The Light That Told Us the Time

There was a time when work faded with the daylight. Life bloomed like jasmine; it didn’t need a watch. The street-end sodium vapour lamp told the time. People slowly came out. Those days had no agenda.

I used to be surrounded by 10 odd people almost always. Some were sitting on the thinnai. Some leaned against compound walls. The old men had taken the vaaravathi without thinking about it. Nothing had been planned. People were just there, talking about whatever interested them that day.

The boys on the compound wall spoke about cricket, full of movement and noise. Some swung air-bats and some caught imaginary balls. There was a harmless serial liar too. But it all added flavour, like a mole on a fair lady’s cheek.

The women on the thinnai compared the colour of marudhani on their hands, holding their palms up, looking closely. The first time in the day they thought about themselves.

The old men spoke about astrology, correcting each other. I overheard that visiting Tiruchandur temple will make one’s boss kinder.

Another group nearby discussed cinema. Yes, Rajinikanth would have been more successful had he been fair like Kamal.

We children stayed in between all this.

We ran around the yard, stopped suddenly, and ran again. We played our own games. We were superheroes in our own right. One boy proudly showed a half-somersault, landed badly, and still stood up like he had done something great. Another walked around with a toy pistol tucked into his shorts and believed that was enough to make him a hero. The rest of us watched, laughed, copied, and moved on. Elder sisters controlled them.

That was enough for us.

Fireflies began to appear near the bushes. One light, then another. We noticed them immediately. We ran after them, hands open, trying to catch the light. We stopped suddenly and opened our palms. Nothing was there. We laughed and ran again. Sometimes we stood still and watched them float.

From somewhere, a voice would come. Not always the same voice.

“Do not go near that plant now. There will be snakes.”

We paused, looked at the plant, and ran in another direction, laughing at who got scared more.

Someone lowered a vessel into the well. We waited for the sound. When the metal hit the water, we felt satisfied. A while after, the thud of that vessel hitting the ground gave a sense of safety. We did not know why.

Around us, the adults kept talking. We were not listening carefully, but we heard everything. The pieces of information stayed with us without effort. Just enough to show off among our classmates that we know what’s happening.

Later, someone called us in. We went inside. The day ended.

Tomorrow was always different. We did not carry anything from the day before. One thing I miss now.  We went to rest not realizing it would all be memories one day.

In Search of Balance: My Life in Art, Thought, and Quiet Discovery

 

I dare enough to proclaim myself an introvert during the very start of this personal statement, though it’s not my intention to begin with a supposedly negative aspect of myself. Rather, it’s with childish pride, self-acceptance, and cheer. It seems to me a failure how we hold introversion as a complete disadvantage to character and, alarmingly, to identity, whilst extraversion is seen as optimal. I think everything has its extreme side of reference and a needed balance, and here, the two characteristics complement each other in ideal existence and not the contrary to what we’re led to believe. I’m starting with this particular characteristic of mine because it’s pivotal to why I chose fine arts as the purpose of life.

My final years at school weren’t easy for me to take. I was struggling—financially, emotionally, and physically—out of hunger, responsibility, and the classic adolescent repulsion against the educational methods.

I relied on independent study of the subjects, which I believe is good practice as universities and colleges depend upon independent study and motivation. I gave enough time for all my interests and developed my basic grounds in, so to say with awareness, life itself. My interests include art, music (as a band, and also as a composer for imaginary games or movies), creative writing, reading the works of philosophers, and researching varied topics like art history, psychology, and astronomy. It finally caught up with my grades, which were not spectacular but satisfying. I can say, with modesty, that my experiences have made me capable of critical thinking and self-reflection, which I consider to be an essential process in ‘keeping the balance’. I started working on music more; I read more and wrote more, and, importantly, gave importance to the concepts of thought, perception, and existence.

