To Whom.

To the ramblings of a procrastinating mind.
To the beauty of lazy dreams.
To unending peace and palpable joy.
To the silence of a cellphone laid to rest.
To the world shut out from chaos.
To a seeming victory over lesser mortals.

To brewing romance.
To past times.
To leisure and everything orderly.
To the summer breeze.
To calmed sensibities.
To joy.
To you.
To me.

The Woman.

It's the scent of that woman that you'll remember.
It's the wind that whisked through her hair that you'll recall.
And when she passed the twists and turns, playing under the beam of the fading sunlight.
In the drinks she spilled over leftover conversations.
In the smell of coffee that brewed across her favorite bistro.
Her broken trinkets in the corners of your window sill.

And how she talked of faraway castles, dreams of treading unknown lands with her lover.
You'll fondly remember her for her unendling flowing drapes.
How she jumped at the thought of trading through bazaars.
You'll reminisce her chain of advices, pumped at times when you dipped low
For all that she did or said, that flashed joy across your countenance
For all that she was, that make you think of her
Between hours, odd or fair

Because she made you feel what it was to feel
She made you run through your own emotions that ran deep down
Because she appeared in the brightness of the day, to make it brighter than it could
Because she made you fall in love. 

White or black. No colour in your becoming.

How do you manage being so utilitarian at all times. You think of the need, the utility, the outcome. It’s charted, marked at every hour. You give no scope to create, reinvent, explore. No scope for words to mould dreams, or the other way round. There’s no walking in-between the black and white contours of your thought process. In fact, there is no thought process. Because the route is marked.

What happens to my dreams then? What becomes of those I dreamt in the day, under the bright light of the Sun. Under the gushing winds of a summer afternoon, that took me to places you couldn’t even think of? 

Because there is no thought process for you.  Of any form.You don’t weave dreams or steal ideas. Is it so badly programmed in your routine? There are no changes, no impulses. No last minute reactions, or calling back to reflect what you thought could be different. So, is that to say, there are no mistakes? That it’s a fool-proof plan?

Because mine is laden with errors. I stumble upon them almost every morning. I reflect on them at the hour when your protocols are being called out. I make changes, I alter routes. I walk on my impulses, not thinking whether it’d evoke judgment. Yet, I am able to walk between the black and the white. And those contours are rather colorful. Because, there is a thought process. At all times. 

Notes to the cribbers in town:

1.Stop writing talking expressing about anything that's gloomy or melancholic. 
2.No, your grumpy status messages don't extract the sympathy from my heart to reach out and comfort you.   Maybe a whack in time, could've shaken and stirred the normalcy in you.
3.You're not allowed to be crybabies after the age of four, even mommy won't entertain your fits. 
4.It's not fair to consume all the philosophical and profound chatter provided, all by yourself; other cribbers get insecure and might cause deeper problems.
5.You can't be exploiting the limited time of beauty at hand of those poor, seemingly considerate youths. You don't care about your own depleting charm, you're allowed to let it perish. 
6.Last, please please stop using public platforms to wash your dirty linen. Get a life, move beyond  Facebook. 

Too social, are we?

Every platform of social networking is going to be one of the causes for this world to end. If at all the world ends. December, last year, was quite disappointing, you know. I mean, come on, the entire year last year, most of us were ranting about what would be our last wishes, if the world was to end. Not dying single was the most common, by the way. People would tweet updates, maybe five per hour, then there would be updates on Facebook; with pictures uploaded with their respective loved ones, gathering a hundred 'likes'. If only, the world ended.

It's amusing, no? Our lives seem to revolve around different profiles we own on different social networking handles. Many of us, walk an extra mile for it too. The worst explanation for it that I heard from someone once was, that human beings are social animals. I couldn't help but laugh on his face. I'm not a fan of such social hubs anyway. However, I don't deny being a part of the ruckus to an extent. Nonetheless, I made a few deductions from the buzz that seems to have topped the priority charts for many of us.

The first has to be our photographs. Oh lord. Girls and boys, men and women. Travelling to the best or worst parts of the world, only care about the right photographs that must be clicked. Swearing by their profile pictures and the attention it garners, they go to bed hoping that everyone will love their latest pictures on their profile. Everyone loves attention, agreed. But then, these poser's frenzy is scary!

