Candid

  Only When A rock in the ocean , undaunted by the endless waves— currents may strike again and again, yet transformation comes only when it chooses to give in. Nature plays its quiet symphony , and relationships grow stronger only when given time to breathe, to unfold. Just like Pluto , unmoved by whatever status we assign him— his existence stands unquestioned. His acceptance of the world’s call can only come when he is ready to part with his solitude. Old bones wait for release. Liberation of the soul comes only when the hunger for life is finally surrendered. Responsibilities will be sweet only when duties are not considered bitter. Celebrations will be jubilant only when hard work is pumped in. Waiting for success will end only when patience is practised consistently.

  A Bucket Full of Clouds A bucket full of clouds pours over the mountains, bringing delight to thirsty eyes, with overflowing fountains. A meandering river flows, carrying silt of stress, combed through a web of expectations and desires. Blessed are those who drench their worries in running waters, eager to be washed away in the sea. Cursed are those who hold their burdens, like stagnant puddles that fester in silence. Festivities and gatherings rise like a canopy of umbrellas , shielding hearts from the downpour of disintegration. Memories of sailing paper boats , flickering moments of time— urge us to absorb the nature, for it believes in today and no investment in future.

Colours, colours and colours are never real, Bright and shiny colours are surreal, bounded by only dreams. True colours are visible only in testing times. Fake colours erode, leaving behind dullness and gloom. Floating colours never drown but jump ship full of opportunities. Ultimately, in the battle of perception , no colour has any face value. What is blue to me is black to others. Purple never exists but everyone is passionate about it. Yet, the cornea is fascinated by colours and rainbows . Every event and mood in human life is associated with colours. Yet, the water, the elixir of life , is colourless—brought down by dark clouds .

A contemplative poem on life journey. Essence of life lies in moving on — from stages of attachment to detachment , desires to nothingness , compulsion to repulsion , selfishness to generosity , darkness to enlightenment , fakeness to authenticity , certainty to uncertainty , vocal to silence — and sometimes, just being an observer and not being judgemental.

  The symphony of food within the body gives birth to good health. Yet the tongue refuses to twist toward the wholesome — it favors flavors that cause cacophony inside . It disobeys good advice, even when the brain speaks with reason. The symphony of languages in communication builds a healthy society . If tongues agree, there’s no war or hatred — only peace . But here again, some tongues disagree, choosing war over dialogue. The tongue resists new words and foreign tones. Too lazy to learn, it asks the brain to decode machine languages — lifeless, voiceless and silent. The symphony of values shapes idealistic individuals . But the tongue spits venom, not virtue , preferring foul language and fleeting pleasure . It excuses itself, claiming: "I was compelled to speak this way." The tongue twists rules, and stays silent at wrong times — a master of mischief in the mouth of many .