Sooraj ... lost somewhere here ...

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  • time_pass 15w

    Advices long died here. This never qualifies to be so.
    Eligible to be called a senseless collection of words.

    " perhaps, it atleast helps deal the regrets of those who wished to see you better off "

    To the teacher ...

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    It is possible that for every individual, there may be phases that they find difficult to tide over, no matter how capable the person may be. Some people inhabit the peaks of determination by finding a way all by themselves, which is worth the pain. If the finest of your efforts still doesn't help move the rock, it might be wise to seek help. Seeking help from others may prove to be the biggest trigger for waking your ego up with a 'Good Morning'.

    'Seeking help' however, doesn't seem very mean; the world runs by mutual help from what I have observed. When you feel being in the middle of the oasis and find absolutely empty to figure out the way back home, it might be reasonable enough to 'seek help', especially if your mind is instructing you to dig your grave in that desert. It is true that there might be Jokers anticipating to take advantage of those seeking help.

    Sometimes, the world feels so collapsed to accomodate too many two-face's and stab-from-behind'ers. Still, for every Bruce Wayne, I hope there would exist an Alfred who, on tough times, would pat him on his back and ask - " Why do we fall, sir ? " In a dark world, it might be worth the hope to seek for a dark knight.

    because, only when you seek help, you would know how many hands you could count on.

  • time_pass 39w

    ... conversations ...

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    " To overcome fear, it was crucial to trust the darkness.
    How would the efforts have recieved the desired value, if the failures had not its depths ?
    And how would have love been so heavenly, if 'joy' weren't generated in the act of giving ? "

    'Is the real meaning of love always in about losing something? '

    " I haven't had the luxury of being loved. But I guess, atleast sometimes, if not always "

    ' What did you lose ? '

    " Everything... except the contentment and satisfaction of bringing like-people together, even though, at the end, nothing anticipated me but hatred. "

    ' Where is "the joy" in here ? '

    " It is in doing the right thing for others, even after knowing what fate has in store for you. "

  • time_pass 43w


    When I became an island of dilemma, surrounded by the ocean of noise, I thought of contacting God. As the occasional signal which nature delivered me, got corrupted within the channel, I was left with little options but to text God through Whatsapp to retrieve my information.

    ....... Dear God, things are as cloudy and opaque as it can get; and it seems meaningless to walk forward without clarity. I dont understand ! I am unable to  understand the language that you deliver. I can no longer distinguish between the real tears and the fake smiles. I can't even read the pain that they hide behind some smiles.

    I am unable to follow the stories that they recite. As a listener, I am perplexed on pondering into the depths of reality, these stories contain. These stories, embracing the elements of grief, often mock at my inefficacy to understand them... And what language does the hearts convey ; the hearts dropped within these stories, inside which I neither find a beat nor an emotion,seem to be an invisible thread of communication. Emotions are so exposed, yet hidden.

    I don't understand why they embrace me today, only to dethrone tomorrow. I am unable to follow the ideology behind which transactions happen between people, for people who loves tea today, opts mint leaves tomorrow. And where are those kind people, who offered the first cup of sincere appreciations and disappered somewhere ? Although this piece is so simple and subtle, it appears so complicated.

    Could you throw some light and clarity to this dilemma ? Sometimes, it gets so silly that I find my mind playing the cat and mouse game with me ; mind takes fiction too seriously. The mystery within, although exasperating, is a fuel that drives curiosity and help nagivate somewhere. But the mystery outside is so alienating that every place feels like a no entry.

    Tomorrow, when somebody throw a fake smile at me, what am I supposed to understand ? that the person is hiding pain from me, or from everybody else ? How can I help heal them, and heal myself .......

    Then I pressed a long backspace. He is not online.  Is God also in the airplane mode ? And even if I send this, only God knows whether this message will ever see a bluetick. And even if it does, I am sure God will not appreciate it. It has been so long since I wrote something to him, and he won't like this as I forgot the taste that interests him. After all, if he had any more clarity to add, he probably would not have waited for my message.

    " Hey Google, where can I find some clarity ? "

    ©clarity not found

  • time_pass 69w

    It is not always cool to be a listener, unless you have the ability to generate fragrance out of filth. When stories dont give delight to ears but highlight the cruel feat of fate, a tiny little clown is born in a listener, who attempts to heal the scars, only to miserably unsucceed. A few audience begins disliking the joker, even hate, for intruding into their story. They never know, this is a part of joker's life. And he involves in every story, never becoming a part of it, to be alone. and when the listener starts watching around, he observes this...

    Sometimes, stories without words contains more life than those with words.

