मैंने सोचा था की मै हूँ…

वो अर्थ नहीं जिसमे मै हूँ,
कुछ व्यर्थ नहीं, जब भी मै हूँ,
कुछ अभिलाषा है क्षणभंगुर,
कुछ दृढ़ निश्चय जब भी मै हूँ...

उन्माद नया, भय भी मै हूँ,
सच कह दूं तो लय भी मै हूँ,
पर कुछ सरल से राग न जाने,
कैसे खो देता हर दम मै हूँ...

पर फैला लो नभ भी मै हूँ,
सब संभव करता वो मै हूँ,
उन पलकों के पीछे - मृगतृष्णा!
मैंने सोचा था की मै हूँ...

- अनुभव

ऐसा क्या इत्तेफाक

ये भी क्या मुमकिन है की तुमसे दाद होगी,
फिर से तुम पूछोगी, फिर नामुराद होगी,
माज़रा क्या है की आँखों में सहर होता ही नहीं,
अभी कुछ वक़्त है शायद कुछ और बाद होगी...

इतने खामोश हो, कोई फरमाइश इजाद होगी,
मेरी ख़ामोशी पर शिकायत की तादाद होगी,
और कह दोगे की इत्तेफाक से हम साथ में हैं,
ऐसा क्या इत्तेफाक की हर पल में तेरी याद होगी...

- अनुभव

Watching

Watching, a photo by Anubhav Kushwaha on Flickr.

I often find myself watching myself from far above,
Wondering what is it that I am doing and why -
Am I forced to watch myself from far away in the sky?
Why is it that I am wearing a blue shirt and black shoes?
What is it I am looking for with my wide open eyes? 
Lost among people, places, dreams, duties & desires,
Seen within a shaded window somewhere at dusk,
And within another equally shaded window at dawn...
Why is it that I am not flying across the deep blue skies?
Why is it that I am not an ocean or a mountain or such?
Why is it I have so little and am wanting so much?
I wonder if I am watching myself or a shadow of me?
Thinking what it would feel like to be far away in a boat,
Or to be painting the skies with clouds in my hands...
Watching myself take leaps and stumble at small steps...
Realizing in retrospect of this place I have reached, where - 
Little dreams are not so little and big ones are so small.


- Anubhav 

Dreams in ink

In a hidden world, there are things to be found,
A thought, a dream, a teddy bear or a broken hand,
Etching dreams on the white paper of memories,
With ink spills and beautiful curves spread across…

Red check marks reminding of the cold mornings,
With fresh apples, milk and bread to start the day,
And sometimes reminding of the hearts you drew,
On the small paper card which was thrown away…

Little circles of blue, holding hands, going around,
With some little shiny shoes and some not so shiny,
Yelling, screaming, laughing, crying and whispering,
Sharing hundreds of things wandering in little heads…

Green pencils draw the grass where you used to run,
Every evening with the hope to reach the pillar first,
Ink spills reminding of the moments when you did,
And realized that sometimes it meant reaching alone.

-Anubhav

Fictitious reality

In the deep blue moment, a few minutes after sunset,

There is something wandering around the fringes of vision,

A subtle sound, a sullen thought of something that may be,

Or of something that might have been; something different.

But how often do we have a moment after sunset to pause;

And to think of what reality really is? Of what we really are?

Is it real? What is happening? Or what might have happened?

Is possibility a reality? Is hope a reality? Or is it all a dream?

A little bit of both perhaps or just a little bit of nothing…

I say, yesterday had meaning and then I say it didn’t!

Is tomorrow’s reality a reflection of yesterday’s dream?

When I touch; Am touched; Smile; Cry; I win; I lose;

When I was born to live and when I live to die, what’s real?

How different is reality from fiction? Is everything a dream?

What if someone is dreaming us and we are but figments –

Of an imagination gone awry? Would we ever know?

