The fresh feelings,
The warm healings,
Our memories began to tread,
In a thread that vastly spread,
The sharks came along,
And our love didn't prolong,
You deserted me,
Waves submerged me,
I think I have forfeited now,
To break the promised vow,
Emotions reached its lowest downs,
Dragging me to unknown towns,
My broken life trails behind a vast crew,
I am a lifeboat, left adrift, without you.

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Artists are selective about the words they use to depict a particular art. They always get engrossed in a loopy rail of thoughts when asked for a deduction from an artwork. A deliberate flick of dashes in a painting, an elevation of beats in a symphony, an emotional draft of a writer or an abstract object moulded by an amateur craftsman, no matter whatever the artwork is, if the flicks, beats, emotions and abstractions hit a deep and nostalgic chord, then and then only the artist will proclaim it to be 'beautiful'. According to them, a visually appealing art cannot possess beauty if it lacks depth.

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Our species is wired in an exquisite arrangement of nerves that we are downright emotional for everything around us. A grumpy old man, barking barbarous words at us is enough to ruin our gleeful day. We pick up the strain of afflictive anxiety quickly or a sudden gloomy thought could affect us in a flash too. After that, a sympathetic stare, a tender hug and a compassionate massage takes hours to induce the comfort of contentment in our mind. Why? Because we are born pessimists. Only our environment, thoughts and relationships, amalgamate the slivers of optimism within us.

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A whole new dimension of existence would have dawned with compassionate and hospitable human beings, if soul transfers could be scientifically possible. Perceptional revelations would be a common trend when men would walk through the lives of women going through the phases of menstruation, pregnancy and childbirth. The generations of that era would then be more courteous, admirable, rearing and respectful towards women compared to the stained history.

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जिन्होंने चुना कला और साहित्य को,
या वो सभी मन जो लांघ गये
इक तयशुदा दायरा...
उन्होंने ईश्वर के मन में झांक लिया...
ईश्वर होना जान लिया...

(अनुशीर्षक में)

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In a turbulent world, we filter ourselves from the baseless gibberish and isolate into a tranquil room for our chain of thoughts are too valuable, too cherished that we gift them time and ink to flourish into a priceless book.

-

The media have been seeping slowly into our conscious minds, but the general population hardly recognize this. Nowadays, people are worried more about their complexion, sexual appeal, attire and status, thanks to media ads. Plastic surgeries, protein intakes, multilayered makeup sets and all the jargon have zipped the human intellect to a minimal dot, that the generations, nowadays, prefer to listen to songs that amplify the advantages of having gigantic booties and a cataclysmic cocks. Alas!

-

I love being artistic...
Because
It's EFFORTLESS...

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Give your love, to a writer;
You'll see your story,
In verses, they weave.

Give your love, to a painter;
You'll find your image,
In oeuvres, they create.

Give your love, to a singer;
You'll be the hero,
In the music, they espouse.

Give your love, to artists;
You'll be immortalized,
In every way.

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.......

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