Flights of Fantasy

No matter how sure we are and no matter how perfect things go on in our life, there are times when our imagination just can’t be held back from racing towards those unhappy mishaps, which have not yet occurred in our lives. Our imagination takes us off to that unknown world where even the near and dear ones become strangers and do acts that are unpredictable.

Yes, I am talking about those times of the day when we slip behind a curtain and imagine ourselves as the victims or culprits in the fantasy world. From here arise the doubts, suspicions and jealousies….but ahem! This is also the perfect content for a writer to write on or about.

Something similar happened to me, sitting next to the window, flying back to home, I started imagining weird stuff. I could not hold back, and started to write about it. As a student I often used to slip into this fantasy world and imagine myself flunking in a paper or two, or failing to finish my masters’ degree. As a result, I used to panic for no reason, get tensed for nothing. Hats off to those which have the capacity to live in this fantasy world because I am, at this young age available with diabetic symptoms.

For a thoughtful person like me, it is very important to visit fantasy land for it defines our ‘mood for the day’. At times I take revenge in my world with my friends, which in a way stops me to go on n punish them in the real world. But one needs to put a halt before we go too violent and see ourselves committing horrendous crimes.

Once...

Once in thousand decades, once in thousand years, once in thousand lifetimes,

Does one come into this world to see what lies in front of us in this world?

All one needs to do is, decide n capture what one likes…..

Alas! Even though we get all we aspire for, we die n leave all back here.

This is the magic of vicious-circle we are all trapped in, but how many of us actually want to take on to the life without ambitions…?

We all…look for the soul that feels the same…that has the same peace which we want to attain.

Truly, at least I believe, someone somewhere is made for us, who carries the soul similar to ours…n we see a friend in that frame.

The sack of gold.

The sack of gold.

Standing by the door, i see the passing moments on the road.
It is these moments that I cherish most.
Those were the golden days of my existence,
Thoughiexist even now, but ti is only the substance.
You were the essence, to cure to my miseries.

They say i have grown up, but still I cry,
still remember days in your lap, when u would calm me down,
and take me around to show the town.
Was it the child in me you tended or was it
The love you sowed in me?

I walk around like a sack that carried
The gold grains once upon a time,
But surely i walk with pride,
since i have been touched by gold.