Judge me if you want, we all die one day, but I intend to deserve it – Ernesto Che Guavara
Tested you will be on belief,
call of duty or of god,
if believe there is no thief,
you’ll be pushed to thieve and fraud;
money best bet said Ayn Rand,
if so you’ll be forced to stoop,
to beg, borrow or steal to stand,
you’ll never be let out of the loop;
you unreal can’t stop reality,
illusion and myths others shatter,
not fool you, so live in brevity,
you not special so don’t flatter;
yet you are the one for this task,
do it chosen or forsaken, never bask.
Credit cards and bitcoins rule the days,
yet cash reigns supreme in these ways,
my little town showed barter true despite convenient cash,
he shelter me in my days of rain and mad rash;
as I shade him and family in the blistering heart,
our friendship is what is, even if I refuse to take part,
what do I barter, my company, humour, books and cash rarely,
what I get back is their time in my needs surely;
small business in small town, freinds and family our customers, swell,
employees my family who work well,
owe duty to them all to make restaurant profits soar,
I want little more, for to steer their destinies my oars tied,
I will fulfil barter with future restaurant’s profit,
or money from my pen, parallel gambit, before death debit.
On chest dangled a golden locket
that I did pocket,
to not give offence
to debt burdened farmhand,
and jumped the high fence
dividing us to land
on muddy soil, slime made coil,
soil soiled leg and garment;
a fish and he both on boil,
no escape or comfort I ferment
to hopeful eyes that beg
as deny money,
held fence to balance failing leg
giver of all my honey,
I hid family locket
as he hid tears,
red hollows in eye socket,
to comfort I was all ears,
no words came
but kids shrivelled, garbed dirty,
playing innocent game,
but I had own troubles since thirty,
helpless witness to their grief,
for had once chased fame,
a deluded spell not brief,
ending defeated and tame,
I dependent on my family,
and his family dependent on him,
what use to him world’s homily,
yet who am I to talk that lives on a whim,
darkness as setting sun vanished,
but frolicking kids our distress banished.
Boom times drench all with golden showers but I in depression,
starved for long my hungry dreams need money big time,
I grumble and stumble while the world earns in precision,
curious lofty dreams beyond capture of an unworthy rhyme;
give me a few thousand and I shall play the fool and sing,
I shy to speak shall make song noise from my hoarse throat,
give me a thousand more and I shall dance in a ring,
I shall run naked for money to climb my dream boat;
Oh devil where are you? I’ll sign any contract for my dream,
Give me my dream and I’ll readily die the very next day,
I am all alone with my dreams sans any support team,
I curse sun to scorch itself so I don’t face another failed day;
people die but my dreams don’t only if I would die,
should I beg, lie, steal and plunder to grasp the dreams high?
What is this life
one minute boisterous
another preposterous.
Why live it at all
wish we were in mother’s womb cloistered
forever from harsh pressures non flustered.
It ain’t a choice
one just shouldn’t have a chick
for no one is ever there to stick.
What is to live
to drive, push and shove around
where is hidden the old playground.
What is hell
the earth where all live in terror
and devil, just look in the mirror.
What is heaven
it is in our bank account and clock together
just got to unfollow one and slow the other.
I am a kid that never grew up,
never could do chores on my own,
dreams are gone, now empty cup,
peace at last, no skill to be shown;
now saw out of my safe glass house,
true love and joy, where no money was,
daily gather, simple feast, without grouse,
here grand dinner alone, what profit or loss;
yet he wants here, I want there,
all want money, bull or bear,
please hear, after life’s wear and tear,
won’t count money, rather your cheer;
don’t heed him, it is a poor wolf’s cry,
smile a lot, laugh aloud and hold high.
I follow to be followed, scratch your back,
do scratch mine, we’ll scribble, snap, weep,
call it a blog, have fun, may even make money.
Blog is short form for web log and it’s dictionary meaning is still today of documenting one’s life, skills or passions. It is a good thing that blogs have grown into businesses and from the hands of an individual or a few to corporate entities. Those individual passionate bloggers are also trying to enlarge their base and somehow find a livelihood out of their passions itself.
There are however still private blogs too, to share with a private few. Some like me are individual open blogs who log their stuff in cyberspace, the sharing and motivation from fellow bloggers move us to do more. Some big blogs have incentives for the individual blogger to log regularly, thereby attracting his interest and traffic.
There are various fishes of various sizes and kinds in the blog pond now. No pressure, no hunt on. The difference between individual blogs and corporate blogs are apparent. The former left free to their own devices. To some blog is future money, to some freedom, both aren’t wrong.
Overstuff. Pet. Child. What difference?
Food. Studies. Work. Money. What difference.
Hungry man. Two words. Reality unknown. Uncared.
One reality known. Yet refused.
Hungry World.Hunger Money.
Purpose. Everyone has a purpose is a truth I conceded long ago. But what then is my purpose is something I will never know. Yet I’ve made an attempt to unearth the purpose of my life and shed a light on everyone else’s. All my life I’ve wanted to make a movie. The goal has never wavered and is still on. But now it is the aspiration for a vocation, just like any other and primarily to make money. When I found Che through this blog, fermenting social change or being a part of it, became my primary aspiration. Movie is a way and is still on. I am as much a human being as the rest of us and a lesser kind of the species in fact and want what all of us want, freedom and happiness. I know it can’t be unbridled, and our job and family and other aspirations’ commitments shape our lives, as much as freedom to do what we really want.
All of my friends are earning, married and have children. I haven’t ever had a real job, if you don’t count the two half yearly stints. I am a dependent on my parents, but never lack for money and am well supplied. I am said to have Bipolar Disorder, some sort of psychiatric disorder. I am single and am happy about it so far, and am thinking of it for the long haul.
Every one feels chained. Everyone overcomes this and transform their chains into walls and live within its boundaries, a happy family or professional life. I am happy as I am is a partly true claim. If well funded and free, anyone can be, is my humble opinion. I haven’t deserved, it might be true, but since when did people have to deserve their happiness. If so I haven’t heard of it. If you can be happy without harming another’s interest grab it with both your hands, I say.
I feel like a dog on a leash and my claim has some substance. The leash has two parts. One is money which is vital. The next is gratitude and affection and what would come to my family if I walk out. All my friends and other peers are taking charge in some form or the other. They take their decisions or at least claim so while their wives are away. I am being set for marriage. For me marriage is trading one leash for another. I pant for freedom. I want to take at least a few laps of unbridled freedom before I heed society. Taking time out or late life commitment is a common thing in most countries but not in India. If it is a choice between freedom and family life, I would choose freedom, as I haven’t taken it in fully yet.
I am not an abstract person talking of abstract freedom either. My freedom has concrete shape. I want to travel alone, to ponder the Taj, and take a dip in the Ganges. Does that mean, later I would fall in line. No I would be headquartered in Chennai and trying to make documentaries or something. So is it for the Taj or the documentary, is it my freedom? No it is my lifestyle I am fighting for. More importantly the freedom to choose my lifestyle. It has to be my choice and not enforced. Lifestyle is Life. The argument against my independence is BPD. What good is a secured life lived within the walls. When I am prepared to die for my freedom, will you stop me on account of a cold. I will end this post with two quotes that guide me in this regard.
“Far better to live your own path imperfectly than to live another’s path perfectly” – Bhagvad Gita
“Any society that will give up a little liberty to gain a little security will deserve neither and lose both” – Benjamin Franklin
Solitary Wanderer 