Living each day as it passes, counting, celebrating, mourning,

Waiting for the day for someone to say, “Wake up,

You’ve been sleeping for too long, dreaming up your life”,

When the moment comes, call it a good story and go to sleep.

What happens if you die on facebook?

 

(Click image to enlarge it)

The grass is greener on the other side

The grass is greener on the other side
Originally uploaded by Anubhav Kushwaha

Nazneen on the beach

DSC_0178
Originally uploaded by Anubhav Kushwaha

Flying over the sea

Flying over the sea
Originally uploaded by Anubhav Kushwaha

Being Human

When you fly, don’t you feel like falling down?
Just once, to see what it feels like to crash,
To find the very bare grit rub against your shin,
To yell out in pain, to feel alive, to feel human…

To be human! What is it? Is it about winning? Losing?
Is it about changing the world? Is it about silence?
Or is it about whispering while holding hands –
Of someone that you know will not be around…

Is it about running fast when you feel scared,
Not stopping to look behind, running, breathless,
Fast as you can, to survive, to come back again,
To stand in the corner and be afraid once more…

Or when you stand in the center of the room,
Claps echoing in your ears, is that being human?
Feeling like the pivot of the universe, the only one,
Around which the world deserves to move slowly…

It is not about none of it, I have done it all -
And I can’t call myself human, I won’t die, I can fly,
Being human is about having just one chance,
Just one go at it - at happiness with a deadline.

-Anubhav

फिर इतना आकर्षण क्यूँ है?

मै दिन का शोर, तुम शांत भोर,
मै बहता जल,  तुम ठहरे छोर,
तेरी आँखे नम मेरी हैं कठोर,
मै टुकड़ो में, तुम एक डोर,
फिर इतना आकर्षण क्यूँ है?

मेरा जाता कल, तेरा आता कल,
मै बहका सा, तुम हो अचल,
मै श्याम पट, तुम नभ धवल,
मै छाया हूँ, तुम हो असल,
फिर भी इतना आकर्षण है,


तुम हो प्रयाग, मुझपे है दाग,
मै कर की मांग, तुम सरल त्याग,
तुम घुप तिमिर, मै व्यग्र राग,
मेरे भस्म से, तुम कहती "जाग",
अब भी इतना आकर्षण है...

-अनुभव

The First Word

The First Word
Originally uploaded by Anubhav Kushwaha

Now recruiting - New Team for LoL Season 1

Team Name:Vancraft Luftwaffe

Team Warsign - The VanCraft

Current team: 

1. DPS - Ashe - iolotusbobo

2. DPS - Teemo - stormryder

3. Empty

4. Empty

5. Empty

 

Leave a comment here if you want to join the team.

आज ना होगा कल जैसे

फिर क्यूँ सोचे तू ऐसे ?
आज हुआ क्या कल जैसे ?
जब शाम अधूरी चुप बैठी
तब रहे अँधेरा चुप कैसे ?

बात बनी न जब शह से
मात करेगा तू कैसे ?
हाथ खुले हैं आँखे बंद,
ख्वाब बुनेगा क्या भय से?

जब बोल रहा हो जग लय से,
क्या शोर करेगा तू ऐसे?
तू रात अधूरी रहने दे,
सुबह शुरू कर बस जय से!

फिर ना सोचेगा तू ऐसे,
की आज हुआ फिर कल जैसे...

-अनुभव

Away they go

Away they go
Originally uploaded by Anubhav Kushwaha

Oranges

Oranges
Originally uploaded by Anubhav Kushwaha

In the woods

In the woods
Originally uploaded by Anubhav Kushwaha

He walks alone among the woods, within the crowd,
He strays away and off to far distant furrowed spaces,
Comes back with silence, thoughts and will to do,
He steps aside and moves ahead to change the world.

Speed

Speed
Originally uploaded by Anubhav Kushwaha

Can you go any faster than this guy?

