Spirit of Life .....

Compress the distress oh human

Digress isn’t progress hence proven

Suppress the fixation on confusion

Impress the intellect of acumen

Anti press isn’t the solution

Express the stress of frustration

Headmistress ain’t always the judge of persecution

Heiress is the temptress of extreme devotion

Fearless hence be the spirit of pure emotion!!!!

What is Marriage ?

Marriage is that sanctified union culminating into the deep rooted bonding of two souls who choose to stay together till death does them apart or god forbid, tiffs turn into the ugly turn of separation. It’s a legitimate headway of enjoying sensual pleasures as well as bear testimony to the smells and sounds of an upset tummy too ;). An unsaid promise, come what may it will face the shackles of time in the form of abandoned ego trips and unconditional support post adjustments in the garb of flexible selfless overtures.

One not only sleeps & wakes up to the regular familiarity of each other’s entities but also gets sashayed in the lifestyles of two individuals who are merged as one eventually. A good understanding and support may lead to switching of roles if either is under the weather or has prior commitments.  Working class can leave love notes for each other so as to bridge the distance and keep the flame of love/belonging alive.  It’s common knowledge to the world that two people have opted to living shared lives at times with gifts in the form of in-laws who can be parasites or trendsetters, all depending on how you grow or nurture the fix.

Marriage jocundly can be tagged as a flower which needs constant tender loving care whose fragrance can allure the soul to unimaginable depths. It’s fun to be bear witness to a spouse who can be a friend, guide, caretaker, parent as well as a child in the questionable spells of life. The bond can ail as well as beautify you, it all depends on the two occupants how they want it. Couples end up into dog fights if taken for granted. The question here is, if, you want yourself to be cared for, you need to render the same emotion. It not only benefits the institution called marriage but the produce of the love harbored can be taught the strong notions it has within its confines.  Our offsprings learn from what they see. If they see responsibility, respect, care, love & brethren then half the purpose is already achieved.

Everything comes at a price indeed. At times one has to sacrifice a favourite programme or a prior engagement but the point is before marriage each had a life which does not deserve a snip of oblivion. Friends & well-wishers should be given the due importance so much so that it does not act as a prying eye to the in-each other couple. Space is another criterion which deciphers the individual maturity one has. Abandoning, scrutinizing or over possessiveness can kill any priceless equation. Who’s call was it, can I know? Who is he or she? Faith and trust can erase this insecurity forever simply.

Marriage, is a let in, in your shades of existence which were just yours since the time you entered the world.  Its good to have a companion who adds on to the value of your being. The risks are higher if ambition to prove something to the world as independent individuals overpowers the need to stay in the bond as one. Every setup deserves the freedom to achieve whatever they aspire to be. For some it could be a good mother or father and for some it could be a luxurious life with a good back up if life turns ugly on them. Communication is another important factor which should not cease even if the couple has the capacity to kill each other. Voicing one’s concerns and sharing thoughts strengthens the bond even more. Everyone is alone and will die alone but life can be a lot beautiful if you have a companion who lets you be as well as nurture you into something beyond care and what you are made of.

Marriage is sharing clothes, saliva’s, personal hygiene, relations of eons, lifestyles, dreams, mood swings and above all feeling the YOU. It can be a celebration of jokes cracked together in parties if in each other’s arm or a nightmare of regrets. Choice is all ours. :) 

The Dial...

History is created every passing minute with no reruns. The dial of a clock is the reticent onlooker of the changing times. It is constant, non judgemental, prosaic and unshakeable. The myriad hues give it an embellished fillip. It is a bare witness to the changing times yet seem to be faithful and there in all probabilities. It’s a bankable support for the hands and the entire enterprise of a clock. On the look of it, somewhere deep down, there is a mother in all of us. The motherly heart is like a dial of a clock. It can be in the form of a blood relation, friend, lover or a complete stranger. It is testimony to our ups and downs, shortcomings and assets, positivity and negativity, choices and laid paths and whatever we are made up of. It nurses our wounds, rechristens the sagging spirit by just being there. The beauty lies in its constant forgiving spree. Its presence plays a vital role in our daily scheme of things. The dial is a repeated reminder that it exists simultaneously along with time. Time when gone never comes back but a motherly heart never leaves you, it’s the backbone just like the dial. Time never stops likewise life never stops either. It can go beyond the inevitable too. Its presence can be felt just that we cannot see it. Ever questioned why an object moves in stillness? Is it a whiff of air or touched by an angel to shirk away our thoughts of gloom or ecstasy? Death cannot take away the constant presence in our lives which comes to life in the form of people. People who are selfless mothers in guise just like the dial should be treasured.

