tomorrow

There is a thin tipping point on when,what and how much to write.
Sometimes I write and sometime writing makes me write.
Off late no one of us has been compelling enough to elucidate an enunciation.
Me and my artist are at the ends of a tug of war.Same goes when I am in deep conversation with my love.
What is there that makes me less of the mortal I am.I still think and still observe.
Have these been my decisions or would these be my imperative moves that I am going to take in the years to come.
What I am good at comes not from the fact of what I am really good at.It is what I negotiate with my mind of what I am good at.
Writing is the only thing that comes naturally to me but even then this muse could never be a vice.
This has made me stand up and think that what IT is that stops me from taking the plunge,the leap of faith.
Where does my heart lie really.

There should be something really concrete that is compelling me to ask myself at 4:21 am in the morning with a mid term exam the next day-What is it?
Well,to set the record straight-I am initiative and am here to seek answers to the unquestioned answers.
I ask myself that why have I not let my initiative switch roles with myself.
Why don't I ever see myself being carried away by my initiative side.

What is it that stops me.
But then what is it that kicks me.

Initiative is not what I can show at my work place and be content with.It is a damning person.
Would I continuously let myself erode or would I stay.
Sometimes I feel to let go off things.Like a battle lost,like a noose tightened,like stopping to struggle just before death.
Reason is I expect an excruciating too much.

Initiative not shown at the football ground,fear of leading from the front.
Initiative of not asking a question in the class.fear of standing alone.
Initiative of not hitting peopele when things turned bad.Fear of losing people.
Initiative of not applying to that competition which I was good at.
Initiative of not standing on the chair when others were at oratorical eloquence.

Well,I agree that it is not fear always.Many a times it also has been the feeling of content.Of times when I saw that I could do better but still let go.
Even then initiative has to play the cast,take a lead and applaud itself.
An even bigger question or maybe an answer would be plain sloth.
Just that tipping point.
Just the next step.

Maybe.

A day again behemoths asI keep typing.
Words have come but has the meaning really been achieved.
A potential distrust,a macabre happening what tomorrow has in for me.

But that is basically what I am arguing upon.
It is not what tomorrow has for me.
It is what I have for tomorrow.

Initiative...


~Harsha
This week's 3WW being erode,heart and observe.

The lull

It is as simple as blood flowing through my veins.
As simple as sex with a loved one.
As simple as water running downhill or as clear as envy killing the brain.
But even then why is there that last lap which I have been avoiding.
Why me of all the people creating a cyst of mine.
People have adapted their minds to this me.

This is NOT me.
This can never be me.

I have been a man who has been raw,
like a lion roaring,like the wind blowing,like the dew tickling.
I of all the people can never stay and wait.
I have been a man of action of decisiveness.I have glided through difficulties with ease.

And still today when I was thinking about me I realised there are things where am dwelling without a direction,places I am still worshiping without a deity.The lie needs to be quashed.

How can I forget that there is only one god here and that's me.

Finally the time has come.For others start listening to lullabies cause I will lull you to silence.
I believe my time has come.No it hasn't come I just brought it back.

This week's 3WW being adapt,glide and lie

~Harsha

LOKPALayan

Chaal hai tedi

Dagmagai hui si

Hosh hai besudh

Ladkhadae hue se

Sans hai adhuri

Bheegi hui si

Simat ti karahti

Tilmila ke fir bhi

Jagti hai

Hasti hai aur manti hai

Ki jana hai ab mujhe

Us par nadia ke

Jab mujhe jhukna na padega

Apne hi haq k lie

Jab kalkothri na mujhe bandh paegi

aur na rok sakegi mujhe hazaro ki fauz

kyunki ab ladai mei nahi lad raha hu

mei to sirf ek zaria hu tum sabka

zindagi tumhari ab mei nahi jee raha
kyunki haq hai ye tumhara aur koshish bhi

 taqat hai ye tumhari aur paisa bhi

par fir bhi kyu

hum mare til til ke 

aur wo hanse khil khil ke

bharath ne hai ek hunkar kia

safed vastro ne chadai hai prachanda

Lekin tarkash bhi apna 

aur ban bhi 

sadhna hai to lakshya

jisko mitana aur jiska ankho se mitna

hai sirf ek hi hath me

hath hai wo hamara

kyunki

desh hai yeh hamara 

us rat

saans ko chum raha tha
ya soch me doob raha tha
kya tha seene me us rat
jisko na jane kab se dhoond raha tha
fatwa jari karta tha har rat ko
chashmadeed bhi mei aur khushamdi bhi meri
par fir bhi na jane kyu,kabhi samajh na paya
ki kya tha us rat ko seene me mere

aisa kya tha seene me mere
jo na samjha paya farak mujhe
mere marne aur jeene me mere
aisi aag kya thi jo ek tadap na jhel pae
aisi bat kya thi jo ek jeevan ne dekh pae

kyu paye dir ne pankh aur kyu hari meri zaban
lafz thak gae khud se,kyu khatam hua har paigam
aisa kya tha us rat me,akhir bataye koyi
ki har rat ab bas dekhta hu khud ko tanga
khoonte pe kahi,har rat seeta hu ek aur sapna
gada hua kabro me kahi

akhir koi bata de mujhe
ki kya tha us rat seene me mere
jisne na fark karne dia
na jeene me aur na marne me mere