Not so camouflaged

Not so camouflaged
Originally uploaded by Anubhav Kushwaha

Dominance

Dominance
Originally uploaded by Anubhav Kushwaha

Rainbow duck

Rainbow duck
Originally uploaded by Anubhav Kushwaha

Quite thoughtful

Quite thoughtful
Originally uploaded by Anubhav Kushwaha

The ground below. The water. The dream.
A little still moment on the side of the stream...
Who thinks, what moves, when and how?
There's music in the air, silent as it may seem.

Sleeping beauty

Sleeping beauty
Originally uploaded by Anubhav Kushwaha

Magnificent

Magnificent
Originally uploaded by Anubhav Kushwaha

Caught him at the KL Aviary - It was a captivating moment

Wild flower

Was just scribbling randomly with dark shades and suddenly this thought came to mind... Someone gift me a graphic pen so that I can draw more easily :)

10 Thousand Buddha

DSC_0220
Originally uploaded by Anubhav Kushwaha

An interesting place with thousands of statues of Buddha. Situated near the heart of New Territories, Hong Kong.

Chain lightning

Chain lightning
Originally uploaded by Anubhav Kushwaha

Laila came and stunned us. Now we miss her.

Who are you kidding?

 

We can avoid many problems if we are just honest with our own selves.

Grayed out

In the flights through my head, I find some gray corners,
That yearn and call with no words at all; just silence,
Combing through the tall gray grass, silent whispers -
That have no meaning to scattered dust or the wind.
The wind is listening and speaking all at once,
The dust just following the wind's gestures in awe,
The whispers, oblivious to the world, flowing in echoes...
What's to make what of what? Who of who? And why?
Is there is a single reason why I look up at the sky?
Or is not the chaos enough to explain my givings?
Mere mortal forms and the not so mortal fragments...
Come together and sit under the vast hollow night,
Filling cups with flowing needs, effervescent wants -
Bubbling up and falling over the brim of reality,
The silent whispers are perhaps telling of the dark -
Side of the mortal thoughts and the immortal winds
Hold it against no consequence - neither the dust.
For in all of our mortal vices and all of our deeds,
We have not left untouched any and all of the grays,
But still we have not changed a thing, it is today,
As it was before us and as it shall be much after,
Our hands and feet have crumbled into the dust -
Flowing with the wind - much after we are gone,
The whispers will remain - our only consequence,
We would not have mattered just grayed out...

-Anubhav

And then I wonder, why?

In the face of gentle lies, I lie to see the pale blue sky,
To feel beneath my fingers - a tingle asking me to fly,
The cold, sharp and wet grass takes me by surprise,
I look below and then above and then I wonder why?
Why do I live in a world where cars move on roads?
Where people wearing shiny shoes are always passing by...
And dreams walk in svelte clothes while we watch in awe,
Seated in our new red chairs with a sparkle in each eye,
Can't I be the dream I lived when I was dreaming last?
Brave and smiling to face the end that was drawing nigh...
Then again and again the dreams seem losing charm,
When I let my mind run wild and let my silence cry,
Asking but the cosmic void if this is not a dream?
To breath and smile and walk - To be what they call I,
And take a chance with everyday to fight or fly or win,
To write a story in the end of great wonders with a sigh..
And yell out into the shimmering screens, into a hollow dark,
Where dreams dream of being me while staring at the sky!

-Anubhav

-------
Just watched the movie "Avatar" - a truly amazing spectacle and then was just wondering of various things about movies, how they take us into a different world which seems so much more exciting than our own... so just penned down some thoughts thereafter...

Lonely woman

Lonely woman
Originally uploaded by Anubhav Kushwaha

Was just thinking about this woman who is probably confused, wants to do a lot and is feeling lonely... played with the colors and some expressions and this is what I got...

Taking that step

You need hope, love and happiness,
To walk across and hold his hand,
He needs nothing to look at you -
And to ask for more of each of
What you don't have and crave for
But then you are still figuring
The odds that he is poorer than you
For only if he is more needy -
Will your ego let you take a step
But then you have to be selfless
For that leap can take you further
Away from the one that is walking
Towards you to hold your hands...

