sadness again

sadness_again_by_boko

How should I behave now. 

Has it to be intermittent sadness with splurges of happiness knowing that atleast for a few more days we would be together. Or would it be the delusionary phase when I know that things wont last long. The caricature is about to give way soon, I don’t know if I will embrace the falling structure as one more of my, to be possible success stories or if I would collapse under something which has seen me put every morsel of food that I could ever muster by giving it to the monument by not eating. You know that I had been true cause I too know that. Oh how much I had yearned just to sit with you after coming from office listening to your anecdotes. How much would the priceless cup of tea would be missed which would have found way to me through your love.

There would still be a car waiting but in vain which would have been ours, bought not with money but with our choice. How much would I contemplate what to gift you secretly or miss the mail which would suddenly secretly could have found its way to your inbox.

How can I tell you what my parents would feel when they know that such an angel does exist and that too in their very house. How much I would miss those arms which have always rightfully found the clasp just strong enough to make me feel that I am not alone.

I know what I am feeling would not be even thought of after a few days cause maybe after a few days I too would be nothing more but a grim memory, a memory which one never loses but neither much thinks about it.

The biggest question that I should ask myself is that would my body be capable to take one more blow. I may look strong, fatter and healthier than many but then I too am the master of a feeble heart. I know this too shall pass like the innumerable stories, like the cherished dreams, like the aspirations which just missed by a margin and fell by the window sill.

Know what, I too feel sad but sadly don’t bring it out for others fearing that it would rub off to others.

Oh how much I want to cry and be all alone.

Sometimes I think of being the new man who maybe has a future but this concussion has gnawed deep inside. Memories away I too would be a normal man.

Since time immemorial I have loved you and at the back of my mind would continue to do so.

Maybe I might attend your marriage as well and maybe just maybe wait for a few more years thinking that maybe you still might come back. And maybe you will.

Realistically people things and happiness moves on and moves on sadness as well.

My words are finding ways to tell me of what lies beneath me, just hope that some day your parents too would know what had been laying ahead. I cannot even say anything to you cause I know that you have loved me more than I had ever loved you.

Sometimes I think that there is still time and sometimes I feel all time has come to an end. Maybe then somewhere you would understand that there are other things, other things above family.

Sometimes we call that as love.

~Harsha

She

Image credit-woman in black by Nalanece

There is no halo over her head nor is she the one who desperately tries to be someone who she is not.

This is not for you, not for you if you think that tending to your kids is not fashionable, not fashionable when you are at the same time planning for your company’s next strategic move. She is the kind of lady who mesmerizes you when she speaks at the podium with a hall full of the most intelligent men on the planet.
The one who would unknowingly turn you just for having a second glance at her, not because of the way others use skin as an alibi for eyeballs but because of the way she holds herself. No, there is no upper class forced elegance in her walk but because there is no force at all, when she walks with her head held high, it is not the funambulism, the tight rope walking like others but the streamlined flow with which her body serenades as if everything is just a part of her.You don't see her but feel her in your head all the time. She is the one who knows that right would always be right irrespective of the situations that ensnare it. It is not for you if you think that whatsoever your husband , family or society says is the final thing even if it is wrong. She believes that it is not only sun and shade but a lot of intermittent hues which need to be deciphered.
She has the courage to stand and that too to stand hard against decisions which do not make the right sense. She has the courage to defy convictions, topple governments and show the tangled society its rightful place. She has risen and would rise again whenever she knows that nobody else has the impugn to rise. But this does not make her humbleness vanish. She still holds the highest amount of respect for her elders, she still is the perfect bride who would grace any home, the perfect mother, the doting wife. She is the one who would give seat to her elders, be dressed in a gracious sari which would be any mother in laws dream. At the same time she would be talented enough to be elegantly gyrating at the best party numbers in a discotheque. A writer, a philosopher, a thinker.

