Monday, December 22, 2014

Some More Inferences

The path to perfection does not have a rational destination but a satisfactory one.

The biggest difficulty lies not in working hard to achieve something but in continuing to work hard after the achievement.

There is no room for ego when one realizes that people have different viewpoints and that each one of them is equally right, in its own way, as any other.

Being philosophical is the basic tendency of any person. Each person has a philosophy upon which he/she bases his/her decisions.

What keeps us from excelling is that we don’t realize that we truly are powerful.

The greatest lessons of life are taught to us when we are very young, in the form of short stories. We forget about them for a while and again start believing in them when we start awakening. 

A truly favorite thing is something that the inner – self can flawlessly identify with. It is a lifelong companion.

Some or the other type of commonness of feeling things exists between those who are close to each other.

True victory lies not in showing off your strengths but in accepting your weaknesses.

The first step towards improvement is that you stop lying to yourself by accepting things as they really are.

I once believed in a philosophy, forgot about it and again started believing in it. The philosophy is: Everything is possible.


Sunday, December 14, 2014

Feeling It

He felt It, he really did. He felt It one fine evening after ages. All the while, he used to sit under the night sky and gaze at the stars above, but he couldn’t find It. He tried hard but failed each time. He was scared but he patiently waited. He patiently waited for he knew he would feel It again. He wouldn’t find It but It would come to him. He knew that trying would never help, yet he tried and failed always.

That night, he was at peace. He was silent after a very long time. He gazed at the shining full moon above and sure enough he felt It. All big and small revolts in his person listened to It. For once, he wasn’t tempted about anything. For once, he wasn’t pushing himself. For once, he wasn’t restless. For once, he wasn’t scared.  For once, he was totally accepting.

It was a winter night but he was outside. He couldn’t sit on the chair, he had to feel the earth. The ground was cold, yet he sat on it. The ground felt warm, it comforted him like a mother does her child. He had some work allotted to him, yet he sat. He sat for It was far more important for him than that work. For the first time, he was feeling really good after creating something. He hadn’t received any appreciation for it as such, yet he felt satisfied. And sure enough, he had worked very hard.

His noodles were tasteless, yet he found them mesmerizing. Eating bland food sometimes was a good thing, he thought. His favorite soothing music was playing on the side and his heart responded to each and every expression made by the instruments and voices.He wished that the night should never pass but soon hushed this desire for he had to truly feel It, in the present. He had gone through a noisy period before this, which made It all the more blissful. He knew It won’t last for long. Despite this knowledge, he wasn’t scared. He decided he would save It. He would save It, replay It, rejoice in It.


We all feel "It". For me, "It" can somewhat be identified in some songs. Here is the link of one such song. Dear reader, I request you to kindly go to the following link as the song is an integral part of the post. Thank you.

Saturday, December 6, 2014

An Unusual Incident (Poem)

The reason why I did not insert any quote or image is that even after finishing writing it all, I could not arrive at any specific conclusion. So, I decided to describe it only as a portrayal of an imagined incident and leave the post to just about the poem. Dear reader, I hope you enjoy reading it.

I in fine mood and attire.
 Was out for fresh air to acquire.
Down a street I was strolling,
      Down a street that had lack of patrolling.    
Each inhalation of the pleasant air,
     Was itself a reward too fair.       
    Soon were heard loud steps of a man,   
But I didn’t then turn around to scan.

The contemplation I resumed,
Assuming not that I’ll soon be doomed. 
Shortly, the walking behind turned to running,
And around I turned to see the cunning.

As black as the lovely night,
Were robes of he who caused the fright.
On his face anger was reflected,
And by this he seemed greatly affected.

 Now was the dark tool in front of me,
The one by which could he reap all glee.
Some currency I timidly extended,
But it did not make the devil splendid.

Sensing that my end was near,
I closed my eyes and recalled the dear.
But to me the tool he forcefully handed,
For his end he painfully demanded.

I was invited to the dreadful hell,
In which he would always dwell.
And I dropped the dark instrument,
On the very thought of that torment.

His ego was hurt for his begging I did nill,
And for this he could not help but kill.
So the dark tool was picked by its master,
Who was yet to perform one great disaster.

As the tool came in, the light went out,
So did all the seeds that were yet to sprout.
During this exchange, I did notice in his eyes the pain:  
  The pain that had helped him this darkness to attain.

There on the ground lifeless I lay,
And walked on the man who did slay.
Himself he didn’t harm for he was scared again,
Indicated this his decision to stay in the dark chain.