-Anubhav

Just some Haiku

Silent victories / In random evenings do galore / But at dawn they hide

Find a small shadow / Hide your weapons and yourself / Wait for life to pass by you

He smiles but only / Of rare moments telling him / Slowly goes blank again

 

An evening near the lake

If I were fungible what would you barter me for?

“If I were fungible what would you barter me for? Would it make sense to buy coffee or tea or any of your fast moving consumer goods with me? Would they sell it to you in exchange? Would it rather make sense to buy some time instead? Or is there something else that I am worth?” – What a thought to end your day with? Not wonderful, not pessimistic, just an introspective trail.

I looked at the wall, the floor, the table, the computer, the two markers (both red & black), the board pins and almost every significant article in the room - Significant in its essence to be able to capture an impactful region of the visible zone that my brain was processing. I was able to attach a “value proposition” or an “existence rationale” or whatever you want to put it as; essentially I was able to attach some worth to almost everything. I was able to say “if I did not have this, it is going to affect my life negatively (or in some cases positively)”.

Then I tried imagining those things looking at me - What was their perception of me? At first I said to myself “It doesn’t matter”, “I don’t care anyway” but then I let myself accept the premise that I do care for a bit. I thought about it for a while and I was not able to find a direct correlation with myself. I was getting answers like, “You are good with your peers”, “You are useful at your job”, “You sometimes come up with sketches that look alright” and so on. There was no direct “You are a table and I need a table” or “You are a keyboard without you I can’t type” type of a perception.

I was forced to think about it while driving home and eating my rather mundane dinner. Somewhere between the rice and crashing on my bed, I started thinking of other people and their perceptions from a third person view. It turned out that my perceptions were not very different from the perceptions of the tables or the chairs. I thought it but realized that the perceptions of the inanimate objects were my own imaginary perceptions and offered no real insight into human worth. It was one man’s opinion. That is when it struck me, human worth is usually just an opinion and it all depends on who you’re asking.

The dolphins might absolutely abhor our nuclear scientists. Most poultry would detest the person who introduced the idea of cooking... well I am digressing but therein lies my point. I would refrain from opining that it matters but I have a hunch that I might be on to something. So I think some more, and start reading some biographical notes. Let me take the example of Jean Jacques Rousseau, the influential philosopher and writer, who seems to be connected to most of modern human social thinking regarding politics or education. Now there may be a lot of people who think that his contribution was pointless or otherwise. Or let’s take Adolf Hitler for example, it is very likely that a lot of his colleagues thought very highly of him and to them he was worth his life. In my opinion, although his life might have impacted ours but our opinions today do not impact his life.

That brings me to be second point, self-worth of a human would usually be a reflection of their perceived worth by their peers and contemporaries. Which is what would have driven people like Adolf Hitler to be confident and determined to do what they wanted to do... The train of thought continues, leading one subtle turn to another and I finally ask myself, “Do I care for my perceived worth for people after I die?”, “Is my sense of strong or weak self-worth driving me to do things that would negatively impact the lives of others?”, “Is that something I should really worry about”, “What is my true worth?”.

On further introspection I circumvented myself to the proverbial finale. Eventually, I realized what truly matters, is our own opinion of our worth. Our true worth is determined by what we think our worth is. So if what really made Adolf Hitler happy was to do things that would lead him to world conquest at the cost of the lives and happiness of a large number of people, then that is what his fungibility would have bought him. That was what his true worth is. Sooner or later each one of us has to realize that they cannot package themselves in flashy wrappers and sell themselves as something that they don’t believe in. The mystique and gibberish would ultimately give way to the bold letters on the white board with someone chiming, “I told you so”, to someone else. Some people whose opinion might not even matter in the bigger picture and they would have wasted a significant part of their lives changing that opinion or keeping it influenced. The greedy algorithm would not work in this case and you have to delve deep. One has to visit every corner of their entity to find out what really makes them happy, what makes them go crazy, what makes them fall in love, what makes them wake up early, run faster than they ever have, yell out in pleasant approval... Find the thing that you think you’re worth, the thing that you think you should be perceived for and go do it.

