g's world

Okay. Let's do this. Some facts are hard to digest but true. To all those pretty people with sour cream 'fairness' masks sploshed on their dusty  dusky faces once in every week, the fad dieting extremists whose diet routine involves surviving a whole year through the energy generated by a single pea (Are you the dragon warrior? Tai Lung is on the look out), to all those having a face lift, botox and brouhaha for looking the GLAM-WHAM aunty-next-door (scratch that!). This is a PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: Lend me your ears! For the media is ambitious yet honourable! The idealism that you believe which you have set for yourself is an outcome of the billion frames that pass by every time you click the remote to fill your mind with the colours of the junk box. (I'm speaking about the TVs that you either get as freebies for voting for bad-guy-politicians or that flat desirable LCD screen that you've bought online on the TrapFart's Big Bullion Day Offer)...

The time was lonely, while my day cast stars stars, unseen by the night. I was howling through the bamboo, rustling onto the leaves stifling from the beggar's yawn and  roaring into the tide. yet I was with none but me in wanderlust, in quest of glee. I was caressing the ripples of the lake glimmering through the creak of a door shimmering onto the mirror that held a smiling face ablaze on the heated coarse sand. yet I was with none but me in wanderlust, in quest of glee. I was meditating upon the shambles of soil casting colour onto the solemn' main  setting destinations for their wings to flap cleaving between day and night. yet I was with none but me in wanderlust, in quest of glee. I was coarse yet firm, bore their footsteps without frown held their roots to my bosom nurturing them to shoot and blossom. yet I was with none but me in wanderlust, in quest of glee. I was told, here is glee. I am here to...

This post is a part of the #ZestUpYourLife activity in association with TATA Zest and BlogAdda.com When I was asked to write about the FIVE zesty things in life, I could actually come up with a million! But here are the activities/ people/ things that flame me up into bouncing energy, get me up and about... EVERY SINGLE DAY. Whenever I feel alone, I want a shoulder to lean upon, cast my worry away and fly high, there is this unique talent I hold which I marvel and pride upon. It gets my mind up and working. Poetry is one thing which I can never exist without. For it fuels up my fire and sets ablaze my passion to render things that I consider far fetched. Well, you might see this as another post which contains the usual person that everybody feels they can't live without. Probably it is. But it is also heartfelt. She is one person who has been the driving force behind many things that I've accomplished at present and I know she's going to be pushing, goading...

It's been long... A very long time since a time with you for this had been engaged engaged in the tantrums of the myriad windows windows that make this what it is It is yet an undiscovered psyche psyche, let me not call it one One which denies the inner the inner that craves craves for fame fame for esteem esteem by relations relations from shallow ponds Ponder, it ponders it's state stating unanimously of it's grave realm realm, which it considers not to be grave. Being grave is the harmony that it chose It chose to be received rather than to retreat Retreat, oh. It wasn't an option. An option that cost it solitude Solitude, yet not unhappiness unhappiness, how could it dwell? That which dwelt is you. You are unwelcome unwelcome, it says It says, it cannot be be in harmony yet in solitude solitude, as you aren't a companion companion? It probes. It probes me, for I talk for you. Y...

You're caught in the web, The web that was entwined by the mighty divine. You're travelling air borne, As she embraces you with grace unborn. When you open your eyes to her, You'd know you're caught. You're enthralled, enslaved, entwined in her curls, That make you gasp in short of breath amongst plenty.

The pattering pearls that spatter onto the chilly top, The pervading breeze of the elevated plain, The strums of melody that pave way to my heart, The sweeping concrete in which I had dreamt to start. I start afresh, a journey in love, Feeding my passions to hone glory. The past had fallen away from it’s kin, The future sprouts into life, Of every shade it is. Scarlet it is, of burning desire, Is it pivotal, the fear of the unknown? It is the hue of the vast roof, of endless glory, Is it the innate, the shade of brimming glee? Hues akin to the diamonds on the endless horizon, Of limitless joy, to rise up my crestfallen head, Bask in pride, among the top five, For I am at SIMC, This is the place where dreams thrive. Image courtesy:  Internet

I am writing about #MyRoleModel  as a part of the activity by Gillette India in association with  BlogAdda.com . There were streaking sparks from the distant star that were scorching the narrow roads of the metropolis. I was reclined in the four-wheeled luxury skimming over a glossy magazine with skinny models teething in glamour. There was also this favourite melancholy of mine that was shrilling the juke box that I had installed into my car.  As I passed by a pawn-strewn road flooded with scorchy rays, I happened to notice a middle-aged man who was in ragged attire (a mud-stocked banniyan and a lungi tied up to his thighs) squatting on to a stone. He had his face covered with a beard unshaven for a few days and brown, unkempt mane that fell over his forehead.  Yet I noticed something that was so attractive about him. He was too concentrated onto something he was doing to even notice anything that was happening around him, the sun drinking away his b...