It has been seen that when we check the time, we overlook the dial that stays and weaves a new picture of mystery and fortitude with every single minute. People who are in our lives, we take them for granted. Treasure them and make them feel important by acknowledging their existence so as to reap the benefits of a never dying selfless motherly heart. Blessed are those who are surrounded with people who are the best examples of a dial of a clock. Don’t let go and color your life in its constant yet multitudinous hues.

Khayal-e-Shaz

http://khayal-e-shaz.blogspot.com

Possessive Love ...

It’s so comforting to see the pets we nurture as family run to us at our beck & call. The sense of fulfillment reverberates the soul. The pets are fed, bathed & cared for with a lot of zeal & certitude. A lot of our time and energy is consumed while catering to the needs of the animals which we choose as our companions not only for the dark hours of loneliness but also for regular banter. Their being in our Iives gives a feeling of security .Their revelry, playfulness, grunts of ecstasy uplifts the mood. Their display of affection in the form of licks, chirps, squeals and eye contact which lasts minutes at times is a sense of achievement for many. Be it the winter, summer or rainy season having them home with us & not in the dingy and filthy environs sans care boosts the morale of the owner. It’s like aiding the society for a better tomorrow. Taming or training the animals has its own perks as the relationship of a man & animal gains momentum and undecipherable depths make inroads. Love multiplies love. But aren’t we restricting them from their much deserved freedom. The freedom to move freely in an open milieu of gay abandon with their peers is indescribable. Likewise, possessive love is nothing but restricting one’s freedom to explore new horizons, situations, equations & possibilities. A caged life is like a life without any music. The person is on the beck & call just like a pet. Having a person on your sleeve is a fashion statement. Under the garb of selfish love, insecurity replicates a sense of possession. Every person has a right to live as one wants. Love cements a relationship and takes to dizzy heights of content , personal growth & togetherness with tender loving care.

Its time we stop controlling the lives of others be it the animals or humans. Animals on the streets if given unconditional love & care will show gratitude & love by hovering around you lovingly, or simply licking or chirping or a guttural staccato. One does not have to rein them in chains or cages to make a statement to the society in general. A very famous quotation, quoted by Eric Segal in his book ‘Love Story” has an unprecedented appeal till date “If you love someone, set them free. If they come back , they’re yours, if they don’t they never were.” Possessive love is nothing but a barrier in achieving milestones together. Time we bring a change !

Dead Relationships ...

The Cactus is the favored plant for décor in the hubs and mansions of all and sundry .It’s a fashion statement for many yet prosaic. It is used as an ornamental plant which adds to the intrinsic appeal to the environs overall. It is treasured and for one’s own safety never touched as the leaves in the form of spines can leave indelible marks on the skin. It has no fragrance or floral intricacies. Dead relationships are like cactus. They lose the sheen and beauty which was once so lucid, fresh and alive with activity. They adorn the canvass of our hearts with memories which come back to us in leaps n bounds when touched with the tender stroke of a brush called reminiscence. The recall of times spent together cripples the soul with disappointments and unraveled possibilities haunt endlessly. Love, warmth, sharing and selfless giving is replicated with pain, sense of loss, anger, betrayal, accusations and bitterness. It leaves a sour taste when stumbled upon by accident or consciously. The stink and stench of dead relationships holds us back to venture out as pessimism and negativity is the sole resident of such hearts. Constant comparison finds new bearings and depression overtakes optimism. Places, common friends, gifts and the legacy which it leaves behind, follow us where ever we go as spies. It’s a conscious vigil of never to get involved with anybody with deep roots which can never be uprooted. The person or the memories he/ she leaves is decorated in our hearts just like the cactus which leaves scars whenever touched.