If I am able to do that, I would have a consistent answer from the tables, chairs and my friends. I would have an answer that would make me smile and would not make me worry about what people say when I am not around. It is our own assessment of our capabilities and lives that will define our choices, our gambles and our parts in ramshackles. Everytime I ask myself the question, “If I were fungible, what would you barter me for?” and to begin with I would say, “I know for sure that it is not coffee or tea or any of your fast moving consumer goods...” And some day, I would say “I know for sure it is...”

उन सबको बिलकुल भूल गए

उस एक अमर कठिनाई का कुछ और ज़रा विस्तार करो,
जिसमे लय हो कर के तुम हर दिन ही तो कुछ भूल गए,
कुछ भूली बीती बातों का वर्णन तो एक बार करो,
या मृगत्रिष्णा में तुम अपने ऊपर से ही झूल गए

क्या मायावी वो चाहत थी की मिट्टी को अंगार किया
और लगे महल तुम कहीं बनाने, ले हाथो में धूल गए,
अपने छोटे से घर में तुमने साहस का आहार लिया,
पर शायद साहस की रोटी लालच में तुम तूल गए,

कहीं तुम्हारी चाहत है ये कुछ लोगो ने तुम्हे कहा,
पर तुम अपनी चाहत में उन सबको बिलकुल भूल गए,
औजार लिए वो हाथ तुम्हारा कील कहीं है ठोक रहा,
पर तुम उसके नीचे सी ये हाथ हटाना भूल गए...

- अनुभव

Bubbletoon

I finally started updating BubbleToon again. Check out the latest strip at http://bubbletoon.blogspot.com. I am wondering if I should start posting them here itself..

My spects on an old copy of The Alchemist

My spects on an old copy of The Alchemist
Originally uploaded by Anubhav Kushwaha

I realized that my spects have done me a lot more good than any of the other things that I have owned, so I thought of paying respect to this amazing piece of optical engineering.

Visit my flickr page for some more shots - http://www.flickr.com/screenedinnocence.com

उनकी ज़बान को पानी चाहिए

आज फिर तुम आये हो कुछ सपने बेचने,
पर तुम ये समझ नहीं पाते हो आज भी,
की तपतपाती धूप में इन भूखे लोगों को,
तुम्हारी हर बात एक सपना ही लगती है
उनकी हकीकत तुम्हारी हकीकत से बहुत दूर
अकेले बेचैन सी खड़ी है और चुप चाप
तुमको देख कर कुछ बोलना भी चाहती है -
पर उनकी ज़बान को आवाज़ नहीं पानी चाहिए...

तुम सोचते हो की आंसुओं पर पानी फेंक कर,
उनके दुःख को बहा दोगे और वो मुस्कुराएंगे,
तुम्हारे नंगे इश्तिहारों में उनके चेहरे,
कुछ बिकने योग्य संवेदना दिखलायेंगे,
जिसको बेचकर तुम्हारे ये सफेदपोश साथी,
तुम्हारे लिए एक अतुलित राज्य बना देंगे,
और फिर तुम्हे यहाँ इस मायूस से गाँव में,
इन भूखों के बीच बैठना नहीं पड़ेगा...

आज तुम एक बोरी चावल से खरीदोगे,
इनकी भूख, इनकी सोच और इनके वोट को,
पर तुम जानते नहीं हो की भूखे पेट,
सोचना कितना मुश्किल और बेवजह लगता है,
और शायद आज ये सब बिक भी जायेंगे,
इनकी मजबूरी ही ऐसी है और फिर कल,
जब तुम आराम से फलो का आहार करोगे,
तब ये लोग फिर से भूखे बैठे तरसेंगे...