After graduating from school, some students hit a phase of confusion over the path to take; numerous paths lay out in front, and it’s not always easy—not for me. I did bachelor’s and master’s in microbiology. I spent more time in the library than in the classes. The library captivated me, beaming with potential knowledge and contrasting to the classes where meaningless chatter prevailed among the students (I don’t mean to sound arrogant here, but just give an honest report of my experience).

This experience helped me understand what education should consist in, why it’s beneficial to society (on the smaller scale), why it’s necessary for the development of humanity (on the larger scale), and that it’s not what it ought to be in some places. I spent the remaining part of the year honing my skills in music and writing. I had to go through the persistent trouble of choosing a particular interest that would be my main focus for many years to come, and that’s when I found out about copyediting.

I gave my heart into copyediting and did well. I received international certification (BELS), and the work gave me a deep sense of discipline, attention, and intellectual satisfaction. Still, I felt a void—something within me was asking for more expression, something that connected back to creation in its purest form.

I’m currently pursuing a degree in psychology as a distance education program from the University of Madras. My interests can be seen as having a common pattern. I enjoy creating and understanding things that occur during the process of creation. The very act of an event or a subject existing is something that I’m curious about. I give excessive importance to some, mainly the ones that can express the human condition logically or abstractly. Curiosity, research, and discovery drive the force of life, which otherwise can be looked at as having no apparent meaning. The exploration done with art that yields meaning of some sort is what attracts me to my interests. It’s apparently why I enjoy making art and researching my vast interests.

And now, recently, life seems to have come full circle. That’s when I met my art teacher, Sharavanan Chithrakaran, at Saraa Art Class. I’m deeply grateful for this phase of life—it feels like returning to something essential that I had unknowingly drifted away from. Through art, I’ve found a sense of stillness and meaning that brings together everything I’ve pursued so far—my love for thought, creation, and balance. It feels less like beginning something new and more like continuing what I’ve always been meant to do.

The Secret AI Will Never Know

We are surrounded by clever-sounding statements these days, especially when it comes to artificial intelligence and the future of work. One that often does the rounds is: “AI won’t replace you. But the person who knows how to use AI better might.” It sounds motivational. But beneath that tone of encouragement lies something more unsettling, something that feels less like reassurance and more like a countdown.

Imagine this line in a different setting. Picture a farmer telling a bull, “Don’t worry, the tractor won’t replace you. But the bull that learns to drive it might.” It’s a strange picture: funny at first, but also deeply ironic. The bull, a creature bred to plough fields, is now being told to compete by learning to operate the very machine created to replace it. It’s not just about progress anymore. It’s about survival. The tool meant to help is now the bar to beat. And it’s not enough for the bull to just get stronger and keep doing its job well. It must now learn something outside its nature just to be allowed to stay.

That’s what the modern workforce is being told. On paper, AI is just a tool, just like any other invention in history. The printing press didn’t end storytelling. The calculator didn’t ruin math. The internet didn’t destroy books. But what makes AI different is its ability to imitate human thought, to create, summarise, edit, plan, and even judge. It doesn’t just support your work, it can do large parts of it. So when someone says, “AI won’t replace you,” what they might really be saying is, “It hasn’t replaced you—yet.”

What’s harder to admit is that many of those offering this advice are simply buying time. They are testing the waters. When you are not seeing, they are testing AI tools, cutting small corners, and automating small steps. Once they find that AI performs well enough for their needs, the story might change. The roles that once felt secure may quietly vanish, no longer needing humans to manage them. So that cheerful quote ends up sounding more like a gentle warning: “You’re still useful—for now.”

In that climate, what can you do? You cannot outpace a machine that runs 24/7. You cannot memorise more than something trained on the entire internet. You cannot analyse faster or sort cleaner. But you can look where it doesn’t. AI has blind spots. It lacks context, history, doubt, compassion, and love. It doesn't feel embarrassed when it's wrong. It doesn’t apologise or thank you with sincerity. It cannot truly understand trust, sarcasm, grief, or warmth. Your task, then, is not to match AI’s power, but to lean into what makes you human. To find those unpolished, inconvenient, emotional corners of life where machines still fail to follow.

