abstractthoughtsofmylife

[abstractthoughtsofmylife]

Reciprocity

Reciprocity, is a social norm, where people expect to be treated in a similar kind of fashion in which they treat other people.

86400 seconds, 1440 minutes, 24 hours, 1 day. A billion thoughts, flashes, dreams, nightmares, all of it is just a small fragment of this multiverse. Do we really matter, will our carbon footprint or our deeds ever make a difference to this world of hypocrisy, cynicism, crime, injustice, indifference? We spend our entire lives trying to achieve utopianism, trying to make our reality perfect. Is our reality real? It’s probably as real as we want it to be. That’s how powerful the human mind is. We can shape our own realities, make miracles happen. Yet some of us still are victims of ill mental health. Yet we don’t utilize the potential of the inordinate to its fullest, we rather rely on drugs, an induced high achieved by altering the brain’s chemistry by going against the natural schema, an escape from our verity, to a state of mind where there is temporary peace, a sense of calm. But the bill always comes due. There is always a price to pay, Karma.

Work, Anger, Lust, Attachment are both virtues and vices of this materialistic world. “I don’t care” a phrase uttered every now and then by half of the population on this planet. But at some level we do care, Because of a constant need to be accepted in the norms of the society. We always blame the society for failures of this human race. But aren’t we the society? Radical changes are brought about by changes in individuality. If we don’t change, how will this world ever change.

Pulsating sensations, gushes of wind in the facial area. Is this what we call being alive? Aren’t we just a sack of bones. What makes us different from a rock. Our encounters with emotions. The ability to feel. The ability which makes us feel that death isn’t the enemy, time is. The only thing that we dislike the most is the concept of time. Hence, we keep finding ways to escape the wrath of time. Whether it be our fascination with superpowers or ambitions of immortality.

So how do we make our time worthwhile, by finding more souls like us, by yearning for reciprocity. Someone once said, we are not bounded by another human’s actions. But aren’t we are bounded by the consequences of their actions. Misery loves company, but company doesn’t reciprocate.

Inscrutably involved, we live in the currents of universal reciprocity.

[abstractthoughtsofmylife]

14th Jan 2017

4:27 am Wisp of smoke, the red glowing light, remembrances of a lullaby. Inducing thoughts way too faint to muster a cry, a different kind of a high, but dynamic enough to slyly lie past your eyes into the subliminal. It’s how the illusion survives. Silhouette of a mountain, lilac sky, Intrusive thoughts. It had all become a custom, a moiety of Vihaan’s nocturnal Schedule. Fairly adverse to the meaning of his name, Vihaan found solace in the dark, from all the worldly responsibilities. At times, he would just sit alone and think, other times he’d reduce his existence’s reach 11 minutes a time, by placing that cylindrically white pipe to his mouth. Nicotine was always a better empathic. Orphaned at a young age, it hardly took him time to realize life isn’t a fairytale. The concept of mortality amused him. From a tender age, he had heard people recite anecdotes from his parents lives, but he could never set his green eyes upon them the kind of green that reminds you spring will prevail over the harsh winter. What rose from the depths of this planet has to return to its provenience some fateful day. With Stifling poverty and Religious turmoil. His only escape in the chaos of his world was his consort, Ahana. Once on one of his late-night rendezvous, Vihaan had decided to leave his perplexing physical frame in the depths of Betaab Valley, Just when he was about let his inhibitons run free by taking the leap. In the silence of the starry night, His ears heard a honeyed voice, "Don't do it, it doesn't have to end like this". Vihaan's entire life flashed in front of his eyes, All that he yearned for, someone who cared. As soon as he turned towards the source of the voice. He was spellbound by the serene elegance. The next 8.2 seconds he felt a warmth in his heart, a fire in his soul, a chill down his spine, after all love was divine. In the pale radiance and the ambiance of heaven on earth. Both of them explored the extents of the each others souls, as they conversed for hours. The first rays of sunlight had found comfort in each other.

[abstractthoughtsofmylife]

Feme Covert

12:49 am:

A small dingy room with the only source of luminescence being a small table lamp, Faint Humming noises of the ceiling fan

Sullen silences, remembrance of a sweet someone. Thoughts of being in a parallel universe with a sense of content, tranquility. Hallucinations of all the life decisions ever made, an urge to change, to initiate another string of reflections, a blur of many familiar faces, memories of beautiful experiences, yet some of them tainted, painted in a way to forget the faces that left me astray. In the end, even our shadow abdicates us in the propinquity of darkness.

