Ah Aeroplanes! The majestic whiteness unfailingly turns my face white. The gigantism releases a slithering sense of awe in my nerves that is polluted by a suspended anxiety. The gliding is consequential of a fluttering breath and a muttering mouth . The oily odour smothers my nostrils.The heaving engines ignite an aerodynamic logic and a dynamic paranoia simultaneously. The clock of fear ticks rapidly with ascent and descent. The timely ascending and descending renders an untimely heartbeat. The airiness of this airy being suffocates my being. In every trip, my logic usually takes the back seat, and it's mostly the paranoia sneering at the steering. 
Bizzare notions get hammered like a nail in my cross-wired cerebrum.
Is it a mere coincidence that flight and fright are distinguished by a single alphabet? Alarmingly both fright and flight are synonymous with fear. (The latter in my head).
The fear diffuses like a venomnous gas in my blood, and grabs the rein of my veins. I try to put a coat of calm on my agitated torso. The coldness of this fear freezes my tranquility. The fear is the gunshot that causes my heartbeat to race and my pulse to pace. 

Not alienating my fear and subsequently warming up to it is my plan of action. I feel complacent with my foresighted stratergy. Amidst the smugness, another revolutionary notion struggles to squeeze out of my grey matter. The bulb in the thought bubble glows with an unattractive risk. I am nudged by the winged and haloed positivity to shake hands with my fear. (The same hands that unblinkingly tremble).

Overcoming one's fear is too oldschool. Befriending fears is the new "in" thing.  Just kidding, Overcoming my flight fear is the finishing line for me. Currently my current step is merely on the starting line. 
In my attempts to co-exist with my fear and embody a hospitable roommate, I have to undertake a Herculean task . To make some room for my new roommate , some of my constitutional anxiety and transient apprehension are directed to vacate my chest.
My journeys in the aeroplane are everything but plain.To word it better, my journeys are nothing short of adventures. They are a riveting account of my impracticality, irrationality and heartfelt accomplishments. 

Life seen with binoculars is a see-saw motion. When a bit of it falls downhill, another bit rises uphill.  So whilst I humbly greeted my fear of flying, I also bid farewell to another fear of mine. "Fear of socializing". To distract my irrationality, my dormant social genes heroically sprung into activity. Hence I embark upon the ship of "talking" and sail through the sea of turbulent flights.

What started off as ordinary tete-a-tete's transfigured into some extraordinary life stories. The one hour journey witnesses widespread emotions across my widely spread face. 
Stories of blisses and misses, of anticpiations and rejections, of wars and bars, of devotions and commotions, of sacrifices and vices, of gory and glory, unfold infront of my fixed eyeballs and moved soul. of .These heart-wrenching narrations rinse my face with that nececssary splash of awakening. Overwhelmed with the "real" life situations, my problem now seems like a tiny reflection in the mirror. 
Flight and fright surely rhyme together, but so does flight and might. This is the same might that bestows the light to fight the fright!
​

 

Do I just express or the underlying motive is to impress
Is this the masquerade of a wannabe tigress that causes me a substantial stress

My intentions are not to mess with anyone, but I elicit negativity from not just one but a ton
Should my finger tape my lips with a mum, so that there is no malice to sum

I stir some ideas to cook some equilibrium and dominate the aromatic delirium
But the lid of compression leads to a boiling depression

The train of thought does not carry merry-goers, instead the passengers possess some nasty glowers
I muster courage to give a green signal to the locomotive, yet the hesitant halts renders a failed motive

My thoughts are whaling up in the brainy sea
Yet I sip some more tea and try to have a situation that is "we"

The grass is greener on the other side, hence I want to be on the listener side
My intentions were never wily, but they were perceived dryly

Yet again, I suppress those thoughts with the help of some neurological bots
But then my heart perceives others as nothing but some lousy clots

Subconsciousness never ceases to amaze me, and instils in me a feeling of "We"
It is my true companion, and never convicts me of ideas that run

My words are not manipulative like the chess, and they are surely not a guess
Clarity is what dwells in them marked by a self -belief in their stem.