She does not try and run around finding beauty enhancers instead beauty comes and finds her the way in which she actually is beautiful. It is not about perfection but it is about the confidence of acceptance.

~Harsha


This week's 3ww being feel,tangle,shade

The place of equals

Image Credit-worker_by_migocosta

The bylanes were too small to be even considered as bylanes.The skittering roads suddenly came to a halt with a zest which was easy to the point of not notifying.Here stayed Rehman next to the abandoned rail road with more of abandoned coaches kept at the place.
A few years back Rehman had moved to the city of Sohan Halwa and he considered himself lucky to be staying at a place where God's one of the most famous places was situated.The place was Ajmer and it hadn't dwindled an inch from what it had been a few 100 years back.You could still smell the age old dhoop once you moved through those galis.
The beetle leaves still gave the same hue as the majestic pan days which were so famous then.Yes some complained of adulteration in the leaves but Rehman was so much a part of adulteration of life that leaves was something that even his kids if any would never notice.
The day was ending as always for him,for there was nothing big which he woke up to nor any dreams which he slept himself to.

He of one was the kind of people who completely followed the zen or the tao or whatever was the philosophy.This he did not because he was too big a visionary but because he was too small a man.He was more of the animal in the jungle,no, one on the road.
He dint have any long term desires nor commitments.The morning started for him with the search for his breakfast,breakfast which varied from a full blown meal to a cup of water,depending on how much his mind allowed him to flex the body.
With greed not a part of his system,glutton normally stayed miles away from his body.Sometimes he left at the bare minimum intake as his belly entered the satisfied mode.The maximum that he had ever thought of was for the next 2 hours.
For a man of few needs his body was much well endowed with just the right amount of built over his tautly flexed muscles.
This could not be escaped from the eyes of the rich classy ladies who had seen him bathing in his full glory near the village water tank.For many of them Rehman was the idol with whose thoughts they achieved the real orgasm irrespective of who they slept with.But not everyone was not as lucky cause those who had tasted him went to any level to win him back.
This had even meant divorces and mud slinging but then when had Rehman cared.

Of late he had been engrossed in one job,of the many he occasionally got accustomed to.
There was a point at the top of the hill next to Ajmer Sharif.This place was not as wide as our regular roads and hence leave vehicles,even 2 men going at a time was difficult.There was an old tower at the top which needed to be re-fabricated.
Stuck between the legs of the lady he was wondering at the greatness of her libido.It seemed she had stored everything for him from the moment she was born.Rehman was no exception and he too enjoyed her to the core.
But he stood more excited with the prospect of going up and filling the tower with cusps of mud gently carried till the top and then walking all thew way back.
The whole vision of seeing the monument fill layer by layer was ecstatic to him.
He had infact grown up looking at the magnificent tower all his life.
Seeing the tower being created by the then famous masons at work,this tower seemed as if it was the test of his life.
No orgasm seemed more complete to him than this climax.

But then the struggle to achieve this dream was not a small one.
Rehman was not only an orphan who was a vagabond of sorts but more than that he was an untouchable.
He was not a part of the general glitterati privileged people who other than the offering of namaz had their head held higher in each and every nook of the city.
Rehman thought to himself that this was maybe because of the absence of proper education that he lacked compared to his holy counterparts.
But then he remembered that the story had more to it.
He vividly remembered the day when in his 3rd class he was called to the headmaster's office.And since then he had to clean the toilets of each and every hostel as well as the school.
His malice-he was an untouchable.

Rehman when properly understood the pain cried a lot and went back to his parents and complained.
The parents who were so horrified that their kid dared to question something so holy so prevalent and slapped him.How could he even differ once from what god had pronounced.
This was the last slap that Rehman ever tasted.
Cause the next day he was gone and has been going on ever since.

The slap had been very important in his life.Cause that was his point of moment.
As such he dint have much belief in god but then he had much belief in the slap.
He consistently kept getting better and better with his questions and when his questions stopped he went and slapped himself,only to rekindle the fire that once brewed inside.