और फिर भूख में भी ये सोचने लगेंगे,
की तुम झूठे थे, कोई भगवान् नहीं,
हर पल ही ये तुम्हारा तिरस्कार करेंगे,
और अगली बार ये चावल तो शायद ले लें,
पर ये बिकेंगे नहीं इतना तो तय समझो,
फिर भी किसी दिन अगर तुम यहाँ भूखे आओगे,
तो ये खुली बाहों से तुम्हे बुलाएँगे,
क्यूंकि इनका सच तुम्हारे सच से अलग है...

- अनुभव

मनुष्य हो ये ख्वाब है

मनुष्य ही तो हूँ मगर पवन बनूँ ये ख्वाब है
चले तो आंधियो सा मन, रुके तो आफताब है,
अलग अलग तरफ सही, अलग थलग सी लग रही,
इस ज़िन्दगी की रात में एक आदमी ही आब है...

जो मन से ही अनंत है, जो खुद का ही खिताब है,
समय के इस ठैराव में, जो एक ही सैलाब है,
फ़िक्र नहीं जिसे की वो मरे, जिए या गिर पड़े,
वो वक़्त के सवाल का मुंह तोड़ सा जवाब है...

जिसकी बात सोच कर, चाँद तक बेताब है,
अक्स के वज़न सी ही, समुन्द्र इज्तानाब है,
ख़याल जिसका कर के ही पहाड़ बढ़ नहीं सके,
सांस जिसकी चलने सी पल भागता शिताब है,

समस्त ताकतों का वो एक इज़तेराब है,
खुले हुए गगन को भी जो नापता हिसाब है,
वो ही तो है जो आज तक बना नहीं सके हैं हम,
आदमी बहुत से हैं, मनुष्य हो ये ख्वाब है...


- अनुभव

The child's roses and dreams

I was once strolling by the lanes in the city,
When I saw the little form, silent like a shadow,
She was holding on to roses, selling them off,
The bangles on her wrists had been broken -
The remains still dangled on, much like her,
She had questions in her eyes when she asked me,
To buy a bunch of red flowers for my lady,
I said I didn't need them, she said she did,
I was almost frozen when I wanted to cross over,
To the other side of the road where she won't -
Follow me, look at me, make me wonder why?
Instead, I turned around, looked at her again,
"Why do you do this little child?", I asked,
"I don't know", she said when I realized that -
She really didn't have a reason, she had hope,
That somehow she will manage to survive yet -
Another day in the gruesome world of hers,
So if roses got her that, it was roses,
Or it could be tulips, lilies or balloons,
Her dreams could not be beyond the life,
That she has, or that is what I thought,
So I asked her, "What do you want to do?",
She closed her eyes before looking at me,
She said, "I want to touch the blue skies -
- While, I am floating on the sea",
She had dreams much deeper than mine!
With so much meaning, such a wonderful want!
And I told myself that dreams are not like us,
They go to whoever has the heart to call them,
Not just to those that shall bear them fruit,
I bought a bunch of roses, I am not sure -
If that would change her life but mine -
It had changed in that moment of reality,
I knew I had to touch the blue skies,
One day, while floating on the sea...

-Anubhav

The temple town at dawn

An evening in Paris

I just hate it!

I have a certain flamboyancy about me when I try to talk about hatred. I have always felt that maybe a part of me is cynical, even pessimistic to bring about such elaborate imagery whenever I talk about or listen to something that talks about sheer hatred. It moved me to paint a certain picture of myself in my head. It was not a pleasant picture. So I decided to go buy some new canvas. I threw away my old cans of paints and I bought some of my favourite shades from Williamsburg. I decided to paint a new me. I had a green picture in mind. Why green? Well everybody is thinking green these days and if I am thinking of an image revamp, well why not make it green?