​

​ 
 

 
The frail and frolic of a totter, and those squinty eyes was a daily affair
Never did this subside even with the varieties of glare
 
Overjoyed cries and shrieks were shrill indeed
His curious nose resembled a pearling bead
 
Golden Yellow was what he wore
Warmth exuded from his scrawny core
 
Muddy Little paws here and there, always ready for intervention
These were his little antics of drawing some attention
 
He had a cowering greet, with ingredients of shy and meek,
But was a real smart player with the absence of weak.
 
Bony and skinny was a mere mask
All the gallantries were his to bask
 
For he chose no one but the black alpha as his nemesis
He recoiled in pain but never in fright, and stood alone in every crisis
 
His heart was bigger than his stomach
And his paws never failed to scratch our lowermost tuck
 
The tail that wagged the entire body
Was not for everybody but for people that he considered as somebody
 
The blackness in eyes with a little white, spoke of innocence and unsaid plight
His eyes did wonders, and with the passing days there was an elevating might
 
He soon became the menacing Dennis, with impish horns replacing the floppy ears
Those Antennas distinguished our cars with different gears
 
Pestering and Nudging were his game, and he never relented without the same
He had a bouncing spirit with a gait that was lame
 
 
Man and beast were both stirred but his funny bones never ceased to be heard
He squeaked like a mouse but glided like a bird
 
At night he retired to his muddy resort or his under vehicle residence
His mellow bellow used to rattle the morning and knock some sense
 
For someone that flinched from the slightest touch, he was now a brute guarding us from every touch
From a sheep in the flock, he became the vigilant shepherd without a clock
 
The pitched shriek soon turned into an echoed sound, and he was no where to be found
He was our treasure and we began the hunt, knowing that he is bearing some brunt
 
Hope was trampled on the dusty road, but in the night was a silhouette that glowed
He was battered but his soul never shattered
 
His quiet soul rested on the tattered rug
Had some chicken and broth in his plastic mug

​Gradually his eyes closed with an anticipated journey, and the curtain on his eyes never rolled up
His voice was the tea to the morning he knew, and now there was a lull that brewed from the cup
 
In our hearts are embedded his jubilant shrieks and affectionate grins
For he was our Geeshi, the feeble soldier with all the wins
 

Aah It’s morning and I behold the splendid bloom of flowers
The glory is unmatched and so are their blithely showers


The dew droplets on the soft petals,remind me of the trickling tears on my cheek
Their shine is combined with a gesture that is meek

Flowers are reminiscent of vibrance and a widespread joy
Brimming with Romance, they make me coy

Do I love her or not is a fathomless quest
But my flowery buds help me to end this test

The answer is usually an embedded smile or a distorted dream
Plucked are their heads and uprooted is their soul, and they thought we were a team

They are akin to the magnificence of moon 
But their fragility is what kills them too soon

Withered and frail ,they are nothing but unwanted
Paleness and colourlessness combined make their deathbed 

Shrouded with sympathy I behold their grave
But there is nothing that I can do to save

Do you think that empathy is what I lack
Then you must be a lunatic and a sheer crack

These are not humans whose death is to be mourned
I can cry only if emotions are loaned ​

A hand on the back, a palm on the forehead
Makes sure that there is no tear that I shed
These are the magical hands of my parents that weave embroideries of love and trust.
Their sanctity extends from the core to the crust
Their touch creates invincible waves that guard my soul. 
Being better halves to each other, they are the ones that make me whole
 
Mother envelopes me with her blanket of affection
Laces me with love even at rejection 
She folds the layers of anxiety and locks it away in the closet of negativity
Makes sure that I have the nerve to be gritty
Her grace is adorned with ornaments of delicacy and softness,
But she roars like a tigress with a prowess inside, shielding her cubs from the slightest caress
She sews the patches in my life with pins, and closes her eyes for my wins
 
Father pulls my cheeks, and cuddles me like his little princess
Fills in my voids, and orders exile to my lively mess
Regal is his posture and humble is his gesture
Hands shake with his handshake
He tells me life is not a child’s play
But he becomes a child in each of my play
He files away my woes and documents the laughter
Makes sure of a happy ending there after
 
They are celestial beings in disguise carved with god’s own hands
They are a mirror to my soul, and cheerfully lose for my gain.
They reflect joy, and absorb pain.
They are the rainbow after the rain
 