1:49 am:

*ping*

His heart skipped a beat, after an hour of cerebration upon the unmitigated existence of this entire macrocosm. A sound could be heard, a reverberation,something like a melodious humming sound. It’s rather farcical how magnetized this frivolous vibration made him feel. He was jovial and apprehensive at the same time, and that’s when he relived his first stint on their transcendental yet revered peregrination.

1,38,240 hours ago.

In all the scruples of this world, I want to write about her In an infinity Where I can find her

Before the spars that tore us apart, and none of us, had a broken heart.

As soon as he finished expatiating on the last verse of his poem, his entire body trembling from the hysterical aphonia, a wave of saturninity hit him. Behind the coruscating lights of the stage pointed at him, he could see an audience of 800 people seated transfixed. For the first time in his life, Kiaan had mustered up the courage to take a step towards, introducing the world to his ardour for poetry, which was signing up for the prestigious National poetry competition organized by the poetry society and here he was standing on the stage as one of the finalists.

*clap* *clap* *clap*

It took him an instant to fathom the inception of the sound. Second row, fifth seat, a young lady, slender figure, in her early adolescent years. She was the first to stand up and clap. And the moment he shifted his gaze upon her, he was spellbound by the facile elegance. A moment later the entire auditorium erupted in a resounding applause. But, Kiaan’s mind was already gallivanting off too alternative galaxies. He had never felt such an endearment towards any personage ever. As soon as he thanked the crowd for their support and love, and got off the stage.

The first thought that crossed kiaan’s mind was to look out for that face, a face which would in the coming time, be associated with the title of, “better half”. He had already started thinking of number of ways to talk to her if he ever met her again, “Hello, my name is kiaan” or “Heyy” or “Hii, How did you enjoy the show today”. And as soon as he reached the exit gate, he saw a familiar face, sitting on the sofa in the waiting area. This was the first time their eyes met, Blue eyes, Kiaan’s, representing the ocean, Green eyes, Inaaya’s, representing land. The entire rendezvous lasted 7 minutes, in which they had already created their own globe, their own world.

“You were abs-olutely greatt today!”, Inaaya muttered out stuttering in nervousness to bring an end to the awkwardness of the past 420 seconds.

He fell, he could feel the ground moving away from under his feet. It was like he was falling down a never ending rabbit hole. All he could see was her dreamy, wavy hair and all he could hear was her canorous voice.

“thank you so much”, said Kiaan, after he regained his composure.

And then they started talking, they talked about anything and everything,as time transpired, both of them inspired each other, and their bond grew royally. A lifelong affiliation. As Kiaan and Inaaya become two leaves of the same branch, they both had found their consorts, for this lifetime, and the one after.

Kiaan, meaning, “gift of God”.

Inaaya, meaning, “gift of Allah”.

*ping*

*You have 3 new messages from inaaya*

Dazed, from the flashback, as he was unlocking his phone, the only thought that was on his mind was, “All we need is someone to match our heartbeat,and their warmth to be felt in our bloodstream”.

[abstractthoughtsofmylife]

Insecurities.

The uncertainty or anxiety about oneself, ie. The lack of confidence is referred to as an insecurity. Am I good enough? Sixteen year old Nambi asked his pensiveness in the mirror, about to leave the dressing room before his first live dance performance. 

They say age doesn't determine empiricism in life. Nambi was a living example. Born in one of the Biggest slums of this world, Dharavi. Deprived of all the basic aminites for living peacefully. He found a feeling of pride in being able to copy the dance moves from Ahaan Uncle's Television. Atelphobia was always in there somewhere in his subconscious mind. Nambi never knew his parents. He was raised up by his paternal aunt and uncle. Living in a joint family, Antagonism flowed in their blood like a slow poison waiting to erase out a clan. But despite all the hatred and gloominess around him Nambi stood out. 

He had a skinny structure. Malnutrition, poverty, and years of toiling in the sun scrounging the garbage had taken it's toll. Soul less eyes, dark complexion, and a desperate need to be cared for, to be loved. One day he was dancing his heart out near the remains of an old car. A passerby on the opposite road stopped to have a look at this little child with extraordinary dancing capabilities. 

Life hasn't been the same since then for Nambi, But a ghoulish fear of mitigating his new found sanctity remains.

[abstractthoughtsofmylife]

Flashback.

A flashback, is a psychological phenomenon in which an individual has a sudden, usually powerful, re-experiencing of a past experience or elements of a past experience. These experiences can be happy, sad, exciting, or any other emotion one can consider. The term is used particularly when the memory is recalled involuntarily, and/or when it is so intense that the person “relives” the experience, unable to fully recognize it as memory and not something that is happening in “real time”.

