Snippets of the mind by Gagansvaid

Standing Together Head let down, she had cried. She tried to smile, though her smile lied. Nothing to be happy about, She still took a roundabout. For life was a journey long, Neither was it simple, nor was it throng. The most important part was, That it was not a sing-song. She realised this, as she moved to school, Her eyes fetching success from her dreams, While the day had something else in store. She had failed, failed the yearly exams, While her mother cleared her tears, There was no one to sympathise with them. But soon she asked herself, Was it the end of life after all? No, it was not. For, that day she started- To work even harder, not that she didn't earlier. This time, she had an aim even farther. Not good at studies, she had to fall- But she wasn't the one who lost, For she got up again. This time she spent time with herself, This time, no way she could let happen, What she saw on her mother's face, She couldn't let her cr...

Picture Credit: Pritam Singh Vaid Your name is wisdom, while my name is sacrifice. Your name is a vision, while few call me malice.  You're referred as a gem, while I am called clogged water. You're beauty, while I am considered a half cut tree. I tried to build you, while you tried to take it away from me. The dream which we once shared was lost amidst, Our ego's crossing each other's heart, mind and soul. Where once I had thought of a journey long, You left me in between, to count the distance across. You're far, while I am water hitting the shore, in the waves. I think I tried too hard to be yours, and that only separated us, And became the reason why the dream which once we shared, Is bereft of any value, care or affection. You forgot, how it needed me too, as much as it needed you.

Picture Source: Pixabay Call it busyness or call it business, the crux is that we always have something or the other to do. Either assignment questions are pending or updating a website while working in a social media firm is waiting for us. How so ever you think, time would stop for you; it just does not. Time moves by, and one has to hold on to moments to take our peace from them. One need not lazily let the free time walk past, but the question here is; that is there any free time? Or is it, free time in disguise? That it only appears as free time for a person when in real it is not such. I go to visit a friend of mine, I come back home and to find my peace I start walking in a park that would lead me to the metro station on my way back home. Now is spending time in the park with myself, walking alone; does it mean free time to me? The question is this. Or is the free time which one is able to spend doing whatever one likes, away from all responsibilities or deadlines of the w...

Image Source: Pixabay Why is it, that people did what they did, for fame? Why is it, that people looked for profit from every action that they performed? Why was it, that people like me judged every other person, every time out of joy and out of grief? The questions kept on ranging, until the last question summed up my ideology. I had found that I was a person in this league of people.  I asked myself that Gagan, why is it that you look at other people and let them affect you. Why is it, that they easily hurt you for a moment; till the time when you try to forget them, and move on in life? Why did sentiments have to break a person? Oh, wait; sentiments only formed people. But no wait again, people were made of bones, of organs and of a soul, some would say. So why was it that sentiments ruled the lives of people? Why does one blame the heart when one is hurt? Just because it hurts in the intense of our chest, or near the place where our h...

Image Source: Pixabay Yes, times have changed. Yes, from notebooks there is a switch to the  usage of technology . I will type my thoughts and frame them, the way I think appropriate. But often do I give a thought, over how powerful social media is for that matter. For the matter of, penning down one's thoughts. The very 'irony' is, that the keys have taken the form of 'penning', and 'handwriting' has taken a form of 'fonts'. That's how I can sum it up, yet proudly I can say- there is no harm in it. For, the very idea behind technology is not to create a disturbance in our lifestyles, although it has become out to be one barrier  leading to many kinds of disturbances. I remember a time when my school teacher in one of her lectures commented on how technology was good till a point one could make use of it in a positive manner; "the day, technology starts making use of you, then the idea of technology takes a backseat," she h...

Image Source: Pixabay T hese days when I write, I think of writing a short-crisp story or poem, I don't give much time to writing it, I just write it and post it quickly. One could reason it to be, an outcome of the lack of time. This lack of time, comes from a lot many things being done by me these days. But when I ask myself, that do you like it; then I somewhere feel that No, I liked the earlier times much better than these times. Earlier, I had a lot of time with myself; and I could spend time with my writings. I didn't read much in the past, but not less either. All I mean to say is that I had time for myself. These days, the difference is I am quite busy in one thing or the other. When I compare these two phases, I would say that there are many positives which I take from both of them alike. In these days when I interact well with people, I enhance my skills at writing also. Somewhere my stories, poems and write-ups, get a different shape, and that is the time ...

They Spoke And Felt That Work Was Done, He Worked And His Work Spoke For Himself -- Image Source: Artist Address GSV

I met you four years back. The day was as usual, While you entered the class. Tutions we took together! From school, we reached college. You invited me to your fests, Came to mine in glee and vibrance. We came as strangers, we became friends. But this dream we follow will be as long, as our existence. I met the artist, the creator in you. The Mathematician, an academician in you. In you I saw a person, who is a friend, Who is an idol, whom I follow and look up to. We learn while we talk, and interact; Discussing many secrets of life, And endless philosophies which I say, And never have you confessed- You were bored when you were going to sleep amidst my talks. You gave me acceptance of being, Telling me, it was alright; To not get the best, But at the same time, Keeping the spirits and wilness- As strong and as warm as your presence. You gave a blog named Artist Address- It's form, it's identity. Sometimes, few people complete us- You're one of th...