Separation Hurts

Human nature is designed such that we look for community. We are always happier meeting someone. And even if not happier meeting them, definitely sadder upon losing them. Every soul does manage to touch our lives. At those instances, separation does not seem worth it. If we initially hadn't, we why we did not like that person, or at least are surprised by our feelings.

The pain, the loss of separation touches the very core of our selves. It makes want to do anything that can help bridge it, even though it is not pragmatic, or beneficial in the long run. No matter how hard we try, separation is destined; only a matter of time. Separation is perhaps what ensures the next meeting is looked forward to, and perhaps even sweet.

Why our nature is so designed when separation is destined, is perhaps a subject that deserves further introspection. However, no matter what, a safe rule of thumb should be to make sure that one's behavior to others is always such that at the moment of separation, there are no regrets.

Dream Bus

Did anyone get, this dream like mine
I caught a bus, and it took flight

I skipped the tea, and missed my friends
I ran after it, the bus had went

This bus that took, all dreamers aboard
Such bus had not, could not follow time

This bus that had wheels, and yet took wings
Was a red double-decker, as on Bombay streets

The wind blew on your face, it was a bright summer day
This flight had known no limits, it was a dreamy ride

But this bus that I had missed, I saw it fly away
And take my friends to oblivion, as clear and white as day

I miss those friends already, I stand alone and moan
I know not what to answer, their parents back at home

A Tender Thread

Life is held, through tender threads
Firm and strong, fragile when wrong

Threads of love, holds relations together
Threads of soul, life as a whole

Balance of time, hangs on a second thread
Threads of stress, just waiting to snap

The sun rays shone, threads of glory
Threads of water, its unknown touch

A thread of thought, separates mean from grand
The vocal threads, cosmic creation's sound

A feeling afresh

A funny moment, to kiss and tell
A nudging joke, the smallest smile

She looks at you, and looks for you
A tender touch, just slight as such

If these be not, the signs of love
Then dear mine, you don't know of love

I mean to think, of something else
But thoughts fly to you, and nowhere else

Did you know, just what you lost
The spark that happened to burn me in hell

You smile at what, was a falling joke
If be not love, then what it be

In the end you look back, with a silent sigh
Perhaps was best, to end in sight

To be able to visit, a feeling afresh
Makes years of pain, nostalgic touch

No regret as, when love goes lost
As sand in waves of dragging years

The Way of Water

Little droplets, filing by

Filling courtyards with mud-brown puddles

They find their way, in and out of home

As if to stay, is never done

The way of water, is mysterious

It's flowing resembles, the way of life

The dust on leaves, now washed away

They look more green, fresh and young

Like a woman, who steps out from bath

Like a newborn, who comes out of womb

The way of water, is mysterious

It wetness marks, rejuvenation

The trees now sway, it is a storm

And furious rains, last out like arrows

The water now, it takes a different form

And man and mice, stay huddled in homes

The way of water, is mysterious

It ferociousness, can pierce through stone

The water has settled, as a flood

It now rots, what's in its grasp

And teaches lessons, as in every mode

To stay in one place, is as good as dead

The way of water, is mysterious

It's calmness can, lay mind at rest

Putrid Night

Putrid night, and a vented day
God knows when, I can stay away

Wakeful sleeps, and peace-less wakes
Is this worth, a monthly pay

I can write code, I can make calls
But how can one, sell with-out cause

My manager's way, is to make hell pay
Does no one know, the value lost?

Good Morning

The night grew pale, with impending dawn
The wind from east, was a warm feast
The flowers bloomed, homes woke up
The Earth bid welcome, to another day

In Retreat

An alone walked the one, who had survived the war
He wished as well, to be one with the dead
To be in company of lost friends, than with their memory live on

To walk over dead flesh, smell blood, hear pain
There is no greater curse, than walk out of a war
No bath will wash away, the sin of lives snatched
Not this lifetime, when you will sleep in peace again

He sat down to meditate, this warrior war-worn
Not to sleep was this life, only death would close his eyes
While fires with dead ablaze, the ones inside subsided
A fresh breeze blew again, while his breath slowed down
A mountain was this veteran, steadfast to his cause
Not question why he did this, just live and then be gone

80% is Enough

To leave your footprint in sand, you have to be unique, and arguably the best in one thing. And like most in this world, I seek that one thing for this life. At this point I tend to notoriously get philosophical, that I have lived more lives, and my search is but food the purpose of just the current life.

But in the midst of this search, as I stumble upon and evaluate all that there is in this world, this life, I'm amazed. Our life has as many dimensions, there are as many pursuits as there are species in this world. As I walk this journey, I feel the need to absorb, revel at all that I like, and not just a one. That would, in my opinion  make a balanced life. I hate to know people who are masters in one dimension, but hideously villainous in something else. 100% in one but 0% in something else important is not done.

The question becomes more pertinent to my life today as I think over the guidance I give my child as his father. What would I want for him? Would I be happy to learn that he is a genius at work but a horrible husband? Would I be willing to trade that. And the more I think over it, the more I am convinced that balance is the essence. 80% in all dimensions is just perfect really!

The thinking leads me also to appreciate the system of education in the US, where priority/credits are provided to every aspect. Versus the system if education I grew up under in India. I am not close to it, and the US system may have flaws, and the system in India, vastly changed. But the concept is what I speak of.

It would really be perfect if Shravan is 80% in studies, sport, art and debate. I believe that really is the recipe to be complete (100% if you will)  in health, character, intelligence and personality. Which really, is what will make him a happy, and indeed, successful man.

In Action

It's powerful strides the horse belies
But action is it's only course

To take it's master to bloodied warfield
Bloodshed was to live or die

The sword was sharpened, and hunger shone
In victims it, cut and tore

The shields lay stained, scratched and shamed
By spears and arrows, it couldn't shy

There was noise, this was war
Violence was, the bass of sound
Heartless roars, at the blood and gore
Or painful wails, fearing death

And in its midst, is where he rose
The horse would kick, his master's kill

There were no rules, only strategy
And the price of life, was that death ruled

Passion..or Madness

They say not want inflicts me

Some say passion, and some madness

I stay engrossed on one thing

It gives me complete joy

I do till tired, and still more

If that is what I did more

They say not who that did more

Some say passion, and some madness

I laugh when it laughs, I cry with it

And gives me joy, did say I

They say not why I laugh and cry

Some say passion, and some madness

I build this beauty with sweat and blood

I break it 'cos of one sore

They say when I build and break

Some say passion, and some madness