New Horizons

There is a lot of comfort in routine. Lots of comfort in the know, be it the chai at four or in brushing your teeth or making the bed. Or maybe comfort in going to class, listening to the same songs of the same playlist, not changing. This comfort is so embracing and warm and comfo rtable that we forget that it breeds a certain other kind of stagnant behaviour of the mind and body, one which is best thrown out before it settles in. I ponder much about the comforts of routine. So it didn't really surprise me when I thought the same words and phrases as I had before. 26/2/18 There is a lot of comfort in routine. Lots of comfort in the known--so much so that it physically pains us to test the boundaries of this comfort. To foray into the dark wild, beyond our fields bathed in golden sunlight,to do that, takes more than just courage. It takes great appeal to want to know the unknown and travel through what lies Beyond. As the grasp of uncertainty tightens in our heads, choking o...

The ability to forego procrastination and welcome oneself to the realms of all things mature and impressive, namely:  productivity, has to be one's most significant virtue. Today I must reflect upon my lack of loyalty towards the being that I hold very dear to myself. Me. Loyalty instigates that one stands by another under all circumstances. One does not try to impair another by any action ( or in my case, the lack there of). To be loyal to another, one cares enough as to not hurt the one he is loyal to. Much Ado about Loyalty, I have been betraying myself since I could think. In the quest for everything nice, I constantly lie to myself about the necessity of time. Whether it's the 'five more minutes' in the morning or the 'but this is an educational video' while procrastinating and binge watching YouTube videos, I find that I am unable to be cautious about where and how I spend my time. The lack of formality while dealing with someone as complex and stern as ...

In a very artsy, new-agey manner, I am able to write meaningful articles while bobbing my head to music on my obnoxiously large and overly conspicuous headphones. Here, I am the quiet, enigmatic, well-dressed teen, listening to soft music while penning down my thoughts on expensive paper with a carefully selected pen, just right for my handwriting, lettering and (obviously) the scratchy sound it makes with the paper. And, as with all well-captured scenes in what I call ‘good cinema’, this happens during the daylight hours with the sun shining merrily and light pouring in through the windows, warming my hand, the wind playing with the few strands of my hair which have artfully come out of the carelessly tied yet beautifully executed ‘messy bun’ which rests atop my head, a strong characteristic of all teen artists of today. To add further flavour to this frivolous mix, I wear well ironed pastels or solids, the crisp lining of my sleeve brushing the table as I write. One would ass...

The constant whining of society intrudes upon our life and ways—silence is looked upon as a heavy word, taxing and draining those living in it. Contrary to such repining ways of human history, silence, in itself is a blessing for man today. Away from the constant murmur of spoken lies, silence is the light of contentment for silence of speech brings forth the music of thoughts and deliberation, which lacks us an excuse for recklessness.   To know that the crux of society lies in the lap of the abusive connections amongst its members and yet, to have the luxury to observe it from a different angle, plane, heck a planet, is my good fortune indeed. I consider myself, in that sense, to be immensely lucky—not to have met him, but to be part of a relationship so distant from the wailing pleas our colleagues claim theirs to be. Contrary to all clickbait articles which circulate the social media, constant speech is far from a pre-requisite to what they call a ‘healthy relat...

Soft jazz plays in the background. The night is cool, the wind playful, the air filled with the undiscernable shallow mumbling of various lovers. We are all together here but no one looks at each other. I carry the drink back to my table, smiling slightly, letting my gaze deepen-- my eyes, smouldering, intent upon the beautiful sight before me. As I sit with a hopeful sigh, I smile more widely at my love. Sweet memories bring us closer-- quiet nights, rainy days, late mornings, disturbed only by the thrumming of my heart, the gasps of heady breaths, the moans of boundless pleasure. I grasp the benevolent in my ever waiting hands and lower my lips, parting them slightly, only to breathe once before it all begins. And then it does. The creaminess of mayonnaise, it's smooth richness along with a thick  layer of cheese, at perfect harmony with the crisp, rough texture of my chicken parm. As my bite deepens, the sound of pure love escapes my body as it claims my soul, my thoughts ...

I like washing dishes. What I don't like is being told to do it. The idea of an over pampered, French speaking (kind of), self-proclaimed beauty reduced to soaping up dirty dishes infested with the salivated germs of the less worthy sapiens around her, disgusts me.  And yet, I secretly enjoy the sanctity of cleaning the unclean, coupled with the sensory amusement in the sound of the gushing water, the slippery feel of the soap and the purity of the gritty green sponge. It's almost fantastic, playing around with the soft, cloud-like foam, its many facets reflecting the bright light. The shine of stainless steel, the squeak of freshly cleaned glass is like the emergence of Aphrodite from the waves of the sea.  The perception of such chores as menial, manual labor is, in that meditative state, completely forgotten.  It is unfortunate though, as I wash my hands (twice!) with dermatologically tested "100% effective" hand wash and then proceed to moisturize them wit...

Clarity is an oddly selfish state of mind. Without the trivia of other beings, their lives and flaws, their happiness or unhappiness, our minds tune to their inner burrows of self-preserving bliss. It is then in that cavern that we see the crack of dawn, the rise of the sun, the faces of the moon-- all uninterrupted, undisturbed by the facets of ordinary human tendencies. We forget our qualms, our anxiety. We look instead, for our life's purpose.  However, if everyone lived in total clarity of thought, of their actions and their consequences, perhaps all would lead unjustly tedious lives. Or perhaps only then would the world truly become those of equals, of man and nature alike and truly be for everyone and everything?  Or would such clarity force some to lack empathy, leading to the destruction of everything we urge ourselves to forget for that moment of Clarity.