Strangers They Were; Strangers they will be

On an unknown rocky rough path, lay a boulder at a side. The debilitating sun gleamed off its dark hard skin, hardened with torments of time. The mighty boulder stood so, firm and invulnerable, yet unworthy for an instance of genuine attention or a word of admiration. Often wanderers of the path, ridiculed it with an epithet, “The worthless phlegmatic burden.” As one of them carved on this rock, their favourite byname for it, with pride it took the mockery and crowned itself with the ludicrous sobriquet. Never it uttered a sigh of grief, and never it wiped off when they spat at it.

The sun can be merciless, and so can be life. A stranger who was passing by the rock, weakened by the sun, athirst was her soul, she craved for a drop of appeasement. The life-force stolen off her by the bandits of treachery and her smile taken away; there she was, left despaired and restless. She sat on the very boulder that never tasted thankfulness. The rock comforted her, on which she decided to spend some time. Blessed she was with time in abundance; for her, the path led nowhere, she floated rudderlessly as the remains of a wrecked ship. 

The rock never pronounced a syllable of wretchedness; the intrusion, it welcomed with an amiable warmth of its hard dermis. Anon, the garment of darkness with fine art of celestial bodies, draped the twilight; it was night. The cold wind even more cruel than the scorching heat of the day. But, the boulder kept the woman warm with its retained heat from the noon.

The rock bosomed the woman and while she laid on it in peace, the rock exhibited an incredible deed. Its heart from deep within the tough shell, hummed a mollifying lullaby, listening to which the woman let a smile take its place on her lips, and a solitary tear drop trickled down from her eye. The rock didn't let this priceless pearl stolen away by the wind; it opened its pores to let the drop of tear permeate into its heart. 

As the night progressed, while still in sleep she recited her tale of melancholy, and she scratched on the rock, her pain and agony. Pertaining to its imbecilic nature, the rock imprudently bought possession of the hurt, carved into its surface. Night soon passed while she slumbered like a child in the protection of the boulder. The therapeutic hum alleviated her suffering, and she was once again full with vigour. She, once again, had purpose and the path eagerly awaiting her to be walked upon. The rock, it seemed, had whispered the secrets of being merry and bestowed upon her the gift of equanimity, while she was asleep. 

Exhilarated and ready she was to continue her journey.  She looked ahead and saw that it was a long way to go. She dusted off the dirt of her shoes on the rock, and spat on it. Disdainfully she walked away without looking back, and the rock gawked in hope for a sign of gratitude. And, as her image misted away in the distance, it spoke with a gaping heart,

“As strangers they come, and yet strangers they are,
Never will I mourn again for my imbecilic heart, 
Nay will the world change, and never will I,
As a sanctuary here I lay, until I turn to dust and die.
And when you leave, which at last you will, 
Do look back to thank, as you walk down this hill,
But for now, restrain me not, wind, and let it swell,
May this be the last drop of tear that pours out of my well.”

In the journey of life, you would encounter “rocks,” that comfort you and ease you off your pain. They never care if you're a stranger or a friend, they just help. When you leave, please do look back to thank them, for it doesn't cost you a penny to do so, but for them, it's priceless.

Have a beautiful day ahead.

Copyright (c) 2014 Shine Jayakumar

Ode Of The Desert

One-two one-two, march of the brute soldiers,

Smite and kicks, “Out of my way, peasant!”

“Hail to our king, Dominicus, the Omnipresent”

Trumpeters roar, eulogizing faux hegemony

Lascivious indulgence, he was the agent of polygyny;

“At dawn of the seventh day, we bring down Theophilus”

Summoned he, the messenger, “Come hither, Ignoramus”

Coarse heedless dysphemism, “...pardon, my lord, it's Nicostratus”

Ah, matters least...thou must traverse past the valley of the dead

This word shalt make their souls shiver in dread”

“So be it my lord, I must leave now before it is dark”

With water and a dagger, on his white horse he embarks;

Cruel desert, and the soulless sand,

but inhumane was the message in hand

At a distance he witnesses a witchery unseen

Silhouette of a woman approaches, her eyes sea green

“What thou, owner of such beautiful face, seekest in this desert?”