He had asked the rarest of the rare questions at localities where the untouchables weren't even allowed to enter.People thought of killing him.
But the demeanor that Rehman carried,the piercing eyes,the locked frosty nosed gaze,the wooden looks,hands with biceps bulging not with muscles but just with the right amount of blood throbbing at every impulse made one to think twice even before passing cuss words at him.
But then it were not the looks that made him the man he was.It was his selflessness that made him the deity he was looked at as.

How could the village forget the scars on his back.

Scars from a full grown wolf.His crushed hand bones which took a whole one year to recover.
The day was a silly one.A pack's head had fallen in the old wells which lay empty in the drought stricken day.
The wolf in lack of water and food had strayed towards the village but ended up in the well instead.The whole village was at this place now.
It was a rare sight when one could see a fully grown beast caught as purring cat.Not because it was hurt but because the well was just deep enough so that the wolf could not come out.
The sight was one to behold.People throwing rocks aiming at the wolf's eyes.Sticks being propped on it every second.The irritated beast just growling in anger.
Nobody knows how it happened but then the next moment Raghu, the chieftain's son was inside the well.Before the ladies could even start shrieking the boy was at an inch's distance from the animal's fangs.
Everything seemed frozen for a second.
No one made any movement.The wolf would take a lot of time to be tamed but Raghu had hardly a few seconds of life hanging.
This was the instant when the wolf noticed this young boy not bigger than a small goat waiting to be maimed.And then the wolf stretched to its full glory bent back and jumped with the biggest arc it could ever make.

The blow was perfect the death was imminent.
And then one could see the wolfs body come down with a thud.
Rehman had just intercepted the blow of a completely irritated wolf with nothing but his bare body.
The whole difference was because of the way Rehman had jumped on the wolf.His one hand which contacted directly with the neck of the beast breaking it into two but not before  scarring Rehman for life when his body had been the wall.His hand too was crushed under the jaws of such strong a beast which could carry a whole bore all by itself.

The word was spread and Raghu's mom regained consciousness.
No deity would have been more admired than Rehman on that day.

But this did not mean his eccentricities vanished.He still was the bare chested untouchable who roamed freely as before.But now the ladies had started taking a liking of the man who only looked like a man.

Nobody could hurt his free will.
But nothing could even deter his dedication to his work.
In the intermittent helps that he offered people, he still found his solace in masoning and building.

Soon the tower grew to a height that its previous version now envied.
It was not only soil which was the reason of this tower.It were 393 steps up and 393 down by legs that dint know how to carry a man.
It was the sweat of Rehman which could be tasted just by standing under the shadow of the tower.Everyone talked of it.
People had long forgotten that it was made by an untouchable.
People had but he hadn't.

The girls gasped and imagined those nights when he spent with them after toiling hard for the tower.
The neat expression  could clearly be felt on the tip of bed,hill,terrace or whatever place they had copulated.

Every day it was a routine for him,for the atheist to come and worship himself in the tower.
The tower which was him, the tower which would have been him for the years to come.
But then people don't really let it happen, in a few days the fact that an untouchable had made it would be suppressed and the contractors of the upper echelons name would be etched.

Tonight was one such night.It had just rained the whole night.
The clouds had cleared.Rehman sat at the tip of the top most window of the tower.The most beautiful lady in the village was with him at the window a few minutes back.
One of HIS most fulfilling nights at the window sill,to the voice of raindrops mesmerizing their play.
As far as the lady was concerned she had seen heaven.
It had been HIS fulfilling night cause he wanted to,wanted it to the core.

Finally he stood up next to the window,window as big as the whole door.
It was specially modeled in this way by Rehman so as to catch the grandiose of nature from inside the place.
The place was a place of equals.
It was specially designed so.There were no elevated slabs inside the tower.All was but plain floor.
Even the windows were but balconies.The towers floors were such placed that every floor opened with a balcony which coincided with the elevated hills layer lying next to the city.

