I Once Attended A Perfect Funeral

I was too young,

To either remember,

Or fathom the repercussions,

Of mortality.

All I remember,

Was the crowd,

The weather,

And the cemetery.

I

once attended a perfect funeral.

Perfect in the sense that,

All we associate with death,

And gloom

Was present in plenty.

I’ve been to many funeral,

None before,

But many after that.

None came anywhere close to it.

Not even in the far vicinity.

I believe

The first experience of anything is unique.

Whether it be the first time we lusted,

Or First time we realised,

The concept of mortality

Our ephemeral existence.

**

Via Daily Prompt: Inchoate

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Questionable Sanity

On certain days,

It is easier to be,

To exist, burning hopes

To the scintillating life.

But their exists a vacancy,

Or maybe a forever lingering presence,

Of fleeting moments,

Of questionable sanity,

When it is the equivalent

Of swallowing sharp stones.

The days when looking at your own reflection

In the mirror, becomes evident

Of staring in the eyes of a stranger.

Those days,

They are just too much for some,

And for some,

It is the chaos in which they exist,

The questionable sanity

In which their fluttering heart

Stays still.

The Fragile Shells of Doubt

Each soul,

Neither man nor woman,

Is held captive

By its self inflicted doubt,

Each

bone that is shattered by

The ever growing doubt,

Ultimately transforms into the bolt,

The bolt by which the door is held in its place,

The door between greatness,

And futile existence.

The barricades of fantasy

Could burn reality,

And desires if they are built

On the ground of anxious thinking.

Instead of water,

The drops of rain feels like needle,

Instigating abrasion of agony,

Only if we strip ourselves,

Only if we empower our doubts.

Only if we incubate in the shells,

The fragile yet unbroken shells of doubts.

Self Preservations, That’s All

It’s difficult to change routine.

I am not feeling the same thrill I used to a few months back.

It isn’t writer’s block. No, I won’t call it that. Writer’s block is when you can’t put your words on to paper. I do not struggle with that.

I struggle with the desire to do it. Before I even start, I end up imagining how the write-up will end up looking like. And I make myself believe I have written a hundred things like that.

There isn’t anything wrong with that. Not to my knowledge. The difficult part is making peace with the fact I put it on a blog.

Continue reading “Self Preservations, That’s All”

Seasons Of Life

As promised, here we are.

Shall we do introductions, or straight dive in the conflict? Why are we even bothering, we all know what I am going to do.

There is a hindi proverb (I’m Indian after all, though people have their doubts).

“Waqt se pehle aur kismat se zyada kisi ko kuch nahi milta.”

The closest English translation would be, “No one gets anything more, or before time, than what is written in their fate.”

Hey don’t look at me, my hindi is horrible. Like I said, people have their doubts.

I won’t agree with the fate part, but I do agree with the part about time. Unless you do your due diligence, you’ll never achieve the results you wish to achieve.

I’m a biochemist so I can only talk from that point of view. Unless I did my masters, unless I performed necessary experiments, unless I developed the skills required for an immunologist, I wouldn’t have been able to do justification to my PhD.

You see how I didn’t use the term I couldn’t have been able to get into PhD? Sadly, these days almost anyone can get into a PhD program in India. Believe me, I’m not joking. And before I end up sounding like a bitter jealous scholar, let’s drop the matter there.

See, I’m a nerd, that’s who I am, so I’ll always talk about science. But the truth of time will hold true. Always, and everywhere.

Can you get into a six figure paying job unless you do your due diligence? Unless you suffer for years? Actually suffer is too strong a word. Let’s say, unless you sweat for years developing your skills.

That’d be more in layman terms.

There are phases for everything. Life teaches us all different lessons. There aren’t any good or bad lessons, just different lessons.

Everything teaches us something. Everything has its season.

**

Via Daily Prompt: Loophole