Nicostratus, I comether to guide thee out of here

I sense a lost soul, and thy heart brimming with fear

Thou carry words of terror, inscribed on papyrus

Thy king, a blasphemous fool, together with Cyrus

They foresee victory in ravaging the just

Dominicus will fall, his weapon only good as rust

Thou must warn Theophilus, and there shalt thou seek refuge

With winds will I blind, and drown the evil with terrible deluge

Woman, how dost thou knowest so well about the future?

Thou knowest the King better, that inveterate suitor

Nicostratus, I know for my winds taste man's deeds from his breath

And surely can my sands tell, the living salt in thy sweat

Woman, grateful I am, what must I call thee?

So relieved I am, free from the King's decree

Nicostratus, I have no face, no form, no name

My existence sees no worth for fame

I dwell and rule, the earth and above

I author mortal emotions, of hate and love

Thou shalt never see this form, never in this realm

But, surely will thou see me, reigning my helm

My purpose fulfilled, I must bid thee farewell

I am nature herself, and in nature in dwell

Turned into sand she dissipated in the wind

Nicostratus, now destined to protect, as a paladin

The kind nature appeared as a balm to his hurt

And, so goes the legend, the ode of the desert

Copyright (c) 2014 Shine Jayakumar

My Chalice Never Brims

I am the one who was born with a chalice, moulded with immaterial silver. The chalice that cannot be delineated with a consummate artist’s imagination, for it is amorphous. I barely knew the significance of it; as a child, I was accustomed to innocent ignorance. Soon I was conditioned to incrementally and constantly fill this unfathomable chalice.

First came moral values and social constructs, and I pleasurably invited them, and poured them into my chalice. Though, this was not the inaugural addition; these were the first ones I remember. I looked at the inner bottom of the chalice to find some congenital attributes that were inherited. Miraculous it seemed, the chalice grew in size as I poured in more. This peculiar amalgamation of intellectual liquid in the chalice, sometimes seemed frivolous to me. Some of this uncanny liquid evaporated with time, and some supplanted with modernistic hot fluid and nonsensical newfangled believes, but some were a delight to my taste-buds.

I overheard a passer-by talk about a waterfall, “I have heard that it has mystical powers." 

My next expedition in search for the mystical waterfall - in my wagon I was on the path that led to the waterfall. I discovered the whereabouts of the waterfall, the perpetual one. Jubilance filled my heart, and I seized this moment and poured this feeling into my chalice. 

I touched the clear water of the waterfall and the mere touch projected in front of my eyes, torrent of obscure quick moving images. It was its benevolent act to show me the infinite possibilities. Evidently, this was its mystical secret. The locals called it, 'books,' and I filled my chalice with some of this water for it tasted sweeter than ever. 

I could fill my stomach, but never my chalice with this water. The villagers warned me of something, but I acted oblivious and disdainfully disregarded their suggestion. I was inebriated with the water's enthralling property, yet it was gratifying; it appeared so, if not for real.

I savoured each sip from the chalice; anon, it was befouled with vicious drops of avarice. I wilfully drank of this soporific mixture, and succumbed to its effects. I was now, the host to this parasitic supervisor whom I had no power over. Greed overpowered me and never could I fully perceive the water. This was what the villagers warned me about. But, it was too late as it disseminated itself to every nerve and every muscle. Its subliminal suggestions wickedly manoeuvred my thoughts; a belief was sowed deep in me - greed was crucial for my survival. 

Into my chalice, I poured more, but never was I able to fill it fully; never it brimmed with satisfaction. More were my wants and the wants were more with time, and more the chalice grew, vigorously.

