When he forgot his own face..

Siddhartha sat down in the park. He could hear all the noises from the streets as the park was situated in the middle of the city. He remembered what Kamini told him before he started the journey.

Back then, Siddhartha was so sure about life. So sure about the path he chose. Then one day he met Kamini who changed everything with just a few words. She questioned all the sureties he had. She asked Siddhartha how he can be detached unless he has ever been attached. How he can leave everything behind unless he had them at least for once. Kamini asked him to attain and experience everything worldly before leaving everything behind. That day, siddhartha started taking the high way. He used to think high way was easy, and all those people who took it were mere idiots and cowards. It didn't take too long before he started worrying about the price of petrol, what to talk to a girl, and the menu for lunch. Life got too busy.. and he believed he was still learning something. But, some moments just questioned that faith. He found himself struggling in the middle of the street without knowing the direction, then Kamini asked him to sit down , and Siddhartha obeyed once again.

Siddhartha asked his spirit, "Am I still in the path, do I still have my motivation to search?" His spirit started talking in a strong but calm voice, " Beneath all these masks we are wearing, the stereotypes hollywood has assigned to us, I wanna believe you and them are one, that you are gonna be one.

The difference is whether you believe in free will or not. You can't say, "Yeah I do, we have control over certain things, and not on everything" unless you are a coward.

you believe in fate. In my world classical mechanics rules. It's the science of the obvious. Freewill is a fairytale. So, that makes you free from guilt. Your IQ wasn't your choice. Your genetic code wasn't either. You didn't choose the country or your language. You just reacted to the situations like all other machines do.

Now, If you believe freewill exists, don't try to prove it. All what matters is your belief, not the proof.

It doesn't matter what we call it, the collective consciousness of the world believes that there is a power which favours justice. That's why the history criticises those who failed. I call that power destiny. You have heard people saying, "I think there for I am", Incomplete.. "We believe there for I am". You should have the balls to say Descartes was wrong.

About Love and hatred: There are two kinds of people in this world, those who deserve to be loved and those who don't deserve even your hatred.

1 or 0. 'May be' doesn't exist in my beautiful world. Here no one plays dice. My consciousness is not a coincidence. If you are listening it, it was destined to be so."

Siddhartha opened his eyes. He wasn't sure about his own existence but he was sure about his journey once again. He smiled lightly. And started walking again.

Forgetting to describe myself.

Searching answers in this small screen is no fun,
Neither is waiting in this never ending night.
Please don't ask me to look beyond the screen
It's so much less pain to keep it closed.
Don't wanna understand the names you call me,
I'm not here just to integrate your world.
Don't tell me again love is not a lie,
Just wanna remember again that face
I lost under all these masks.
I'm trying hard,
Trying hard to find me in between
The words on these profile descriptions.

The pleasure of being the God

Scene 1: Day time, raining. Interior,
The main character is staring at something at a distance through his window. Camera turns away from his face to the exterior.
The windows of the house opens to a very vast view. Bit far and at a lower level a playground full of green grasses. A girl of age 12-14 stands in the middle of the ground. she enjoys the rain with wide spread hands and facing towards the sky. short and a white top. hair not too long. her face is not recognizable. she starts running and spinning. Jumps, dances. and it goes on for a while. The viewer's face on screen again. A mixture of curiosity and affection on the face.
Camera focuses the girl again.zooms in digitally. A few people(3 or 4)walk up the street near the ground. The girl and the pedestrians are not viewable to each other until the pedestrians reach so close to the ground. Now the pedestrians are talking loudly enough for the viewer to hear.They never notice the girl. The girl suddenly stops dancing and walks to one corner as if she just arrived then.
Camera focuses the stalker. A mild smile on his face.

De Ja Vu

Scene 1: Street, Early morning, Dark.
a. A young man wearing a red jacket walks down the street. Both hands in the pockets. It's too cold. Camera placed in the other side of the road. Singing in low voice. "smack ,crack, bushwhacked tie another one to the rack baby..."

b. View from behind: He is still walking, same pace.Still singing "may be you're crazy in the head.. baby". Turns to the right as he reaches the corner.
c. View from the front: rubs the arms together to make them warm.stops singing. Exhales deeply.
d. Camera from behind: He enters a narrow passage. A white door. he knocks.

Scene 2: interior, Lights on.
a guy opens the door. the person from first scene at the door. Music on. "smack ,crack, bushwhacked.." The guy stops on hearing the song.
Complete darkness.

Fairy Tale

I've been searching since the day i lost him,

Yet being unsure when i lost him.

I know that nobody can bring him back

so that he is gone for ever.

He knew only the world of toys

Where fairy tales where the highest truths.

And as he knew nothing,

he worried never on anything.

I know he will never be back

still i wanna search him so that

this gloomy mind will keep itsef 

breathing upto the end.

He was the child whom i lost.

He was the child whom everybody lost.

We gained a new man that day,

who is nothing but a projection of a shadow.

The fairy tales are all gone,

leaving the scent of old books here.

The child whom i lost has reached

the world where the fairy tales are true.

His life had only dreams

which were not merely eating and fucking.

His dreams were his breath.

Now they have become fairy tales.

I know the people who killed him,

they told they loved him.

They poisoned him and 

i don't know why they hate kids.

I don't know where they buried him

I have made a tomb in my heart 

Which i filled with old tales and dreams.

A tomb, beautiful like a dollhouse.

The Teacher

Outside the window while the blue was cloudy
Came a butterfly which seemed very gloomy.
It brought to that moment something from the past
Which I could feel as a vacuum in my mind.
The butterfly may not be sad yet I couldn’t feel otherwise.
It was like a stranger in a desert, the butterfly in the city.
Its delicate wings took me miles and miles,
Neglecting the rules of heavens for a few moments.

Why is he so gloomy? Marvel could not just stop.
His wings are free and he could flutter anywhere.
Still , lost in the city and all alone.
Can be the meaninglessness of a life,
Which is only a few months long!
Or the death of a flower which it loved most,
Or it can be the lack of choices while,
Imaginations overtake reality by a few miles.

Outside the window a car passed by with a child,
Whose smile was the most beautiful thing I could find.
I too waved him back with a smile which was lacking for years.
When I came back to the butterfly, it was not there
I could see it soaring away and may be singing a silent song,
But the sadness was gone from his face.
I wonder what happened to his mood during this bout.
And this is why people say, ”Life is crazy.”