THE LIFE ..simple it is !


The life..

..so simple it is to spell.

..so simple is it to live?

Aah!

Simple it is..

The toughest task is to maintain the simplicity.

The simplicity lying deep in all..

So deep that we do not even bother to dig it up..tough it is.

So tough..

..to be simple .

..to live simple.

Life seems too complex.

Simplicity  is in the cry of a baby.

..in touch of their soft skin.

Simplicity it is ; when you give your finger they hold it with all their effort and don’t let you go.

And to feel the simplicity , you just need to be simple and don’t get back your hand.

Simplicity  is in the flow of river.

..in the colour of water.

Simplicity it is ; when you sit on the bank of river ,put your legs in it.

And to get drown in simplicity , just don’t go and remain in the calmness till the end of the night.

Simplicity  is in the pattering of rain.

..in the sound of falling water.

Here,the simplicity lie in the pure water,soothing the land from heat.

Yes! Simple it is- whether you touch the raindrops or just watch it falling..

..it has power to bathe you in both way ; either from outside or inside.

The world is full of million simple things.

It will be the largest series of books if penned down.

So,to the people..

Life is so simple to live.

It is the simplicity of life which can zeal you up.

So,

..dig it up!!

..from deep inside you!

And be happy forever . 

#copied 

​Being vulnerable is the hardest choice one could make. Then again, it’s never a choice. You just happen to be vulnerable.

‘Anxiophobia’ – the fear and extreme condemnation of anxiety, hopelessness and fear – is not just in the people who suffer from it, but also in normal, healthy people who dread that somehow, the ‘depressive vibes’ of the sufferer would contaminate them too, if they go anywhere near them. As such there are specialised people with their fancy degrees, specifically trained for the purpose of handling ‘it’ – the so-called ‘madness of the depressed’. No healthy person ever approaches the ‘infected’ persons, out of fear that they too may get ‘infected’. It’s a slow, painful and lonely death.
It’s a disease you do not even want to disclose, because disclosing it often accentuates it. In place of sympathy and hope, all you get is the judgements and the accusing eyes of others. You are responsible, no matter what! In our country, either you are ‘crazy’, or you are not. There is no middle ground. There is nothing such as ‘unstable’, there is no ‘depression’, no ‘perpetual anxiety’!
In order to understand the root cause of the stigma attached to depression, I tried questioning why this stigma exists in the first place? Why is vulnerability not just dreaded, but also condemned – and the vulnerable ostracised from the community? Society is complex – and it’s not my concrete hatred for it that I write what I write. What I write is simply the truth that I happen to stumble upon, after hours of thinking.
Yes, you guessed it right! I am the ‘infected’. I happen to be one amongst the millions suffering from depression. I believe that depression is a constant influx of abundant feelings of inexplicable grief, increased sensitivity, and an increased empathy for the sad and unhappy, at the same time. It’s often said that the depressed are the most spiritual as we happen to feel more than an average person.
So, one day, this humble lady came up to me, with a look of hate and pity in her eyes, and told me, “You are too unstable“. As if I didn’t know it already! I only replied with a sombre “maybe“.  What I really wanted to tell her was – “You know what? It’s a battle each day. When you put on a happy face, you force yourself to ‘smile’. You force yourself to be in the moment even when the high frequency of your thoughts and the state of your mind fails you. You desire company, you desire help – but you end up losing even the little you have, for you seem, what they call in popular culture, needy and weird.”
When I say that society is complex, I mean it’s everything it shouldn’t be – most importantly, it’s patriarchal and misogynist in essence. ‘Crying’, ‘feeling’, ‘excessive humility’, ‘over-thinking’ are what popular culture deems as ‘lunacy’, ‘irrationality’, and unfortunately, ‘the niche of the feminine’.
It is possible that the prejudice and the stigma towards depression stems from the very fact that society is largely patriarchal. It looks down upon women, and places femininity much below masculinity. As such, sympathising for depression or any other psychological problem, emotional or otherwise, causes much contempt. Apparently, depression is largely the darker and the undesirable shades of emotions – the so-called ‘blues’, which adds to the ‘Anxiophobia/Depresso-phobia’.
Therefore, when you tell me, “If it’s a cancer of the brain and emotions, why do you not get treated?“,  I will say, “It takes time, in fact years, to be fully healed – but I would urge you not to hate me till then, and not to scar me any further, keeping in mind the scars I already bear – and most importantly, not to censure the stories of my past.“

Afterlife

He was the winter

..which owned the colder part of hers.

