Have you ever felt this acute need to escape? Break free. Just leave.

Like a butterfly in a jar, Have you ever felt the glass wall enclosing you? You’re flying to the greatest heights you can reach but you still feel the need to fly higher. You want to change everything, yet keep it same. You’re confused, who are you?

All you think you need is a break. A break from thinking about all the chains binding you here, thinking about the reasons why you can’t fly, everything that is holding you back. And all you want is for this break to last forever.

That evanescent feeling of the breeze blowing your hair, your head hanging out the window of a car, music drowning all thought, lights and shapes blurred into colours – that sense of just being. No body, no life, no goals, no world – Just being. For a few moments. And then you can return to earth, fulfil all your worldly obligations. Go do it right.

But I wonder…can I make that feeling last forever? Is there a right way, where it isn’t for a few moments but all? Is that what they call peace?

If I go to the monks will it stay with me? Or will I then yearn for the stress I’ll be leaving behind? Do I crave it because its a change or do I crave it for what it is? This beating of my heart, when it is content, am I the one responsible for it or is it just the adrenaline of escape?

Have you ever felt this acute need to escape? Have you followed it to peace yet?


The unknown is always unnerving. The inexplicable disturbing.


Not knowing, is a strange itch. Irritating, debilitating. You defend yourself against it. Scratch it out. Figure it out. And if you can’t? Get used to that tingle forever on your skin – refuse to accept it’s different from your defined reality.


Rules are made to be broken. But does anyone? Does anyone live without a body, think without their minds, feel with their skin? Does anyone ever do anything the others don’t? We have our lives defined. Our souls labelled in coded letters like the numbers of a prisoner. And one by one the chains of society thrust upon our bodies till our reality is defined – a prison cell where every untoward emotion is an unacknowledged itch.


You came here with a blank state. And before you could learn how to read and write, it was already filled. No space for you to define yourself. Till you reach that age, where you tell yourself you have erased it all! And now you’ll rewrite your life. But who are you kidding? You never found a duster. You just stick sheet after sheet on top of that slate, till one day the glue comes off and they fall cascading down and you see that first mark of chalk on the black of your board – the coded letter – your first definition – your name.


Who are you? You are nobody. You are whoever wrote on your board. And so now you go write on others board. And definitions get linked to other definitions – till the whole world is defined. And what isn’t, doesn’t exist.


It’s a mastermind. The most beautiful trap ever designed. When the trapped themselves chain the free? – you don’t need a cage.


I may have the courage to write this. You may have the courage to read this. But neither have the courage to accept it.



This is important: PLAY ME and read the following with this music in the backdrop

There’s a fly in my head. It’s buzzing.

Where are you going?

Why are you here?

Hello? Are you even in there?

The world is flashing past me. Blurred edges across glass panes.

Sunlight filters through. Closed eyes, sighs. Warmth.

Can you feel it?

The golden hair standing up on your arms,

The tingling coursing through your veins.

The rainbows of twilight.

This mad rush.

Who are we?

Ever wonder at the stars?

Existence. It’s just here. Always been.

But why?

The rains are falling. Dig deeper.

Grey tones and that yellow umbrella.

There is always one. One yellow in a sea of greys.

Who is it?

It’s maddening. Let it peak.

Let this confusion engulf you. Feel this spiral. Rise with it

Sharp cuts, burns and pains.

And then fall.

Winter is here.

White plains, frosted windows. Pale breath.

Feel it. The ice melting upon your fingers.

The magic in the air. Christmas bells.

Who made this?

Ever wonder?

If not, what are you waiting for?

Ask. Answer. Ask again. Keep asking.

Keep looking. There’s always more.

Keep climbing. Up and down.

Reach the roots, reach the sky

Lead or get left behind.

There is no in between.


Play me and then read

Life always has two routes to offer – the longer, harder one and the shorter supposedly easy one. The longer route lies amongst the plains, on stable ground. It meanders into the undergrowth, but there’s always a trail, left behind by the thousands that tread upon that ground before you. You may choose to take detours and every now and then, it’ll help you shorten the distance too. But once in a while, you’ll stumble and fall on your face. These however, are minor falls and you’ll survive. As long as you have the courage to get up. This is the route which, they say is righteous, the toughest and most exacting one and hence the only one worth traversing.

The shorter route on the other hand is supposed to be the easier one. Life is more relaxed, more calm. You always have time to spend upon yourself. However, it has its own perils for it lies upon uncharted territory. There aren’t many trails and it isn’t even certain whether it’ll take you where you want to go. It takes you through mountains and cliffs. And it asks you to take leaps. And while it takes so many safe landings to establish your trust in the path, one fall is enough to break all your bones. The world looks at this route with scepticism. They say its shorter only in distance and urge you to choose the longer one. But, the more you think about it, the more you’ll realize that it’s just a case of sour grapes. This route isn’t for everybody. That’s true. But that doesn’t imply that it isn’t for anybody. It’s easy and short, but only if you discover it first.

Besides, where’s your sense of adventure? Would you rather be flying over hilltops or walking in safety under a canopy that hides the sun in the sky? Yes, the fall hurts. It hurts so bad that sometimes it’s near impossible to get up. But nothing compares to that feeling you get, when you jump off a cliff and land safely on the next.

Turn a screw the wrong way round and you’ll have to work hard to get it in. Turn the same screw the right way and it slides smoothly, effortlessly. Would you then say that the latter is the wrong path to take?

Choose the route that fits you well. On the right path, work is always easy and effortless even though it seems to be difficult to others. So the shortest route isn’t always bad. That’s just something people who missed the sign tell themselves to feel better.


The storm clouds had been gathering in the horizon – dark grey rumblings, swirling in the sky. Lightning cracked like a whip, accompanied by a sudden flash of white. An electrical breeze blew away the stray leaves, raising dust storms on the empty streets.

The same wind, caresses my face, blows through my hair and roars in my ears, building up a bubble of anticipation deep in my heart, preparing me for the storm ahead.

Nature sometimes reflects your mood better than anything else. I can sense all my confusion in the shape-shifting clouds, drifting across the vast expanse of the sky – obscuring all traces of the calm blue, leaving behind a raging maelstrom of violet and grey and electric white.

I feel the swirling wind gather up all my emotions till I sense a tornado surge within me, battling for release. And as the first drops of water touch the ground, I feel myself let go and it all comes surging out. Suddenly, I’m standing in the eye of the storm, a cocoon of evanescent calm surrounding me, as the clouds burst and sheets and sheets of water beat down upon the world.

A strange music plays in the background. The symphony, rising and falling with my heartbeat. Or maybe it’s the other way round. My breath quickens, as the cold seeps through my skin and chills my bones. The water trickles down my body, washing away all the dirt – physical and mental. I feel cleansed from within as it becomes difficult to breathe. But I still keep letting go, letting the storm wring out all the negativity.

I raise my face, to peek at the world above and I’m mesmerized. The deep space, pulls me in and I don’t know if I’m rising above, getting sucked into that vortex or falling down the bottomless pit inside my mind.

My drenched hair clings to my face, weighing me down. Its weight reminds me to stay anchored as I feel my body rise up with the wind. But my mind, in the face of the escape it was hunting for, is lured into forgetting the world. I am numb. I don’t exist anymore. I’m just a floating spectre, in an infinite world, suspended in limbo.

And suddenly as the notes rise in a crescendo, I feel my soul rush forward and jump off another cliff. Only this time I begin to soar. I feel the smile spread all over my face, the water falling faster than ever.

But as the water runs out, my leap of freedom leaves me trapped in the chains of mortality, for as I die in my dream, I awaken in reality.

Nighttime reveries

Black velvet sky. Stars like diamonds in a coal mine. Silhouettes of swaying trees in the far horizon. Misty clouds like wisps of smoke, flitting carelessly by and silver moonlight falling softly, like a sheen covering all things. There’s a tangible tranquillity in the air. As if breathing in this solitude, you can transport yourself to heaven.

The breeze, playing with your hair, felt like caressing fingers upon your cheek. The soothing emptiness lifting your soul and carrying it beyond the confines of the concrete you are sitting on. Deep breaths as you try to drink it all in and inquisitive eyes keep searching the vast expanse for answers to questions unheard.

You don’t need words. You don’t have words. Just content sighs. Maybe a smile. And peace – soul-warming, heart wrenching, completely absorbing peace.

A  bat flies by. Flapping its monstrous wings. A black speck, wondrously visible against the almost black sky. It leaves behind a trail for you to follow.  And you fold within yourself, yearning for the wings you cut off a long time ago. But in these mellifluous surroundings, you almost believe you could grow them back…

Another sigh. There’s only one thing missing. The warmth of your body beside mine. The smooth velvet of your skin on mine. The strength of your arms holding me close. Your breath like whispered melodies. Your being, the light to my soul’s fire.

As the empty air runs through my fingers, I tell myself, I can get a blanket. I can get all the warmth and softness I need. But even as I huddle within my patch of wool, I can’t help but wonder, are you too watching the sky, this very moment, wondering, whether or not I’m thinking about you?

Who are we?

