If you close your Eyes, you can only block what you See.
If you close your Mind you will block your Power to See Beyond your Visual.

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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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Dear Diary,

Its her childhood video, that's concerning me. We were out at a traditional Indian restaurant ; she was eager for a north Indian course. Her impatient palms smacked the table few times to stun the bewildered waiters who were slow to deliver. She dug in as soon as the plate popped in. I had to tear the wheat chapati to several crumbs for her as she dipped them into the curries around. Her scurried actions were noticed by many elders passing our table. Her roly-poly cheeks, tiny chin and a small part of her nose was pasted with all the curries she had dropped off into her mouth. She was 6 but she consumed all of the food before the 20 year olds there. I lost that video in the 15 years that have rolled by. When we have a fight I used to replay the video and cheer up. After finishing her food that day, she had made a chirpy noise, I think it was a burp, and I'd give everything to listen to it again. Please.

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Equilibrium and balance; two of the most overrated occurrences among human lives, that a fluctuating career in a person's life is frowned upon by most of the onlookers because they don't see stability in it. These are the same ones who ardently search for meaningful stories in advertisements, magazines, novels and other mediums, but forbid their children from pursuing equanimity in the field of art.

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The rusty compass points North,
Bewildering me in maximal loath,
The sails rattle, tremble in the storm,
That card game is our common norm,
They question, they suspect, my promises,
I shout, I brag about my experiences,
A heap full of treasures was the bait,
To gather this crew, before the fate,
Our food, our drinks have voided now,
I am a captain, cast away from their bow,
They gaze at me, with those deprived eyes,
I am lost in the maze of my own lies,
A week, a month, passes by,
Finally finally, some land in sight,
"Treasure, Treasure", a weak voice cries,
As I lie there, weak with my final bread slice,
I open my eyes, with a painful groan,
And you stare at me, with a puzzled moan,
"Treasure, Treasure", the weak voice cries,
As I absorb you, my angelic price.

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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!

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When she left me,
I lost her dream of mine.
And at the end,
I lost myself.

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Don't be a
visual error of a
romantic painting.

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I sat down to write and found out the

Q uest for
U nique thoughts,
O ften begins with the
T ransformation of
E xternal
S ights to visual words..

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