Memory Card

His phone was out of space.
While selecting pictures to delete,
He found it harder to delete the old and blurred,
Than the new and clear.

His previous phones had clicked Precious more memories.

In his current phone, he typed

Of his bittersweet saudades.



The Run-down Ronin.

Sitting in his room, leaning back on his chair, he sighed. It was midday and he had just had lunch. The birds outside were chirping, probably trying their best to get laid. An aeroplane roared above and he waited for the rumbling to end, only to become aware of an autorickshaw rattling down his street.

His sullen eyes barely moved yet picked up, painfully well, the images of his books scattered around him. He sighed again, shallower this time, and slouched forward. He was tired. He checked his phone for notifications out of force of habit, like absentmindedly opening the refrigerator when you’re broke. Nothing. Everyone was busy. Just like him.

He volunteered to gaze at the academic books, strategically sown across his bed to prevent himself from wanting to lie down and feel even lower. Life.

Suddenly, that familiar rage swelled up from his paunched stomach, straightening his hunched-over back, flew through his arms and ended at his fists hammering the desk. Like a useless burp. He exhaled and closed his eyes while his eyebrows knit into a marriage of sadness and annoyance.

He wanted to study. That’s all he wanted to do. But why couldn’t he? He looked at his laptop which still had the cursor blinking on his work document, and for the first time in his life, he missed having a teacher giving him academic assignments. Oh he got plenty of assignments from his peers, mind you. From parents, work, well-wishers and friends. Everybody consoled and convinced him, time and again, that everything he does, would be aligned to the subjects he wanted to study.

But that’s not what he wanted. He knew there was no other choice then, but the heart wants what the heart wants. He wanted to plunge, to study, do research and to innovate. But no, life had already been slapped into him before he was ready. His prime study years had been wasted and now, he knew he wanted nothing more that the sweet release of knowledge.

But who would teach him? The ridiculous idiots at the correspondence classes he desperately clung on to, while the actually learned masters were kept out of reach, in the regular college blocks? The life masters who claim what he wants to learn is everywhere around him, with no empirical proof or syllabus to soothe his ravaged mind?

He wondered, when one with the facilities and the support like himself were to feel that wasted, what even, was the point? His frustration quickly, like always, turned to sorrowful acceptance. He was never going to be able to not do what he loves. Some would call that determination to fly, while a few would remember how it is to want to fly with wings clipped off, and silently nod.

He is me, he is you. He is every one of us who yearns to learn, but find no convincing master.


Image source:

Confidence Before Targets

We all wonder why some of our peers are able to set themselves into the groove, to achieve targets or even sustain good habits. Here’s my take on it:

If you set a goal or target and work towards it, you will most probably learn limited set of skills that will be stretched thin to achieve those targets, for which you will try to discipline yourself.

For some of us, this backtracking only puts pressure on ourselves to learn skills that match targets, and to acquire a discipline moulded to even scratch the surface of those skills, let alone master them.

For example, if I have ten targets, I will acquire ten throwing knives, maybe fifteen, factoring in risks. This means I will be feeling utmost pressure when I approach the last of my knives.
But if I first build up an arsenal of a hundred knives, I would have built up confidence in abundance. With a hundred knives at my disposal, I would have learnt different skills, not limited to but inclusive of, throwing. Here, time-management itself is a skill to be learnt.
Now I will have the knowledge of discipline and how to implement it, be it throwing the knives, or using them to cut vegetables to cook a meal.
Once I know how to be disciplined, I will be able to use that informed drive to learn any skill, which will allow me to take on any target, also letting me learn shortcuts and hacks along the way.

So instead of backtracking from targets to skills to discipline, we need to first learn to develop and implement the concept of how to be in a discipline, from which we take the confidence to learn challenging new skills, from which we draw confidence to achieve targets.

This to me, seems to be the basis of tailored learning.


Picture Courtesy:

Stopping To Smell The Roses

Hey there. It’s been a while. I haven’t written in a long time and I don’t exactly know why.

But here’s something I just let flow out of me.

In the past year, I have learnt and grown so much, so rapidly. And yet, the more I learn, the more I am convinced of how little or nothing it is, for learning is an eternal process.

I have learnt of new avenues of my heart and have slid through more tunnels in my mind than I cared to peep into before.

I have been to the pinnacle of self awareness, only to have it dissolve into nothingness again. To study and to look inside, and then to feel like you no longer hold it, yet it feels like a part of your now increasingly apparent metamorphosis.

I have glazed through more thoughts than I have taken the effort to pen down. I have been on several short paths, containing so many twists and turns, I have lost count of it all but know that I have come a significant distance.

However, if this is distance or any significant displacement will only be revealed with time. Time alone has, does and will tell if we go around in circles and if the radius of that circle has changed with said time.

All I have even known, is that I have a long way to go. But lately, that path has dissipated without a vector but the scalar is still felt in its momentum. I know not where I will go from here but I have come to learn that that’s not entirely such a bad thing.

As long as I seek the purpose of my life, my life seems to have a purpose about it.

Choicest Silences

In the gentle rain of a cold shower, two drops alone feel warm against your skin.

On the road to greatness or survival, you have had to die some to keep walking.

In the boat that is your life, you have had to sink a little to stay afloat.

At the precipice, we change. Hurts, but it’s our own poison’s antidote.

For the smile of one, you have had to cry a ton.

Yet, keep steady, for the battle will soon be won.

Some stars are in lore, beknown.

Some, however, remain to atone.


Image courtesy:

Into Your Eyes

What do her eyes wish to tell me that her lips hold back?

What is it that makes her breath dance with her pulse?

My fingertips gently paint unseen lines along her blushing cheek.

Her hair washes across mine as her smile plays hide and seek.

Deep, is the ocean that hides behind her eyes, she wants me to see.

For her pupils dilate to show more, when she is in waltz, with me.


Image source: