Quarter-life crisis

Is this for real, is this right?
In all this tumult, where's the light?
Darkness of doom descends on my soul,
Besieges my psyche, engulfs it whole.
Spirit is restive, a fish without water,
Confidence crippled, pride rendered shorter.
Aimless wandering n listless thought,
Mock my effort, pull it to nought.
The heart cries, drains my muse,
All I look for, is some excuse.
Inspiration is mauled, looted, raped,
And damned to oblivion, while I gaped.
Every positive is negated, strength is spent,
I cannot face it, my ego is bent.
No goals in sight, no path to follow,
I seek refuge in the past so hollow.
Cannot help howsoever I hate,
This loser's attitude, giving in to fate.
O Lord! I pray to thee,
Show some mercy, set me free.
On my knees, defeated by strife,
I plead tranquility, a just life.

When will it be over :(

A day marked for a fight

There was this day
Of strife, of delay.
Tempers were high
Gray looked the sky.
So was my muse
A mood grim, obtuse.
The wick called hope
Was fitful and grope.
Yea, it was our toast
Cursed, marred by roast.
Settling to drag
Was tough, no brag.
By Joe, did it pay?
Our gamble, foray.
Thoughts arose in mind
To forget, leave behind.
And, soon discord waned
Free now, were the chained.
Bhai took the first bow
As accounts began to flow.
Of his prime, peerless flair
His hallmarks and glare.
The torch then moved on
To every Tom, Dick & Ron.
Twas fun, twas a fest
Up there with the best.
Heavens opened at last,
Amidst joy at full blast.
Thus, ended on a note right
A day marked for a fight.

It was a good treat. I saw Taj from inside :)

Freedom ?

Freedom day it is
to be celebrated,
free to be me
To have the right.

I was told
they are the one,
my own people
for me and you.

To rule my mind
to weave illusion,
here they come
to wash my eyes.

Year after year
redemption promised,
of glory fantasied
of history invented.

Reality, not for me
its a myth,maya they say.
Buddha is a legend
a God to worship.

Is this the end
a goal realized,
or just a stretch
on the treacherous path?

Hazy but there still
my vision of freedom,
the dream India
will it be realized?

Patriotic me :D

Initiation 2

I am back. Almost on the same terrain but a more critical analysis this time. But today I wont talk about lost places, the topic would rather be lost people. People who want to say a million things to some "one in a zillion" person but have to contend with broadcasting a few thousand lines for one's elusive "the one" to pick up and notice. What a strange animal man is? Is this a sub-conscious form of exhibitionism? But who will tell me?

chalo, I should put across my theory and let others contribute/ criticize.Restricting our discussion to email, chatrooms and blogs, what do these things solve? If one pays a bit more attention, there's not much evidence of such an open expression of human thoughts in the past. esp. of the blogs...Some may argue that blog is an extension of good old diary writing system but in my opinion this is not true. Both differ at their root purpose,one is a private store house to be revisited after decades, to satisfy nostalgic thirst while the blog is to say it to all. Imho, blog represents modern day paradigm shift to shw-off and cash in, both fruits of materialism. 10 years back, could we ever have expected couples to make their bedroom blues public, a student writing all he/she feels about his teacher or a pyt invting people to talk to her...blogs though carry traditional lamenting on the system, reviews of movies, events, people etc. as well...So blog is a novel expression and at the same time gateway of conventional expressions.

The advantage of this expression is its just another solution for ubiquitous problem of stress. Infact, modern day psychologists and our ancient wise men agree on their prescription on stress relieving, which is to express oneself....and blog suits present day world..its fast, easily accessible and global. The only disadvantage can be when the object of one's grudge comes across one's blog. Oh gawd!!! that'll be a KO. what if mom sees what I am writing.. I'll be nailed....so guys just excuse me till I invent a safer "mode of expression" or get bold enough to use this blog again..

Promise to myself...

Flowers,birds,rain,the hill
Never cross my mind,
Nor am I fill.
With joy so innocent,
As only she is
my dreamgirl.

Doubts, worries, thought,
is all i have,
N' it is fought.
The battle so hard
where else but
in my own heart.

Smiles, frowns, fad
she thinks so pretty
and I so bad.
Whats amiss,
Cant I be happy,
N' always be glad.

Promise, pledge, a vow
here I make
to me and to thou.
I'll be fun,
from now on
N' no furor.

.. which did not last even a month, i guess. Anyways, really bad rhyming.

The initiation

Hey there

What now is a blog? Seriously speaking, who is this guy "there" to whom I am saying hi ? What hit upon me to write on this sidey blog at this early morinng hour for normal diurnal people? And what purpose will this solve? Will anybody of this species "there" out there care to read it? May be there's enuf vehli junta out there like myself willing to farsake one work, career, family, friends and what not just to find some breathing space. However, the consolence of not being "the only tired one" is all one gets. God knows in what dimension this space exists.

Lets start with myself. What should I write about a person who is trying to find himself in this harrowing hollowness of internet, where zillions of people are continuously losing themselves. The most baffling thing is everybody knows that the internet is a "Lost and Lost" place, the found part is lost somewhere. So, now I too should get lost and find myself.

Till I lose myself again, signing off...
Ashish

"Dazed and Confused"

I started my journey with a soldier's gait
As a born winner, maker of my fate.
Praises pouring plenty, hopes held high,
I will be there, I will fly.
Who did forsee a one eyed king,
Had frozen feet and wax wing?
Towards or away, life was a run,
I feared darkness, or was it sun.
My self failed me in the war of vision,
The reason was not fortune, nor was reason.
What I haven't done is the fuss,
Every ought and must still a guess.
Numbed still in the mire of million mutiny,
What am i awaiting, a search or scrutiny?
Hope is in parts, a half in here,
The other with her,despair breeds this pair.

My best/worst till date...