The question is why do we revel in its insipid existence when life has so much to offer. People come into our life for a reason, season or a lifetime. We should learn whatever lessons good or bad it has to teach us and move on with zeal and hope to find happiness and content. The ones’ who hold us back n leaves a sordid picture of hurt n pain sans progress, possibilities, goodness and achievements should be buried forever with no resurrections. Any takers ?

Conversations through the Lens!

http://shazialenseye.blogspot.com/

Terminal Illnesses...

The shimmer n the finesse on the surface of the glass has its own appeal. The tenacity is unquestionable as it depicts clarity, substance, magnificence, smoothness n originality. A clear glass sans abrasion is always in demand and attracts the eye even if it’s opaque, translucent, brittle or otherwise. Likewise, our health is the key to happiness. The effervescence of youth, vigor, vitality and spunk takes us places to an uninterrupted path of achievements. One feels like the king of the world as everything seems attainable with a little quest, luck and hard work. The cracked glass or the scratches it leaves on the surface lead to an ugly feeling which has no remedies. Terminal Illnesses creep in our lives slowly without warning. We ignore the minute signals which our body sends to us just like the visible scratches. Optimism pervades fortitude. An aching arm or knee, the sweet pain in the belly or head, the unease in the gait or muscle gains momentum without notice. The perpetual signs are ignored sometimes due to negligence, sometimes cause of lack of time and sometimes with no reason at all thus leading to further damage with no rectifications. Gradually the originality is replaced with artificial drugs which bring quick relief so as to resurface again. The scratches never leave us for once. The canvass of our lives is marred with that dark hue permanently. The illness soars to dizzy heights of remorse thus pushing the individual to the dungeons of ill health. The progress is slow which makes the individual weak, sorry and lifeless. Some fight it out with sheer determination n rest bite the dust.

The crack is a permanent fixture with no replacements. Terminal illnesses like glasses leave us with no choice. It remains till the time is up for its final exit. So why do we ignore the warning signs so complacently that’s the question? A stitch in time saves nine, it’s time we brush on our kindergarten anecdotes so as to save ourselves from further damage of a permanent scar of a terminal illness on our healthy lives .

Its Never Too Late ...

The daybreak brings with it fear rather than a whiff of fresh air. It’s the uncertainty which looms in the corridors of the minds of people whether they will be back safe and sound. Unknowingly there is an unsaid adieu to the house n family which is not understood always. A blank look, a silent prayer fills our soul when we step out of the house as people fall prey to the unannounced blasts which rock the country time and again. They are nothing but innocent victims who are unearthed from their routine of things brutally. Some succumb to injuries and some are scarred for life. They are mere pawns to the ire of irked souls . Every citizen has a right to move freely in their country placating fright, trepidation n dread. Who has given any person the right to play with the lives of thousands of people? Being a victim of injustice does not mean that we render the same to others so as to glorify our angst. A child has the right to weave his canvass of dreams with the colors of brotherhood, togetherness and bonding. Blasts and the massacres lead to strife, distrust, chaos, anger and ill will. A sense of revenge makes inroads and the mind finds ways to punish people who are responsible for such condemning acts of violence. In a way the automated effect of revenge n the anger it generates finds new bearings. It’s like a legacy which corrupts the system as well as mankind. On the name of religion, justice and one’s rights, violence replaces peace. Lack of education and direction in life makes the individual choose a path which brings doom to the religion & family. Life has a lot to offer. The sensibility of choosing the right path gives success and recognition in the right light. No mother teaches her new born to kill so as to prove a point. No religion dictates to take lives to seek justice.

Why are we befooling ourselves when we can chalk a life of achievements, mutual respect and good will? Violence, bloodshed and revenge never give rich dividends. The road of righteousness may be replete with struggle but it’s worth it. As then the conscience will not prick for the innocent lives one takes to justify his act. Corruption, injustice can be eradicated if all of us work towards it as a whole. Religion should not be a weapon but a bridge. Peace and a carefree milieu is all one yearns for so why not discard the evil and violent thoughts and embrace non violence for a better tomorrow.