And even that is not easy. It places enormous pressure on people to reinvent themselves constantly. To be part-coder, part-writer, part-designer, part-analyst, and full-time learner. The workplace becomes less about stability and more about staying in the game. The cost is emotional. You’re no longer just doing your job; you’re proving you’re not obsolete.

But maybe we need to pause and ask: Should that be the goal? Should the aim be to keep proving our worth to machines and systems, or should we be asking why we’re racing them at all? Why do we keep building tools and then expecting people to bend themselves out of shape to keep up with them? Shouldn’t the tools be built to serve people and not the other way around?

AI, like all powerful tools, depends on how we choose to use it. It can lift burdens, open access, and support creativity. But it can also quietly replace care with convenience and skill with speed. Whether it improves lives or quietly displaces them depends on the choices made: not by the tool, but by the humans who hold it.

And this is where we come full circle. AI can summarise data, but it cannot sense doubt or trust. It can mimic tone, but it doesn’t feel tone. And I’m quite certain its readers can’t feed it either. So what can we do?

Maybe the answer is not to become faster, sharper, or more machine-like. Maybe the answer is to turn back into humans again.

Spend time. Live. Breathe. Laugh. Cry. Meet friends without a reason. Visit an orphanage or an old-age home. Talk to someone who won’t boost your network but might change your heart. Play a game with a child. Listen to someone’s story. Step out into places that remind you of your own impermanence.

Because what AI cannot replicate, and may never understand, is the quiet, steady fire inside a human being. That stubborn spark that says, “I’ll keep going.” That strange, irrational faith that whispers, “It’s not over.” The sheer madness of hope in the face of failure.

AI can follow logic. It can learn from patterns. But it cannot understand why someone gets back up when every single sign says to stay down. It doesn’t know what it means to keep walking when your legs are trembling. It doesn’t know what it means to keep loving, trying, showing up when you’re out of strength.

Because no matter how smart AI gets,

It doesn’t know that sometimes, keeping a step forward when all odds are against you—That’s how winning is done.

Maybe the secret to surviving the age of machines isn’t buried in new skills or smarter tools at all.
Maybe it’s hidden in something we forgot.

Maybe it’s been with us all along.

 

 

Valaikaapu for the New Year

 

The sky gathers its clouds like elders preparing for a blessing.
Raindrops meet the lake, and bangles of ripples spread outward,
each circle a gentle ring of grace.
It is the valaikaapu of the heavens,
a celebration for the new year
still resting in the womb of time,
two or three months away from its first dawn.

Frogs croak in the distance,
and new blades of grass push through the softened earth.
Birds hide in their nests
like young girls shying away from the crowd.

Nature has already begun the music and the dance,
welcoming the child, a new year, 
before it even arrives.

#Rain #Valaikaapu #Ripples

𝗗𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺𝘀: 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗱, 𝗹𝗼𝘀𝘁, 𝗼𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴?

Sometimes I wonder how my art teacher’s brush seems to know stories that the world doesn’t.

This recent work of his made me stop.

Four girls. Eyes closed. Standing close. Not just in body, but in spirit.

One holds a boat. To me, she’s someone swimming against the tide, doing her best to stay afloat.

Another holds a plane. Maybe she’s the one who took the “safe” path. On the outside, she looks settled. But deep down, she still wants to fly.

The other two stand quietly. They hold nothing. And maybe, no one ever asked them what they really want. Maybe they don’t know what they want.

Interestingly, none of them have navels. That small detail stayed with me. It felt like they were free from the weight of the past. Free from the regressive thoughts of the previous generation. But is freedom enough if you don’t know where to go?

What struck me most is that three of them turn toward the one who has settled.

Do they admire her? Do they think she figured it all out? Or are they just looking for someone to follow?