I placed my tools and the rest of the paraphernalia under my bed. Then, I waited for Sunday. Sunday is a good day to paint. Ever since I was a kid, I had this soothing picture of Sunday in my mind. A nice warm breakfast with no rush to go to school. No bread-crumbs on my fingers when I did that last touch to my hair with my hands. Finding myself watching television at 11 a.m. instead of looking at my shoes while being scolded by a teacher. A lot of time to watch the ants move around the house with their little boxes of food. I will talk about that on another day but the most important thing about Sunday was that it was the day when I did things that I liked to do and not what "they" liked me to do. Sunday was a good day to paint back then and I presumed that it had not lost it character.

Sunday started with good vibes. I was about to flip the brush and do the first touch thing. Something made me stop. Now there is one thing common about both introspection and conscience. They have a knack for bad timing. Just like in the movies when they get good people killed. When they make the protagonist tell the truth and be slapped. You get the drift! Something inside me told me to ask myself about the last picture. What was wrong with it? Was it not very much like most other people?

So I brought up pictures of my friends first. I looked at them patiently at first but I soon found myself sifting through them rather fervently. Everybody had the same ugly purple thing on their left shoulder and a giant yellow hate medal. They loved to hate something. They were passionate about their hatred. They loved to talk about it, form groups with people who shared their hatred, wrote about it, painted about it and most frighteningly loved to motivate people to build up a similar hatred!

I told myself that it was probably because I was looking at my friends and they are likely to have similar characteristics as me. I fixed my tunnel vision and I brought up pictures of great people in history. The freedom fighters, the world leaders, the CEO's of household-cleaning-agent-companies, the car makers, the person who invented the steam engine, Mr. Bell himself, all of them. I was flabbergasted, shocked beyond reasonable comprehension and very scared. There was that purple thing and the golden medal. They hated things with all their heart. The stronger their hatred, the deeper their strife, the more wondrous was their passion and accomplishments.

So I argued with myself that they hated bad things. They hated the dependence, the dirt, the distances, the week-long caravans, the lost letters and what not. So maybe it was fine but I knew just then that I had wasted money on the paint and the canvas. The brushes? Well yes, on them too. I realized that it was getting more and more difficult to paint a different picture. I had to find a precedent but there was none in sight. I looked up the news, the television and even the monthly magazines.

There was love. There was beauty. There was glamour. There was all the amazing stuff in the world but there was a problem. Every single of those was like a coin with a bad side. We hate authority, we hate diseases, we hate misery, we are the modern knights of salvation and the mercy killing vagabonds. We are connected to the roots of reality with our hatred for being disconnected. Our chivalry lies in our crusade against the abominations of our lives. Our salvation, in our antipathy towards the loathsome entities of the universe.

We are ready to get on the Yellow Submarine and go disrupt the blue meanies. The blue meanies are ready with their anti-music missiles to disrupt our singing voices. We are sprinting our hundred metres on a landmine while we ready ourselves to pounce on the title of the fastest man in the world. Each one of us has a hole in his pockets that connects us to the constant void of the universe. The void that is full of belligerence, racism, unending spite, bigotry, malice and thousands of conflicts that represent our combined hatred.

I look around to realize that most of our lives, our buildings, our friends, our festivals and our celebrations have a story of hatred woven into it. We tell it nicely, even gloriously but it is there and you cannot ignore it. It is such a deep part of our lives that we do not really see it as a bad thing unless we see the dark side. If we see it at all. If we are able to perceive it's darkness.

So I leave the purple thing on my left shoulder and I put on my golden medal. I walk out of the door while I am thinking of places where I have seen or otherwise felt a proximity to a place and time without hatred. I realize that I have read it in some fiction text, as a conclusion of some mythological stories, as a rare end of a fantastical animation series. They are our fairy tales! Our hope lies in the fact that one of those people got it right when they described their Utopian world and that it will happen. Till then let's tell these stories to our children so that they have peaceful dreams in their otherwise frightful lives. Let's tell them to ourselves and let our mind wander in the dream worlds. There is no point in painting a new picture. It is ironical to try that. So I write something to express my hatred for hatred. How is that for an irony?