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    I saw a man who's fifty years old
    Walking the road with his product, not yet sold
    He dont mind the rain, but the climate is so cold
    His weary-teary eyelids spoke me stories untold


  • time_pass 70w

    " Emotions not always reciprocate "

    This is an inevitable content of most stories heard. And as a listener, it isn't really entertaining to encounter the old stuffs. But here, it is more disappointing, yet real. Hope for wiser adaptations in the stories and better corrections in the script. And long as you hold the pen, dont hesitate to spill out more ink to make the paper look more beautiful.

    Some 'unsaid' conversations. The replies that stay just inside your head and never leaves you, and your wise smile becomes the answer to every monologue��

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    ' Hello dear, feels nice meeting
    you. I sometimes think about you
    when i am free. '
    " I used to make struggles to forget
    you to get myself engaged for
    sometime "

    ' Amidst this pool of tension,
    recollecting the old stories
    provide a lot of relief. '
    " I know... I live in them. "

    ' And you know, sometimes you
    used to appear in my dreams. '
    " Really !!... you used to be my dream."

    'Anyways, it was good talking
    to you after a while.
    Bye, see you later. '
    " Me too.. and thank you
    for the reality lessons. "

  • time_pass 71w

    Stranger's dream

    " I know very well that I wouldn't make it, but now I love to make that failed attempt, because till date, I were a man of actions void. "

    Aspirations never took you anywhere without actions, did they ? The only contentment that led his miserable life so far was the hope of being a part of the Stranger's dream.

    " But I realise, the dream was like the mirage of an oasis. But wait... I am not in a desert. This place looks like a tiny island with nothing but water everywhere. The place where I longed for, but not the one where I meant to be..... and me, who used to deliver courage capsules to my fellows, seem to appal at my way ahead. The island is slowly submerging underwater. Illiterate in swimming, I have two options - to drown and die staying still or to drown and die in an attempt to escape. Something is inevitable. For so long in life, I had been an ideal idol, proving good just to my visitors and not to anybody else. Still, what kept this idol smiling was the hope of being a part of the Stranger's dream. And here, I end up in a no-man land, not even the dream of a stranger to accompany. "

    He, who fits into nobody's story, could fit to anyone's dream, he thought. After all, what does it cost to be a part of a stranger's dream ?
    But he had a high toll, and yet, he never became a part of it. " Expectation hurts " was his universal advice and today, he tastes its bitterness. No matter how bitter truth is, only when you taste it do you realise its depth. And most often, bitter depths give better lessons. He embraced the waters with a heavy heart, the pain of not being a part of the Stranger's dream. But the inability to swim made him light, and he realised, he was not even a part of his own dream, then why blame the stranger ! The person whom you think is a stranger, might not really be one. Better luck kid, he was leaving, the waters fought with him to prove their might. The drops never knew how weak a person he was...
    Or, were they embracing their son out of joy ? The waters took him to their depths and with much affection, told him a secret... ' to remember to keep flowing... '


  • time_pass 91w

    ഉങ്കളെ അളിക്കറുത്ക്ക് ഒരു കട്ടി നടക്ക്റത്. ഉങ്ക മേലെ ഇരുന്ത നമ്പിക്കയും മര്യാദയും കൊഞ്ചം കൊഞ്ചമാ അഴിഞ്ചിക്കിട്ടവരുത്. സില പേർക്കു ഇരുട്ട് താനേ സൗഖ്യം പ്പാ. അപ്പാ, നീങ്കള്ക്ക് താൻ നീങ്കളെ കാപ്പാത്തമുടിയും.

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    A letter to my father

    Although you took away my father way back, you were always a marvel for me. If any thought could bring in me tears of bliss, that was only you. Oh father ! how could you shelter too many conflicts under you and still keep the peace? How could you walk through all those diverse paths, and still render joy to your children with the path they chose ! How could you preach so selfless, the path of virtue ; move generations towards it, and build ecstacy in chaos ! And yet, how can the powerful be so humble? Or, did you even withdraw father, for the cruel to let stretch its wings? Why do you seem submissive to that devilish dominance? The heart sinks at your absence.

    When their monopoly gifts me suffocation, all I can look for is you. I feel myself a powerless moth in offering resistance to that wave of arrogance. The tiny lantern of wisdom, which I carry, seems to flicker in the storm of ignorance they release, and I become a disaster of a son, oh! failing miserably in defending my father's justice and sacrifice. Why dont you protect the legacy and love you had donated to your men with absolute devotion? Oh Caesar ! dont you see those transforming Brutus' behind the curtains; and those dark hands forcing them? Will you destroy yourself for the sake of those fake morals?