~Harsha

Shhh

The pull is on

as a paper all torn

You write first

or let us be written

It is the fall of the pawn

or a king's return

The banter makes sense

or it is just a shrewd pretence

Sly swelled years

Glutton visible in peers

My breath fumbles

as my glance stumbles

As I fail to leave an impact

You all crusade and label me

a concoct

But I am not a brew

nor a whisper

nor the mockery

or the hushed fear

Catch hold of me

cause I am all yet the tip of the spear

Count your days

cause mine are numbered too

Pull up your socks

cause I am dirty too

From head to toe

to leg to temple

I will quiver my brow

To show you the omen

A dungeon seeths and a tornado weeps

cause they know that what I feel

And once I feel

You meanest of the mean

Would forget what actually feel,feels...

~Harsha

The artist's amazing art can be checked here Grinch

Kindly check 3ww for more enriching posts.

that night

"Stalagmites and stalactites are the only things left in this place.
Some dripping cause I am losing memory and others cause this memory is going places I never went."

Groggily the old lady returned back to what she had been doing since ages.
Settled in her tutelage of broken chair near the creaking window sill she again poured back,on the memories that had been her only will.
Every day after getting up,which din't mean waking,running errands,bathing,having breakfast and settling to read a paper.It simply meant that she opened her eyes,eyes which could scarcely see but still her only hope.
She knew that once she opens eyes it wont be dusk but she knew for the coming 4 hours she couldn't sleep anyway.
So she waited with her eyes open nowadays reminiscing her days of glory, of beauty.
Of times when she was the one looked at,looked upon.
When she knew that boys from the end of the walkway would just pass her only to have a look at the peeking naval from the flowing sari.And she stood as if unaware just watering the plants.
Of ladies who would spew venom at even the mention of her name cause she always stood apart even in the most simple attires.
Of heaven in the arms of the salesperson she met once,of glittering nights with her husband's friend,of flowing hemlines with the school teacher.
And of what not.
She had not been the ordinary,nor the normal.
A friend of her once told her that she was born before her time.
She had been a student of history.And she always believed that she had been born years after her time.
Infact she felt that her pleasures could not be satiated by people of ranks,of fame,of power.
She only yearned for freedom.
She believed that the prowess in bed could only be determined by the feelings in head.
Not that she yearned to look for academicians or intellectuals but for men with spine.
For men who believed that there was one will and which was theirs.
She had inanimate conversations with a self of which she felt herself being a part.
A body with this self she just kept searching but only got parts of in different people.
It wasn't easy to woo her.Infact if even somebody thought of wooing her she would never look back leave alone being wooed.
She was a women with a world of her own.
And the man she set her eyes on shouldn't be someone whom others cherished.
Nor should he have cared.
Till she met him.
A cynic at thoughts,a magician at actions.
She could never unravel him.
At times the most serious looking person but the one who always came up with the best jokes.
Jokes where you cried while laughing but at a second thought seemed as the most profound thinking ever done.

"Her hate and her love never mingled but for him she could herself not think nor single."

He was the most erratic disposition she ever had.
Even before being laid she had sequenced the coherent rhythm a 1000 times in her head.
She actually knew the breaths and the timing of the shudders she would feel as she knew most of the time.

But this time things were different.
He was different.

She felt that a thousand nights and a million omens too were small for that night.

That was one day and today another one.

She is still looking at the ceiling.When the maid walks in.
When the sun comes out and another day sets in.

And still now till now she can feel him,that night makes her life luminous till now.


A night where she felt him not beside her but in her.





this weeks 3WW words-erratic, luminous and omen.


~Harsha

Know me

I have been through this experience and will be subjected to all this again.

And this happens to me all the time.

I come but I wait,wait till it is right,right to strike again as always,

Right time to let others think that they are the only ones,ones in the territory.

Till then I smell and I think,I weigh,I plan,I visualise,I create,I cleanse,I group,I divide till I don’t yearn for any more.

And then I let the wheels in motion,delicate gears which were comforting each other earlier start moving each one all in the illusion that they are supporting others but unknowingly all working for ME.

The movement catches such a resonant upbringing that they forget the wears and tears that they are getting subjected to,melting whatever they had.

And I smile as they smirk.

Dangling the dagger high on them and that too for so long that they don’t even remember that I was the one who started plotting against them in the first place.

And slowly trust shatters between them,I still watch.

Cause I know this is what would ultimately paralyse them.
It wont be a head shot from me but the plain nail biting between each of them which would eventually poison the air inside their lungs.The consistent kneading done by their minds to them.

Suffocation by not breathing out so that they don’t have to share even their outgoing breath.

Or with some others who in their own greed of mistrust would pull all the air inside them just to have everything.

Till the jammed heart and burst lungs would move no more.

I did nothing,I moved not a single bit,I tore not a single ligament.It were you only.

Between I am jealousy. 

Written for 3WW-Words being Cleanse,Knead,Melt
The wonderful image is taken from Fealsay-Click on the artist's name to see more of such creations

~Harsha