Frozen was she!!

He appeared through the fog,though not clear.

But gave the warmth to her body.

He was the spring

..which blossomed up her smile.

Happiest was she !!

In the midst of fragrances,his scent was the aroma her senses were bound to.

The essence gave the peace to her heart.

He became the summer

..burned her all over.

Silent was she !!

In the heaps of colorless grasses,she was still searching for the flower.

The continued safari,still gave her the hope.

And then he turned to autumn

..not the leaves but tears were shed.

Scattered was she!!

Inside her bare soul, she was desperate for the muse.

And everything else gave the hope of AFTERLIFE. 

Do I ??….yes !!!

I have a right to..

I have a right too.

When I open my eyes and crawl

..to find a warm lap.

..to rest in cosy nap.

..to blossom in lilies.

To find a shelter , when rain pelts down

..my shoulder and slithers.

..the soil of my skin.

..the blaze of my sweat.

..the youth of my soul.


When I rise with morning haze,

grape my way and move through the day..

..limb is hope.

..my eye yearn – for acknowledgement.

..my crushed soul breathes – the incense of your being.

AND I ASK MYSELF..

DO I HAVE A RIGHT??

The invisible girl..

Lost in the crowd..

There is an unechoed sound.

Being quite in an insufferable way.

Subtleness around but distress inside.

A new day , a small world…

Actually smaller and smaller world.

So small to make circle or even a linear connector.

There’s a bliss

And a question..
How anything disappears ?

By turning to impurity

..Like a smoke, which initiates brilliantly and diminishes..

Or as pure as morning dew

..which evaporates when little sunlight falls .

 In either way , existence is a cosmic joke and not a serious affair.

Fate..

I was born as a river; but I will not end in the ocean.

The waves I carry are not meant to turn into tides.

I would rather be a fresh watercourse; than a stagnant, saline body.

As a brook, I will flow touching every life.

And like a tributary, I will give the helping hand.

Alas! Life is not forever..death follows birth.

Rivers! They are no exception.

But this river is not the same it used to.

It started in the serenity of mountains, but perished before her death.

This river do not meet the usual end.

Not all the river merge in ocean..

White heart..

White is the nature’s purest form..it has everything within.

And splits apart to give everything.. Not racism…not skin colour..

Its obvious that red flows in the body; but still you can have a #white_heart .

That tripling of twenty-one


In the womb I was like you.

In thousands I was a few.

Yeah..I have a different face.

But I am of the same race.

Human..you said..

And measure with the standards you laid.

I wear the same smile.

I split the same laughter.

Tear rolls the same way.

And I also see night and the day.

You call me a special child.

But special are the angels,who never turned wild.

I don’t match with the tracks you travel.

Yes , I am slow and sometimes I ravel .

I am the luckiest 1% of the one in one thousand , who are not departed before the term.

To live the life..now I am firm.

Parents they say..angels I have.

Love they shared and care they gave.

I lost my tears..

And fought all the fears.

It’s October !! Winter is coming.

Gift me pullover with yellow and blue wing.

No idea for the colour code..but it strengthen my journey.

Tripling may be heavier , but not this trisomy.

A message to everyone..

I celebrate this twenty-one.

Yes! I have down syndrome.

But this extra chromosome never put me down.

Not so bad..

A cursed night , a hopeless day.

Where to move , don’t have way.

An aching heart , a blank mind.

A thread that broken , want to bind.

Its been a slip-up , a blunder indeed.

Head was numb , couldn’t felt the ail.

Relentless only leave you beyond the pale.

Have no sympathy , got what deserved.

Been paid for the things I done : abashed !

Not so bad to hate like hell !!

I am in drought , want some rain .

Dying within , want to turn of the life.

Who can help me to get a knife ??