    The sunset of Wisdom is more painful than pain itself, and I prefer my sunset over it. My dear father, let me embrace the soil with absolute bliss, but grant me this, that you will go on with the revelations of Wisdom, elevating the consciousness about creation, within creation. I would lend my blood and flesh, but assure me that the miracles that had happend, which were just manifestations of your energy, should keep on reverting and reverberating the land and its creation. I would joyfully give back the soil inside, and empty this home with grace, but give me your word that all the conspirators, who had their dirty eye on you, would be given the taste of their medicine, in the course of time. I would even wholeheartedly recieve my place in Hell, but promise me this, that your energy has its reminiscence althrough the remnants of time, and that your children would rightfully call it by your name.

    My dear creator, I would probably not exist as long to see you fulfil the wish of your Son. But my belief in the strength of my father never dies; let my siblings enjoy the fruit of your Wisdom. Spare not those conspiracies.
    ©your heir.

  • time_pass 101w

    Disclaimer : " ഈ വാക്കുകളുടെ മേൽ എനിക്ക് യാതൊരു അധികാരവുമില്ല. അമ്പത്തൊന്നക്ഷരം സംഭാവന നൽകിയ പണ്ഡിതന്മാർക്കും 26 alphas discover ചെയ്ത സായിപ്പന്മാർക്കും പിന്നെ manglish keyboard നും മാത്രം ഈ post അധികാരപ്പെട്ടിരിക്കുന്നു. "

    " ഞാൻ " എന്നോ " എന്റെ " എന്നോ സ്വാഭിമാനം ഇല്ലാത്ത അധികം ആരും ഉണ്ടാവില്ല. പക്ഷെ അതൊരു മനോഹരമായ മിഥ്യയാണ്, a beautiful lie. നമ്മുടേത് എന്ന്‌ കരുതി അഭിമാനിക്കുന്ന ഈ ശരീരം പോലും കേവലം 60-80 വർഷത്തേയ്ക്ക് പാട്ടത്തിന് എടുത്ത ഭൂമിയുടെ മണ്ണിൻകഷ്ണങ്ങൾ അല്ലെ? കാലാവധി കഴിയുമ്പോൾ ഭൂമിയിൽ തന്നെ വീണ്ടും ലയിക്കും.

    താഴെ പറഞ്ഞ കഥയിൽ അമ്മയ്ക്കും അച്ഛനും സൃഷ്ടിയിൽ വലിയ പങ്കുണ്ട്. പക്ഷെ ആ സൃഷ്ടി തന്നെ നിലയ്ക്കാതെ സംഭവിക്കുന്നത് ഒരു അദൃശ്യ ശക്തിയുടെ ആജ്ഞകളിൽ ആവില്ലേ?? അങ്ങനെയുള്ളപ്പോൾ അതിന്റെമേൽ അഹങ്കരിക്കാൻ ആർക്കു എന്ത് അധികാരം? എന്റെ വായിൽ നിന്നും ഉതിരുന്ന വചനങ്ങളെ, എന്റെ തൂലികയിൽ ജനിക്കുന്ന വാക്കുകളെ, എന്റേത് എന്ന്‌ പറയാൻ എനിക്ക് എന്തധികാരം??

    ധരിച്ചിരിക്കുന്ന ദേഹം പോലും കടം എടുത്തതല്ലേ, അപ്പോൾ അതിൽ നിന്നും ഉടലെടുക്കുന്നതൊക്കെ നമ്മുടേതാവുമോ??

    അച്ഛനും അമ്മയും ഈ കഥയിലെ രണ്ടു കഥാപാത്രങ്ങൾ മാത്രം. ഈ എഴുത് ഓരോരുത്തർക്കും അൽപ്പനേരം ചിന്തിക്കാനുള്ള ഒരു trigger ആണ്. നിങ്ങൾ നിർമിക്കുന്നതെല്ലാം നിങ്ങളുടെ മാത്രം ആയിരിക്കും എന്ന തീവ്ര അഭിമാനബോധമുള്ള 'ചില' നിങ്ങൾക്കുവേണ്ടി മാത്രം.

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    പണ്ടൊരിക്കൽ നടന്ന കഥയാണിത്. ഒരിക്കൽ ഒരു മകന് വേണ്ടി അച്ഛനും അമ്മയും തമ്മിൽ വലിയ യുദ്ധം ഉണ്ടായി. ഒരു " copyright " യുദ്ധം. മകന്റെ യഥാർത്ഥ അവകാശി താനാണ് എന്ന അഭിമാനത്തിൽ രണ്ടുപേരും പരസ്പരം പോരാടി. രണ്ടുപേരുടെയും ദുരഭിമാനം പരാജയം സമ്മതിച്ചില്ല. തോറ്റത് പക്ഷെ ആ മകനായിരുന്നു. അതു കാരണം ആ സമൂഹവും.

