Fledgling of Fire,..

 
I met with a fledgling of Fire on my walk back to home, it was beautiful and fragile in all ways possible. I could not but admire the young, unguarded little fledgling; for it was an Amber in a dark deep cave, he was there alighting his own small world, a star amidst the vastness.
 
I thought what chaos can it be, what catastrophe can it bring; such a young spark of fire can only be a thing of beauty, elixir to all life on earth; so I took it in to my arms, to protect it from the first rains, walked away from the road in to the woods.
 
I didn't know then that darkness can be broken by the smallest of light, great sorrow can be drowned in a child's innocent smile.
 
With the best of my intents to protect it, I found a tree hollow where I thought my fledgling of fire can rest and live, I did not think I can protect it from the harsh winds on my way back, so there it stayed, and I half-heartedly walked towards the road and on to my house.
 
The dawn had not break and I hurried myself to gather my wood. I thought I can check on my curious little friend.
 
I didn't know then; I didn’t know now;
 
He is not a fledgling anymore, not fragile as ever.
 
From a great distance I could see smoke arising, my stride quickened as did my pounding heart. I didn't want to believe what had happened, but as I had feared the forest had come down in ashes and the flames still stood to the clouds through the night. The Great forest had come down so there can be new life. 
 
He is not a fledgling of fire anymore, nor is he delicate.
 
What difference does it make if it’s a fledgling or a blaze; its heart the same, a spark is a spark.

 

#Bharathi #Translation

#MyTake

-Balaganesh Narayanan

Tale of a Clown ,..

The greatest tragedy of the stars is often people do not notice that it is only a memory, a shadow of a long lost times of glory, desolate and distant.

Such was he; his name once was fondly remembered, even loved. This was ages before he started wearing the mask, before he created a new identity for a lost one. Now while he played the dwarf of Witsville he became a dwarf; he truly could not reach for the doorknob, to play the witch of Noseless people, he became a witch and could cast spells of noses on people, his identity was shifting like the waves in the seas; never in a place; never here, never there.

Faraway lands knew his tales, a handful very few had not laughed at his jokes, and sometimes they didn’t laugh as they were deaf.  He was a clown of great crowds, his dance a charade of his heart, his heart so full of joy and light. He charged his people nothing, but only a stomach full. He had a big appetite was his excuse to not charge those who had nothing.

Children traveled miles to see him dance, for the love he spread;

He loved children. He would slip and fall and break his bones just to see them laugh, and among them was the little princess of the hearts. She came running to him every time he fell to see if he is okay; never laughing. It was not her kind of entertainment but when he told her he fell because the earth spun a little faster that day she would burst in to laughter, she knew beneath his facade he was intelligent, full of wisdom and so she learnt the world and reason from him, and he from her to cherish little joys and life around him. He was not just her clown, he was her friend, her confidante and as always she was his own little universe.

The clown away from all his pretexts of extroversion for the world around him was alone; a great ocean with its own life was he, he seldom felt anything: joy and sorrow to him was one and the same, now except for the princess. He had let her in or rather he didn’t need to, she was there, she had always been there. He had to imagine how people felt anything so he could play it for the princess and as he noticed the world around him and practiced imitation more than creation he started to feel, he could make himself sad for a fallen leaf, and feel joy for the cherry blossom in the springs; not a charade but his own emotion, he loved to observe the world than to be an exhibit, he took pleasure in what he did yes, but this was transcending; he felt like a God.,

Something happened; he knew nothing was permanent for he was a clown of reason, not a wise philosopher who dreams his life away. But even for him it was unreasonable. The princess had died a tragic death; ironically she had slipped and fell, hit her head and bled her life. He was silent for months, not a word, he could not hear his own heartbeat, often he doubted if he was dead too.

Now he is a man with an empty soul, life has taken a bit of him every time he saw hope; not that he is weak but often it is only the largest banyan that will fall in the storm and the grass conveniently survives. He suffocated in his shell for months, never coming out. The grief was strong but he was too, too strong to forsake his life but for his loneliness now is not the same as it was, he has seen now what it is like to have someone who seeks and sees the world as he did. His humor has taken in to a sinister form turning a shade darker each day. His smile now a grin, he couldn’t stop the twisted evil taking form inside of him if he wanted to, he didn’t want to. The princess spoke to him every single day so he couldn’t stop. She’d stop talking to him if he stopped.

    __________________________________________To be Continued

How 2016 was the worst of numbers ,..