With pride I let the chalice ride with me; the size of the chalice, and its silvery shine of vanity blinded my eyes. Yet, the subdued whisper in my heart never ceased. I was certain that it was the water of waterfall that still remained in my blood, in small quantities. Its query was just – it demanded the cause for my persistent imbecility of carrying this mountainous burden with me. Inexplicable the reasons were; I could never justify the existence of my chalice with venomous covetousness in it. Any thought of defying the 'greed,' was crushed; the greed made every other thought, feeble.

I wanted answers for the existence of this chalice that I was never able to satiate. 

The subdued voice echoed without fail, the answers to questions that troubled me; all it demanded was one instant of attention to the voice. It was verily my battle with greed and the protruding truth was, I never was the warrior who would defeat greed; I had the sword and the shield, but audacity was what I never had. The struggle seemed senseless, for my defeat was written.

The shimmering light of hope continued to furnish that little phlegm required to keep me alive as the sword was piercing through my chest. “All you have to do is empty your chalice,” whispered the voice in me. “What worth was the chalice whilst its bearer takes his last breath?” I let it all go, and I once again succumbed to the effects. But, this time it was not greed, but to life whom I succumbed to. I watched the 'vicious avarice,' pour out and permeate in to the ground. 

I watched greed leaving me and the small quantities of water from the waterfall, invigorating me with its life-force. I, once again, was breathing the air filled with sweet scent of simplicity, and every breath seemed to have nothing more to it but pure 'life.'

I now knew that the chalice was not to be fully filled, for it will never brim. I understood the simplicity of its reason to exist. The chalice was to be used as a carrier to hold the joy and wisdom, momentarily. Never was it moulded to hold its contents forever. And, as I still remember my inner voice whispered to me, “Thou shalt never find thy chalice empty, for it will be filled with wisdom of another. Thou must never indeed, wish to keep thy chalice filled forever, and must pour it out to the one with an empty chalice. Thou must never cease to give, for the more thou pour out, the more thou can receive.”

Copyright (c) 2014 Shine Jayakumar

Oh Fear, How I Love Thee

We look at "fear," as an abomination, but as we look at the beautiful side of this less understood element we would know how deeply we're connected with our fears and how blindly we're in love with it...

[ Photo Credit: pinholepeek.blogspot.com ]

As an unborn in my mother's womb, I knew not of you. When I was born, I felt secure in her shield of love, and under her wings of protection I crawled the ground. I cried when hunger troubled me, and the merciless sun scorched my skin. I was vulnerable to even the softest wind that carried grains of sand along with it. Yet, I was not troubled by your thought; You did show yourself to me, yet I was not afraid.

I grew, and learned more of this world. Innocently playing in the lawn, I saw a glimpse of you in my peripheral vision. Dressed in a dark robe, you had no face. Your smoky grey and ghostly silhouette, couldn't frighten me, nor did the eight-legged abomination which suspended itself in the air, in my room.  I did recognize you; your unwelcome visit took away my sleep that night.

I was two, I tripped over a brick, and hurt my knee; it left me bleeding. The first cut I remember; the wound healed, but you returned when I wanted to play in the lawn again. I saw your dark shadow near the brick, you started to haunt me ever since. Years passed and you appeared to me innumerable times. Your startling manifestation left me perturbed; this had to stop. I forged an ultimate shield, “lie”.

I tricked you, deceived you, and with 'lies', my cloak of invisibility, I fooled you. I was overwhelmed by my attainment, but soon it filled my heart with despondency, and an air of melancholy swaddled me; I realized that my shield was not ultimate, as it fell apart, it shattered and it was incompetent.

I feel on my face, tasting the bitter ground, wetted with my tears; I prostrated with submission. This was the time you revealed your untold mysteries. My life flashed in front of my eyes; verily I was hallucinating. Yet, I still had supervision over my consciousness; my soul was not yet claimed, contrary to what I anticipated. You falsified my ill understand; you enlightened me with the truth, and refuted my perception.

