Tag Archives: writing

A Plea For Help

You know how I’m going to end?
I’ll die dissatisfied.
That’s what is going to happen.
I’ll spend my entire life like this.
Looking for things,
Connecting them.
And eventually, I’ll realize that it was never the answer to anything.

We’re meant to learn to love and to be kind;
To heal and to help heal.
And here I am,
Collecting things,
Like souvenirs;
As if I could always carry them around,
Or wear them
Like a prize perhaps.

I know, I tend to know,
I always do.
But I have so much inside
Which is neither focused nor channelized;
And it oozes out of me,
Like blood out of a pin sized prick,
My thoughts are everywhere.
All over the place.
And I need help controlling them.
Please help.
Save my soul.

Psithurism

We live in a cosmos where so many stories happen every centimeter. Every day, all of us come across so many entities that change in us in ways that we never realize. The best ones, I feel, are the ‘ones unheard’.
Now, when I say ‘unheard’, I am referring to the ones that fall into the drums of our ears, yet never travel through our system to dissolve into our blood and make a home within us. The ones that might touch our surface but never seep in, and persist, at the most, as faded memories in our lives. The ones that collide into our path with the sole intention of being held by us, just to bounce back into their place, as we, unaware of their very existence, continue with our ways.

Psithurism: The word goes on to explain one such sound. The sly sound that the wind makes when it carries itself through the trees. The sound of the joy that the leaves make every time they meet. It promises the joy of childhood memories and the comfort that they bring along. But it has an untold itch about itself; how it never promises to assuage the untouched wounds that follow that joy! The memory of how feelings dried, over the time, to empty thoughts. The memory of the pain that’s felt, when after all this time of feeling that you know love, how, in one stash it behaves like it never knew you. The memory of the revelation that how effortlessly, things, that you never thought you could forget, dissipate with time. The memory of disbelief related to how you dusted yourself off, after every time you fell down, with your own little hands and ended up marveling at the magical wonders that those little ones created. The beauty attached to the impulsive starts of those beautiful memories, where no reasons were needed in order to get started. The realization, that by their end, all they seemed to be made up of, was reasons. The hope that your friends remember you, with what it was like, before all the reasons got in between. (and not by the end of it.)

A Writer Will Understand

For days and days
I feel
That I cannot write anymore.
My words don’t convey a meaning
That frustrates me even more.

On and on
It goes
Till this tide sweeps all over my face
Making it hard to breathe
Only then does my mind
Decide to release it all.

Back and forth
The tip of my pen
Oozes red; filling paper;
With the blood out of my veins.
And then I am at peace
After letting it all get drained.

To write, is a gift;
They say.
But I would like to convey
‘Tis more or less a curse
To live like this.

To choke on your words
Before you can finally cough them out
To know more,
Than you need to know
To look around and absorb all emotions
As if they were your own
Feel strangled with their presence
Lest you find the perfect words to release
All that you feel.

What I say,
You cannot understand
Lest you feel; and write.

What I say,
You will not understand
Lest you feel; and write.

UBUNTU – I Am Because We Are

Some of us might look at this word “Ubuntu” and think of the operating system, some of us might acknowledge it as a word of South African origin, some of us might be aware of both the things, while some of us might have encountered it for the first time.

The word “Ubuntu” is a noun that is defined by dictionary.com as “humanity or fellow feeling or kindness”; however, this is not enough to capture the entire meaning of this wonderful word, and almost everyone who is aware of Ubuntu will agree with me.

I have gone through many articles and speeches that mention Ubuntu; every author, every speaker, has held a similar approach to the topic, but somehow everyone has had their own meanings for it. So, I have decided to take the efforts of my fellow writers, a bit further, by writing about what I feel Ubuntu is.

The very basic thing you would hear from someone who knows the word ‘Ubuntu’ would be: “I am because we are”, or “I am what I am because of who we all are”. President Barack Obama mentioned in his eulogy for Nelson Mandela, that he (Mandela), not only embodied Ubuntu but he inspired millions of people to find the truth within their own selves. It is said to be the word of the highest praise, a word which can only be loosely translated into other languages. I will not give it another translation. However, I will elaborate on the ones that are present already.

Since the time we were born, we have been observing the people around us, learning by mimicking their words and their actions. I will never forget that my mother taught me how to ride a bicycle, or that it was my aunt who taught me how to whistle. These are activities that we perform, and learn, or are taught. There are feelings and emotions as well that mold our personality due to the kind of encounters we have. I am a very patient person, not because I always was, but because I have a younger sister who can be very testing. I have met people who display kindness which is boundless. It is something I admire as well as respect; hence, I was encouraged into becoming kinder. Of course, there are many things that come to us naturally; most of all, love. We are born with love, to love, from love, for love. Without going astray, I’ll clarify what I’ve wanted to convey by saying all of this.

Every person we meet, we see, we talk to, owns a moment or many, of our lives, and so do we, of their lives. We leave a little of ourselves in them and vice versa. We are a part of everyone we know and they are a part of us. Meeting someone with kindness would leave our kindness behind for them and in them. And, this is why, I am because we all are. We cannot survive without each other. We learn and grow due to each other. All of us are connected by the invisible yet beautiful thread of humanity. Ubuntu is what makes us all one.