Cherish

Sometimes in the business of living life, we forget to cherish it. Nothing reminds you more of it than seeing someone lose it. Yesterday while riding with my hubby on his bike I saw an accident. A common news that we read about all the time.....but rarely see it happen.

While the brutality of it was shocking, what rang in my ears is the cry that came out of the heart of the young man who survived the crash. The woman riding pillion, whether she was his wife, sister or a friend...was gone. In one instance someones life was over and another's shattered.

And no one could do anything about it. I turned my head away as we rode away but that cry kept echoing in my ears, the sound of anguish reverbating in my head. And as I held on to my life, it occured to me that it had never felt this precious to me before. In that instance, I was ready to forgive and forget all.

Of course I also realised it was the heat of the moment talking, that the next day everything would be somewhat back to normal. But I also realised that while we fear our death, I now fear for my death..seeing what it could do to those that will be left behind. Truely, I never understood what it meant to live for anothers sake till today.

I spent the night mourning the death of a stranger and even more the grief of another stranger. And promised myself to live a little more carefully and cherish my life more. Because at the end, a cherished life leaves better memories when I am gone.

Mad

Are You mad?
Mad enough to dream far beyond
Beyond what you have and need
To reach for the unreachable day

Do you dream in your safe cocoon
The "closet dreamer" in the unmoving world
Dream of sins, and pains and gains
To wake up in a sane world

Oh I wish for madness
For dreams insane
Of flying without wings
And singing in the rain

But I am so sane , so maddeningly sane
I dream of tulips, blue skies and gains
In my little closet the madness stays
My personal madness, my little gains

I even think of giving them away
My little closet full of dreams
But they are my sins, pains and full of gain
Mine mine, all mine and so maddeningly sane.

The Road

Here I stand on a strange shore
Looking at the unknown beyond
Afraid to reach out
Too proud to turn back to the familar grounds

How, how do you know where to go,
When no one's holding a light for you
Groping in the dark, hoping you're on the right path
No one to point the way

The choices I made, the roads I walked
Are the only witness to my troubled past
They saw my tears, my fears, my joy
Keeping me company in my solitary quest

And now again, it's another shore
Another choice, another road.
But time has passed, and I am bold
Not afraid to reach out to the strange beyond

Now come what may, I know today
It was not "where" that mattered
It was the roads that were there
My guides, my friends, my companions in the dark

Life of a Reporter-A very short story

RCK, reporter sat on his chair morosely looking at the press notes in front of him..."This is my life" he thought. A life time of serving a very self-contained unprofessional organisation had left him no illusions of glory. "Twenty years....twenty years I have spent here...and what have a gained...a head full of grey hair?" He mused again.This has become a routine with him. Looking back, mulling over the "road not taken". He should have left when he had the urge to and not looked back.

But life had its own agenda...marriage...children...RESPONSIBILITY...That seem to explain the grey hairs. So what now? SO WHAT NOW????? His mind seem to be screaming at him. He looked out of the window...it was late night ..weekend was coming up. "It’s a lovely night" he thought and suddenly everything was clear...like a flash of lightening. He was whistling when he left the office that night, the security guard remembered. That was last any body heard of RCK, Reporter.

A little bit of Introspection?

I wonder why I am doing it? I mean writing this nonsense. Must be a character flaw. Or perhaps signs on senility. Who knows what motivates a person to a certain action. Why do I do what I do?

Not even the usual chores are so usual. We are not born with the knowledge of brushing our teeth, combing our hair and going to corporate offices and drawing salary. Then what are we born with?..a fresh outlook? There is a theory that from birth onwards, before the worldly activities cloud the young mind, a child retains glimpses of the mystery that is life and death. It is almost a heart breaking irony that we spend lifetimes trying to find the knowledge that perhaps we were born with. And lost in the search for it.

But why? why the search?A need to justify our existence?A vogue?........"let's find nirvana man!!"A need to feel superior, achieve the unachievable? Or perhaps some of us feel, there is more to life then just breathing. But then again breathing is not a simple task anymore either. "Draw in the air around you know is polluted from the emission of the million ill-kept vehicles and let out an equally polluted whiff of carbon dioxide into the world". Amazing what an single action can construe.

Okay let’s get back to the initial agenda....why am I writing this.
Because I have nothing else to do. Well not true. More like I have nothing else that I think is worth doing at this time. Conceited thought? Well of course. What else can be expected from a self-professed writer?Recently a friend brought the world of "blog" into my periphery. Which followed a few hours of joyful research on the net on my part. And the end result is THIS!!!