AMEETHYST

Perhaps, this is a very relevant question to be asked by most of the women nowadays. I was asked this question for the very first time by my wife and I honestly had no answer. I began introspecting and I questioned myself, “WHY?” Why don’t we, men, do it like women do? This must have been a medieval practice where women pray for men’s health, prosperity and long-life. There are rituals that compel women to fast all day, go to distant places of worship and offer prayers, before sunrise and after sunset, etc, etc. When women at home are ailing, men, do provide financial support, moral support and all kinds of support, but there are no such rituals that reciprocate the rigour what women go through. I might be speaking with half-experience and half-knowledge about the context, because I am at that point of life where I am not considered fully experienced or fully knowledgeable unless I go through everything that I am questioning. Crossing the age of thirty has its own advantages and ...

So, you are made of metal, and proved your mettle. Kudos, dear friend! You’ve done a great deed. You’ve freed yourself from dreadful greed. But, I’ve been in cages, and written pages, about evil sages, for ages. Where do you think my heart lives? It bathes in crimson red and not baby pink. The bars in the cage; the ribcage is made for the dead. Well done, my friend! You won in the end. Perseverance persevered. Love; severely severed. Emotions are a life peril. The stories; written with quill Oh Friend, do not be afraid, you will succeed, to persuade death with a lovely charm because love, causes no harm. “Come hither to me”, it says with open arms, ready to bulldoze the pretty and gritty IRON ROSE.

It’s the stars, and my scars that steal the light, heal the heart. It’s all there is It’s all I am I feel infinite. It’s neither the sky, nor my eyes that’s raining or draining me of life. It’s all love in the world there is It’s all me. I feel infinite. Where’s the string, and the ring that brings me peace and brings together my pieces? Music is all there is It’s all I listen. It’s all I am. I feel infinite. Oh dear God! What is love, on this earth and up above? Faith is all there is It’s who I am It’s all me. I feel infinite.

It’s different how the world looks at you when you don’t play by their rules. It doesn’t let you stay sane amongst the fools. It’s different how the world works. When you work hard to survive, it stops working out for you. It’s different what the world makes you do when you’re all alone. You either become an obstacle or a stepping stone. It’s different what the world gives you when you make it big. You lose something great, yet call it an achievement. It’s different what the world teaches you when you think you know it all. You learn to fly high, yet struggle to even crawl.

  It’s not easy living in a world where colours differentiate between good and bad. It’s hard to live in an era that defines you by your colour, caste, creed even after 70 years of its independence. Though we proclaim ourselves to be one of the most developed countries, but deep inside, we are still that hungry old vulture craving for dead meat. Science and economy might say that we would be a superpower by the end of the year 2020. Even our former President of India, urged the whole country to spread our wings and set it on fire, but in a metaphorical way. But, we are a sensitive breed. We take things in its literal sense and we take offense easily. Because, we have nothing better to do, right? Science evolved through ages and we went from tablets to laser treatments, but our ideologies on religion, caste and sub-caste, and their sub-sub-caste have become fragile than ever before. The country has done great deeds as far as scientific explorations are concerned. They have r...

The air is getting warm, the breaths, heavy. Is this the end or the beginning of my melancholy? The words have begun to fade, I hear footsteps over my head. Is this the soil where I was born? Or is it where I am going next? Oh! It’s the tears watering the rose. It’s quite close, to what I think is death. Life is the most beautiful, at the end, I suppose. Because, that’s when we are everything or nothing. Silence never felt so awesome. The abyss never felt so complete, What are we without a little emptiness? What are we, without pain? We maybe mortal and soulful, but finally we are no one.