sketch

Machine

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For months now, I have been working for myself. Most of my friends have remarked with a “oh, that is so great” and “Oh! That must be fun.” I agree, I hate the clockwork organised ways of a job and I do absolutely love what all I do and the fact that I am my own boss and liability as well is a great deal. Yet, sometimes, I find myself compelled to feel that my run is up a more arduous hill. I am pretty sure each one of us has felt that at times. The need to share with people, to scream at them perhaps, that maybe they need to open their eyes and not cry over petty things, that there were bigger problems that people go through as you speak.

Ever wondered why we feel this way? I think the need arises from a systemic training to feel that if you’re “doing more stuff”, you’re somewhere up there in life. This also comes from the fact that time and again, through systems like grading, ranking, competitions, appraisals, we are conditioned to bother with how the others are doing. It might not necessarily be envy, a mere curiosity, you say. This need to always be the number one, at least in one’s own head, aided by the deceptions of social media, make one feel constant need to keep running. That you’re busy, becomes a symbol of your life being so multi-faceted that you don’t have time at all for a call or a random movie marathon.

Move away from it and I am sure you’ll find more time for work and everything else that you plan to do after you’re 40.

A little poem to go with this then.

Machine

Chop chop chop

Claw claw claw

Splash, bam, spurrrr!

Motion, sound, noise.

Each atom in movement.

No silence

No pauses

Comfort in chaos.

Run run run

Race ahead.

Can’t stop, won’t stop

Life flying in the drill.

Was there ever a time to be still?

Dream within a dream

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Those who know me know my deep fascination with dreams – not just childish checking of meanings of dreams and laughing at them but, more so the vivid imagery that each dream has and how real it all seems. I am also known to have quite a set of vivid (for the lack of a more polite / politically correct word) dreams myself and the spirit of the morning usually comes from mulling over those  dreams.

There are multiple times that dreams have inspired me to paint, write prose or poetry; leaving me intrigued at most times and a little shaken at others. After a long creative block, a recent one left me intrigued for days eventually leading to sketch above.

While I will refrain from getting into too many details of this dream, I can safely say that by far, it was one of the most alluring dreams I have had for some time. It started with me arriving in Gwalior with another person for some work. We step out of the pitch dark and quiet station into the night which has a strange shine to it, as if there is a hidden lamp behind the dark curtains of the night sky that is giving a light glow in the darkness. In my dream too, I cannot help but, marvel at the beauty of the night.

As we step out, we are greeted by sparkling clear, blue waters , lapping quietly at the gravel-ly shore. The moon is a huge golden orb that is glowing but, looks in despair as I overcome my urge to indulge in watching the beauty of the night and continue  walking. With disappointment, the moon then casts a shadow as a sign of warning.

With a sense of foreboding, we walk away from the sight towards a building that is all bricks and mortar. I make a mental note of coming back while entering into part two.

As Poe says,

“All the we see or seem, Is but a dream within a dream.”