To me, my teacher painted more than four figures.
He painted questions we rarely ask.
He painted choices. Compromises. And the quiet ache of unrealised dreams.
And that, I think, is what good art does.

Grateful to be learning from someone who teaches art and unveils life.
What do you see in it?

hashtag#Art hashtag#Dreams hashtag#Choices

Golden Storm

Draupathi had always loved the forest at the edge of Vaithara, a small, quiet town where days moved unhurried. The forest was her sanctuary, a place built of light, leaf, and silence. She came here most evenings after work, sketchbook under her arm, following the same worn path until the hum of traffic disappeared.

On the night everything changed, it felt different. You know how sometimes the air feels too still, and you cannot explain why it bothers you? The trees stood motionless, the usual chatter of birds oddly distant. Even the wind seemed to be holding its breath. Did you notice? We rarely do.

She sat on her favourite fallen log, pencil poised. The sun was painting the treetops in gold, each stroke soft and deliberate. She thought she had time.

Then the gold began to change. It thickened. It pulsed. And with it came a faint, acrid scent. Smoke?

“That’s not sunset,” she murmured.

The first flames appeared on the ridge, curling upward in the wind. Most people would have turned away immediately, but Draupathi… paused. There was something in the fire that felt familiar, almost like a memory she could not place. The way it moved – fierce yet graceful – made her think of hands shaping her from heat and ash long before she had ever set foot in this forest.

Was it music? Was it brushwork? The crackle became percussion, the arcs of flame strokes on a dark canvas.

Have you ever admired something you should have feared? That is where she stood, caught between awe and survival.

Then the wind shifted, sending a spray of embers across the clearing. She startled, and her sketchbook slipped from her fingers, fluttering to the ground, pages catching the glow of the fire. She turned to run – then hesitated.

The drawing lay face-up, a half-finished forest bathed in gold, mirroring the inferno beyond. She bent to snatch it, her palm slick with sweat. The paper gave under her touch, soft and damp, and she realised her thumb was smearing the faint graphite of her self-portrait in the corner.

Her graphite face blurred – almost gone. In another moment, so would she.

She ran until her lungs burned and her legs felt carved from stone. At the riverbank, she waded into the cool water, gasping, clutching the sodden paper. Across the current, the forest blazed – her forest – now a living sun collapsing into smoke.

For a long time, she just stood there, watching the gold fade into black. The air still carried the heat, and deep inside, something answered it – a spark that would never fully die. She looked at the smeared face in the corner of her sketch. It no longer belonged to her, not entirely. The forest had signed it now: in heat, in ash, in the truth that nothing stays as we leave it.

When she finally walked away, she did not look back. But in her mind, the storm still burned, and part of her still stood in that clearing, born of fire, trying to draw the moment before it all began.

#Fire #Passion #Art

 

Winter lights

On a winter eve, beside a frozen tree

I sat, waiting for absolution (that would never come)

A half-frozen rivulet lay before me

Calling me to shed the skin and freeze the heart

But I am not ready,

I am not ready yet

A short-lived light beam scattered at the touchdown

Feeding the silver of saintly fish

It fed me too with angst and fury

Calling me to burn my life and light the world

But I am not ready,

I am not ready yet.

A hero next door

And came the unsung hero. Not much haste and not much noise, he was composed, as all heroes are. Clad in his three-wheeled chariot, with his one, his only, leg tapping for a song beat, he was here with an organic smile. He runs a tea shop, all in his vehicle. He works all day through to battle out his poverty, to quench the thirst of his younger sister, to feed his school-going brother, and to heal his mom's sore throat.  But how does it make him special? In fact it doesn't. It's all about his attitude. How do you define his character? How do you want to be if you're in his shoes, err shoe? I am sure i can't be him, but I wished to at least throw away my fake plastic smiles and accept life as it comes.

