I came across a beautiful form of poetry I didn’t know of before. Thought I’d give it a couple of shots.

I am a novice at this, suggestions are most welcome and most appreciated! ūüôā


Look into her eyes
I Search for a future
But see the past


The smell of rice
Imagined as if were true
My stomach bellows


Near the deep end
Of a river too fast
Feet slip away


Ant crawls
Grain of sugar on its back
The fit survive


Thank you.

Severus Snape

We have all seen Harry Potter 7. If you think you haven’t or can’t recall something, no reason to worry. You will still know what I am talking about here.

A scene from the movie which struck me the most and is embedded in my head is the one with Snape solemnly confessing “Always.” Quite a tearjerker.

And that, when I don’t cry easy in movies. Generally, it’d take a dying guide dog trying to comfort a fatally injured bed-ridden blind kid to make me go *sniff*…. I am kidding, of course. Just the dying dog might be enough – Images from “Marley and Me” cropping up in my head already ūüė¶

But, back to the point I was trying to make. Snape loved Harry’s mother, but unfortunately, wasn’t Harry’s daddy. (Except for the times he’d kick Harry’s ass at freestyle rap and go “Who’s yo daddy now, beyatch?”)

Jokes aside, I truly felt for the guy. He loved a woman who he could not ever be with, a fact that he knew well. His was a hand that reached out, forever waiting for another to hold it, and to make him complete. No matter what the odds, he gave off a sense that he genuinely felt that there was always hope around the corner. It was a love you don’t see of too often. His was also a love that one wishes one would feel for someone or have someone feel for one, some day in the not too distant future. A feeling so intense that it would transcend not just space and time, but the barrier between life and death, a feeling too powerful to be explained or to be grasped, so as to be able to let go of it. Snape loved like no other, and no other could love like Snape.

It would be the epitome of the word “love”, no doubts, but it begs a question. Could it be that it was so because it was simply undisturbed by the tribulations of reality, of an involved relationship?

10 minutes – Vol 2

Hello, this is the second installment in a series I hope will persist *Fingers crossed*. It‚Äôs supposed to be random 10 minute thought experiments about a topic which currently (and by currently, I mean the current moment plus-minus 15 minutes) plagues that biggish thing up-top. ‚ÄėEre goes ‚Äď

Beauty is so subjective.

Some time back, I chanced upon a music video online, where the beauty of the singer didn’t strike me in particular at the outset. But as the lyrics flowed, without another look at the person throughout the song, I had a changed view of the woman. The innocence in her words added a beauty to her whole persona that I didn’t know existed, till the feelings seeped through the musical fabric. It made me wonder, then, do I like “innocent” women? (to put it very crudely)

The query answered itself in a minute, albeit negatively. It wasn’t the innocence per se, but rather, the association of a characteristic so strongly and beautifully expressed that enhanced the original view. If, say, it was a woman singing about mature sexual themes, some other sense of beauty would have definitely sprung up. To test the theory, I resorted to certain means and let’s just take my word for it as I solemnly swear that the theory has been irrevocably QEDed.

Beauty’s quite amazing. Not just because it is in the eyes of the beholder, but also because of a pleasant lack of knowledge on our parts, about what all events/characteristics might actually change the way we see it in surprising ways. Every little turn on the road could be a factor to alter the beauty of the beholdee. Beauty ages like fine wine, then, maturing into something that transcends a mere tri-dimensional view of a person. Another reason for long and happy marriages, perhaps?

10 minutes – Vol 1

Hello, this is a post which I hope would be one in a series *Fingers crossed*. It’s supposed to be random 10 minute thought experiments about a topic which currently (and by currently, I mean the current moment plus-minus 15 minutes) plagues that biggish thing up-top. ‘Ere goes –

I feel at home with the strangers. I feel at home with the weirdos. At the outset of writing this little 10 minute piece, I think I assigned it to be one of the self-pity ones.
Like, I am so depressed I try to seek the rung of society no one else would, and that I am so attention-starved all of a sudden that the simplest, easiest form of attention would be doing me a solid. But I think a new light, this must be looked under. A fresh pair of perspectives and a dash of positivity could lift this article. 

So yes, I think strangers and freaks are cool. People like the ones you see on the street, not begging, but prancing proudly about, singing loony tunes, walking funny, making you suspect their state of sobriety, yet giving one a twinge of longing for the kind of freedom the loony guy seems to be having at the very first glance. Then of course, and rightly so, enters a more rational realization of the person’s situation and you decide to rather be where you are than the once-coveted alternative.

But these people fascinate me. They make me question what is it that the person is truly feeling and how. Is it happiness? Is it carelessness? Is it a life of recklessness driven by desperation?What was it that this guy used to be? How did he get here? In a single query – What’s the back story here?

For instance, I look at a eunuch and I see the creepy exterior. I see the way that people on the train or in auto-rickshaws get scared, disgusted, downright repulsed even, and I try to imagine the response to these reactions of the eunuch begging for the alms. Correction – “practically demanding”. What strikes me most is the pride. A beggar could probably not choose to be a chooser or otherwise, but a eunuch would be damned if he/she isn’t! I have seen them downright rejecting offers of paltry sums that one would probably spend haggling with a vending machine, with a snide, and admittedly funny, remark. The body language and the face reflect a confidence. Where it stems from, and what infinite sink sustains it has intrigued me quite a bit in recent times.

Just to mess with a eunuch once, I gave him/her a not-quite-indigenous chocolate a friend had got me. Curiosity had overtaken me by the time said eunuch had worked through the train compartment I was traveling in, at the time. What would be the reaction? What would be the retort? Nothing too complex came out of it, except for a pleasantly surprised smile and a small conversation regarding the whereabouts and what-nots of the offering. What made the deal slightly sweeter was the slightly aghast stares from the fellow passengers (*smug smile*)

I think, in conclusion and in repetition, that I seek out the weirdos in a place because I feel at home. No matter how much it might be a creation of my mind, and no matter how much of it is probably me trying to imagine a plightful situation for myself to justify the vacuum I feel that I live in, but home’s home alright.

The verbose night

The skies clear
To let the moon
Be your guide
Through your journey
Wavy as the tide

The sun’s down
As clarity dawns
Clear as the crystals
Only the ones that shine

The path clears
‘Midst the mist of time
As you emerge
Scarred and scathed

“Follow the path”
Says the night
“Follow till you can’t anymore.
Follow till you reach that light”

“There shan’t ever be any
Reason to cry.
And no reason
To question why you smile”

“Follow the path child, for it is bright.
But Not as bright
As the soul you shall be
Near the light.”

“Leave the worries
Cast away the fright.
Follow the light, child
For it’s the darkest night”

Imperfectly perfect

Something I wrote for someone I felt some things, some time back –
(A few things would be probably a little personal; but hey,what the hell.)

Qualities scrutinised
Quirks that are perfectly good
Every person has some
& So do you…

But now that I think about them
I can recall none
I speculate as to why
And the answer dawns, clear as the sun

Hard to believe it might be
Seeing how I have strayed from this Frequently & Unabashedly
But I wish I could explain

How to my four lenses
You are the embodiment
Of a creature truly magnificent

Not perfect, mind you.
Not a square block
But a piece of a puzzle
One I’d be lucky to solve

From the net balance of your beauty
In my head that I have,
Your minuses you have helped subtract
And positives you have helped add!

& Yes,

Differences we have had
And fights we have fought
Yet I wouldn’t give up our imperfection
For all the peace in the world

I wish at times
I could be more perfect
More compatible
More compassionate

Yet there’s an echo in my head
One I heard from a planet massive Be what you are
Cos that would be perfect! ūüôā

When do _you_ wanna die?

The following post is inspired as a response to yet another brilliant blog by the brilliant duo at waitbutwhy. The link is down below. If you are still here, do go check it out first. Worth the click and the 10 minute read!


TL;DR –¬†Self-preservation is not my strongest instinct.