    മനുഷ്യന് ജൻമം നൽകുന്നതും സ്നേഹവും പോഷണവും നൽകുന്നതും മാതാപിതാക്കൾ തന്നെയാണ്. എന്നിട്ടും " man is a social animal " എന്നാണ് നമ്മൾ പറഞ്ഞു പഠിച്ചിട്ടുള്ളത്, " man is a family animal " എന്നല്ല. ജനനത്തിന്റെ ഉത്തരവാദിത്വം അവർക്കാണെങ്കിലും, മകന് സമൂഹത്തോട് മുഴുവൻ ഉത്തരവാദിത്വമുണ്ട്. ആ യാഥാർഥ്യം മനസിലാക്കാത്ത " സൃഷ്ടാക്കൾ - the creators " നിർമിക്കുന്ന സൃഷ്ടികൾ ആർക്കും ഗുണമില്ലാത്ത ചാപിള്ളകൾ ആയിമാറും.

    പ്രകാശത്തെ സൃഷ്ടിക്കുന്ന സൂര്യൻ, അത് തനിക്ക് മാത്രം സ്വന്തം എന്നുകരുതി മറച്ചുപിടിച്ചെങ്കിൽ, നമ്മളൊക്കെ ഇരുട്ടിൽ തപ്പി നടക്കേണ്ടി വന്നേനെ. അതിനാൽ സൃഷ്ടാവ് എന്ന അഹങ്കാരത്തിൽ, ദാനം ചെയ്യുന്നതിന് പകരം മറച്ചുപിടിച്ചാൽ, ആ സൃഷ്ടാവും ഒരു ബാധ്യതയാവും.

    ' Absolute joy is in sharing, it is in tolerating '


  • time_pass 102w

    ഇതിലെ grammatical errors ദയവായി ക്ഷമിക്കുക ��

    The aura had vanished and the flora had flourised, while i am peaceful and dead in the evergreen forest bed. The fauna rejoice for the meal of their choice; and from the list i am removed, but the planet seems unmoved. In my dwelling, a lady seems yelling for her blood and her cheeks are swelling, and the audience are smelling a tragedy with wet eyelids. The lady kept crying through the fortnight, but the viewers ran off the mourn that night, and the planet seems unmoved. She wept for another month for the debt i had left behind, but the people had kept this memory out of their brain. Forgetfulness is a blessing indeed. Sooner that later, everything restored, but without me, and there was no subtle change, and the planet seems unmoved. In despair, my spirit enquired the angel - why dont the planet mourn for me and she replied - you are just one among my many dead son.

    The planet was unmoved and everything was perfect..

    I realised.. i was the imperfection

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    Without me

    the aura had vanished..
    and the flora had flourished..
    as i am peaceful and dead..
    in the evergreen forest bed...

  • time_pass 102w

    എല്ലാത്തിനെയും ഒരേ രീതിയിൽ കാണാൻ ശ്രമിച്ചാലും ചിലതൊക്കെ കാരണരഹിതമായി തന്നെ കൂടുതൽ പ്രിയപെട്ടതാവും. Mirakee ൽ വന്നതിൽ പിന്നെ അങ്ങനെയാണ് June മാസവും August മാസവും. ഇവിടെ സ്നേഹം മനസറിഞ്ഞു നൽകുന്ന ഒരുപാട് പേർക്ക് ജന്മം നൽകിയത് ഈ മാസങ്ങൾ ആണ്. മുകളിൽ സൂചിപ്പിച്ച പോലെ, ഒന്നിനെയും കുറച്ചു കാണുന്നതല്ല, എന്നാലും തികച്ചും യാദൃശ്ചികമായി സംഭവിച്ച ഇത് എനിക്ക് ചെറിയൊരു അത്ഭുതമാണ്. മനസിന്റെ സ്നേഹവും നിർമ്മലതയും ജനിച്ച മാസത്തിന്റെ പ്രതിഫലനം അല്ലെങ്കിൽ കൂടിയും, ഈ ഒരു ചെറിയ magic ഇവിടെ ഞാൻ നിക്ഷേപിക്കുന്നു..
    ഒപ്പം അൽപ്പം സ്നേഹവും... ��

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    നിസ്വാർത്ഥമാം സ്നേഹമേ
    നീ ഇനിയുമവരെയൊന്നു തഴുകുക
    നിത്യമായൊരു മന്ദസ്മിതം
    അവരുടെ വദനങ്ങൾക്ക് നൽകുക
    ©birthday wishes