36000 feet above the ground, he was sitting comfortably, sipping coffee from a cup in front of him, and then it struck. He was taken aback. A mundane vicinity. He had been there before, in his trances. A bland voice could be heard nearby, calling him. He followed it, first slowly, as it grew louder and more prominent, he could feel his heart thumping, small footsteps transformed into long strides. A paltry passage, Small rooms on either side. Reverberation of Sounds. Perplexity and Neurosis. His body was failing him. A flicker of light, and it all dissolved. At first what seemed like a divergency of shades, gradually transfigured and he could finally make out a shape, a human form. The indistinguishable faint voice

“Dad”? Nirvaan muttered. 

“I am sorry, son”, a mature, modulated voice was heard.

It was Aryan. Captain Aryan Singh. Aryan, Nirvaan’s dad had a very peculiar, oblong face, with Angular cheekbones. His eyes were a bluish-steel of a midwinter sky. His wide eyebrows were shaped into a perfectly deceiving arch, that complimented his eyes. A long nose, impeccably structured teeth, and a stubble, of a week or so. He was in his late twenties. That’s the last time nirvaan had seen his dad. He was nine years old, his round face, gleaming with innocence, his eyes were like the shiny darkness of a beetle’s wings, looking towards his father, his role model, his guardian. Everything seemed so ecstatic and serene until one month later, the Air India flight which Captain Aryan was piloting went missing over the north Atlantic Ocean, near the Bermuda Triangle. Search parties, rescue team’s efforts went in vain as not a single trace could be found about the flight. Not even the black box. The crucial entitlement, of a wife hearing her husband again, a son hearing his hero again, was obscured in the boundless, cryptic ocean. 

It was not until he was a blooming youngster that this murky, Stygian secret was revealed to him. It left him shattered on the inside. A part of his soul left his body. The remembrance of his childhood scarred for life. Since then, Nirvaan as always had a uncanny, inscrutable fear of flying. Although a few years back seeing his mother breakdown before the television broadcasting the news had left a baffling impact on his cognizance. He could never ever give it a espirit d'escalier. The reason, his valorous, cultured, elegant mother. She poised herself in one of the most ingenious ways, even after the perturbing stupefaction of loosing her beloved.

“Excuse me sir”, a substantial voice, coming from a gorgeous air hostess in her elegant uniform. Nirvaan convulsed in his seat with disruption of his thoughts. He was having a flashback. But being back to his senses in no time, the captivating, charismatic young man in his early twenties retorted timely. 

“Yes?”

“I will have to request you to please close the tray table, and fasten your seat belt as we are proceeding for landing”. 

“Sure”.

As he fastened his seat belt, he was pacified as another flight journey, this time a sententious one, was coming to a closure.

[abstractthoughtsofmylife]

The Jam.

An informal gathering of musicians to play improvised or unrehearsed music, refers to a jam. 

Quite on the contrary this meeting between the two friends, comrades, brothers was planned. It was a warm summer afternoon they decided to jam. To unwind the mysteries of the music, to unravel their singing, to live, to laugh, to remember, to forget they planned. As they both sat down in their transport, the voyage to the apprentice's realm began. An excitement, a thrill was in the air. So was the innuendo of a million motions. As they reached their haven, the travel ended, the journey of music initiated. As they sat down, in the small room, with green coloured walls. They both felt something. A desire, a thirst, a quest, to create, innovate. They both wanted to evoke soul into songs written by one. But destiny had something else in store for them. 

They began to recreate classics, started off with the apprentice's tune, the master not knowing it, yet adapted to it quickly. Equipment did not suffice, but their determination, and yearn for fervent fusion did. Both of them were so into the feels, they had no sense of the world, both of them sang their hearts out, in continuation. Not wanting to stop, not wanting this moment of paramount brilliance to pass. The raconteurs learnt something rare that day. 

Even today, when he picks up the guitar to hum a tune, the other starts to sing, and the recreation of the enchantment begins. Their journey lingers indefinitely.

Although in the musical intendment, the word jam has a phenomenal sentiment. Yet in other erudite alliances it is linked to chaos, confusion, claustrophobia. The contrast in the implications of the same word, is like two strands of hair on a person's head. 

One is more resplendent and long. Other fragile and short. Yet without them the person is bald.

[abstractthoughtsofmylife]

The Dance.

I am an art form involving the rhythmic motion of the body in sync with the music or beats. This movement has aesthetic and symbolic value, and is acknowledged as dance. 

