ScriBBles: oF DreAms & Th'OuGht's

Questions that matter… Turn any page of any book, read a few lines; you are bound to come across a few questions about the text or the tale in your mind. Questions are the reason for every progress man has ever achieved. Edison’s questioned charge, Newton questioned the Apple fall and Einstein questioned physics itself. Questions are the reason we are studying days and nights. Questions are the sole reason due to which man evolved from an ape to today’s devil. Apart from all these public or social questions, there are a few questions that are way too personal to share. Better still there are some questions that we come across once in many years. They are the questions which make us question ourselves. Sometimes these questions are, well, too simple yet one fails to answer even a part of it. These are the questions that shiver each strand of the body. And sometimes these questions come from the most unimaginable sources and that makes even more difficult to answer. L...

WHEN I HAD GIVEN UP, almost. »No soul has been ever favored by time with the same approach at a stretch. »Time waits for none. »It's a race against time to achieve the survival of the fittest. »Time changes. »Good moments are temporary and the bad conditions are not permanent. This summarizes what I learnt in the Summer of O'13. What I achieved out of this summer is still a hazy pale screen for me but what I realize is that the change my Emotions went through to confirm my state today, as I step out of the Summer break, would never have taken place if I had not asked someone, “if fixing the next tuition time at 3pm would be fine.” It was that April and it’s this June, life of my emotions has been through an enormous change, a change much needed to prevent me from turning a manic. When my physical presence was moving through the time of April'13, my mind was still stuck with the summer of '11.  Those were the days when one person w...

The Girl who lost her Phone... ....There stood a girl, out of my interest; smiling, playing, and giggling with a couple others. They seem so out of any mental distress while I sat 20 yards away carrying a sunken face.... That scrupulous twilight has been clearly etched into my memory; the blue sky with a hint of yellow masking the horizon speaking of the prolonging presence of the hot ball of fire, the lush green hill-side bushes with a layer of water kissing the leaf surfaces reminding of the torrential rains few hours back. The weather, 2 hours ago, seemed to echo my thoughts. While everyone was out enjoying the rain, scooping up every delight one could acquire from the premature rains on a scorching May evening, I sat down holding my phone gazing at the screen watching a still image. How I wish I were the part of those lucky teenagers who were out with their friends up on a hill side, watching the entire city. My city appeared to have been smoking, with the bare earth covered wit...

My ‘Purple’ Hangover... If only novels were a part of our prospectus, guess I would have never failed. Only if they assemble subjects on obsessions that by and large capture 90% of my awareness all-round-the-year....... Shame they don’t. Coming into what I really face.... Ever had an emotion that you are bothered for a few hours after completing a tragic love story? Or ever thought of all those events and characters, --ditching the matter you should actually be thinking about--, and nothing else dwell in your thoughts for hours at a stretch. Well, I have the same effect upon me whenever I put down a book even if at-least for a break; finding myself weakening to put up a fight against those breathtaking (even ghastly ) sentiments, I find myself tracing the same path back to my book and trying to complete the tale. Impending along to the day when I took reading novels on a serious note rather than just a means to pass the time in a train journey (-- Comics took care...

A Minute is all it takes.... It was a beautiful winter morning but the everlasting chill of December made the gravity around my bed 10 times the usual strength. All I longed was for a hot cup of coffee while I stay wrapped up in my red blanket. There was something unusual in that particular morning; the birds seemed quieter and there was hardly any movement outside. The usual noise and bustle of the street had died down dramatically after the episode. A dense mist of tension seemed to hang over the neighboring roads too. It was as if all lanes had decided to cast this eeriness in harmony. Holding the cup of coffee in my hand I waited for the newspaper delivery which normally got home before I got up every morning; which was the actual reason why I hired that agency for my newspaper delivery. The newspaper dint arrive; impatiently I shifted to watch the TV news but all I could see was dense black and white dots all over the screen creating unimaginable illusions and patterns when I got...

Incidentally , a few years ago, across many districts….. With a high chest for holding my Dad’s phone and a grumpy face for have been forced to wear a servani, I strode the unknown lanes of my birth town. Sometimes getting lost but eventually finding my way back to the main green field, I felt a sense of pride to have been able to successfully explore the small mines-township (seemed so big then). Ten years ago a beautiful woman lived in this very town when her father had a desk job at the mines of. It was here a beautiful woman got married and it was here when a small boy’s cry echoed the hospital, the boy who now is narrating THIS tale. It was the first time I came to this town after leaving out at an early age of 3 months. Later on I couldn’t return, Grandpa retired and they moved in with Uncle in another town of the state. As I reached a particular house, about a kilometer away from the marriage house (I was here to attend the marriage of a far aunt who lik...