They tell me about the interplay of stars, and how only I can wield my destiny through my deeds
Mountains are moles to them, when they fulfill my needs
I believe that they are themselves the shooting stars. Gliding brightly they shoot away the shady monsters of agony and gloom
Life's merry snapshots are what they zoom
 
My daddy gleams like the sun and my mommy glows like the moon
They Shed light at my instinctive typhoon
He is my sun, and he illuminates the path where I walk
He erases my downs and thickens my ups with his chalk
She is my moon, and soothes me down with her mellow croon
He as Sun bestows upon me with the strength to be an individual
Preserving my smile is her daily ritual
She as Moon meditates and imbues the power to forgive
They are the reasons for me to live
 
Between us the bridge of communication is easily treaded
Words barring grudges are spoken and Bonds are tightly threaded
Life is not a bed of roses, but for me they make sure that the roses are embedded
 
My smile might be the costliest, to their pockets, but it is priceless to all the chambers of their heart
They dream about me in a royal cart
They always want the target to be hit with my dart
 
They grin from ear to ear
I tell them only fiction can have king Lear
But they only want someone who holds me dear
All they want me is to Move on in the vehicle of life with the topmost gear
 
He is my man of steel and she is my woman of substance
They reside in my soul with the non-evasive distance 
They are the colors of my life
And they are a perfect husband and a wife

A thud in the head, roused my eyelids 
Immobilised Resistance was put behind grids

The icebergs  of silence  caused a shrill down my spine,
There was no one to call mine

However silence had a short lifespan
Because every reaction was a devised plan

They were seated North and  South
Words were barred to exit my mouth

The environment ceased to be a democracy
It was a gruesome supremacy

The first voice echoed, " It is I who made you"
The second one bellowed "but I am you"

A nudge here, and poke there 
Were the ludicrous antics practiced by the pair

" I cemented the pillar of your existence"
"But I am the soul of your sense"

" I am the sea of your origin, that roars with madness"
"But I am the boat that sails to the island of calmness"

"Breathing is not possible without a rent"
But I trickle down so that you can vent"

"Without me, your limbs are impaired"
"But I am the movement that you dared"

"I gave you eyes to discover "
' I am the vision to your blind rover"

"I do not let you stagger in a dice"
"But I make sure, that you live virtue and not vice"

"I sieve grains of pain and consider them vain"
" To your anonymous insecurities I am the rain"

" You owe me for every life saving hack"
I am the wispy breeze that holds your back"

"With me you can't be the Devil that may care 
But with me,  you accomplish tasks that are rare "

" My supremacy can fetch you the lion's share"
I light the Moon of your dreams, and not cause it to mare "

"I decipher warfare against every  villainous spray "
But I'm the sun that emanates hope as a ray "

" I calculate the risk, evaluate and then pray "
I'm the wire that connects without a say "

" I make judgements, with decisive goals"
" But I get attached to opposite poles "

" Liability and Liaisons are hallucinations
I weave threads of relations "

"I hurl at you the multi facets of life"
I am the symphony that levels your life"

"Stability of Life is unachievable, I say"
I recognise the vibrancy even in the areas of grey "

Who do I believe? I sit there bedazzled. 
"What prevails is the sense of logic"
"Listen to your heart ! and that is the magic"









 

Do we really exist ?
Pragmatic theories, mythical narrations, historical etchings and rusted remnants authenticate our ancient existence
Godly beings, validate our existence. Atomicities affirm our existence. 
Yet there is an unravelled mystery that hides behind the veil of logical science and emotional faith.
The veiled mystery is sensitive to the aroma of suspicion, doubt and questions, and that is why it prefers the cloak of invisibility, and does not mind when people call it unreal  

What about the sky ?
Well the sky is the inverted sea, in an evaporated form with condensed waves in white.
The sky is majestic and holds it's head high, it makes sure that we look up 
Or probably the sky can't stoop low to our invisible attributes
The clouded hues, narrate a chaotic saga, and have teary eyes at the end of it
Or it might be that the weary sky enters a slumber and encounters the paranormal greyness in it's nightmare
And when it rains, it is basically the huffed mother trying to break the deep sleep by pouring water

Are we trapped in an an abyss? The one that is spherical in shape. 
Maybe we have created a not so small world in that fathomless chasm.
Or maybe earth is an embodiment of the forbidden fruit having it's share of virtue and vice.

