The illusion of control.
The grandeur of strength.
The blink of an eye.
Green turning to brown.

The good part.
The cynic in me telling it would be over soon.
I don’t know if I wish it to be an illusion.
Or a reality.

Coming back to Life

Coming back to Life.
Life – a world that is both truth and a lie.
The lie we have been living day after day for some time.
The expectation, the aspirations – how can we define that. And how can we trust in that definition.
Is ambition over-hyped? I wonder what is the point of all of this.
May be this chaos, this uncertainty, this weakness that prevails across the world – It was all meant to be.
And truth and lie are nothing but two faces of the same coin. It only depends on what you wish to see.

The process called Life

“What is that one species you wish to be extinct?”
Answered the majority of the people I asked this question.

Is there any other species which would wish themselves to be extinct? I don’t know. Jungle, where everything is about survival, this thought is not meant for them. They are meant for a much advanced and idle mind. A mind and a body which is well fed. You will not find poor people in this bracket.
There priorities are different.

Why do we hate ourselves so much? Will it be right in saying the people who wish humans to be extinct will volunteer for the cause by laying down their lives at first? I don’t think so. Though it might be true that majority will agree that they don’t have any problem being dead. They are just hesitant to go through the process.


I have understood the process now.

The light will keep entering this dark tunnel I reside in.

Enter, only to leave.

I have learnt to acknowledge its presence, without attaching myself to it.

I have learnt to come out of denial and look at the light as it passes by.

It still feels good to see the light. But I have made my deal with the darkness. We have learnt to fuel each other.


The silence of the night calls out my name.
To what end are you headed to, it asks.
I wish I could tell.
I wish I had the answers.
But it understands. It is that time of the night.

It sits besides me, comfortably sharing the silence.
I know it wants to talk to me.
I knew it still had many questions.
But it kept silent. It understands. It is that time of the night.

Countless moments. All those times when I felt numb.
It felt good. Being numb felt good. It still does.
I am not complaining. I am thankful. To all of it. To the silent night.
I wish I could let it know. But I don’t need to. It understands.

It is that time of the night. The time is me. I am this time.
I wish I could tell this to everyone. But will they understand? Do you understand?