Wabi-Sabi

The green paper bills Doused in pride, Yet starched  With avarice. I wonder If they were paper planes Flying around the compound Of our dilapidated dolls house remains. One would no more venture out of the house towards a rainbow. But, would play the game of hide and seek In the planes this time though.  

     Corruption has invaded and pervaded every nook and corner of the ironically developing county. There has been intermittent eruption of corruption in the nation. From the low ranks to the aristocrats where everyone from the office boys to the Government officers believe in the policy of Give, take and give more. The under the table policy has led to the quality of work happening over the table. The prudent and the erudite have not been able to make use of their rights and duties. They have been readily taken for a ride by the ones who manage the traffic and even those who come across as managers of the state, in order to avoid dire consequences.      The advent of corruption has led to adverse situations in which every one of us has a share since the day we gave in to the obstinate misers who have infested the grounds of the nation where the government has the propensity to hold its ground as an ant hill, hollow from within yet ready to march forward as an army of partners in cr

      Nestled in  the arms of North East India, "Meghalaya" literally means Abode of clouds. The state that has made its place amidst the Seven Sister States of the North East, Stands tall at an altitude varying from 150 m to 1961 m above sea level. Once upon a time the 300 km wide hilly strip used to be a part of Assam and comprised of United Khasi and Jaintia Hills along with Garo Hills. In 1972, Meghalaya was separated from Assam and acquired the status of an autonomous state and is now bounded by Bangladesh on the South and Assam on the North. It has been divided into seven districts namely East Garo Hills, East Khasi Hills, Jaintia Hills, Ri-Bhoi, South Garo Hills, West Garo Hills and the West Khasi Hills.      About one third of the State is forested and two third population is engaged in agricultural and allied activities, for their livelihood. But alas, inspite of having a rich base of natural resources including minerals such as coal, limestone, si

Possession. Slow poison. A drug, a drug that consumes every bit of the self. The self, that once was. Grows on you. Beats the insides black and blue. The addiction to empower, love, life, mind, free bird that once was. Abstinent no more. Altruist no more. A valediction to a wish, that once upon a time was.

Magic, a world of contradiction   They say the feeling that comes along with happiness is magical. But, it remains an ambush by illusion. in which we pretend to swoon, doused. But, I wonder where, I wonder when the abominable truth will rise as the head of the serpent with innumerable fangs of vehemence. The poignant act of the puppets I surmise, that once kindled would not slither towards slumber with repentence. Aghast, I would witness the dance of the patriarch. Despicable it might seem but would merely be a catastrophe of reality, stark. I wish to wake up before it is too late to dream.      

Jumbled up emotions create a commotion, in the basket of my head. So, as I upturn it on the bed the contents tumble down. I waste no time to straighten every frown, by ironing every crease out of every possible doubt. I fold them up and stack them up again in the left and right brackets of my brain. Then, as I would run through the machinery and come out crumpled again from the factory I would learn how to sustain the wear and tear by conversing face to face with my fear.

Sew the seams where I have been torn. Sew me back together before the dawn. In the morning light I need to walk home. Before the dawn I need to discover the street unborn. Be with me once again. Join my pieces together in the game. Welcome the dawn with me once again. Before my dawn, erase the pain. With you by my side I can touch the horizon. Show me the way before the onset of the setting sun. Be the thread to sew me before my end is spun. The dawn awaits me while I await my only one. With the sunset I would fade away. I lie as a puzzle on the way. I need to fight the dawn do not delay. I yearn to create myself today. Being your shadow I cannot survive Come back to me  on the path where you left me on a day long gone. The sun of hope ceases to set in my heart with the faith your heart is not a stone.

Tell a tale of the day gone by. To keep your promise you must stay. Many a silent days went by, but do not leave me bereft of your words today. The tide is high as the waves rise for the moon. Rise for me before you walk away at noon. Listen to my melody as you play me a tune. Give me a hand, as I hold the night in full bloom. Tell a tale of the day gone by. To keep your promise you must stay. Many a silent days went by, but do not leave me bereft of your words today. Blow off the moon as your breath flies away as a skylark. Let the exuberant waves lose their path. While we escape into paths unknown in the dark, tell me your tale as I take a walk through your heart.