Depths of Love...

The nails of our hands and feet grow even though we chop them off and on. No matter how hard one tries, they will grow back. The sight is phenomenal. It’s an unsaid commitment which dies only when one walks on the last journey of life called death. The decay is in full swing but as long as one is alive, there is no stopping. Likewise, love interspersed with selfless care, giving and unconditional approach grows to dizzy heights when fuelled and nurtured with purity of thought and action. It weathers the storms of life n stands the tests of time. Adieus, distance and disruptions not only makes the heart grow fonder but gives unbridled depths which one cannot fathom or gauge ever. When the nail cut a little deep , by mistake or sheer carelessness or with an uncared approach, it sends shivers down the spine leaving a tinge of pain. Fights, resentments, misdemeanor, conflict, betrayal and agony leaves an indelible mark but true love sustains the hurt and pain, forgives & forgets thus bouncing back with a new verve and spunk to take it to a another level of commitment and trust. Tender loving care becomes the spice of life. The myriad shades of sibling , parental , romantic n platonic love never ceases n is bound with a very delicate yet a strong thread of togetherness, bonding and belonging. It is ready to embark on new journeys of life and the intricacies it has to offer with a never say die attitude. It flows unrestraint as if a bottle has been uncorked. The ebb of emotion is deep like the sea n undecipherable.

Why can’t we take lessons from nature which forgives and forgets. New life is enthused with new avenues so that the milestones could be set. Just like the nail, it is mystic, deep rooted and never leaves us. Love is not a need but completes us same as the nail gives the beautiful look to our hands.

Instinct & Habit ...

It’s a peculiar trait of all and sundry to stack all the new crisp notes in an orderly fashion, pushing the crumpled, ugly looking ones in the extreme front. It ‘s instinct, they say to get rid of the smelly, over used notes. The masses as well as the classes follow the ritual religiously. For once the elite n the poor are brothers in arms. It leaves a fetid smell in the wallet and gives a sick feeling too. The note loses its sheen. Its originality goes for a toss. The numbers are not readable. It’s not at all authentic any more and is scrutinized many a times when given to a vendor. The tattered effect leaves a frown on the visage and many a times people refuse to accept it. It’s rejected and adds to the agony of the owner. It carries some value hence it is kept so as to be used when the need arises. Every day it’s a top priority to discard it. Hopes are dashed when it returns back to the wallet. Nobody likes to mar the beauty of the new notes aligned with a dirty one .So then why is it that we nurture and harbor the dark hideous thoughts in our mind which maligns the soul? It makes us the universal prisoner of our vacant self, pushing ourselves in the vicious cycle of treason, ill will, jealousy, hatred and deceit. In the bid to be successful and be on the top, the grey shades come to light. The person sleeps on ethics, team spirit, camaraderie thus giving impetus to individuality and self glorification.

Nobody likes to be ruled by the spell of dark, dirty n ill thoughts. The beauty is replaced with anguish and discomfort. The essence of life looses meaning and unknowingly we tread on a path which is lonely and insipid. Its time , we push away such thoughts forever same as we discard the smelly, ugly note on instinct.

An Unwelcome Visitor !

Serendipity , it’s a blessing in many ways. It’s a gratitude to god that good there are people who are not only setting an example but also are fighters even if the odds are against them. Everyday , at sharp 1pm the doorbell buzzes. Its in a way a reminder that lesser mortals too can teach us - the elite with their ways. Deprived of education, wealth, comforts, food and hygiene there is still a lot of hope. Perseverance, patience n practicality is their forte. The garbage collectors, pick the litter of our house without batting an eyelid on a regular basis. Either they have become immune to the smells of the garbage or they have resigned to their fate. It’s a hapless surrender of dreams, aspirations n possibilities. People open the door, don’t even exchange a word or two, give the waste and simply shut the door. The flats of delhi, in various localities avail such services. Its ironical, we use things, dump them in the dustbin and then the things which are used by us is picked by a stranger who is actually not a stranger anymore but a regular visitor. A visitor, who is stoic, is welcomed n yet not welcomed. Welcomed to collect our dump only. Sounds interesting isn’t it. ?

How many of us ask them while they wait for the bin to be emptied, whether they need a glass of water? Don’t we ask our guests the same when they travel from their houses so as to entertain themselves and us. The house is spic and span only because the litter is already given to people who are a little less fortunate but sure are earning themselves bread rather than begging or stealing. Time we should show some respect towards them and treat them like a human being rather than a doormat.

Insensitive Calls...

Its elation woven with a feeling of being wanted when one receives a call during the darkest hour. The caller is in a way a blessing in disguise as he is nothing but a cloud with a silver lining. The sudden surge of emotion is replete with possibilities and optimism. One thanks the being of that person in their lives. The call stretches to more than five minutes which etches a picture of bonding, togetherness, love and concern. Within minutes the bubble of illusion bursts and the call ends with a one line “I gotta go, something came up”. Was it actually a love driven concerned call or someone was killing their time? Why do we do it that’s a mystery? Is it a deliberate move of taking people for granted? Don’t we feel cheated when on the receiving end of such calls In spite of it we keep doing it out of habit?

It’s time we seize it and earn some respect from people who are there at our troubled times and are ready to lend an ear at the oddest hour even though they know that they are being used emotionally.

Insecurity ...

Why do people use people for their personal gains? Are they insecure of their own credibility or they simply under estimating their own potential? Or they simply have given up on themselves? Is it worth a chase? Why not, all efforts don’t turn futile. Putting a muzzle on the other person’s laborious hours by hogging the limelight under one’s name is condemning. They win laurels n praises on the ashes of the people who deserve it. The burial of such a kind is over whelming. It crushes the beauty of creativity, anger and frustration replicates the hub of glorious thought process.

It’s a question to those who steal the limelight of the unsung heroes – Are they able to look themselves in the mirror with a heart of content and achievement before they hit the bed in the night?

Temporary Relationships ...

Temporary relationships are like rented apartments. One moves in with a lot of hope, anticipation, anxiety, zeal and vigour. A feeling of starting afresh replicates the monotony of life. New beginnings paint a new picture on the canvass of life. The colorful hue is a mix of ambivalence n optimism. The investment of emotions is pragmatic with a tinge of senstivity.A sense of familiarity, belonging and bonding finds its roots. Its like giving a conscious facelift to the sore wounds. Fresh experiences, memories, milestones head towards newer destinations. Just that as soon as the lease comes to an end, one has to vacate and leave with no strings attached. Its like putting a muzzle on things which once held some importance in our lives. Gradually the ritualistic scheme of things chalks a new path of indifference which regurgitates the soul with nostalgia time n again.

An afterthought ...

God loves the colorful rainbow as much as the labouring seas. So why is it , the people born with a silver spoon are coveted by the society. For some, its a constant struggle and for the priveledged few, its a life of luxury and lifestyle. The inheritance of such a lineage is darted with a monologue - ' What has one achieved on one's own merit and name ?' Ain't being a bearer of good character an achievement in itself ? How many of us can boast of a life sans dishonesty, contempt, manipulation when in a corporate life ? Politics doing rounds in the official periphery maligns the soul. The nouveau rich eke out and tempt the jealous entities. Is there any end to such trivialities and speculation ?

An Appeal ...

Human nature craves for abundance, majority and well being be it any field. The bliss is insurmountable when followers of a particular religion or community throng at their places of worship and seek the blessings of god in unison. Its a melange of brotherhood, holiness and spirituality. The same set of people are ready to shed blood if the religion is questioned or is under threat. All are ready to sacrifice themselves to save the purity of their sacred books. We come together as one to protect our religion n its beliefs . But then why is it that we are immune to the needs of the person who is under the spell of extreme poverty and dire consequences.Its a question to every Muslim, Hindu and Christian who are the citizens of India , have you ever seen a Sikh begging on the road, railway station, airport, hospitals and bus stops? They take up any job as worship and do it with pride but will never beg. Each will help the other as if they are one's own family. Lesser in number but they are the torchbearers of a trend which not only reap rich benefits but is also working towards the development and betterment of the society and continent as a whole. Its time every individual should follow suit, are there any takers ?