I realized that you were the reason I survived; you warned me off the wicked strategies. You foretold me of the unseen perils. You brought forth courage in me; I could walk the unknown paths for the 'fear of unknown' made me watchful. My companion succumbed to the bullets of the enemy, he promised that he would make it alive, out of the bloody battleground, with me; he lied, he left me with his wholly mutilated body while his soul departed, but you were with me all along, and the 'fear of death', elevated my weary soul. I fought my way out.

Twenty six years passed, I see you now, with a different perceptive. I see you now, as I saw you as a child; your dark robe and hollow smoky silhouette doesn't scare me any more. You're not a foe; you were that one unswerving faithful companion, who pulled my out of the mouth of death itself. You are the one, who once left the death frightened.

Behold, THE FEAR; oh how I love thee.

Falling Now To Rise Again

Happy? Never been sad ever in your life? Well, please allow me to kindly slap this reality right on your face -  you had been there, haven't you? The times when you know that none of your friends, your so called spiritually-juicy web pages or videos, or anything that claims to pump up your hope can ever help you. You simply lost the connection. They don't relate to you any more.

[Photo Credit: Pinterest.com]

It hurts when shit happens to you and that's the only time you REALLY CARE. Sometimes, you don't even need an excuse to loose yourself and give in to your enervating circumstances as they are ready to serve you with despair. With every breath you fill your lungs with dense smoke of poisoning hopelessness. As if death would be an obvious choice that you would have chosen, but somehow you want to smoulder in a seemingly everlasting despondency. It gives you pleasure to be in such a pain. Sometime it does, doesn't it? Did you ever wanted to cut yourself to see if it bleeds? Hurt yourself to know if pain can ever be pleasurable?

How About Some Advice?

I had always imagined a handful of creative ideas to shove those advices back into the windpipes of those who gave them, only because I never wanted to get my hand dirty as I put their advices back from where they really came from - their rectum.

Sir/Ma'am, grant me the pleasure to serve you with another bitter truth - there are more fingers in your left hand than the number of people who really care for you. And if you're lucky to have those who care for you then hold them close with whatever you have and never let them go. Never trade them for anything else. I wasn't that lucky. You see, they sympathized to my situation just because they knew that laughing out loud would have been too rude.

Wish Facebook Had An Empathy Meter

I had more than 350 "friends" on Facebook, but I was all alone when I needed someone to talk to. When I posted my predicament in the most eloquent way I could, no one cared to read or react. That was the time when I wished that Facebook should also have had an empathy meter to rate how much people care for you on a scale of 1 to 10.

Fall And Rise Again

You know what's good for you and what's not. Sometimes you don't an advice but you still seek them because you want to hear what you want to hear, and you want to hear it from the the people who pamper you. You expect them to treat you the same every time without fail and with no exceptions. You know, all you need to do is loosen up and give in.

I think those advices never instantly worked for me. I takes time and that's what we need to give to ourselves.

Here is what you can do:

