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shiju vs
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Posts by shiju vs
Confessions of a broken mirror
Oct 2nd
Long before human beings started humiliating among themselves in the name of race……there lived a primitive tribe, they used to gather in a holy place along with the priest and started worshipping in front of a mirror. For some reasons or the other, mirror fell and broke into pieces. Those priests grabbed the pieces they could get and ran in different directions. That holiest place in the world still exists and yet no pilgrims ‘mind’.
All those who walked on this earth had always went in search of the mirror, but often it ends up nowhere. On the other side, if we go in search of the problems or reflections, it always ends up in mirror. Exploration in to the intricacies of mind is peculiar because unlike other reasoning, the thing we are in search of and the medium we use to search is the same. Perhaps that may be the reason why ambiguity always embraces the judgement.
Mind is very often mistaken as virtual centre of thought behaviour and feelings, Failing to remember the past and behaving as though feeling has nothing to do with it, a wooden piece was lying on the ground. I tried to take in my hand, to my surprise it was breathing. Looked around for help, but with pain I witnessed some wooden pieces walking and few of them travelling in bus. Don’t be under the presumption that I am narrating a dream, but a truth you could see in any of the cities in this world. Without sacred mirror human beings could turn into a mere wooden piece.
Great achievers always looked for the reflections and they never allowed to break the mirror or in other words they listened to their conscience. Blood is oozing out of the broken mirror, what we can do is to hold together and listen to conscience. Let us listen to those insane people who rendered the same song but in different ways…
“Show me a single person,
Without the imprints of umbilical cord,
Until then let me believe in one.”
Mysteries surrounding the mirror will continue till end, but let us respond to the inevitable call, pilgrimage.
……when I was about to keep the pen after writing this piece, in the wall beside I could see two lizards one with a tail and other doesn’t have one.
Let the tears fall on us
Sep 4th
To those sculptors, who had carved the phlegmatic spirit in me, fed up of being a lifeless mute spectator. Caldera through which fundamentalism and extremism exploded, had ruined my street and from the remains of those ashes a new independent voice will ripe `fortius`.
When the night fades in to the chapters of history and gives way to the light of tomorrow, there will be one more child crying in the blood stained Neruda’s street. Perhaps it may sound like a baby crying for moon. Is there any altruist who could show speck of empathy? If so, we believe that the elixir will flow through the veins of river and through the banks, exodus will end up in a garden, where we shall pluck the flowers which bloomed through the ashes.
Fresco in which different epochs painted to create the never ending master piece known as `culture’, which portrays the truth, word ‘interpretation’ itself will not be able to hold the depth of interpretation. But when my sister is being raped, when my brother killed in the name of caste and when the society is torn apart in the name of religion we fail to interpret, soul of painting ‘mother’. Yesterday, in the banks of eurasian plates [copenhagen] the mother who sacrificed everything for the son cried loudly, but in deaf ears.
The most disastrous volcanic eruption of Mount pelee may 8, 1902 destroyed the whole town St Pieree killing all the 28000 inhabitants leaving behind only two survivors to mourn the sad demise of brethren and they had only two things to cry about and if we fail to build on those two things, then we will be forced to witness the worst ever eruption in which all the inhabitants will be spared and those two things which hold together human kind will perish for ever ‘love and culture’.
“Religions which always stood for love
and love in turn spun culture,
where culture stood on values
and
when all these myths collapse what remained was tears of mother (nature).”
Lets us pray that, the tears soak the mud and the virgin fragrance of soil will awake the spirit of youth and waiting for this rain to happen a new generation will take birth.