Probably the earth is the eye of an inexplicable beholder ,where the veins are made up of blue and green
The other eye must define the parallel earth existing in a surreal universe 

Incredible appear the chronicles of the celestial beings, legendary heroes ,mighty glories, the dawn of evil and the fall of good 
But what if it is just a figment of imagination of the celestial beings

Perhaps there exists a gigantically huge baby , and we are his breathing playmates
When the baby chuckles, we experience tremors and we drown when the baby cries
Probably we are the puppets of a voodooed trickster , with feelings and invisible strings 

Or this might be a reeling cinema with infinite characters, and finite lifelines 
Only ups and downs of life and death aren't reel
Where a whimsical director conceptualises scenes of life for people,
He rewinds, and we get nostalgic, he fast forwards and we think time flies
He pauses, to ensure that our grief is for eternity 
He stops and ejects, only to end our lives and extract our souls
 
Probably we are beings pertaining to an eerie globe,  owned by an erratic witch with a pointy nose
A witch , who foretells life and death, by stroking the sphere

Or probably this is life after death, where we are the tangible ghosts 

However the very aspect of life, after life or imagination seems worthwhile to  experience.





 

I look up to you
Because you are tall
Because you have shaped a colossal institution of integrity

Your creativity enraptures my senses and soul
Because your caricatures of abstract and form seem to breathe reality
Because you sculpt a statue of wisdom and marvel
Because you narrate experiences in utter vividness 

I am awed
Because of your combating skills in video games and the monopolies of life
Because you possess the psychic abilities to know what is best for me. 
Because of your honey like persona that attracts swarm of people

I follow you 
Because I am lost literally and metaphorically
Because you gleam even in the blur of madness
Because I am your shadow

I am inspired
Because you never fable about a sole meaning of life
Instead you told me that life is a multifaceted building
You were never a gold-digger.
You believe in carving your own mines.

I am surprised
Because we were so different yet similar
Our grey matter is wired distinctly
But our emotions flow from the same river

I am always secure
Because you are the man-at-arms both virtually and in reality
Because I know you are the only guy who is going to be there even if the world walks away

I always admire you
Because I fondly capture the moments through the lenses
But you are the one who makes them picturesque

I want to be like you
Because you know logic is essential
But you never lose the essence of humanity in the whirlpool of pragmatism

I am proud of you
Because you value the values
Because you are valued
Because your glories are galore


I love you a lot
Because you hold my hand, amidst the clouds of solitude
Because you have been my only companion since I saw the world
Because you are my wizard who harnesses the elixir of joy

It was a sultry afternoon, where the sun glared with a dominating spirit. Me and my girls were trudging towards our cocoon, and that was when we spotted him.  His eyes were ablaze and steps were measured with utter apprehension.  We tried to make eye contact with him. He nudged our advances at first. His eyes glowered with mistrust and angst. We fell in love with the wavy golden that made up his hair. He was a looker.  His eyes, melted our hearts, and possessed our soul. His voice quavered, underpinned by periodic firmness. We were keen to get acquainted with the new fella in our vicinity. Hence We resorted to different approaches of breaking the ice.  I gloated with the fact that I could whistle. My girls were blessed with a melodious voice. Hence my lips converted to a helix, to get the near dead whistle and the singers hummed a symphony. His pupils, resumed to normalcy from the state of dilation,suggesting a change in disposition.  A breeze of warmth gushed, and hesitant steps neared us.  We stroked our hands on his, wavy tufts. And he reciprocated with a wagging bush. This marked our comradery.  His eyes globular, and moist showcased his agony of being casted out. We wanted to be there for our new companion,  and help him out. After feeding him and quenching his thirst, we awaited for a new family to adopt the mushy furball.  Several phone calls, desperate attempts in seeking a home for Gary ( That is what I had named him) went down the drain. The streets were deprived of the glory that Golden Gary radiated. Gary had gone. We hunted for him, but all in vain. 
I think that the name suited him well, after all Gary means gentleness, bravery and modesty. He epitomized all of these qualities. He bravely accepted the rejection, gently embraced the geniality and modestly refused the recognition offered by the different embodiments of humanity.