1. Cut the source of agony: Detach yourself from what's hurting you. If you can't ignore it, move away from it as far as you can.
2. Don't fight the memories: You can't stop memories from haunting you. You must face them. There's no easy way to erase them of your mind; not that I know off. It's like me telling you NOT to think about the colour white. Did you just think about "white?" If you did then you just got my point. You can't remind your mind to forget something because the moment you're doing that you're actually thinking about the memory, and unequivocally empowering the thought. You're giving it a new life so it can reappear. Memories are there for a reason. These are gifts you must carry. They teach you something new. They conduce to the making of the new you. When they come don't be afraid. Just don't react to them. They will come and they will go. Don't get stuck with them. They will pass if you let them to.
3. Give in and fall: Yes, falling into that dark horrible pit you're scared of is what you might need to do. People get caught in their own fight to prove to themselves that they're stronger, that they don't need help, they're phlegmatic and don't feel pain. They can be stubborn to prove their point. All it takes is stop fighting. Cry all you want. Scream out to God or any other imaginary deity (What, did you say imaginary?) you think you can blame and move on. You know what, crying can actually help you recover. Don't believe me unless you check out these links: Crying - Powerful stress buster and healer and Stress buster to the rescue!.
4. Inner peace ain't a joke: No, I haven't attained nirvana and found inner peace but the process did help me a lot. Calming the tempest in your mind can be tough. Meditation can help you get through it. Check out these links: Meditation for Peace of Mind, and 3 Practices to calm an anxious mind. 
5. What if you can't do any of that: Can't do any of that? Just sit down and be comfortable, close your eyes and watch your breath. Do it as far as it lasts. Either you will fall asleep or you will snap back to reality which you apparently never left. 
6. Indulge yourself: Involve yourself in something that gives you happiness. You know what I do? I write, play basketball, play guitar, go for a lone ride, or try to make people laugh. No, don't you dare try to carry that gloomy face while you're doing something you love. You know you can't play basketball or make people laugh with a sad face. Oh yeah you're starting to get it. Preferably, try to do something that involves friends. Get your sore butt out in public and meet people. Never try to be a spot of attention and tell people you're sad. In my personal opinion (no, don't shove it up my butt), you don't have to necessarily excessively share your sadness because people don't like being sad. The person you're looking at, himself/herself, might just be a replica of you who is looking forward to meet happy people. It's okay to share but don't bother them much.You don't need their sympathy. Try to give everything you have in doing something you like and with time you will notice that things that bothered you don't bother you much any more and soon you will watch it fade into nihility (or close to it) where it doesn't bother you at all. It would be a part of you but it won't hurt.

You know that universe tries to bring you things you think about. It lines up what you want and feel deep in your heart. Believe in yourself and try to be happy whenever you can. Did you notice that I said "whenever you can?" That's because we're humans and it's not possible for us to be the Joker from a Batman movie or ever happy yellow smiley from an emoticon list. You can be sad, but make sure you kick out of it soon, be aware that you're sad and it's time to switch emotions. Distract yourself and give yourself a chance to be happy.

See you soon again.

A Priceless Moment - Sinking Deep Into The Unfathomable Abyss

A New Face Uncovered

Love, at all times, brings out the hidden façades of a man; not necessarily the ones that are socially unacceptable and deplorable as one might presume, but those ones which are uncanny and surprising in its very existence, yet lovable. Those façades that you never knew ever dwelled in you until they were triggered to activation by a living and breathing stimulus of the opposite sex. Here I come face-to-face with a new face of myself.

Eccentric Experience

A girl who seems so special and inexplicably important to me, all of a sudden. The first day I saw her, my eyes uncontrollably followed her ways, those lips curving into a smile, her sweet little eyes embellished with spectacles, her long straight dark hair falling over her shoulders, all of which gave me clues of a sprouting dread. Apparently, I gathered much of the details in short period of time.

I left my curiosity to learn the rest of it. And soon enough, I found myself appreciating the fate that brought her closer to my vicinity, where I could see her more often.

Her irresistible charm is verily intoxicating each ounce of my mind. The inebriating smile, the vicious looks, the uniqueness in everything that she does, I infer, it is so hard to maintain sangfroid. I am not in power to resist. All I can do, and doing, is to succumb to her overpowering charisma.

She speaks tongue of a mature woman, yet her eyes never hesitate to display impishness.

This emotional tempest is blowing me through a euphoric ether. A blissful state I would love to be at, all day long, and which keeps me awake at nights. This ecstatic effervescence that fills my dry heart.

It doesn't matter where this road ends, or how it ends, but who wants to think of an end while the sail is set high and winds are sailing my rudderless boat to an unknown but possibly a happy place? I love being lost in this cloud full of joy.

In one fine rainy day, when I will lay in my grave resting, I would have an eternity to think about, and probably relive, this unequivocally priceless moment.