Soumya Scribbles...

Today I want to write about the imperial sadness that spreads way above you and me; Like the roots of a tree that threatens the earth and embraces like an octopus. Stoic is the sky and there is one moon that is sad. At this hour, darkness is silk You can wear it and cry unnoticed. We know not why even truths have versions. There are different truths; stories to tell. We choose convenience. Or sometimes the other. If you are afraid of heights, fly. You may meet a cocoon who decided to date back and became a caterpillar. SoUmY@

This winter the hummingbird did not come to the banyan tree in front of my room. I saw leaves ageing and dying and every morning hoped for the chirps I so longed to hear. Perhaps, birds are like humans. They just fly away someday and never return. I forget that even the ones with wings can be escapists. Or is it me, judgmental? Expectations have given me many a seasonal disappointments. People migrate from one place to the other; from one relation to another. Almost like seasons, they are. The traits, the aura, the magic each time is different. You can not blame one for doing that. Then that hummingbird is to be cursed first. But. Let us talk about the residue now. The remnance are the ashes which will kindle another candle. Yes emotions. I wonder if they change. I wonder if we feel differently if we love different people in different times. Is not that a migration too? Maybe some of you would be able to answer that yourself. Our earthly belongings - they move too. In my office I am ju...

1 2 3 4 5 6 I discuss no maths here. They are bricks, that pile up events after events, bygone, as remnants. Have you seen the sea shore? What is left of the sands After a wave passes by. Relations, us. I have seen togetherness die one night and in the next, individuals are born. Do they live? Some questions only embarrass the affected. I wonder if the ashes after death hold a life's memory. I feel they do. Futility adds a lot of understanding. Ashes are thus, such. For a leaf is born in the same place where the tree sheds in winters. And with our faded memories we cry, Why don't emotions have chlorophyll? SoUmY@