Let’s fly high, my friend

Let not the society pull the strings of our lives, of our destinies,

Let not our race, religion, caste or creed decide who we are, or define our indefinable capacities,

Let not opinions biased, tarnish our hopes, our ability to try,

Let not doubts unascertained, limit our will to fly,

Let not stopgaps and pitfalls deter what we choose to pursue

Let nothing stop us from living our dreams, from becoming what we aspire to.

Cheers!

❀

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Why is it not easy, ever?

Why do I always have to prioritize, why do I always have to choose ?

Why is there something that I always have to miss, that I always have to lose?
Why can’t I just spend the evening watching a movie with my family, 

And, at the same time, get to have fun with my friends at their happening party?
Why can’t I cosy up, during a rainy afternoon, with my book and some hot piping tea,

And, simultaneously, get drenched to the skin in the rain, breathing in every minuscule of nature’s audacious beauty?
Why do I always have to choose one over the other?

Why does my mind prefer one, my heart, another?
Why can’t I have the cake and eat it too, with equal alacrity?

Why is it always so hard to choose, to forgo, to live in the moment, to just let things be?

Pursue your passion πŸ’–

Our society, I believe, has its own twisted definition for Darwin’s “Survival of the fittest”,

For it clearly reminds us time and again, about how it wants to be impressed –
“He owns a two-storey apartment, he drives to office in his own car,

He’s been to the U.S. twice, oh my God, he is such a star!”
“She works at Xyz. Everyone’s so proud of her –

See how the world will look up to you if become an engineer.”
We’re expected to be, even if we ain’t cut out to be, where the rest of the world is,

We’re expected to fit ourselves in, into the society’s definition of success and bliss,
We’re forced to run a race we don’t even intend to be a part of,

We run it, but, because we’ve grown to fear becoming a failure, we’ve grown to fear being written off,
So we begin to bury our insecurities deep within and without a clue –

We send our dreams back to sleep, we begin to chase what we are asked to –
But every time we pause, gasp for breath, and look out for that fresh whiff of air, we figure –
Our passion, we realise, is what we univocally turn towards, for solace amidst all the chaos, for clarity amidst all the blur.

Together, Forever ❀

8 year old Tara found them drenched to the skin in the rain,

Crouched silently on the wet soil, fragile and meek, their eyes reflecting hunger and pain –
But, little did she know, as she carried them home, that she would never again have to be alone,

Little did she know, she finally had found the family she could call her own,
Little did she know they would soon become an irrevocable piece of her heart,

Little did she know that her furry four-legged friends would stick to her, until death did them apart! 

❀

The Race

In pursuit of what we desire,

In the chase to quench that undying fire,

We aspire, conspire, face consequences dire,

Willy-nilly, we remain until we tire, until what we want we acquire.

Make them yours, your dreams!

Amidst the shambles, in search of thee,

I go in pursuit of making you my reality,

Hidden, until desperately sought after, you clearly choose to be,

But, hey, my eyes, open wide or shut tight, you are what they clearly see!

Beauty be just skin deep.

What’s with the obsession about how we look? 

I’ve always been puzzled on how to react when people compliment me on how I look (which happens extremely rarely). On the contrary I’ve always wanted to impress people with the work I do. Compliment me on my work, my thoughts, my choices, my deeds, my persona – you’ll find my happy. 

Criticise my looks, make fun about my appearance and you wouldn’t find me giving a damn. But diss my work, you’ll find you’ve rubbed me the wrong way.

Looks seriously cease to matter. What matters ultimately is the kind of person you are, the kind of work you do, and the difference that you make with your existence.
Cheers! βœ¨πŸ’–