तुम मुझमें प्रिय, फिर परिचय क्या
तारक में छवि, प्राणों में स्मृति
पलकों में नीरव पद की गति
लघु उर में पुलकों की संस्कृति
भर लाई हूँ तेरी चंचल
और करूँ जग में संचय क्या?


तेरा मुख सहास अरूणोदय
परछाई रजनी विषादमय
वह जागृति वह नींद स्वप्नमय,
खेल खेल थक थक सोने दे
मैं समझूँगी सृष्टि प्रलय क्या?


तेरा अधर विचुंबित प्याला
तेरी ही विस्मत मिश्रित हाला
तेरा ही मानस मधुशाला
फिर पूछूँ क्या मेरे साकी
देते हो मधुमय विषमय क्या?
चित्रित तू मैं हूँ रेखा क्रम,
मधुर राग तू मैं स्वर संगम
तू असीम मैं सीमा का भ्रम
काया-छाया में रहस्यमय
प्रेयसी प्रियतम का अभिनय क्या?
तुम मुझमें प्रिय फिर परिचय क्या?
- महादेवी वर्मा

Sad. Sorry. Bad News. Hell. Lost...Why it is that every time I turn up to write my blog, my feelings are more emotional and curious than anything else...

Taxi! I shout.

And somehow the taxi driver, sitting in a car with all windows rolled up, can hear me. It turns in and lowers his window.

I ask him, “Toronto downtown?”

“Get in” an equally short reply comes...

Taxi drivers like it when you hire them to go far. It’s a comfortable 40 minutes ride. At least 40 dollars including tip.

I hurriedly open the door and slip in...feeling the warmth of the air conditioner in the cab.

It’s already getting dark. I should have started a little early...but I woke up late...but that’s because I had slept late...Without even noticing, my mind starts processing useless data...It somehow happens. I don’t know how?

The taxi drives in the flood of cars on a seven lane highway...Inside the car, the radio is playing the news in Urdu. The driver must be from Pakistan. Something in his face confirms my speculation. I feel better! as if I solved a difficult puzzle. I look outside in appreciation.

The cars are moving real slow. It must be less than 20 km per hour. Feels like it will take an hour to reach Bloor Street. After all this is highway 404, going to downtown. The cab driver tells me, noticing my rumblings in the back seat, that this is the busiest highway in North America. I express astonishment, thinking about the traffic I had seen when I was coming to New York from New Jersey. But I keep quiet. There is no fun comparing useless data and try to use analytical thinking for it. Again, I just escaped from processing useless information in my mind.

A flurry falls on my window...looks magnificent but melts before you could absorb its beauty. I realize...it has started snowing...no wonder. The forecast has a right to be correct sometimes.

I slid back a little in the comfortable leather couch and look outside the window, the cars passing by and the dark sky in background. How ignorant does it feel to be sitting in the back seat of a car in a foreign world, where less than 10 people know you? Suddenly I realize how big is this world? And how petty our existence is? Nothing, absolutely nothing…and here we are, trying to make a difference in our own world, trying to get an appreciation, striving for more. How tiny can it be? I feel so hopeless, so useless, so alone...There I am! once again, my brain is processing useless data... I close my eyes and exhale a deep breath. The taxi driver asks me, "You look tired." and I say, "Yes", thinking about an explanation for why exactly I am so tired..and realizing that I am catching on another useless thought...

I want to leave all these comforts of life, the conditioning, the beautiful furnished house, the internet, the comfortable bed and linens, and want to sleep below the sheen layer of stars, below an open sky, lying on the green grass, thinking about the most beautiful feeling. Sometimes I just feel that, something like this, which is so easy to do, can be so difficult to do. There is a paradox everywhere, in every sense, in every walk, in every decision of life.

In a moment, she was gone. Click. and then a long empty tone. I still search for her. May be that the phone will ring again.
I wait.
I listen. I concentrate.
Nothing.
I feel suddenly tired. I close my eyes. My thoughts rumble, come in uncontrolled manner, pushing each other. I avoid them. I open my eyes. I prefer not to think. I try to remain calm, trying to concentrate again. I feel more tired. I feel that it's cold. I pull the cover over me and cover myself completely. I feel that the cold is dying. I relish that feeling. I turn in my bed. My phone is in front of me again. All the thoughts come back. I put the phone aside, as far as I can reach. I make it invisible. I turn again. As if I had turned only to put the phone aside. I close my eyes.

Let me call it a desperation to succeed. To succeed in to change the status quo. To succeed to feel better about life, or may be become more successful in terms of money and power.
My life seems to be added up in many dimensions suddenly. With so many things wrapped around me, I am taking a good deal of care of all of them. It starts from calling my family to doing office work, apping and also extract time to eat in a restaurent. It's all around. I am spread everywhere and still connected to a common thread, the myself.
I am enjoying it. Implementing all the principles, that I have and will learn in this run. I love my sona. I am afraid that she should not be left behind somewhere in this run. In that situation, I will leave a good deal of myself behind. No, I will not do that. I will never let her go. never ever.
Time for me to prioritize tasks for tomorrow, so that I can sleep in peace. I have never felt the same way before. I feel energized and happy. I feel great because I love my sona. It also brings an enormous confidence in me that there is someone who believes in me more than me. Life is beautiful. At least whatever I have got for myself!

