A few days a few months, a few years a few decades is all we call life and the enormous moments we live tends to evade the memory all the while when we tend to grow old and wise as people say. The wiser we tend to get the more selfishly placed I see I tend to become though it might be a learning and initial stage of getting wise post the moments that I have lived for and yet I tend not disclose most of the life in those moments. Recently the rage and age aren’t going together and the force of the pulse is suffering from inertia stuck within and deeply rooted. Some acknowledgments and some suggested rationale of the existence of me in for the rest gave me a perspective in to grey and white of life. The pragmatic me like I see myself was not the same a couples of year back a bit more of a fool on account of being a honest emotional jerk who used to induces beliefs in the people around, unwinding their acts, dispersing their words, saluting their deeds and above all a sense of respect if not for all but yes for a lot.
Again the tranquillity of this honesty dung dip in to me depleted me from the self of the other the wedging veracity of the words. Imagine the wonders that words can do like “pyaar ki jhappi” and also like the “samurai Sword” they are always there but it’s the intention that matters some lone and some dwelled moments. The habitats sank on the context of reason of just self and yet we leave none of the stone unturned having experienced it seems how weak I was lost in the tremors of rends. Ushered in to a deep sea plunge from cloud nine isn’t enough of thrush of trust I lost but the journey was a long and unwinding one yet profound and the truth of the verve that it is how it is and what it was never it was. I gather this courage to say I have changed and yet more to change no matter how far we stretch ourselves apart like the rubber the one end is always intact as this how I see it under the shades of grey.
Eloquent words deprived of emotions and meaning are like the most beautiful flora without any enchanting smell attracting the bees it just reveals the ugly deceptive contours of the petals and the vulgar dance with the gale that it displays once the shade of grey come alive for the bee. I wonder what and how it would take me to become a bee or stay like a flora alas vice versa as well. I smile while I haven’t walked most of the mile I shall have ran instead. Miracles happen and also the days that are dark and nights which sparkle under the moonlight.
While feeling the angst I pity on all wise yet misers of the world once and for all under the highest and proclaimed academic opulence, yet forgetting the simplicity of life which was never regressive as it was always perfect from its very existence of bonhomie, mutual respect, warmth, love, trust, dignity hung on the shoulder of the shouted shot man’s shoulder.
In turn when I turn now what I saw all along the grey turn I listen to few grey words and the worst is yet I believed them all and all they were told as they call the Grey eyes revealing a thin silver line under those eyeballs of the wonderful city of illusion that sometimes we tend to find our domain to dwell in. yet the longest and beautiful gale ends with a new possibility of the abrupt castle unlike Rome’s architect build in a few moments of harmony. Hustling over the waves as they rise they rise and chucks out the pebbles to the shore dancing in each other’s arms. Lurching under the scorching heat and reeling under momentary splash of the tides the pebble wonder why it was not the fall of the rise and seen unseen just as I felt the grey the pebble felt the black days under the shining moonlights.
The new domain and the grey show a spectacle of the rainbow losing its graded colour under the shades of the hue. And they turn all white it’s a change which under the grey I shall say I like making the rest all white so that the stains do not lose its spot ever and evident as a mark of congeniality it was it shall dim to grim alike. Smiling as I write carving some of the spots myself I lost precious pebbles even though I didn’t danced to the tunes of audacious waves just an act alike was all in the colour grey.
Now under the grey heyday whether to wedge more of spots, more of shades, more of wise tide gales, more of unfinished romance, more of locked words, more chanting of chants of self squalid, more of doing away with the domains of civilisation more of the not being a deviant out but in the mind and soul. The name itself didn’t had anything or was never to offer and the name for first feared the most of the grey that was their forever and ever.
Climbing the roof of grey I turned in to a gale which brought many and many of albatross in the whole story of the colours changing under the modern apartheid coined by the liberalised educated elites of grey. I failed even though of the learnt episode I forgot to see the colours painted on the castle of audacity and I hope the audacity remains stuck to the colour so that they don’t fade or drop in the dell glittering for the shine they shine under those whines that turns loud once just for once to deafen the drums.
Grey again and ever again over the spots of the white I choose to hover over the shadow unlike an albatross but like a spread to avoid any shade of grey to come to castles sight shall not. As and then I remain the spot of the white to the grey both a shredded strange acquaintances in admiration.
