Retrospective..
For the weekend that went by,
For the moments you cherished,
For the moments you enjoyed,
For the moments you wish to relive,
Knowing that you wouldn’t have it back,
How ever hard you wish to be part of it,
How ever hard you wish to cringe about it,
How ever hard you wish to rewrite it,
How ever hard you wish to have done better.
But then every morning is supposed to be retrospective.
For you live that moment only once,
Never again to be repeated,
Never again to be corrected,
Never again to be enjoyed,
Loved, cared, worried, cried, hated and what not!!
Every Monday morning is for a retrospective.
Just like any other day in our life.

Alas, hope I don’t forget the present,
For the fear of my past or my future.

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Crime and punishment
Love and hatred,
You or me ?

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Commitment.
A word as scary as it could be,
By what it means.
A hard one though, to live by,
Realistically, practically and what not.

But then you find humans with soul,
Who live by it.
Why would one be committed!?
I shall ask..
Even when there is only a downward path to it..

What is it one gains?
What is it one loses?
Does it address the want ?
Does it address the need ?

Commitment,
Is it a need ?
Or a want ?

Does one need it or want it ?
Hey you..
Commitment.
I ask you..
Do you wish to be a want or just a need ?
I shall wait.. for your answer.
As committed I shall always be.

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“Oh, Captain! MY Captain..
Thank you for the new perspective in my life,
Your teachings it is.”
The teary eyed boys grew up to be Men.
They cried, for you,
Only for you.
They stood up,
For you.

Oh, Captain!MY Captain.
It was GOOD MORNING VIETNAM,
Even before,
GOOD MORNING MUMBAI OR BANGALORE.

“Not your fault” you said,
Enough.. for..
Good will hunting

You said “Reality, what a concept”
And dressed up as Mrs. Doubtfire.

But still, Robin, your echoes remain,
In punchlines and pain, in sunshine and rain.
So here’s to the man who made chaos art—
The jester who healed the world’s aching heart.

Oh Captain..MY CAPTAIN.

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Moments..
To enjoy,To despair,
To love,To hate,
To live,To die,
Yet we humans choose,
To worry,
About our past,Our future.
Never ever the present.The gift,
That shall go unnoticed.

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“Expecto patronum”
That’s what Harry Potter needed,
To save his loved ones from,
The dementors, the unforgiving ones,
The ones who cornered him and his loved ones too.
But then Harry wasn’t really talented by birth.
He had to learn it,
He had to experience it,
In person,
Multiple times,
To overcome it,
To survive it.
Just as Dumbledore said,
Happiness can be found,
In the darkest of times,
If one only remembers to,
TURN ON THE LIGHTS.

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The expressions?
The feelings?
Or just the ego?
Images, voice, eventually the captured moments,
Through a media which shall become redundant,
Eventually.
All shall vanish.

But what shall remain?
A smile,
The wind in the curly hair,
The uncertainties,
Which wasn’t even captured,
Not on media which is supposed to be redundant,
Like the rock art,
The black and white pics,
The digital pics and videos,
And what more?
All by (hu)man.

What can you hide?
Everything is to be seen..
However hard we try..
You and me or just US.

What are we trying to hide ??

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I wish I was Calvin,
And had a partner like Hobbes,
Just so that I could live and BE ALIVE.

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“Love, despair, survival and rebirth of a living being
For the humans- by The triple oak tree of New England”

The smile, the despair and the rejuvenation.

Staying green all along when the sun shines bright,
Taking in all the energy it needs, through its leaves,
“The spring”, all green.
Building itself up, growing strong, rising high up,
Expressing the greenest of itself to the outside,
Yet staying grounded and digging in deep through its roots.
Only to be discarded by the sun, when,
“The winter”, sets in,
The sun disappears, deprived of all the energy needed to survive,
Deprived by a totally new entity, the winter,
Its sun has disappeared.
What, when and how to survive?
The green within it disappears, new colors arise,
Red, orange and what not, the leaves shine bright,
Throwing a party of colors for others to enjoy,
But then it is how it survives, which a stranger shall never realise.
When the energy dries up, it sheds its own skin,
Drying out its leaves,
“The fall” occurs.
It shall plaster itself safe, from any harm with its own sap,
Its own blood, “its feelings”,
Waiting for “the spring” to arrive to “turn green”,
Yet again.
And repeat the cycle again.

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The writers block, which felt so never ending,
Release, that one’s mind always needs,
Usurping, the dream that felt so real,
Surpassing, the real you.
Taking yourself to new levels and depths of life

Trust…
That shall always maketh you.

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