I'm here". Thence you took a deep breath and paused to say,  "Sweety, this time I am here to stay Beside your figure is where I want to lay That's just how I will end your night and start your day For you the world I knew, I left And now everything imperfect will be perfect." And I heaved  a long sigh and said, "Baby, you are my high" For how long I'd been waiting to give this ...

Some five years back, when I was shopping with my mother in the streets of Darya Ganj, a fine young black boy gathers the courage to pinch my rear, not once, not twice but three times. I was daring enough to gather equal courage to pull him back from the collar and paste a slap on his face and surrender him to the mob, leaving him at their mercy. The question, however, is whether all this was really required? Why did he have to do a pitiful deed as such to be only humiliated at the end? Probably he hadn't anticipated the consequence. And that's thanks to the social structure - a patriarchy that condones and exalts sexual harassment, an administration that has no stringent laws for the protection of the fairer sex and above all a matriarchy that celebrates manhood and embraces suppression under its so-called 'valour' in the name of culture and religion. "Being a woman is terribly difficult task, since it consists principally in dealing with men." - Josep...

Abraham Maslow in his Theory of Human Motivation stated that while people aim to meet basic needs, they seek to meet successively higher needs in the form of a hierarchy. This theory seems to have become the mantra of advertisement industry that not merely caters to human needs but also creates them, thus establishing a materialistic culture. It is true that the ultimate decision to buy a product is in the hands of the consumer but advertisements do modify consumer needs, building a new from the previous. People find their selves buying things they do not need. The kind of materialistic culture that advertisements have created can be well estimated after the launch of iphone5. The name sells! Not many of the millionaire sons who would have ordered Iphone5 even before its launch in India would know that the only significant difference between iphone4s and iphone5 is the so-called “brilliant 4-inch retina display that allows you to see more of everything”. What intrigues one i...

You want to have them. You try to have them... you're unsuccessful. You retry...harder this time. They're yours...all yours. And nobody else's or maybe everybody's. Everybody whose life is nothing short of a melodrama, or at least that is how you see it. Maybe because you ain't no intruder in anybody's life. It doesn't bother whether a stone hits you or a cyclone inhales you. Are you thinking you're a soldier?   Ecstasy  comes only after you've played GTA vice city all day, watched Potter series the next, played poker and went clubbing the next day, read Salman Rushdie the following two days and closed the week after visiting Khajuraho but you still aren't happy. And then come  hashish ,  marijuana and cocaine and trance. Nothingness, completeness, emptiness and much more. Words and appearances are mere hallucinations. For they transform you to a whole new kingdom where you are the king, to a heaven where fairies for you sing. It’...