A Song on a Blotting Paper

In the land of crib and grave,

I wandered…

I wondered if I am sane

Or haunted…

I opened up my heart box

And found it to be a hoax

I started penning my life

It became a book of jokes

Once in my dream 

I was a moth

I learnt to flap and learnt to fly

I got what I sought

Then came a freezing night

My wings drenched in dews

I cursed the frost and cursed myself

And bid my dream adieu

What I want is what I know

I know not what I don’t

I found what’s worth and found what’s right

It's a thing I wish I could write

Goodbye, my best friend…

In this land of make-believe, I was roaming east and west only to find that people are no more than hypocrites. The more I made opinions, the more I fell—lost, injured, and crippled. I sometimes forget I am part of this community and I am no less in terms of hypocrisy. Maybe, that’s the way our creator made us. Or is that some genetic mistake? What so ever, this never-ending story of insincerity is actually never going to end.

In every second of my life, frustration kept building up in my mind. I tried so hard to control my stupid thoughts. They didn’t oblige. I looked around and found no one. My shadow refused to give shade to me. I turned to God only to find that he enjoys me being frustrated—like a little boy dropping an ant on a bucket full of water. Then, one fine day, I started creating a person inside me who understands me— the only person who understands me. How do I know him? Well, my tears introduced him to me, or rather me to him. We grew all along hand in hand. He taught me how to hate, love, and love hate. No other people stayed in my life as long as he did. Gradually, I started believing him more than anybody else. I needed no other company.

Years passed. I am 27 now. Now, I long for solitude as much as I wished for a company before. The man whom I travelled with all these years, the man who was my best friend, is taking me to the grave. It was too late when I recognized that I had been travelling with him all these years to the destination called ‘shame’. My present has become the parody of my past. At one point, when I saw my destination, I decided to return. I no longer trusted my friend. He grasped my hand and pleaded to stay with him. I smiled. Tears rolled down my cheeks. He knew he had to leave me. Our eyes met and I turned back and started walking. It was a silent farewell. We knew we won’t meet up any time in the future. I was leaking my memories all the way on my forlorn journey—a journey towards my destiny.

I loved this article…..

Germany's Green City of the Future

As a city, Vauban, Germany, has everything -- tree-lined streets, perfect houses -- but it's missing one urban fixture of the last 100 years or so: the car.

And Vauban residents don't mind one bit.

"We lived with a car -- I had a car, my wife had a car -- for 40 years, I think, and I don't like it, I don't miss it at all," said Hartmut Wagner, a Vauban resident.

Vauban doesn't ban cars entirely. Rather, it just tries to reduce the use of cars by creating "parking-free" and "car-free" living.

In Vauban, just outside the city of Freiburg, near the French and Swiss borders, parking spaces are prohibited on private property. Cars can only be parked in public parking lots, so living without a car saves residents the cost of parking in the public lot.

Cars also are prevented from using certain roads and must stick to strict speed limits. With these limitations, fewer than 20 percent of residents own cars.

ABC News

ABC News correspondent Jim Sciutto bikes... View Full Caption

Without cars, bikes are almost religion in this small town. Kids pick them up even before they can ride one.

"I go to work with my bike, kids go to school with the bike," said resident Gerlinde Schuwald. "It's a good feeling here in these areas. It's peaceful."

Vauban is about much more than just using two wheels instead of four. It's an environmentally-friendly city of the future, with organically grown food, renewable energy, and carbon-neutral homes.

"People make more money by selling electricity to the grid than they pay for heat," said Andreas Delleske, a Vauban resident.

Completed in 2006, Vauban was 20 years in the making, built on the site of a former military barracks that residents and the local government bought and redesigned. And now, with a population of 5,500, it's attracting attention from around the world.

A class of students taking a sustainability course at the University of California, Davis, recently visited Vauban to see if the technologies could be applied in the United States.

"The technologies are all transferable. Solar power. California has a lot of sun," said UC Davis professor Jeff Loux. "What's difficult for us to get a grasp on is the density they can achieve here, the fact that people live in smaller units."