A Letter to the Terrorist...

It just takes a second to disturb the peace and normalcy of calm environs. An explosion and terror replaces the serenity. Chaos mingled with fortitude is a common sight. Ripped bodies, oodles of blood , fire , burns is a part of the devastation. The fear is double folds. Its nothing but exhileration for the one who carried out the operation. Does he feel like god who is omnipresent, and can cause destruction at the blink of an eye ? The only difference is that they own up to media with pride that they are the torch bearers of the havoc. All this to gain popularity and a showoff that they are the controllers of the lives of thousands of people. Self glorification under the garb of vicious mindset. Violence at its best. A question to such acts of ferocity is-do they have a sound sleep after taking so many lives.? Is their ever remorse ? A sense of guilt or regret ? Are they able to look themselves in the eye when facing a mirror? What are they trying to prove this is yet unknown as explosions are a common sight be it any part of the world. It does not stop it all there as people who carry out the operation are used by the master to give a filip to their heinous plans.Its an ongoing process just that the time and place is different each time. When will this all stop to a more carefree environment where there will be no terror, devastation , bloodshed and fury but only peace, calm waters , tranquility and brotherhood.

A Wake-Up call...

Its a common sight these days to see the maids tagging along in busy shopping malls or eating joints . They are hired full time so that they take care of the toddlers while the proud parents have no hindrance in their revelry. Its a self proclaimed elevation that it is an aid to lift the masses from the dungeons of penury. A garb or farce called employment for the weaker sections of the society. The caretaker is a hapless entity yet a fashion statement. The perks are not always gratifying. Mostly these people are seen standing outside restaurants or multiplexes calming the harried monotones of a crying baby. The maids feed , change the nappies, wash n bathe n even take them out for walks in the evening. The only difference is that they do every possible thing but cannot ever be called their biological mother. What a pity. Its a collective response when asked from the elite that they were the sole bearers in bringing up their child... Excuse me .. have we not set contradictory examples ourselves. Then why is it a problem that the child when in the hours of distress calls out the maid more than the respective parents. Why does one feel they are stung by a serpent then ? Have we not escalated our duties full throttle . Motherhood is a beautiful phase in any woman's life so why not give our best shot to our own blood who are nohing but pleasurable labours of love.

Bluelines of Delhi ...

For a moment it seems they are nothing but fat snakes crawling on the road with their listless approach, loaded with unfamiliar faces who are bustling with the ritualistic innuendos.They are dangerous yet appealing for our pockets. Bluelines or the CNG as they are so lovingly called is a life saver for many. The buses in other words are the best example of a furnace in motion. People risk their lives knowingly so as to reach their destinations economically. Sweaty bodies, stench , odor , commotion, is a common sight. The seats for the women are blissfully occupied by the men. For once its a visual treat as the male chauvinism is at bay. The harried commuters don't mind when in the middle of nowhere the driver decides that gas has to be refilled, for which all have to get down. All obey religiously without much ado. In a way its a meek whimper to relaod yourself on those life threatening locomotives for a more progressive danger for the coming moments. The bonnet of the engine is nothing but a sofa without a backrest. Lady commuters dump themselves on it so as to breathe a sigh of relief. It is a culpable offence. Any sight of an inspector and the tables turn, the driver shouts to get up so as to save himself from the clutches of the repurcussions if seen flouting the norms. The driver latches his seat belt , wears his shirt and sits upright. No one raises an alarm or checks him for it , as soon as the check point is half a mile away , the driver is back to his bohemian self and the commuters too take their seat out of habit.

So then why is it that we react only when the same buses kill one of our near n dear ones? Why are we meek spectators n the slaves of the system ? When will we put our foot down for things which are forced on us, the citizens to follow ?