Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Helplessness
For when ecstasy stems out of the darkest moments even the best of us don't know how to handle it.
Fruittella
Once upon there was a lady with hair as beautiful as you can imagine. She'd grow it long just so to cut it every time; she'd make it into wigs for cancer patients. For years this went on and there were many who would hold their head high as they wore the shine, the shine they believed that would bring them back the world. The lady was loved and the hair more so.
Then one day, that was just as close to any normal day as it could be, for each day has it's smiles, the lady saw a strand of pink in her hair. She hid it like the fruit vendor hid the rancid fruit. But with every passing day the fruit turned more spoilt until eventually a good half of her hair was a psychedelic pink. As she thought of donating the hair this time she faced doubt. She was so used to the normality of her standard visits that it made her unsure. As unsure as a poor man at a buffet. She walked in, with a lamination of acquired confidence with denial as its backing force and she gave in the hair.
As expected, the wigs were refused and those who did wear them found isolation not as hard as they would have. The lady's stature shrank and things were no longer the way they were before. She wasn't the loved. The love the lady had for these people waned at faster pace.
There came a time when the lady had no longer cut her hair for decades. She now had the prettiest, most spirited lock of pink hair. She had forgotten about the patients, although they lived nearby, in a hospital, in her head, which had been shut down temporarily due to lack of janitors, nonetheless the patients were still there. Until one fine day a thought struck as does the thought of atheism to a clergyman. She waved it away calling it all that clergyman have been calling their doubts and wrapped the pink guts around her to sleep. The next morning she woke up realizing that denial had turned it's back on her. So the next night she sent an army of men to to fight her daemons. What follows is the aftermath of the skirmish.
One of the men came back. One said that the enemy had it's reasons and only few among it were as strong as her friend to have resisted this temptation, it was their weakness which had invoked the soreness. As the lady listened to the survivor smilingly, another survivor, battered and bruised limped forward. The lady patiently waited for him, all the time an air of self-assuredness captivating her, until the messenger fell to her feet. Gasping for air, half uttering - half mouthing the words he said something which the lady best understood as "This messenger lost an eye, your enemy has pink hair, and it is the prettiest, most spirited lock of pink hair"
Then one day, that was just as close to any normal day as it could be, for each day has it's smiles, the lady saw a strand of pink in her hair. She hid it like the fruit vendor hid the rancid fruit. But with every passing day the fruit turned more spoilt until eventually a good half of her hair was a psychedelic pink. As she thought of donating the hair this time she faced doubt. She was so used to the normality of her standard visits that it made her unsure. As unsure as a poor man at a buffet. She walked in, with a lamination of acquired confidence with denial as its backing force and she gave in the hair.
As expected, the wigs were refused and those who did wear them found isolation not as hard as they would have. The lady's stature shrank and things were no longer the way they were before. She wasn't the loved. The love the lady had for these people waned at faster pace.
There came a time when the lady had no longer cut her hair for decades. She now had the prettiest, most spirited lock of pink hair. She had forgotten about the patients, although they lived nearby, in a hospital, in her head, which had been shut down temporarily due to lack of janitors, nonetheless the patients were still there. Until one fine day a thought struck as does the thought of atheism to a clergyman. She waved it away calling it all that clergyman have been calling their doubts and wrapped the pink guts around her to sleep. The next morning she woke up realizing that denial had turned it's back on her. So the next night she sent an army of men to to fight her daemons. What follows is the aftermath of the skirmish.
One of the men came back. One said that the enemy had it's reasons and only few among it were as strong as her friend to have resisted this temptation, it was their weakness which had invoked the soreness. As the lady listened to the survivor smilingly, another survivor, battered and bruised limped forward. The lady patiently waited for him, all the time an air of self-assuredness captivating her, until the messenger fell to her feet. Gasping for air, half uttering - half mouthing the words he said something which the lady best understood as "This messenger lost an eye, your enemy has pink hair, and it is the prettiest, most spirited lock of pink hair"
Monday, February 21, 2011
The Conspiracy
Snow can wait, it's already too dark
People run around in circles getting nowhere
Seldom they stop to notice they've lost their mark
Man has been conspiring against itself for how long I can't even recall
He's just out there hiding from himself, waiting for the fall
Looking deeper shows how it's all a big puzzle
look deeper and you will laugh
No matter where you stand you will laugh
And this laughter will be for everyone,
personal, ungraded and completely differentiated
And it's this inability of grading laughter which makes it all
Hilarious !
People run around in circles getting nowhere
Seldom they stop to notice they've lost their mark
Man has been conspiring against itself for how long I can't even recall
He's just out there hiding from himself, waiting for the fall
Looking deeper shows how it's all a big puzzle
look deeper and you will laugh
No matter where you stand you will laugh
And this laughter will be for everyone,
personal, ungraded and completely differentiated
And it's this inability of grading laughter which makes it all
Hilarious !
Sunday, February 20, 2011
The Comeback !
Okay,
So it has really been a while since i posted on this, though i have been visiting it in the hope (failingly) that people might have visited Bearded Pop. I've been thinking to start writing properly again. A lot has changed since i last posted. The magnitude of the change is astronomical. I've had some emotional upheavals and have struggled to vent them out. I've felt the need to write a couple of times now but was unsure about the direction I want to take this blog into. Maybe, this is one thing that kept me away from this. Finished reading on something that motivated me to get my head down and get back to this. Above all, I came across some of my old writings and couldn't believe myself. My writing has deteriorated to an embarrassing extent. I have to write more frequently to at least reach the previous prowess I had (Yes I can brag here because I am bragging about the writer "Asad Ghafoor of a past time, of which I am a 'China' copy right now" from a distance). Frankly, i am worried whether I'll be able to match the previous standards.
The main goal is just to keep up. I have a lot on my plate at the moment. I haven't had time to finish the smallest of books for a while now. And with the goals i have for this semester, things are very tight.
Let's do this thing and I feel this is going to find it's place (although there will be a constant effort on my part not to turn this into a personal diary or an account of how i screw or get screwed all day around). I'm kinda excited too (The image of the giggly girl with pigtails surfaces in my head).
Let's see how we do this time.
Happy Living :)
So it has really been a while since i posted on this, though i have been visiting it in the hope (failingly) that people might have visited Bearded Pop. I've been thinking to start writing properly again. A lot has changed since i last posted. The magnitude of the change is astronomical. I've had some emotional upheavals and have struggled to vent them out. I've felt the need to write a couple of times now but was unsure about the direction I want to take this blog into. Maybe, this is one thing that kept me away from this. Finished reading on something that motivated me to get my head down and get back to this. Above all, I came across some of my old writings and couldn't believe myself. My writing has deteriorated to an embarrassing extent. I have to write more frequently to at least reach the previous prowess I had (Yes I can brag here because I am bragging about the writer "Asad Ghafoor of a past time, of which I am a 'China' copy right now" from a distance). Frankly, i am worried whether I'll be able to match the previous standards.
The main goal is just to keep up. I have a lot on my plate at the moment. I haven't had time to finish the smallest of books for a while now. And with the goals i have for this semester, things are very tight.
Let's do this thing and I feel this is going to find it's place (although there will be a constant effort on my part not to turn this into a personal diary or an account of how i screw or get screwed all day around). I'm kinda excited too (The image of the giggly girl with pigtails surfaces in my head).
Let's see how we do this time.
Happy Living :)
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