Of course, no one loves cars as much as Americans do. But if this can happen in Germany, home of Mercedes and the high-speed Autobahn, then maybe Americans can do it, too. (And so can Indians; Hey, I meant it as a joke....)

By JIM SCIUTTO (@jimsciuttoABC) , TIM WATSON and MICHAEL MILBERGER

Aug. 29, 2009

The Brave New World

Ever thought of buying a new pair of shoes.
Or that glittering dress that makes you good before the eyes of others.
How about spending a day in a lovely place.
The laws of nature are simple. You fancy, and you will get.

Unfortunately, there are millions of people around the world who don’t even know what to fancy with their lives. Their whole life is spent to conquer only one thing.
Hunger.

India proudly presents one third of world’s poor population. It struggled its way to maintain as one among the world’s developing countries for nearly sixty three years after Independence. We are sure that it will continue to exist as a developing country for the next millennium.

Let the Indian Government propose 5-year plans to improve standards of its citizens.
Let the politicians promise larger than life achievements
Let the space research organization spend billions of dollars to find water on the moon
Let the sports management and government compliment players for their profession
Let the top businessmen build extravagant houses by making use of natural resources.

And now, let’s do what we can do
Help the poor by saving a very reasonable amount each day.

Two rupees.
That’s it.

We don’t expect any larger amount than that. At the end of the month, you get 60. Spend that money for the needy. Join five member to the team, and you will have three hundred rupees. Join ten members, the figure will be six hundred. Imagine the team to be in hundreds, we don’t need to say you how to put a smile on a poor child’s face.

You can do that all by yourselves. You just need some like-minded friends at the scratch. When you move on, it becomes and habit and a way of life. You can hire a craft teacher and teach poor students for a day. We don’t serve a fish. We train to catch one.

We are initiating to form a large group of people to join the cause to strike hunger and illiteracy out of our country. With the plans of our own, we are ready to share our schemes whoever is willing to join the team and to achieve the objective.

There is no professional course to train anyone to be compassionate.
It’s the character of your mind.

And the poor expect simply that.

The Brave New World

Ever thought of buying a new pair of shoes.

Or that glittering dress that makes you good before the eyes of others.

How about spending a day in this lovely place.

The laws of nature are simple. You fancy, and you will get.

Unfortunately, there are millions of people around the world who don’t even know what to fancy with their lives. Their whole life is spent to conquer only one thing.
Hunger.

India proudly presents one third of world’s poor population. It struggled its way to maintain as one among the world’s developing countries for nearly sixty three years after Independence. We are sure that it will continue to exist as a developing country for the next millennium.

Let the Indian Government propose 5-year plans to improve standards of its citizens.
Let the politicians promise larger than life achievements
Let the space research organization spend billions of dollars to find water on the moon
Let the sports management and government compliment players for their profession
Let the top businessmen build extravagant houses by making use of natural resources.

And now, let’s do what we can do

Help the poor by saving a very reasonable amount each day.

Two rupees.

That’s it.
We don’t expect any larger amount than that. At the end of the month, you get 60. Spend that money for the needy. Join five member to the team, and you will have three hundred rupees. Join ten members, the figure will be six hundred. Imagine the team to be in hundreds, we don’t need to say you how to put a smile on a poor child’s face.

You can all do that by yourselves. You just need some like-minded friends at the scratch. When you move on, it becomes and habit and a way of life. You can hire a craft teacher and teach poor students for a day. What more? You can do that by yourselves too. We don’t serve a fish. We train to catch one.

We are initiating to form a large group of people to join the cause to strike hunger and illiteracy out of our country. With the plans of our own, we are ready to share our schemes whoever is willing to join the team and to achieve the objective.

There is no professional course to train anyone to be compassionate.
It’s the character of your mind.
And the poor expect simply that.