I say choose a mortal life. Good enough for me to have to live a normal one, to have to fall in abnormal love, and to have kids and to explore the super-normal world. Plus, since superpowers are not hashed out in the dealio, there is not much to look forward to¬†in those extended life spans. Also, no kids is not quite ideal. And who would¬†want to see everyone around them die? It’d be like that cool guy from “The Man from Earth”. I came off feeling a little sad for him.¬†Dunno if sad would be the right word though. Guy had some adventures!¬†Anywho, I digress; From all the morbidity and all those deaths. . . . I mean, most of the people I know that I really care about (parents, most family, most friends) will not choose to live forever. A life without people I care about right now and those that I won’t be allowed to bring to existence anytime in the future seems drab and, quite¬†like Professor Oldman, lonely.

Frankly, a lifespan longer than our current average¬†seems.. sub-optimal. If we aren’t already lazy bums who won’t even enjoy a sunny day to sleep in so that we can enjoy the starry night getting drunk indoors, is there even a point to giving us the free time to waste away more of it?¬†Personally, a longer life span would make me lazier. If a college group project deadline extension can cause a complete loss of self-respect through a night of self-indulgence in front of a laptop screen (Ah, innuendos) with a groggy hangover the morning after and a helping of self-hate, one can only imagine the carnage if I enter an infinite number on that calci. *shudders*

I think I’d rather enjoy & learn things as much as I can, keeping in mind that there’s an expiry date on my head. It might just keep all that excess lethargy at bay.

Plus, the no-kids is a deal breaker. I didn’t know this till some time back, but I am very fond of kids related to me. The “you-won’t-be-able-to-commit-suicide” is a problem that a good friend pointed out in one of his opinions (quite conspicuously using “you” instead of “I”….) but the “you-won’t-have-kids-ever” seems much more severe. Not being close enough to either of those thoughts in my head at the moment, I guess my opinion is molded by me having thought much more often about the latter in the past than the former. Upon my showing my friends pictures of my adorable, bubbly niece, they took no time in pointing out the¬†“paternal instincts” I apparently have to my blinded self.¬†I do want to have kids of my own someday. I would definitely like to be a father, and part some wisdom and gain some. If I choose to enter in an age, I could adopt, but that poor child is not very likely to have been given the choice of a calculator, is he? I’d have to see my own kid die in front of me and as Murph rightly tells Cooper “No parent should¬†have to watch their child die”. Nope; mortality has its charms.

It does seem a little selfish too. All living and no death makes Jack a resource-guzzling vampire! He sucks the blood out of the life force of the earth. Think about it this way – If everyone in the world were to choose “infinity” as the age they want to live to, they’d be continuing the human species through themselves. They would be the frontier of our race. They would be bored as hell too, of course. Not the best representatives (or would they be?) of our glorious humankind.

This is,¬†surely,¬†an extremely extreme scenario. Look at another milder one. If, say, everyone does choose an age (other than infinity) it would imply they will live upto a certain age and die off. No procreation, no kids. No more humans. It would be the end of a species who has fought tooth and nail and has become (no matter however destructively) the apex of the food chain. We have as a species done some shit, no doubt. But, we have also done some good things to slightly redeem ourselves in the eyes of our future generations. Bereaving ourselves of the opportunity to earn some more forgiveness and, for once, to give back, seems unfair to everyone. We would be the last generation. We would be the last ones of our species to ever walk this earth. Period…

Then again, these are scenarios when everyone has been made to choose that calculator to make themselves live. But, how about the case where some do and some do not fix a date with death? In my view, it’s a trade-off at the end of the day. You either live through yourself or you live through the generations you will spawn after you. It’s a simple choice, i guess. Personally, I am more inclined towards¬†the latter.¬†A life that nature has provided generously enough, and one that it shall take away when my time’s up. Some things are better left out of one’s control, I say.

Do leave your response to the question posed on the brilliant link. Doesn’t matter if it’s in the comments below, in the comments on their page, in your own personal blogs. If it has made you think, it was more than worth it.