At every level neither you felt up above the city nor below it.
This was the masterpiece that Rehman had envisioned all his life.Different from the temples,the mosques,different from the houses the hills.
A place which only talked of unison.
Tomorrow was the unveiling ceremony.

A place which talked of equality.
Tomorrow the whole village would come together and be horrified and might plan to change it.
Cause maybe the pundits would object or the maulvis.
This place had everything but lacked a god.
A god immortal,the god,Rehman himself.

Rehman knew this but knew he could not keep it from getting altered by these dead people.
Dead people.
A death could only wake up dead people.
One last time he smiled at the tower.Walked till the tip of the balcony.
One last time he smelt the fresh air,the wind which never talked of difference.
The wind which the king and the beggar breathe together.The wind of equals.

The place of equals.

No orgasm seemed more complete to him than this climax.
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The next morning the whole village gathered for the opening ceremony.
But all they saw was the blood of a dead naked untouchable who had fallen from the top floor of a building.
A tower whose opening had streaks of an untouchables blood was more impure than the devil himself.

Strict instructions were given that no one would enter this building forget breaking it as it was impure.

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Lovelorn couples still go inside to have peace,solace and life inside the tower.
Whatever their aesthetics be whatever their religious alignment they cannot stop marveling the equality of the place.
Intercast marriages have seen a new rise in the place.

The place of equals.



~Harsha

This week's 3ww being differ,halt and imagine.Kindly follow the link to see more beautiful compositions

the open door

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Musings of a moron

Image Courtsey - Idiot by azuzephre

It would be sad to agree that I am being eaten away by busy man syndrome.But then it really is amusing.How the zillions of thoughts don't even see the light of the day before being on the paper.
I have titled thousands of articles in my head but not one seems to persevere enough.
Where has the intermittent curiosity gone,where have the pangs of excitement,the fight to foster new stories gone.
Exactly 1 month and 1 week back I had turned a new page of my life.
Getting back in the groove of a job was difficult but the excitement of learning something drastically new overthrew the sombre mood if any.
Needless to say this new job has been teaching something that I dint even think of in my wildest dreams.
Now when had I ever thought that I would be delving in such a wide variety of industries and that too learning and facilitating in setting up from the scratch.
Yes, the job is good. I thought initially that maybe the excitement is taking the better of me and hence the rate at which I wrote had taken a downfall.
But with time and my brains I have analyzed that the job has given me enough time and space to broaden my wings.
It is as usual nothing but my self carved hibernation.
All procrastination(I like the word though) and minimal vaccination make Harsha a Stupider boy.
One good thing has been the extremely wide amount of reports I have started reading.
They are ranging from digital marketing to economy to some which would bring a bad reputation to my name,if expressed openly here.
Meanwhile I have also read some exceptionally well written blogs which have simply blown me away.

I hope I have not lost much of an excitement from my head since my dormancy.
Well as you would have figured out by now this post has only been a pensive to empty the bullshit I had been nurturing.
Better articles might some other day see the light of the day,if at all they exist.
Oh and between watched Shanghai and loved it,specially the scene between CM and Abhay deol.

~Harsha

SRK the star or yet another folklore

Source-timesofindia.indiatimes.com

 
Not even one day old but the incident stands repeated a number of times.The whole controversy surrounding SRK and his antics in the stadium have been the talk of various channels as well as papers.
There have been multiple versions of the same instance albeit from other sides of the wall.
Yes, either stories of the folklore are tough to believe.
One cannot put all his eggs in MCA's or SRK's words. The situation is as confusing as all other media stories.
But what caught my eye was a comment in one of the newspapers.

