Art

'They were the most ancient of spirits. Accursed. Unruly. Demented.
Guilt, shame, perversion, humiliation, pain, filth, tragedy and dear old insanity. They violated the very soul and impregnated you. Spread their vile tentacles until their seed was deep within.

And there it festered, my child. It thrashed about, plundered and feasted until the soul could take it no more.

And on stormy dark nights (when Master danced about in ecstasy), it slithered out of the womb. For the sake of the weaker ones, they named it Art.

The mother alone knew what a monster it was'

Of Gita and intolerance.

In the very first line of Gita, Dhritrashtra asks,
'Sanjaya, after MY sons and the sons of Pandu assembled in the place of pilgrimage at Kurukshetra, desiring to fight, what did they do?'

His usage of the word 'my' represents his ignorance. And the reason for the downfall of the Kauravas.

And what are we fighting for?
'Our cow' (Aka 'our' holy animal)
The cow is not yours. Nor theirs. Its an animal. In ancient times, it provided milk for home. It's dung provided fuel and purified the home. It's urine was used for it's antiseptic property.
In short, life was impossible without the cow. Hence, it was revered as holy.

Its not the same today.

Have you ever read Ramcharitmanas? It's poetry. It's a ballad of love.
Tulsidas transformed his unadulterated love into words.

And, some years ago, people upheld the same words to bathe a holy city with blood. That piece of land was neither yours. Nor theirs. It was (and still is) just a piece of land.

Wake up.

Depression

That's the thing about depression. It drapes itself in black and never lets you see how fragile and serene it is.

It's perfection. The absolute nothings come together and play a concerto. You cannot move.cannot think. Cannot feel.

In that one hollow vaccum of a moment, you are dust. Nothing. A pile of sobs, smelly clothes, crumpled sheets, stinking dishes, scattered moldering junk. The world loses it's power over you. You lose your power over you. Thoughts, emotions, opinions, expectations, motivation and bullshit.

Hopelessness strums in the background and pain fiddles with the strings. And before you know, you are the puppet dangling from those strings.
And what a macabre performance you give. Your uninhibited unadulterated best!

Remember. Serenity, not sanity.

Of ISIS and Voldermort.

Of ISIS and Voldermort

Disturbing as it may seem, ISIS is running it's reign of terror along the same principles as Voldermort.

With other terrorist organisations, you knew who your enemy was. A deluded man ( probably with a beard) in army fatigues carrying a weapon in hand ( in black robes with a wand and a darkmark on the arm? ).

ISIS has penetrated much deeper. Using internet as it's imperius curse, it's spreading fear. Distrust and suspicion.
You no longer know if your neighbour is one of 'them'.

Distrust will breed more hatred and discrimination. Discrimination will push more and more innocents towards them. And the vicious cycle will never stop.

The answer ( as Dumbledore clearly stated), is love. Hold on to your beliefs and love old friends with more conviction than before. In time, horcuxes will be found and destroyed. But hate will linger forever.

Moment with divinity

Moment With Divinity

You don't need meditation, you don't need breaks, you don't need yoga, you don't need alcohol. 
Actually, you don't even need peace.

All you need, is a moment alone with divinity.

The moment when you hear a note so powerful, it makes the hair on your arm rise. When you read something that sends a shiver up your spine. When you see symbols and figures scrambling for your attention and you want to disentangle them and make all their lives easier.
When the first thump against the steth resounds in your ears. The first gush of blood soaks your scalpel. The screen pops open and your fingers waltz over the keys. When you swirl your tongue and you feel ecstasy running down your throat.

That moment when you lose touch with all that matters. Or all that you think matters. When you are alone and endowed with a thousand heads. When there is silence inside you and all you can hear is Divinity whispering. When your senses do not respond and dance to an old forgotten tune.

All you need is a moment alone with divinity. Find it. And let it destroy you.

Darkness

DARKNESS

Click! And the lights went off. The flickering, the hesitation, the struggle of the filament against what was to be its fate.

And then,absolute utter darkness. He could feel his pillow squished under him. His bed sheet crumpling when he folded his knees. 
He reached out and touched the plastic of the bottle. Dewy, melting away at his touch.

He could hear the kitchen window banging against its frame. Weighing its chances and braving the winds. The blaring horns, the screaming neighbours and the nonchalant television sets.
He could hear and feel them all.
But all he could see, was darkness.

Darkness made so much sense. Glare, obscene, dull, painted, flashy, drab .. All lost their meanings. It was all a matter of shapes. Ups and downs. Curves And bumps.

There was peace in the dark. Unknown faces and familiar touch. When one could see the ghosts dancing. And laid the souls to rest.

Its wasn't as if he didn't like being in the light. It's just that. Darkness made so much more sense.

Moment

MOMENT

Have you ever considered how fragile this moment is? How infinitely small and insignificant.

When you are gone, no one will remember this moment. No one will know how you choked up while listening to an old favorite. Or, giggled hysterically at that double meaning joke.

No one will know how you felt, what shaped you, moved you, broke you and eventually gobbled you up.

In the cycle of time ( or the cycle of karma, if you would call it that) each moment if a wisp. A flicker. A sputter. Poof!

That's what makes this moment, just another moment. That's what makes this moment eternally special.