Second, status updates. These are interesting. Maybe annoying, at times. But very very informative. More than news channels. As soon as you login, you'll know who shopped for what at the discount sale, who attended the candle light march, who's upset because her boyfriend is ignoring her on Whatsapp, who's angry about the corruption level in the country. Hell yeah! It's not even funny. It becomes a vicious circle, cos everyone wants to know everything that's happening in other's lives all the time. Since we're social animals.

Third. And this being my favorite. I call it the like-dislike syndrome. As if a hundred updates weren't enough, there are people who go upto others and them ask them to like, comment, retweet their status messages, photos, existing comments and other such things. Couples fighting over why he didn't like her picture, even when he was online. Or why he liked her picture, but didn't talk to her the next day. I'm not even making all this up.

I don't think most of us would survive if, even for a day, our accounts on all these sites becomes dysfunctional  Addiction is maybe a small word. The power of such virtual social interaction controls us to such a grave extent, that we're willing to switch our real selves with what might be socially, virtually acceptable. To fit in, has become the protocol. Surprisingly, the quality of real-time interaction goes on to remain the same, or even deteriorate for some.

Well, yeah. Since human being is a social animal. Maybe I should quote him somewhere on my Facebook or Twitter account. 

Magic Being.

There are days, when you come across a person, or persons, who completely bowl you over. They make you jump out of the bed, in the earliest hour of the day, and mumble to yourself, "Oh boy! What a being!" Not  that they appear uncommon or extraordinary, not that they speak words that you must have never heard before. They may not even have such an enormous following among peers. But then, they begin to talk of the simplest things, that strike like magic in your head. They may not be your closest friends, yet, they understand what it takes to be understood.
They won't hoard you with advice. In fact, they won't offer a solution at all. They simply talk, of how things have been at their end, or at the world's end. And there you find, a solution shimmering among the clutter!

Count yourself lucky, if you meet someone like that. The joy isn't measurable in words.
I did, and relished it. And still cherish it. 

Oh you'll give me your advice? You want to die?

I still remember this advertisement I saw a few years back, that showed how our society has probably the best advisers in time. Whether you need it or not, whether you know it or not, an expert advice is always hanging around there. All you need is a problem to throw you in that pit, from where experts would rescue you. These people, with kick-ass insight, seem to know everything! Talent, eh.

Well, this might seem like a post-fiasco outburst. But shit happens man. It happens to the best of us. Not all cool things come knocking to your doorstep each morning. In fact, its a good thing to go through such shitty ordeals. I won't explain why, obviously. So yeah, deal with it.

But what is more irksome than such a dose of shit? The endless sighs and sympathies of agony aunts working round the clock around you, trying to choke you with advice  It's friggin' unneeded! Why don't they get it? The 'yeh kar lena, voh kha lena' routines are more disgusting than the soup you're already in. Basic protocol after a bad time is- leave the person alone! (Giving space should be a part of school curriculum, man!)

So aunties, Stop barging and trampling upon that person's space. Give breathing space, to say the least. He or she might require your support, but not your ranting advice.

Talking of advice, makes me wonder at times, is there a place somewhere in India where people are trained to give such profound unneeded expert opinion? Because we have so many people rolling out help at the stroke of the hour. It's probably a successful and respectable career path, that I'm not aware of. Consultancy, if you will. (Bah, since I'm studying management now).

Okay, here's a tiny list of advice topics. It's obviously longer.
a. Boyfriend advice: Girls, rather women of any age, shape or size are capable of providing them. You could go to any.
b. How to lose weight advice: Again, aunties of unimaginable shapes along with uncles who burped on butter chicken the previous night can advice you to have more fresh fruits in your diet. Don't forget flax seeds.
c. How to score marks: These advisers are tricky. They're disguised as lousy teachers who have no life, or the pseudo smart asses of your class. Beware.
d. How to escape group politics: Wear cool shades. Walk past them.
e. How to build a successful career: These are TOO many in number. Well, its also a professional career. But still! Avoid.

The list is longer, as I said. But now, I've vented enough.
All the advisers working for free, caution!