Oh to be alive

The speed, the light: the all enveloping clamour:  drowning in vanity,  long ago was lost the  shield of virtuous valour. Falling prey to superficial  yet irresistible glamour, there's no respite; no place to hide, fitting in,  flowing with the tide: seems to be the only way  ahead, or outside.  Wonder why it doesn't rankle, wonder how it doesn't create  a ripple or  a tiny tinkle? Oblivious observers or  obfuscate orators,  wonder who rules the mind! In this rigmarole of  high sweeps & rides, the self-effacing are  pushed to the brink  while the supercilious  & vain rise & shine. #SrKmusings

When she sashayed down a street  many a head turned, along the way unknowingly a few devoted hearts were spurned. Was never easy to catch her eye, people thought she was coquettish, coy: constantly accused of spinning a ploy. Was hard to tell that she was  deeply private & immensely shy. She built a wall around  herself & stayed within, the chances of opening the  gates to her heart were scant & slim. It wasn't a  fairytale ending  that she wanted to  see, all she craved for was to  live her life on her terms with zeal & dignity. #Srkmusings# #girls##precious#freedom#

All your life you are made to believe, it's achievable; are prodded on by one & all to chase your dreams with verve: and to write your own fascinating fable. You begin to think it's true,   slip slowly into the world of make-believe but only too soon meet your Waterloo. For though it seems easy,  a dream is more like a mirage,  vanishes the moment you are close enough  to bask in its  glory.  Often for your very own dreams  you are derided & what you  end up living,  is someone else's story. Your dreams are not yours to own, when you share them with folks around,  your dreams & you are shown the door! Salvage them when you can, the pot of gold  at the end of the rainbow awaits with elan.  Let not others fool you through,  a dreamcatcher is all it takes to start anew. #Catchurdreams#believe#

सरहद के उस पार घर था मेरा, मिल जुल के रहते थे सब हम सब का एक ही था डेरा। आंधी इक ऐसी आयी,  अपनो  से अपने अलग हुए, तूफान इक ऐसा, घर से बेघर हुए। हलचल ऐसी मची, ना रहा  अपना इक भी रेन बसेरा, रातों रात, सब कुछ यूं बदला, हर तरफ थे आग के दरिया और  आंखों में सिर्फ बदले का धुआं। इंसान ने ऐसी की तबाही, दूरियां बढ़ गई; मिट गई कागजों से प्यार और  खुशियों की सिहाही। रहे तो सिर्फ, कागज के कुछ टुकड़े ,  और कुछ तन्हा लम्हों का अंधेरा, सरहद के पार कभी एक घर था मेरा.. #SrKmusings#  #onewholesomeworld# #LetsGrowTogether# #noboundaries# #OneWorldOneFamily

                The river was in full-spate, the sky overcast. The sound of the water was soothing yet strangely disturbing. Children frolicked in the fallow field adjacent to his verdant patch of land. He looked skyward anticipating a heavy shower and hurriedly put away the tools, as he wound up for the day. A quiet satisfaction cloaked his being as he had managed to sow the last of the saplings singlehandedly after three days of strenuous, back breaking work. In his ancient, tiny, sleepy and extremely picturesque hamlet, the village folk revered him, though he was still learning and not as adept at the occupation he had inherited from his forefathers. He had, however, unleashed a silent revolution of sorts by introducing few innovative techniques that he had picked up along the way. One such addition to the daily milieu was a mini-tractor as he liked to call it, a smaller version of the one used in the plains; but this was more suitab...

  A fallen leaf, blooming flowers, sunshine cascading across scintillating bowers. A whiff of perfume, a quiet afternoon, faded words of a poem playing hide and seek in the mind’s nook. Memories flashing, fading: decoding, akin to different shades of blue; some shine bright, some toned down like dew. The essence remains, layers crisscross   lost in a multitude of hues, each following an albatross. Sepia tinted pictures on the wall squint through time and often cringe; eagerly awaiting the annual overhaul. Tear droplets singe, sentiments high strung, feelings sting, ramble unsung.   Reminiscing bygone days, is like being buried in ice, slowly melting away the layers that ensconce and hold, bind.    @Suverchala Kashyap        

The beguiling intrigue,  the impending upsurge,  compels one to move on, steering clear of any scourge. The end entices, tugs like  a swirling vortex's urge,  where eons of  longing converge. Beginnings enchant,  the untrodden path allures,  untouched; pure. Across varied dimensions,  lives diverge, some splurge. Cloaked in mystery the  journey slowly unfolds,  it implores, it coaxes; it spurs. Prodding on to follow  ‘the dream', in the land  of the one and only 'Supreme'. @Suverchala Kashyap