To dance is to express. Every pose of me is so unique, as it depicts an array of emotions and thoughts. I have diversified motivation. Dance for Respect, Dance for Livelihood, Dance as Life. When in motion, the body flows like water, narrating stories of some far away land. When a human completely immerses himself in me. The results are bound to be pulchritudinous, as if he transcends into a different universe altogether. The complacency on the face of the person performing the dance is beyond the mortal expressions of our existence. A love for me is dauntless, that even in excruciating pain, crisis of all sorts, one doesn't forget to dance. I am spread across cultures, religions, history of our civilization. Being a dancer myself, Dance has had a huge impact on my life, it has given me an identity, a charisma, a personality. 

After all life isn't about waiting for the Strom to pass, it is about learning to dance in the rain.

[abstractthoughtsofmylife]

The Beach.

I am a landform along the coast of an ocean or sea, or the edge of a lake or river. I usually comprise of loose particles, Vague Memories, Footprints, all to be washed away by the sea. 

My hair is blessed with the abnormality of the moon, waves. People usually prefer to indulge in my hair. They swim and frolic around. I inhabit various lifeforms. I am full of sand. Sand that is unpredictable, temporary, reshaped through the ages. I see various humans every day, dark, white, small, tall. I don't know how to differentiate, as for me they all are my admirers. People exploit me for their greed. Commercialized purposes. But some of them truly love me. They often times spend their whole day caressing my hair, accepting my impurities and deformities, shells and rocks. Even collecting some, souvenirs of our endearment. I nurture through providing food from one form of life to the other, Fishing. Sometimes my fury results in fatalities. I regret not being patient in desperate times of tough needs. But then I see it all as nature's way of unfathomable schemes. 

 But trust me when I say without me the world would be a less fun place to be in.

[abstractthoughtsofmylife]

Horizon.

I am the fine line where the earth separates itself from the sky. A fragment of a wonderful illusion, the more you come close to achieving a gratifying experience of my astonishing existence, Denial in it's true sense will be faced by you. 

But persistence and willpower are the key if you want to see me perform my miraculous magic and artistry. I am a sublime creation. Painted across the canvas, that we call our sky, in light strokes, very carefully, as if expressing something beyond what we normally see. I engulf the sun, and release the moon. As if I am a monster of the sea. I have acquired many literary unions through my perennial longevity. Horizon of knowledge. Horizon of hope. Horizon of love. A string of associations. I am a prized possession of minds of those, who dedicate their lives to the sea. I am saturated by different colours of the spectrum. Sometimes orange-ish. Sometimes blue-ish. 

But then I am just a wonder of this nature, waiting for someone to say, "Bring me that Horizon".

[abstractthoughtsofmylife]

Clouds

I am a visible mass of condensed water vapour floating in the atmosphere, typically high above the ground. Where does my allegiance lie? The starry sky or the authentic land? I’d say they both are my yin, yang. Without them I am none, with them I am one.

I am coloured pearly white. I instigate thoughts of peace and tranquility in the conglomerate minds of the observer. I float through the skies, unstoppable, I see alluring creation, weapons of mass destruction. I travel this world, through lifetimes of rain and sun. I aspire to leave this atmosphere, to go far beyond to the mystical galaxies, necromantic universe.

But in the chaos of this world, I find peace at reminiscence. To the times when I was a small drop of water in the vast ocean. Or to the times when I was leaving my first abode for my other, evaporation. Sometimes I grace my admirers with my presence through the disproportion yet miracles of nature, Hills. I enchant, Beautify the nature.

But in all the holism, sustainably is the key to my future.

[abstractthoughtsofmylife]

Love.

I am a feeling, an emotion, a sign of soulful interaction. I have been labelled many things throughout my existence. I have been used as a bond of many relations. I have had many lifetimes, sometimes short, sometimes eternal. People have different opinions about me.  But the truth is I am unstoppable, invincible. I cut across religions, cast, gender, age and circumstances. I have been described as the best feeling in this world

What is it though that drives us to sacrifice ourselves for another human being, what is it that motivates us to care, to love someone so selflessly. People say hate is a strong word, but so is love and it is thrown around like it is nothing.

To fall in love with someone is one of the most magical miracles of our infinite world. Love is the sound of two souls conjoining into one. Falling in love is like falling into a dark pit of unexpected surprises without knowing where it might take you.

Love is a feeling so strong that even a small speck of it has the power to change the entire course of the history of mankind. Love is most commonly associated with affection, infatuation and lust. But is love a subset of any one of these associations? Love in my opinion is that fragment of our intricate lives, that unites all the other elements of our reality.