To exist is not to live

“Wait for me here”. – Godot,1949

Dear reader,

As I venture on my new journey to talk about existence, I want you to think of Godot. Some of you might have waited for him in their college classroom where a teacher and Beckett told us to know that “nothing had changed, nothing would change” except for our wait for Godot.

I remember when I first held the “book” in my hands, Waiting for the text to get over and understand the mystery of who Godot was? When would he come? Why were we even waiting for him? Was he God?

I got no answers except for the last one. Bless! Beckett for that, he himself cleared the air by stating that if he wanted his readers to think of Godot as “God” then he would have mentioned God not Godot. So, it was clear that Beckett wanted us to wait for Godot. The purpose of the text was to wait for Godot, who never turns up physically. His presence could be felt yet not seen just like the wait we keep on patiently doing , without even knowing if the person we are waiting for will ever turn up or not!

Unaware of its depth I thought the text doesn’t made sense. Ironically today, “Godot” is symbol of “purpose” for me. Beckett knew that even waiting needs a purpose. Whether someone comes or not doesn’t matter, The purpose of waiting is known in the heart of the person who performs the act. The Purpose being an energy acting as reinforcement for us to keep doing something again and again and again until we just either gets it or lose the hope of getting it.

So, dear readers , if you are waiting for someone and others keep on telling you that it’s of no use, remember that the purpose of that “waiting” is only known to you .. no one will get it except you. And in your heart you will always find the right way to pursue what you truly wish for.

Spiral

It seems to me that a sickness has gripped me. I have become part of a spiral where thoughts come and then bead by bead the spiral keeps on increasing , layer by layer to a point from where I fail to find the beginning. 

My brain has stopped taking this, the pressure, the pain, the suffering I go through in each moment when I should be resting and I have become reckless with my memories.

Memories of yesterday,today and coming tomorrow . Why?
You ask me why?

Because it's unbearable to be in the limelight and pretend to be alright. Not being able to scream out, show your joy, sorrow, anger,hurt and pain.

Fear grips the heart yet the smile doesn't flicker.
Do you know how that happen?

Practice . Practice. Practice.

But it's enough. I am exhausted and I sincerely hope for the earth to stop moving and my ethics to stop talking .

Fever

Thermometer flashed 103, looks like
The fever has reached the core.
The body shivers,mind enveloped with the question why?
Yesterday, you danced like there was no tomorrow until you realised there aren't going to be any more tomorrows with him.

Today,
Grief has made her sick.

Sadness lingering in her mind has finally found a way to reach her bones.

It's strange the doctor said, grief could make you lose your strength.

Get well soon her agony said, mocking her with a big smirk.



Frame

This body is like a frame
Our souls are the paintings
Like the one we see In the art gallery,

The frames are usually made of glass, wood, or maybe cheap plastic
Yet handling the soul made of soil
With depth of honey and
Burning sensation of coal.

our soul fights everyday to come out of the frame, almost everyday to scream and breath and lie down on the green grass of our lawn and gaze at the open sky,
Only to realise, Maybe the frame is not just a frame but a maze of karmic connections.

There are endless reasons for us to remain in the maze
Yet we need just one to be out of this world...

Eventually the body is yet again just a frame within the frame.

What am I?

What am I? 
I thought for a while,
So,when people started detaching, I started attaching myself to them.

When people talked of love as pain and loneliness as treasure, I started cheering for love loudly.

When people stopped trusting , I started putting my trust in everyone.

When everyone believed in irrationality, I vowed to maintain my sanity.

What is normal to you is normal to me except what's abnormal to you is also normal for me.

I ain't a saint or a sinner. I am not divinity , just a human.
Mere human.

At last if you ask
Who am I ?
A paradox is what I conclude.