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Never Preach

Certain things cannot be said or done,
It cannot be heard or seen,
It cannot be preached or even felt….
It cannot be even understood…
It should be experienced!
Then the pain can be felt,
The agony can be seen,
The desperate call for help can be heard
The problem of the other can be totally understood
And then the solution can be preached!
All this cannot be done when it is not experienced!
They easily say,
“Put yourselves in other’s shoe”
But…it is not as easy
Just to insert your legs…
The feeling always varies..
The emotions vary..
The situations vary..
The opinions vary..
The suggestions differ
Could anyone treat the other
As thy self? Are we saints?
Are we not struck,
Helpless into this unpleasant trance
Where we experience
Both sorrow and joy?
Could we try and realize?
Could we try and experience?
Is it ever possible?
These are events that happen
Beyond our efforts
Beyond our restraints!
It should come to thy by self!
Then how can people
Have similar experiences?
How could they ever feel the same?
Then how could they preach?
Preachers can only be saints,
And nobody else!
We can never conclude,
Never take a chance
To get eroded or go and preach
This can be totally confusing!
But this is the truth!

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                                                                    Image: Internet
If you had missed the previous chapters of the story: Click here Chapter 1Chapter 2

CHAPTER 3


It was the fall again, they had gone for a stroll outside the university campus into the beautiful park where snowy trees surrounded the white spread and there were very few passers-by due to the freezing chill.
The two of them hovered around enjoying the beauty carpeted around them. Maureen had already gone down, working her gloved hands into the snowy layers. She started rolling a huge ice ball with a grin on her pink face. Steve looked at her dazed by the tinkle of her eyes and the jingle that her laughter spread in his heart.  The moist wind ruffled her blond hair, some of which fell onto her face like a wave onto the shores.
Steve just stood there with his hands folded, his lips curved into a mesmerizing smile and his eyebrows were arched in sheer amazement of what was happening to him that moment.   He felt…

Being humane

Every dawn dooms with wail


I never opine but in my daze,

For I am human, humane.

Image courtesy: Internet

To write is to dwell

FEBRUARY 15th, 2012





















What writing means to me...

As lonely as a cloud, as boring as boredom itself, I was. I grew up as a typical child at school but a very hefty one, I am still the same. I managed to cheer people with my innocence but did not manage to make happy friends to last a lifetime because of my gross physique. I couldn't play as I had no playmates at home and my only hobby was to sit and watch tv.

When I was studying in kindergarten, I used to visit a nearby shop with my dad. My dad was busy shopping for groceries and I engaged myself in observing things around me. The people who had mixed emotions that outshone on their faces, an old man cycling with a lot of strain, probably getting back home, the lady vendor with her dirty saree pinned up to her waist and squatting on the floor, selling vegetables, the autowala bargaining with his potential customer, the green trees which arched high with its countless leaves, the flowers that smile at me on the road side, happy child…