Thursday, January 30, 2014

100 hours









A story not to be told.........two people unknown met only to become known and then melted away and faded away in the melee of world bleak memories once in a while but then there are other things in life and then the known becomes unknown........... they don't search but then wait but then don't wait at the same time..........life comes as it should and flies away like that bird unimprisoned. The face once known and searched for once becomes one of the face in the universe........life goes on happily as it should be..............innocence of those times robbed as it should be.........then a chance encounter or an attempt to connect and communicate as it was never done and was feared of often................then unknown becomes known only this time to come closer........a sinking feeling with happiness........a sense of tranquility with a sense of turmoil within.......life feels at peace for the first time in this tremendous uncertainty which breaks the
notion of that certainty which was once the basis of the life.........its pandemonium its calamity but its the only remedy.......they don't know and knowing doesn't make sense.......but then what feels so right can't be wrong........reverse the clock.......no we can't..........make wishes out of broken eyelids..........laugh,run, be quiet, chat, closer they get farther goes the world only to have a mark of the chains pulling them back.......but then they go only to stay.......find some sense in the chaos of the silent face's turbulent mind............just this is what 100 hours can do to you..........................

Disclaimer: Photo source Internet, I don't own the copyright to the picture used.

A Synopsis Of Sorts-2







If going by the notion of complete truth we are the creatures who fare the worst in it, We lie to our self and present in front of us the rosy picture of a distorted truth- too afraid to face our own demons but the animals don't have a problem because there conscious and unconscious merge they don't have a mask on their inner libidos or desires which is actually their true nature. But we courtesy our society have to hide our body with clothes and our real mind with a cloak of pretense- ego superego call it whatever you want, but the reality is that we have to hide and live a lie because our truth is too harsh for us to bear and being the selfish being we are, we are great at avoiding facts which will certainly land us into trouble.
But is it really a trouble- the trouble is relative to the society we change and society we live in is an amalgamation of our mindsets, So, what if every individual deliberately erases the conscious and unconscious wall then the mindset will change and the entire mechanism and workings of the society will change, but then the fear of running into a chaos will loom large but lets face it how many world wars did Dolphins have? and how many did we have? So, is our conscious being that useful or it wont affect us that great if we lose it?

A synopsis of Sorts




What is Truth?
In its very essence every fragment in this world is relative and nothing is absolute, so there can't be any existence of the word or notion of "Absolute Truth" or "Absolute Good". What that is good to one can be bad for the other and the both sides may not be evil or good. Truth that hurts others or comes in the way of once existence is not good for that one person but then someone has to benefit from it as there is nothing in this world which is absolutely harmful, so if it is harmful for someone then to maintain equilibrium it should benefit someone.

Coming to a different realm, do we know our own truth?, what are we deep inside? Most of us will say yes we do know but then delve deep we don't know. You seem to be so sure of yourself but then you ultimately find that you were not actually interacting with the facts the way you are interacting.

The whole notion of truth is in its stability and unchanging nature through various realms and dimensions of time but then this world, its creatures are dynamic in nature, the very essence of this universe lies in the the fact that it changes constantly in every realm and dimension of time. then isn't the notion of truth standing just in the bang opposite direction of the fundamentals of the Universe, which is self sustaining and is very much there, then where does truth stand?

(This is what I call a skeletal philosophy or theory, I am still clouded and the whole thing is coming into bits and parts to me........)

Down the Memory Lane




What a strange thing memory is; its so deceptive, manipulative and so very endearing or repulsive,
We form and un form memories in accordance to our perception-our needs our preconceived notions, We just remember in parts but not in whole, we select unconsciously the themes to be remembered and thus form a select library of memories around us. But we never know that we are  selecting things at our own disposal and the memories are not just random collection of events. The zenith or the abyss of our life events are selected and a support of other related medieval incidents is given to them so, that they might give a random appearance and we may escape the blame of sticking to particular things while throwing away others. This defense mechanism  is very effective and almost untraceable by our shrewd consciousness. And it doesn't lower the self esteem of our consciousness and it neither defeats our "ever hungry for gratification" unconscious. The selective memory brings a form of equilibrium. It erases the unwanted and regresses continuously to the
wanted. People who have been living in more than one house or place know how selective memory is. A very simple dream they see has an amalgamation of all the good or all the bad of the various places they have been into. Its like segregating and clubbing of the memories in a very organised pattern. But the knowledge of this segregation remains to be unknown to us just to maintain equilibrium.

A poem-If you can call it





Staring past the darkness
When I saw nothingness
Your faint voice reminded me
Of the days of feeble memories
As if colliding,yet stagnant.
Every strain of thought that goes past
Every memory is invaded-disguised
By the unholy mirth of the yore
I remember your stained glory
The dark light of fame falling on you
You basking under the cold sun
While flowers like serpents sting
And all the while I see my fall
Standing beside your rise in hell......