Little Mischief

Would you know if you were dreaming, reading this?

Do you ever know, when you are dreaming?

How can you be sure that this isn’t a dream?

Would you know if you are alive?

Do you know when you are not?

How can you be so sure of being alive if you don’t know what it is to not be alive?

Would you know if you are ‘here’?

Do you know what is ‘there’?

How can you be so sure of being ‘here’, when you don’t know, what it is to be ‘there’?


From the chaos, order is born,

the overwhelming quality of it, is what you can look for.

It is when, one is in the midst of crumbling realities,

they are closest to a stable ground;

otherwise, we are always riding the waves of ups and downs.

When one detaches oneself enough, from the meaning making faculties,

they would observe their senses, and find chaos quite soothing.

In the midst of chaos, one need not look over their shoulder,

everything fragile is already broken.

What still remains is durable,

to find what is strong,

let it crawl right out, through the meaninglessness of chaos.


Nothing will really change what will happen, if I don’t write this sentence, but nothing will also change what will happen, if I do. Am I writing this as my legacy?

Somewhere inside me, obviously the answer is yes. I do not want to associate much with that voice but I do not want to deny its existence.

How many of these voices or whatever noun we give it, exists in us?

Do all these voices get to voice themselves, and how many are censored and tabooed?

What determines whether they are censored, what determined, that they should be censored?

Fluidy, smelly, fragile piece of us, human beings; we decide how others, will perceive us. we decide how we ourselves, will perceive us.

We want to edit the raw product that is us, for a perception that we think is and/or should be us.

There are so many pieces that makes, us. Are we brave now, to look at these pieces unfiltered?

Deer in headlights?!

Subjectively speaking, being vulnerable has been THE highlight of being a human.

Showing vulnerability meant, a gut wrenching, humbling and rewarding state,

In that sequence, usually.

A google search defined vulnerability as “a person’s willingness to accept the emotional risk that comes from being open and willing to love and be loved.”

The google search, which proved unsettling, is the one that is acceptable by the popular nerve.

Outrageous synonyms,

‘sucker’, ‘defenseless’, ‘exposed’, ‘sitting duck’, ‘weak’,


Antonyms, even more cowardly,

‘protected’, ‘safe’, ‘strong’ !!!

Again speaking subjectively, these, offensive words haven’t been anywhere near truth, when considering big picture.

Feeling exposed and uncertain is one half of the story, finding courage to be authentic, more connected to yourself and the others, is the other half and more conclusive part of the story.

Disappointments are too many in vulnerability, you see yourself, as well as the others in a realistic light.

Yet the reward, the satisfaction of acknowledging, knowing and accepting yourself as you are, no matter how messy,

Makes being a human worthwhile.

Fragility is not being vulnerable, but not being able to be vulnerable.


How unknown my own inner life is,

My soul’s wish doesn’t agree with the concrete reality, logic and reasoning.

I have and I still resist, my own feelings,

I suppress them so unsuccessfully, they still persist.

You would think, why do you resist, just feel it and go with it.

I do want, so deeply, to do that,

But there is no safe place to let them in;

Can’t help but to feel like the deer with its jugular buried in lion’s teeth.

I know from what I have learned so far,

Accepting how you feel, however unreasonable, is the first step to healing,

So here I accept that I love, and it has turned out to be my weakness,

So here I accept and surrender, and I hope to be healed out of it.

Cruelty and Self righteousness

From day 1, ask the question, can this be true consistently ?

What this new person is saying and showing .

A lamb is fed till fat, all for the sacrifice,

A predator is harmless before the attack.

Sometimes we learn the hard way,

It’s usually after a broken heart and crumbled self esteem,

We learn not to assume trust in the beginning.

What I learned is to let them earn that trust,

My way has been, giving away trust and wait till its broken.

I did my blaming, myself more than the others,

Some people are wired to trust,

Some people are rewired by experience.

Learning the hard way hasn’t been fun,

But I would rather prefer the lesson, than to go through it all over again.


The pain of death is for the living, Those who are gone, are at peace.

The heartbreak is for the ones who are left behind, They have to go on because the sun still rise.

The world is not the same without them, It will never be the same, even if time passes.

What comfort can be comforting, when people we love leave?

The story we tell ourselves, the story we believe in.

If we are born, then we have to leave, that is the way it has always been.

Who has existed in this world, who doesn’t leave?

What story we tell ourselves, when they leave?

What story we believe in?

There is still comfort in knowing, in believing that they are at peace.

Where was the child before it came to be?

Where do the people who we love go, when they leave?

If we were at peace before our birth, then can’t we be at peace after we leave.

The love we have for them, does it vanish just because we can’t see them?

It is alive in our memories of them.

We rethink everything we said and didn’t , but don’t we know in our hearts that they know our love was real?

To keep them in our hearts, what can take that away?

What can take away the love we have for them?

Rest assured, they will continue in the memories and stories we had together.

This grief of loss has fallen upon us,

Believe, they have become the part of that something that looks after us,

They are not away, even if we can’t see them,

They are much closer now, giving us the strength to live on just one more moment without them.

For you Aajoba

Muscle memory

A sense of urgency, the urgency takes over me.

The anxiety is nothing but a feeling, that something, I am missing, I am chasing.

Not necessarily a necessary thing,

Yet I am compelled, almost conditioned to chase it.

It’s undeniably abstract and hence frustratingly puzzling.

How to set yourself for an impossible task,

Consider this an exhibit.

There is no magical solution for urgency,

But accepting the reality.

The reality of present, brings me back to my senses,

Just like my senses bring me back to the reality of present.

Giving in to looming urgency, is an addiction, quite easy.

It is a skill, a muscle build, to be in the present indefinitely.

A Rich Legacy

The generation now is suffering, yet the next is likely to suffer more.

The archtypical mother nurtures the babe, feeds before it asks to be fed.

The archtypical father provides and protects, the babies know, they are safe when he is there.

What is your legacy, mother and father of last century?

Did you nurture, protect and provide for your legacies?

By creating all the ways to live,

Did you think, whether the children from here after, can be sustained by the ways you live.

“The true character of a society is revealed in how it treats it’s children.”- Nelson Mandela

The worst part is that, the children are paying, for the sins against them.