Flashback

Old and tired, from work retired,

You sit with an archback, go in a flashback,

You’ve played a good life’s game,

Weather or not you wanted the same.

At age of twenty, when choices are plenty,

 Doctor, scientist, you want none,

Bad sad enough you have to choose one,

Actor, painter, musician or you wanna be a cook,

Or maybe a traveller with just a tour book

But you cripple under pressure and so alas!

Become what you hate, the working class,

But sure the life goes happy and fun,

So what , you lose  the battle one.

Now you’re twenty five, and there she is,

Your work collegue, for you a bliss,

You love, laugh and want it to last,

Battle two begins, your new opponent is “caste”.

You talk, convince and even fight the war,

But the end is clear, they win you loose,

‘coz in this jungle they’re the hungry tiger, and you’re the helpless moose.

Today you have a daughter, a son and a wife,

So what if you never wanted this life.

You could have won, had you stuck through.

But you chose the other way, and lose battle two.

The past is what you can’t erase,

Snap back and live a brand new phase,

‘coz the one to blame is you but none,

As there were many who stood up and won.

But sure the life was happy and fun.

So what you lost when you could have won.

The Agnost's Side

“The Rig Veda the oldest existing canonical work on earth and the mainstay of Hindu philosophy that dates back to the second or third millennium BC takes an agnostic view on the fundamental question of how the universe and God was created. Nasadiya Sukta (Creation Hymn) in the tenth chapter of the Rig Veda says:

Who really knows?
Who will here proclaim it?
Whence was it produced? Whence is this creation?
The gods came afterwards, with the creation of this universe.
Who then knows whence it has arisen?

Throughout the history of Hinduism there has been a strong tradition of philosophic speculation and scepticism.”

          I am a Hindu. The reason is because I was born one. I could have been a Muslim, a Christian or a Jew. It wouldn’t have made any difference. Alright maybe I would have turned out to be a completely different human being, but that’s not what the point in consideration is. I would still have had this psychological clinginess to these set of ideas that I am supposedly expected to follow. Even if I observe some anomalies in these set of codes with respect to my social surroundings and my rationalizing abilities, it isn’t worth squat. I can make out any interpretation I want to. I can confront any rule I find absurd. I’d always have to fight my way out from the heard to prove my point. Even then the only thing I’d have in the end is me, victorious maybe, but still alone. The world on the other hand would not differ an inch from their brainwashed path. I’d be on my own, out casted, socially and mentally. And no matter how proud I feel for my actions, by the end of it all, I’d still b a Hindu. I’d still have a set of rules to live my life on.

“They must find it difficult...

Those who have taken authority as the truth,

Rather than truth as the authority.”-Zeitgeist [2007]

          One’s religion is nothing but the need of that individual to be accepted as a member of some ongoing cult so as to satisfy his social needs. Not being a part of any religion makes him an outcast, which just hampers his dependence on the society. Praying to one’s gods and deities is just another desperate attempt to hinder one’s own independence and suppress his abilities in front of something non-existent. We argue that we turn to our Gods when there is no way out, and the only option we have is to leave it all to something unknown, something powerful, that we are made to believe in. But in reality, what we do is, we question our own abilities. We start feeling safe psychologically that we are in good hands now. What we don’t realise is that by accepting this help, we put a substantial part of our capabilities aside, which probably would have helped us achieve even more than what we can ever think of. Though praying can be accounted as merely a way of constantly reminding oneself that he has some needs that he wants to fulfil, it also makes him start believing less in himself. The added confidence that now something new, something supernatural is now on his side just provides this empty, meaningless satisfaction which if anything hampers his own efforts. These religious rigidities suppress the process of rationalization. If you are expected to follow something because you cult demands you to, you tend to act the same way. The levels of absurdities, if any, provide no escape. No matter how much you justify yourself, you still live as one in a crowd.

              The humour in this rebel, if you may find any, is that if you manage to break free from the charade, you’re seen as a trend setter. It looks bright and eventful in the beginning, but all it does is create a new path for those who feel the same. The likeminded first second you, then believe in you, and then start following you. This path although relieves them from the existing chains, but their need of being a part of something just makes you their leader. You are suddenly the creator of the same charade you once wanted to break free from. The end is always the same. Change, even though is inevitable and persistent, but it’s hardly ever concrete. The surroundings change, the lifestyle differs, the need for belief remains.  

The World Within

He stands silent, when everyone talks,

He hears your words as he walks.

On a different ground, every time a new sky,

But the world is same, here no one cries.

His soul here can breathe, his heart can think,

Right or wrong, no judgements bring.

No thoughts are held back, no lines uncrossable,

Even the impossible here is easily possible.

Someday he’s a cop, someday just a nice guy,

Someday he’s the saviour, flying high in the sky.

Never is he held back, his abilities questioned,

Even if he fails, he’s never abandoned.

Today while you talk, he’s off to space,

Ready for every challenge he has to face.

The head of his crew, he’s looked upon,

In this life he’s not, in the hands of fate, a pawn.

Day six in the journey, there’s a meteor shower,

His spaceship is trapped, with not enough power.

His crew knows it well, a way their captain will find.

When suddenly someone shout, his name from behind,

His mind Snaps back to the harsh reality,

To the land of expectations, full of disparity.

With standards in life, already set,

To the level his mind could never met.

With failiures came rejection, which led to dejection,

It started hurting when low went the affection.

As every mind desires, his to needed to be freed,

To be loved and praised, to happily breath.

So to this land of expectations, adieu he bid.

And created a world where he was best at what he did.

So you call him, he looks at you and gives you a smile,

Listens to what you say, for just a while.

And quietly drifts again to a world less gray,

Where the fearless spaceman, saves the day.