Tragedy of Wanderer

Scribbling:

Tragedy of Wanderer:

"He was struggling to understand this agitation inside, or perhaps troubled was the word. it was as if He was afraid of being afraid. He often thought that he had come out of the period of uncertainty and chaos, that he was rather calm and in control of himself now than ever before but the sudden realization was growing every day that it was as false as his understanding that he could, and just here he felt unsure of what. What could it be that was keeping him baffled, agitation or was it dread, or just the fear unintelligible? Whatever it be, it was proving rather crushing in its stealth approach and he merely awaiting anxiously to raise his head beyond the overwhelming waves of it where he sank and further, losing remaining of breathes, suffocating; this a nightmare he could claim possession of. He remembered the wisdom that the more you struggle, more you sink. So was he at the bog instead of the sea he always imagined? Does his remaining still would at some point help him out of the horizon of grey. he found it hard to concentrate and decide. He could not even make himself believe of any certainty that he could vouch for. As if he was exposed to himself, he now looks at the pattern of his behavior every moment he was in the world with people, and that included loved ones beyond the sea of strangers that for some reason he had continued to have a sort of curious faith that he could make friends with, chit-chat, laugh, and discuss grand subjects of era bygone, Oh! how in vain. And though He did make friends a few passing by, the futility of it was too vivid to deny. 

He loved this restlessness once, He remembered the nights he would spend drinking with loud music and beating down upon keyboard to bring out smudged words upon a dead screen. He often attempted to convince himself of the better and yet found himself imitating those moments secretly as though if found out he would have pity upon himself. He dreaded to be pitied, he was almost certain of it, was he not? However, could that alone explain the restlessness, or is it that he could never bring himself out of the insecurities that had shaped him, defined him and gifted him these moments of intimacy with words, and had grown around him as if a tree of banyan around a crumbling ruins of an empty building.

At the end of this, he tried for once to reconcile himself with the possibility that perhaps it was that book that was about to reach its end and the feeling would subside, like always, in a while; and yet somewhere he knew how naive it would be to be convinced of it..."

Tragedy of Wanderer...

Scribbling

Tragedy of Wanderer:

“God was constructed to overcome the fear one faced through the moments of day and night, light and darkness and such contrasts, the construction was supposed to help one overcome the insecurities and impotency one was born with in an universe that proved too powerful for a being that dreaded being at mercy of chance survival. It needed something to advance through the brutal race for survival in the jungle and in the process sought refuge in the ideal figure of the god who could protect, help, motivate, and even rewrite the script if an act goes wrong, the idea was to use an ideal figure that one could look up to and survive drawing strength from it amidst the exhaustion that followed the struggle. It was a rather brilliant invention. The ideal figure that was to be a tool to help one overcome the dread and anxiety alike, while placing it at the epitome of jungle that now carried nothing but mere animals meant to be controlled and ruled, while one displayed an unimaginable success among all others behind the mask of the ideal, the omnipotent god.

The narrative was supposed to be as ideal as the figure of god itself, and yet sooner than later one found itself at the mercy of that invisible being. What was supposed to help overcome fear became the zenith of all the fear summed together. The God turned into satan and the master became the slave. The rules of the game are still the same but the players have changed their place while the creation has taken over the creator, and has turned itself into a monster that carries the omnipotence along, and yet one longs for an escape in the dark hours of solitude, alas! Who could help now?”

Praveen Parasar

22/07/2018

Tragedy of Wanderer

Scribbling:
Tragedy of Wanderer:
"The half dazed fields are waking up to the warmth of the sun that has been dull in its own way, with its eyes pale yet without any sign of remorse, instead a sense of joy it carries, perhaps the hangover of the night before that it possibly spent in the company of exotic clouds brought about by ever so mischievous winds. Drenched in the touch of the night long gone, could it be still carrying the fragments of an embrace.
The sky is clearer now than at the arrival of dawn, the wind still looking an opportunity to play while the sleepy mountains at distance continues to look nonchalantly. The train is gaining speed and the whole imagery is turning into a state of trance like an artwork of Van Gogh. There are no stars here yet the flickering of sunlight appears them to be present while it itself pretending to be the moon, one the day has often overlooked in its forced chaos. While the journey continues."

The Tale…!

"The universe

Was born of a big-bang

Or so does the science say

And it was the chaos

That defined the world

For far too long

Before the order crept in

And came along

You, me, and us

The universe grew

Beyond the shadows of

Big-bang,

And grew the world, of

You, me, and us

Bursting forth

A horizon filled with passion

Leaving behind an insipid abyss

And came along

The bright colors of hope

For you, me, and us

Utopia, Indeed…!

Adolescence

just like the autumn

announces itself with vigour

flushed with a new found identity

carries itself beyond

the timid infancy of

the romance of summer;

The universe is grown

And so are

You, me, and us

Grown abound

Too much and too apart

For gravity to hold together

The universe waits

For the fall to arrive

And so do

You, me and us

Staring at a horizon

That is yellowing rapidly;

The black holes of void

Have grown too monstrous

Threating to swallow

Fragile pieces of

The universe

Just like the sense

Of you and me has grown

And threatens to swallow

The ruins of us

The chaos defines the universe

The darkness fills its core

The Universe awaits

Another big-bang, while

Rubbles of utopia

Strayed, adrift

Still burn over the sky

Of the dusk

Offering a glimpse of dawn

As if a star has broken

Just for you, me,

Or us?...”

Praveen parasar

29/06/2018

Scribbling

“The words, seething beneath

Abyss of darkness

And, longing to cry;

Tears often quench the thirst

of coerced solitude

And, the chaos amidst

silence…”

Scribbling

Scribbling:

“Insecurity devours like termites

The night weeps, passing by

Ruins of a hollow man.”

Tragedy of wanderer

Scribbling:
Tragedy of wanderer:
"Even when it continues to drag one down beneath the slop of moments and yet pretends to be the secret lover; loneliness, fancy of a troubled heart, romance set in the backdrop of words, scotch and the ever seductive night, a treat that promises one of a once of a lifetime experience, solitude, an offer not to be refused but alas! It turns out a trap used for ages and it successfully brings another one down even before the flicker of ecstasy could burn out. For the weight of its embrace soon strangles the one without remorse while out of breath one dreams being high and when the bubble of fantasy pops, leaving behind one shocked and shattered, suffocating upon the mirage of solace, screaming to be spared of the punishment meant for the one who falls for the temptations. The end of such escapade is rather familiar, a grave carrying no names but only the traces of chaotic darkness wrapped in silence."