Already tired of 2016 and it’s not even half done, and when I just thought shit can’t get any worse and life was like, “we’ll see about that” and then shit got shittier and stinkier (Yeahh that’s a word from now on, “Stinkier”)

My little experiment of renting my own place was a kick to my balls by myself, well try doing that; awkward angle. Apparently I don’t do well alone as I thought, everything started to look more negative and hopeless and I started hearing voices in my head, alienating people, playing scenarios over and over while watching flash or Arrow. And well, what exactly is wrong with Barry Allen; he keeps saying he is the fastest man alive and in every single season and episode there is someone else beating the living crap out of him, from reverse flash to Zoom and even the girl on steroids (Velocity-9) is faster than him, they keep this up and even Cisco would make faster laps than Barry. Could I be any more drama (Just kidding about the voices in my head though, I’m still sound of mind and it’s safe to talk to me, or no??)

Sometimes you are too confident and arrogant about yourself, you think of yourself as strong and tall and unstoppable; juggernaut of sorts, 2015 was a year of optimism and hope for me, and then I made a few decisions telling myself, “Dude you are awesome, let’s do it” and then came 2016. Yes, I’m just going to blame everything on the year. So if you are going to read me you might as well accept the fact that it’s all on 2016. So here I am having no idea on what to do or how to proceed, burdens I cannot share, even less temperament to explain (someone say why do you even bother and the immediate retort is, “Go fuck a dog or something”) and then you might ask why am I writing all this, well I thought so too, but I had to write this for myself, once I've written about something I've often been able to get over it, so here I am, rambling on and on.

It is so refreshing to just assign blame on something/someone and get it over with. What’s better than a simple minded number like “2016” to put all the crap on? A sort of reason why single, unmarried people have no reason to be humble, we could just say fuck it and move on, All we need is a rock to hold on to and build ourselves around, an understanding parent, an awesome friend, a street dog that wiggles it's tail whenever it sees you, a two year old cousin who loves you, could be anyone or anything., just so we don’t lose hope on life.
It’s always a small crossing between life and hopelessness, it’s an even smaller push that defines where we are and who we are. The decisions we make, the weight we put on people around us, it’s a shame our success in life cannot be defined in a single front. We can’t just say I have a job, my friends you can all go die, pleaseee. So there are just too many factors to label us a failure, you have some money, a job and family and you still can’t watch a movie in peace, make a light hearted joke and get away with it, catch up with a friend and talk shit about the world and share a beer then what’s the point, the world is changing I need to balance everything on every front, it’s a tiring job, the thing is you want to give up every time you do it and you can’t somehow because everyone else do it.

Life saps all the energy from us and expects more, if caffeine is all that keeps you going then you are somewhat lucky, I am quite sure there are universes with no caffeine, people will just have to make do with Tea, how cruel that is.

Deep breath, tell myself I am fine, that the night is always the darkest before the dawn (usual crap to keep me going)

So once again getting ready for the next lap. 

Get Set GOoooooo...

Walking Past Clouds and Rains,…

Out in the darkness my eyes see it all so clear,
I succumb under its weight,
I become one with it;
While Light blinds me, scalds my senses and tortures my soul to the point of breaking.
With the storm’s cunning it takes away all;
So less are its efforts I feel so powerless and the sense to resist has left me floating in an endless abyss; a pit devouring life,
But as the night approaches I lay awake in the chaos and watch;
The silence so deafening, I can see and hear what lies beneath,
its screams echoing through time and space.
Fathoms away from life, it seeks death-
Of its obsession to absence than the magnificence of the presence,
The effortless drought of light is who I am, shadows of shadows
Darkness so thick one could breathe it, touch it, embrace it and revel in the dimensions of the Gods unnoticed.
The magic of love and life are measly illusions forged out of dreams;
A hole lies where a heart was.
I lay awake as patient as the Gods shaping life
Waiting to reach out and take back what’s mine from the sternest of storms and thunder and lightning.
I am life and I am death, the beginning and the end, the creator and the destroyer,
Everything that is and is not,
My hysteria travels through worlds, its insanity fuels suns and stars and I accept light so I can live in the dark.
In an ocean of black shadows where my eyes see right and bright, shining lone ambers in a deep coal mine, with the glow of a hunting falcon, I fly high and steep; ascend in to the winds to look down
And a nose dive to see if I survive, knowing I will
Buried beneath shallow valleys and confidences of the great oceans, an expression of life and death; one good eye and one fading light
I begin hearing  whispers, a colossal leap in to the space and my hands reaching out to the source; it’s freezing cold, a fear takes shape like a serpent, coils around and round and seeps in to my mind and heart and gives me strength,
Its venom heals wounds and scars as if there were none;
I am the two sides of a coin holding its reigns I turn on my own,
Thunder storms beside I walk like the king of kings.