Dark vs. Spark

Do you believe the mankind would have discovered the existence of moon or stars if there were no nights? Night gives us light. In a different way though. There can be no astronomy without darkness. Probably, man would not have had the first sparks of fire without nights. Or more so, the plants would have suffocated to death without their dark cycles in place. What is darkness? Is it a friend or a foe? Is it something nothing? Is the darkness, a form of light? Or is it the platform where the light stands? They say the speed of light is 299,792,458 m/s. Then, what is the speed of darkness? Is there anything like that? These questions remain to be in the darker side.

Frankly, I haven’t seen complete darkness. Can it be seen? Leave that. Whenever I am in dark, my mind switches on some memories--some good and some really bad. So, does this mean the light is just an illusion? You can’t touch the light anyway. If light is an illusion, then who are you and I? If you and I are illusions, who is/are controlling us? If we are not controlled, what is the use of creating us? Are they the people whom we call God? If they are the God, how will they look like? Is there any element other than light, which we are ignorant of? If there is one, what is that? How will we react to it? Is it visible? Can it be felt? Is that present in our planet? Where is its source? These questions continue endlessly.

To me, both light and darkness coexist in our mind. The levels too don’t vary much. Only thing that matters is what we take or what we leave. By this statement, I mean to say that it is impossible to remove the darker side from you. However, you can leave that beneath the carpet and make your better part to stand on it. After all, great men are those who act or believe that they are good. Let us learn the art of acting and live happily. Lights off. Bye for now. Tadaaaa…

See the life. Well, the real one

on repair

Boulevard of Solace

I was panting. I haven’t had any food for a day. Nature’s fury was evident on all sides. Sun was beating hard taking a heavy toll on me. My legs were numb reaching for the eagle’s shadow. I crawled till I knew nothing. Silence prevailed.

In a distant dream, I heard some poised beats. I didn’t care as I couldn’t. Something told me I was alive and I believed it. Who said only phoenix can win death? I can add one more page in my life book.

The drum beats were very apparent now. It made my heart beat faster. My vision was blurred. Somebody asked me “aeyu kaya hoyss?”. I couldn’t understand a thing, but I nodded. In a minute, a bowl of soup was served to me. Perhaps, this bowl can change my life forever!

In a jiffy, I gulped down the soup. I could feel the warmth back in my stomach after an era of starvation. Tears rolled down my cheeks with a sense of accomplishment. Yes, I survived and thats a accomplishment. Down the line, a little boy was watching me bewildered. Gaining strength, I asked him who he was. He said, “I am a human being”. I felt like I was struck with a rod. He asked my name. I smiled and told him, “I am humanity”.

Yes, only humans can save humanity. A mere act of kindness can save humans and humanity together. Nobody can deny the fact that they need to be loved and cared and humanity lives at that point. Love is beyond language, colour, race or any such frontiers. Love makes a life worth living. Take care. Spread love.

Dry but Green

Nothing much we can do about our past. As I turn back, I can feel the presence of emptiness in my head, body and soul. Nothing ever stops all these thoughts and the pain attached to them. But, this is the life I am destined to live and I got to carry on. It really hurts me when people laugh, cry, speak or cheat. My heartbeats say I am stuck between love and rage. I am one little cricket in world’s meadow. I felt safe when I never made a sound. I was secure when I never complained. But now, I am out of my cocoon and I have emotions to let go off.

I lie. I lie when I laugh. I do pretend that I am happy. But the world is full of deceptions, isn’t it? There is hardly anything in this world that we can reach for. Nothing is here to enjoy, to feel sad about or even to admire. Every quark of universe is created to entangle me and you. Every brain is crammed with Paranoia. I know I can’t change the way the things really are. What I need is a little attitude adjustment.

A little change in perceptions can make us see other side of the life. I start my life in this strange world with my shadow alone as my company. Throughout my zombie life, I treasure some blissful moments with fascinating people. I believe these moments are the only evidence for my existence.

“Memory is a child walking along seashore. You never can tell what small pebble it will pick up and store away among its treasured things"