Fit right in

It's funny how humans can wrap their mind around things and fit them into their version of reality.

~Rick Riordan

I don't know if I'd fit right in

there's this spot that's missing

I look out to see, people hanging out in their cliques

talking in codes, walking in a pattern round and round

they keep on doing that, and I feel like

I'm just an alien, peeking in form outside

trying to make out the contours, on a recon mission

checking whether I'd fit right in

we exist, all together on same plane

but, there's this rift that separates us

I keep going back to thinking "what's missing"

I guess we'll never know

in the midst of webs of complexity from

which human mind is made

it's like you take a shovel to dig deep

but how deep is the fact that's missing

That conscious thought of enormous void

you feel, you tried hard to fill

so many times with so many tools

from where it came and how far it goes

you seem them busy in their work

while you are lost in your own

and before you can realize eons are gone

Rift is still there

and I guess it'll always be

it's better if you fit right in

and it'll do fine if you don't

as people are those jigsaw puzzles

where some pieces are always missing

As you are now so once were we

We are all surrounded by a particular bunch of people who care about us more than anyone possibly can . Family, relatives, teachers, oldsters and several nameless faces. One thing that they  constantly  try is to relate and connect to you and your alleged naïve life. They constantly feed you with their own specialized and exclusive opinions. As they are physically and intellectually beyond you sometimes things may go little awry. They cite examples, narratives, stories and target you with rich and varied armada of  experience they have gathered in time gone by. There's nothing wrong in it... I think it's the best thing that can happen to a person. But this road of mutual sharing and understanding  is very tricky in nature and  full of twists, turns and bumps and pits.. There are times when we find ourselves in opposite camps.

"Family's incessant love and likeness has often a deep sadness in it. Nature, that great tragic dramatist, knits us together by bone and muscle, and divides us by the subtler web of our brains; blends yearning and repulsion; and ties us by our heart-strings to the beings that jar us at every movement."

~George Eliot

You speak and listen

about everything, everyday

incessant loops of rebukes

approvals, we try and connect

in all possible ways

we never say or talk about

the slight diversion

in your version and mine

that palpable variance

which breathes along semantics

and deductions we apply

adduce evidences we witness

but compensate for in due time

like those barely visible

overlapped layers of rainbows

your persuasion runs over mine

leavings its imprints

somewhere along the fringes

but transmuting in to mine

times may arise

when we stand across

I might do something you oppose

methods might differ

so are some choices I may make

you schooled me well

made me a cultured youth

there are nibbles of you

in every step I take

You ain't wrong, neither am I

issues we jiggle and pry

you say,

you are now once were we                                                  

I say, just for a change

don't think much and don't worry.

Why I write

Sometimes you want to write. Write down every single thing that flips  across your temporal space. Whether its gibberish or the most intense feelings of your heart, you just want to type it all down. Rip out every single thought out of your skull and implant it somewhere else. Just get rid of the clutter that keep playing tricks on you.

"All writers are vain, selfish, and lazy, and at the very bottom of their motives there lies a mystery. Writing is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand. For all one knows that demon is simply the same instinct that makes a baby squall for attention. And yet it is also true that one can write nothing readable unless one constantly struggles to efface one's own personality."

~ George Orwell

It's just there

simmering down, somewhere in the

attic of this cluttered brain matter

it varies in forms and frames

like those splashy colors that are dear to me

I like to change and try them all

some I dislike, sore to my eyes

no reasons I can tell

why I despise them, I just do

don't even try

People palavering me

and clinging that drives me

deep personal possessions

like some good music

renders me blind

Sun that's new everyday

so are the shadows it designs

so often I want to paint it all

all the designs and ideas behind

I want to write it all

If not write then

shout it out loud

beginning to end

I just want to put it in rhyme

but, it doesn't

It remains there

hiding out, may be waiting

for the right time and place

or maybe there isn't a space

where I can write it down.

What Lies Ahead

A fact about adult life is that you see the very things you'll never adapt to coming toward you on the horizon. You see them as the problems they are, you worry like hell about them, you make provisions, take precautions, fashion adjustments; you tell yourself you'll have to change your way of doing things. Only you don't. You can't. Somehow it's already too late or is it - Richard Ford

The uncertainty that future holds has a way of creeping up on you. A palpable but invisible carapace it creates is deluging at times. Everyone keep cueing you about that unpredictable future and the cards that it may unfold and how you should be prepared to change and accommodate. The sudden showers of suggestions, advises and facts are presented in such a realistic way that you just end up confusing about everything that's around. Only the time will tell what lies ahead then why so much hustle, preps and apprehensions about something which is so far off..

They say    

it's going to be fine

nothing to worry

oh dear,

still there's time.

Quietly they whisper

something else too

beware time slides fast

puzzled will be the times

tricky to construe.

Concentric miasmas

leaves me exposed

my dear repose

where have you gone ?

where are those

simple promises

I can rely on ?

Despite that, keep going

and I always will

let life unfold

what it veritably holds

ahead lies the tracks

of booby traps.

traps are real 

neither win nor loose

matter of choice 

and what you choose

it can only show me

what lies at the horizon

what lies ahead

reach there and move on 

Sometimes not knowing what lies ahead works out better, better than anything we can possibly conceive of..

A Friend and A Real Friend

"The difference between a friend and a real friend is that you and the real friend come from the same territory, of the same place deep inside you, and that means you see the world in the same kind of way. You know each other even before you do."

 ~Laura Pritchett

Real friends... there's no way of defining them. These are those implicit relations that grows day after day. They form a very crucial part of your support system. They are the very pebbles &stones of your bedrock. You have each other's back every time you feel like having one. Many times you agree by dissenting. You never actually fight but, keep pretending. You share nearly everything but manage to have that small creased space which is vital..

Biggest blessing 

and a gift you are.
No gripes
I ask no more
you're that sand 

which came accidentally

on my shore.

We bonded 

took our time

then you stayed forever

we became partners

in everyday crimes
soon you were
an integral part

of my shell and core.

You change places

but, you ain't changing  shores

not anymore.

One another's balefulness

freaky felicitousness,

mental myopia

and farsightedness...

we agnize  each other's bone

its fractures, flaws

and burthen it can carry on.

Pint-sized life

that I've lived

not many, but I'm blest

with few, and it's fun

I swear to you.

To those few

I holler my thanks

you're the brightest speck

of sand, that rests

on my river bank

Shiniest of all

my dazzling stars **
In this era of global village there's no dearth of friends. But, when  a real friend enters in the equation the whole mechanism changes..