He was, arguably, the biggest bollywood superstar not long ago but with a few unsuccessful releases, a night club brawl and now a scuffle with officials at a Mumbai cricket stadium to his credit, Shah Rukh Khan's brand is losing sheen

Are we getting old and forgetful of the mass hysteria called as Salman Khan which even when am writing this continues to rise in the cult superstar status that he is ascribed to.
What SRK has done stands very small as compared to what his brother from different mother had done.

Even after being at the center stage of various altercations Salman continued to rise above his human status and whatever was ever written against him died a silent death.
Even though he was wrong, he was arrogant he was proud but even then he became what people have always waited for- A rebel.

This would be premature for me to say that SRK will now grow in his glory and maybe again attain sponsorship of marquee names other than Tag Heuer or would resurrect as the youth ambassador of Pepsi and other brands.
But then it would be completely stupid to write him off as a dying star unable to handle his larger than life status.

And yes a word of advice- those who say that SRK has been giving the wrong signals to youth and he should mend his ways,should now stop for a minute and listen to me.
SRK is not a social worker and neither he is a Nazi who has forced people to follow him. It is upto us whom to carve as our idol. He too is a human being and hence would behave like one.
As of me I am contented with his damage control attitude.

~Harsha

Enough

On the very night when I was back from my college I heard this ubiquitously strange deafening noise in my neighbor’s apartment. I knew what it was as it was not something new. Every day since countless ages this had been happening. The same ritual was performed ever night. You would be afraid if for some reason, for some cause this story dint happen. I could see him walking with this drunken limp every night to his house dragging himself slowly over the corridor from the lift. And sometimes I would by chance see the fear, in those small eyes every day when she opened the door for her father. Yes he loved her but then he hated his wife, not because she was not working, not helping their family to survive but because she was the one who solely handled all the earnings of the house. He hated her because every night when he was between his dollop of friends he was the only one whose wife earned more than him. He was the only one who had an intelligent daughter and whose intelligence he knew was not his but hers. This could have ended at some nights when he dropped his friends in their home but then finally there was someone who remarked that even the car was being borne by his wife’s EMIs. But rather than working on finding a way out to support his family or to help himself he everyday got drunk and went back to his home, with gloom and the maddening halo over his head, the halo borne by the other drunken bastards about his lifelessness.

We all others basking in our cysts either acted as if such an aberration never existed or we all were led to beliefs in which this was not an aberration at all but a very much intertwined way of living. It was not only the fault of my parents or the society but mine as well. That whenever such turbulences were met with I initially felt anguished, then bad then only sad and then at times ended up just like a tramp. A tramp who carelessly glances over through others windows and enjoys the show but if caught in the act would suddenly feel guilty and move back as if oblivious to the society as a seasoned criminal. The day could have been the same for me and the night too should have been the one embellished by the same moon since ages.

But then for the first time education gave me a high. This one year of college where I met with women achievers, with intellects of the highest cadre, with people who have set right societies and nations sometimes made me think about the resolves I had taken while listening to such people.

For once I dint sleep by turning my televisions voice on, for once I dint pull the headphones out. For once I dint ask my parents for their approval but walked out straight over to their house.

The battle was a long one. And to add to this yes it was a difficult one. It took me a whole lifetime to just do it. I could hear the serene thuds with which my heart was falling. The outer noises seemed to soften out as a bead of perspiration rolled out off my head. 

Finally I emerged as one benevolent king who as if dabbling on his death bed had used all his lifetime’s energy just to do that final thing. With all my might I pressed the calling bell and pressed it hard. The daughter was the one who opened it. The door was opened and I walked back, back to my room.

This was all that I did, ever. After that sometimes such issues have happened but then such these stories have been rare, these aberrations are rare. You know that just a doorbell helps. Knowing that there are people around helps. That’s what I did.

All my life I had waited when it was just a doorbell that could have helped.

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One of the famous and effective campaigns in these areas.Although the ad I found out quite late but then any small thing can help,remember anything can,,,

Everyday thousands of women are facing this so called domestic abuse and the violence involved.
It is high time guys.

~Harsha