From lucid love to testosteronal arrogance

Sometime in the summer of ‘69 on his broken cot, in the natural ambi-pur of his hamlet:

“वो हसे तो सूरज भी रोशनी के प्रकोप से अपनी आँखें बंद कर ले, वो रोये तो अँधेरा भी गम की चादर ओडे रो पड़े...दूर से बैठे हुए उन्हें देखना जब सब कुछ होने का एहसास दिला देता था...उनकी यादों में इतना सुकून हैं...वो मिल जाते तो बात ही क्या थी*.." was a saying in pain…alas! his emotions could never be packeted on the emotional bandwidth;  he never had the courage to recite those golden words in her presence..she made him nervous…he shrivelled…her vision for a day was God’s greatest gift to him…his love as pure as the driven snow stood an untold story…always… forever

And then the gadgetry saying of a “Dude” sometime when he was busy messaging his girl on his iPhone 3G, in the bloated summer of Twenty12:

"Dude, I don’t think so I “love” her anymore, though I “loved” her equally as did my ex…she is a special “girlfriend” u know….but now she appears to be one blonde…u saw how she behaved in the party last night after just tequila shot ? How could she?…I think it’s time to make my way into some new unidentified territories…must inform her on my new “iPhone” ....that girl burning the dance floor seems much better…ohh yeah!"

The age where relationships can be put up on a wardrobe..when MOVE ON is no more a Fastrack-al saying…where “love” has a new definition called fashion when once it used to be nothing but just passion…where emotions have a new saying…where mind darts the dress and never looks beyond…she exposes but hides the soul….he admires and notices, but forgets to love…she messages and performs a ritual according to her but forgets to emote....where ”fattu” is a term for singles…Casanova for multiples….where love’s biggest disaster is turning late on a date…has the world travelled space? Where are the Veers and the Zaaras?  Where are the Cleopatras  and the Mark Antonys?  Among all this glitz and glamour, am I really lucky to watch T20 or unlucky not to admire the gentleness of Test Cricket? And I ask this question, Is Vintage better than the vogue? Why has this world undergone such a cosmetic surgery of its emotions?  Why.?  Alas…bring that LOVE back….!

© copyright Akrox!! 2011.All Rights Reserved
*Credit for the line "उनकी यादों में इतना सुकून हैं...वो मिल जाते तो बात ही क्या थी" goes to Akash, my flat mate in Mumbai in the summer of 2012.

Making millions, Loosing trillions

Disclaimer: This piece of art is by no means meant to offend anyone dead or soon to be. This is based on my personal observation and is an outflow of an opinion. Any resemblance to any person dead or living (in an illusion of life) is a mere reinforcement of the fact that life for some is a “sedated bliss”.

As I see someone blowing out smokes of ignorance with a white tube of nicotine and slow poison while busy preparing for one of the toughest “exams” to illuminate his CV, I ask a question “Is it a preparation to win a lottery for earning millions or a regular exercise as he often does on the path of loosing trillions”, Oh My you white Devil, bonded many a labours and you continue to do, your charisma is such; CEO or a rickshaw puller mean the same to you; inequality as they say mean nothing to you. I pixel a world with all black and white, no colours and only frames of smoke as I see the whole world  busy making millions but losing trillions worth their life all because of you. Perverseness has a new definition; reason you.  I see the world loose the eternal meaning as they build castles of disaster and I cry, “thou Oh Lord, save ‘em save ‘em”.

The world would have been a different place, no misery and many a lives saved if not you. You are not a status symbol may I tell you, but an illusion called “sedated bliss”. You power is agony, an elusive ecstasy. At the juncture I cease, “Cigarette: A fire at one end, a fool at the other, and a bit of tobacco in between”.

Note:  Cigarette smoking is injurious to happiness. Save it, your life needs it.

Trustworthy: Are we or are we made to be?

“Don’t trust anyone unless you have eaten much salt with him”.  Standing at a bus stop with 15 unknown souls or travelling in a train with people who haven’t eaten that much talked about salt with you. You are not even aware but a relationship of trust is embedded in an unforeseen thread. In a world of meanings and materials, is it a case of a subconscious subsistence of mankind? It’s a nature’s unsolved puzzle or you may even call it a mystery but it defies and is beyond all the trivial logic of acting plastic with strangers. You can’t teach your subconscious mind, can you, probably the only part of your body where irrationality is most prominent.  Trust brims with strangers: Oxymoron? But the truth is that you do travel boundaries and distances with people you never saw while you act hesitant with your own kins. You may think twice before helping your own classmate or a colleague while it’s a reflex action for you to help someone struggling to cross the road in heavy traffic, add to it a burning sun. It is not a case of who needs you more; it’s a curious case of trust. Trust is a funny thing, it sure is, a catalyst which defies many a laid social parameters. At times I feel that this world is a comic forum while we all are such talented comics. Thought provoking, isn’t it? Errrrr, I forgot you don’t know me but I am sure you will TRUST me on this.

CopyRight ©Akrox!! 2012. All Rights Reserved