The Gods are the highest form of judgement and blasphemy, the worst of all one’s misdeeds. But why are the Gods always right? Is it because they are genuinely correct or is it simply because they’d be the victors in every war they wage? Are we, Gods’ devout followers, traversing the correct path or are we simply the defeated carrying out our terms of sentence?

They say good always triumphs in the end. But does it?
Is it the truth that enjoys victory or the victor that becomes the truth? Is there truly any demarcation between Good and Bad? Or are they the different names given to the principles of winner and loser?

Open your eyes and look closely. Everything around you will blend together. These colours that seem so different are all part of the same white. There are no lines segregating them except the ones you choose to create. Shift it out of focus and you’ll see – there’s nothing around you. You live in a sea of opinions. Your opinions create your world, your stories. Your beliefs draw the lines. You can’t walk through the wall before you, because you believe it’s solid. So you walk around it. Believe however, that the wall is hollow and you’ll be able to walk straight through it.

You’ve let the opinions of those around you win. So they’re the co-creators of your world. Listen to your heart beat and wage another war. Don’t listen to what they say. Nothing is right. Nothing is wrong. No Good and no Bad.

Become your own champion and you’ll see. There are no gods. Just powerful beings, you were made slave to.

What’s the point of insecurities? guilt? sympathy? fear? Do they make you a good person? Or are they weapons fired to make you lose? Become hedonistic. Do what you truly want. Win this war.

The Loop

Nature has symmetricity. It has so many shapes – circle, square, triangle. You can use them to create all the other shapes that appear around you. They seem distinct. But are they?
They are made of different types of curves and lines. They have different numbers of edges and corners. But they are all closed loops with no beginning and no end.
All of nature is a closed loop of illusion. And we are trapped within that loop. We trace out its design and placate ourselves. Tell ourselves we know its shape, we can replicate its image. But we are just making a loop within a loop. We don’t know where it begins and we don’t know where it’ll end.
We build theories. Fit the world we see around us in models. But like the shapes we draw, we choose a starting point and trace the lines till we arrive at it. There can be infinite starting points, so infinite models. How do we know ours is correct? Aren’t we limiting ourselves by this loop we draw around us?
Maybe the answer is to draw a bigger loop. Expand. But to what extent? Maybe the answer is not to overthink. Not ask too many questions. But a rational being must always ask questions, mustn’t they?
Where do you begin the questions and where do you end them? It’s always a closed loop. The why gives rise to a how. And the how gives rise to the what and then the where, which, whose bringing us back to why.
Why then, do we ask these questions? That my friend, is the only real question. Or is it?


According to the chaos theory even the fluttering of a butterfly’s wings in the Amazon has a momentous effect on the weather in say, Asia. The popular statement – cosmos out of chaos – is hence, truer than one would guess. Even vacuum isn’t as empty as most of us believe. In fact, it comprises of innumerable minute particles, each of which get created and destroyed in nanoseconds. Thus, giving rise to the illusion of emptiness.

Feynmann’s theory of alternate histories suggests that at every moment there are several parallel worlds existing on this plane and others. Every possible outcome of every possible action is realized. We just don’t realize that we are experiencing them all.

Religion defines the world in one manner, science in another. And in our hearts we know that both these definitions are just theories, neither better than the other. What then is the truth about the universe? Isn’t every live soul, then, as lost as the bum walking listlessly on the road?

There is a quality about being lost though – its beautiful. It helps you discover yourself in different ways. It helps you stumble upon your own Narnia. It feels complete and exhilarating.

Where’s the fun in knowing everything? Where’s the adventure in being able to predict the next decade or even century of your life.

Christopher Columbus didn’t set sail to discover America. He didn’t even know that America existed. He just got lost.

I therefore, heartily pity anyone who pities me for being or appearing lost. Whether its lost in the real world, lost in life, lost in my thoughts, lost in the beauty of nature, lost in the hidden harmony of honking horns – I adore being lost. And even though at times it becomes crippling, I realize that I wouldn’t choose any other way to fulfil my life’s purpose.

So I choose to be Christopher Columbus rather than the captain of an ordinary cruise ship travelling from one port to another with a map and a pre-planned route. I choose to experience the waves and let the storms rather than a compass guide me. I choose to be lost.


Where do things end?
Where do they begin?
The fine line on the border,
So often shifts.
I cry today because I think
I’m bidding this day farewell,
When I’m only ushering in
A new year’s spell.
And when this here ends,
A new there will begin again.
But in this here and that there,
I feel, I have lost that day I bade goodbye.
But time is never lost.
It just gets stored in precious memories,
That last a lifetime
And sometimes beyond.