My Tryst With Self Expedition

There seem to be so insecure moments in life, where things cannot be defined in the way they are. People are confused and even lost in their own ambitions and choices. I dont know how to define it. Such sense of morality and care that it seems to crash their own existence and comfort. I don't know how truthful it is. I don't know how pretentious there reactions are.
Once again, here I am, fighting in the dark, trying to sleep. I listen: the bark of street dogs outside, the perpetual humming on ceiling fan, silent snores of my parents, and the soft sound of laptop keys. So many thoughts come to my mind. Many nights, I feel that I am leading myself in nothingness, trying to achieve trifles. I feel that I am running behind something, achieving which will give me success, but not happiness. I am not able to decide. It's not a good idea to decide the greenary of the lawns by sitting on the fence between them. Standing on one of the sides makes the decision easier. I am looking for an answer, which I know that everyone around me does not know. Several times, I have explored myself to reveal the truth. But, I loose it in the way and interrupt my self expediation. All the people, to whom I ask opinion, are standing on the either side and they think they are the best. But its not their fault. Self-righteous-ness is good. It makes people happy.
I don't know where I will end up. I am running on a track, from where there is no return back. We who are bound to live for the evolution of ourselves and the humble ones attached to us. It's defeat in all directions. Human life is nothing. There is no God. There is no success or failure. There are no lies. There is no truth. It's all imposed, created in order to create a system, a social system. Finally, nothing leads to perpetual satisfaction. Every satisfaction is a single transaction. Every satisfaction has its duration.
I don't know what I want. Really. And for whom. Living in a culture, where it is taught to live for others, it is difficult to live for oneself. My father worked hard all his life for his children. His effort was fruitful. But, now we are, trying to achieve more, leaving behind everything. For some tangible thing called money and intangible thing called future and success. What did my father achieved out of it.
Satisfaction.
A satisfaction of being successful in his duties. One aspect of his satisfaction. An intangible one.

It all happens in a flash, before you can react to yourself, before you can answer what you have done. Sometimes, we don't even know ourselves, and we discover this fact and feel mesmarised. It all happens in a flash.

Things change. Emotions evolve. Feelings prosper. Love blooms. But life goes in circles. Emotions change their face, feelings seem strangers, love stagnates. There are no expressions, for there are no words. It's all a story of quietness, an active quietness.

I am very alone.
Very quiet.
Very lost.
Very confused.
In a state of soft kill of my own, trying to fight with something which exists in me and every time I explore something new about it.
Its very strange.
Its terrifying.
I dont know.
Drinking, an act to get drunk, to be in a state where things dissolve, expressions pour, everything looks difficult and easy at the same time. Self realization becomes simple. I feel the same. Many times. Every time I talk to her about everything I want to. Everything. And everything she wants to tell me. A story of love. Solitude. And love again.
If one can laugh on himself, there are less reasons to laugh on others. We ourselves have so many. At least I have.
I am tired. I want to sleep. But, I cannot. Dreams come and go. Thoughts come and go. I try to sleep. This is all I do. But, I cannot sleep.
I will write more. If I have more expressions. Now, I am exausted.
Completely.

I believe that silence has many forms and interpretations. Silence is not a void in itself. Black, the absense of any other colour, is also a colour. Silence changes itself according to the context, the mental state of listener, the verbal expression of speaker and the words or events that precede it. Silence is very disturbing or even killing most of the times, but sometimes it is also a beautiful thing. People, almost all of us feel it, recongnize it and even interpret it.

Sometimes silence is present in the air. It becomes visible and you can smell. Many times, it is difficult to identify its source; how did it suddenly occupied the whole area and in many cases, the whole room or house. Silence intensifies the fear and creates a gruelling desire to overinterpret the preceding events, which seem to have triggered it.

Although silence is normally observed to be quietness, which prevails long enough to be recognized, it can also be a noisy stretch of its previous expression. I don't know how many people will agree with me, but I have also confronted silence in music and in words. In music and words, silence is just the stretch of the previous expression. Nothing new gets added, but the same thing goes on. Its like playing the same chord for a long time on keyboard, or speaking the words that are different but keep the meaning of expression at exactly the same level. Those extended notes and stretched words are as good as if they were not there. That music and words are silent, not in their form, but in their interpretation.

As we grow, I have observed that silence in our lives gets longer. I would like to relate the presence of silence in one's life with one's mental expression of not being sad. The beauty of this concept is that it does not depend upon the sensitivity of an individual to feel that silence. If you don't find any silence in your life, may be you are very happy, or you are too busy to observe it. In either case, you are not sad. Sometimes, we can't hear silence, and sometimes we safely ignore it. It's easy to ignore things than to solve them. It's a human trait. Laziness is a one-word for that expression.

Finally, the only way to stop silence is to kill it rather than solve it. Just ignore it that it was there and try to diminish its effect. Interpretation of silence ignores the hidden facts, which can only be revealed by talking...

Well, I have nothing to write. Nothing, that can really make sense or even accomplish itself as a truth, something which prevails and proves itself again and again over time. I have seen my dreams scrolling by, trying to contact me only when I am asleep, a time when I am lost in a world where I have no controls. I am confused deep inside in my core, with an expression of frustration.

Now, I am curled up in my bed, with temperature set at 25 degrees and a laptop in my lap, I am typing as if I am expressing my desire to speak to someone. This world has digitised itself to such an extent that we have a tremendous confidence in it, and we feel so close to it that we prefer writing our