Snippets of the mind by Gagansvaid

XIX I had well thought of it, and I was glad that this realization came to me. I had to be back, in the place that belonged to me. Where my soul found solace being. I had to be there. Before, I could respond to my dream, my love; what came to me, was a sort of a setback. If one asked my colleagues at work, then it was a big setback to all of us. Our company had crashed, running into losses of hundreds of crore. This wasn't expected, that the company could go bankrupt. It was  not only about hundreds of employees who had only lost their jobs, it was also about those people who had invested in the company. They had lost their money, to the Economy slowdown affecting our fifty year old company. At my home, my parents were affected by the intensity of the news. Well, I was the sole bread winner of my family. Yeah, as my father was retired from government service, he received his monthly pension. But, we couldn't depend on his pension. It had belonged to him, not to me. I c...

I want to cry, Yet I wanna ask why? Were I to be born, in this world? Why did I not be, kept at rest. Why couldn't I be, at peace, in not being. Why did I have to, breathe and enjoy, the beauty, this world, bundles to transmit? I ask why.. why.. why? In being not present, I could have been, nothing. No spirit, as strong as the human being. In nothingness, my being- would have been celebrated, whence no need was, to fight to quarrel, for your rights, for peace, to let your dreams ravel. They said, it took time, then what was the problem? At least, I had met my peace, to meet my sight to the goal. My only cynosure, my only closest love! I wish I had not been, what I am being. I could have been happy, lifeless and unaware, of this big big world, that stands and stares at me. That expects from me, I wish I was not there, to address them all, I was alone..alone..alone.. I wish, I had not been.

Enough done, Enough said. This heart has, well enough felt. Time says to leave, to let go of all. These possessions, these things. These are what, burden, what cling. Life of peace, sails in land, unknown it is. Yet, to find it, my heart is wishful. The sky that is blue, grey, black, orange. All colours of the sun, my eyes extend to, with my love and breathe. To let the last sail, towards peace, yes, towards the place, that belongs to me. I long to reach, my tree of wisdom. I want to grow, for myself, for the glory, of my presence and this chance. This chance, that I get, to move on this land. I long to reach, the understanding. Of who I am.

XVIII My life had moved very casually. Yet, it was about this point of time that I took everyday very casually. As if, I had lost the rhythm of my life. Yes, although I played guitar, but those were all old tunes that I worked on again and again. I would remember, how I was once in love with my passion for music. But, I had become casual towards my passion as the time passed. This I agree! When, I met Devika and Diya; I observed them, how happy they were in their lives. Diya, was finding peace in her art, while Devika had reasons to be happy. She had always listened to her heart. I wondered, if I could be at her place and somewhere be like her. When I could understand where my life was going every other step, that I were to take. I just dreamt and dreamt, that day. I was sitting on a sofa, and my eyes were set on the guitar. I could see dust laden on its bridge, and how I hadn't noticed it earlier. I felt miserable, the hundredth time that day. It wasn't just about that da...

XVII On our next meet up, Devika and I walked up to the painting exhibition, where Diya played a host along with her Indian as well as Italian colleagues. She had responded well to her life's haphazard situation. Albeit, she helped the visitors to the gallery, letting them know the colours used and the true meaning, the drawn paintings had suppressed in them. Like a girl with her feelings hidden in her facial expressions, she expressed herself all at once, so  magnificently.  The atmosphere there was very august and the gathering brought aristocratic appearance to the far sight. I had known the fact that woman are good presenters and get matured before men. I could examine the strength in Diya, while she prepared to climb her ladder of success. Anyway, if you get a start, then you get gaining more and more.  Then one definite day, your satisfaction in what you're doing brings to you the meaning of  your  life . The strength you hold in your body language...

Few memories are the life, they are the breath. They shine, they sparkle, they embrace, forever. Your youth, your cheer, empowers your picture, as you grow, as you hold, responsibilities. Those moments remain, as loveable, as is the connection, of water, in oceans, in streams. The power that is purely yours, that you hold on to it, with your open heart and liquid eyes. The age is but a number, treasures are but those memories. The innocence with which, once you had danced. The affection with which, you had held your friends hand. The times you had spent, at the ice cream parlour; yes, I talk of those days, that shall come back to your mind, as you pass those stalls later on. Traces of your friendship, with those roads, shall forever incline.

XVI One day I started making notes on the journey's I had experienced in my life. What all I had liked in a given city, and what all important landmarks were of prime importance in the cities I had visited. I got to combine the cultural adherence of all those cities. I had never been abroad so my thinking and its basis were limited to the Indian landscape, its traditions and bondage.  Culture demonstrated the binding of spirits amongst the members of the respective states. Surprisingly every state had a different culture of its own. Folk lores, dances, languages all described the graciousness of those state. We have a single country and a vast diversity in its languages and traditions. Amazing, isn't it? I reflected upon. What was common in all this was the multitude of love that was brought out from the actions of the people. Mostly! There were disturbances in the states too. Shayari  (Poetry) rung the heart beats of people and gave them entitlement and closeness to...