Passionate Creativity in Dreams

Hi! Back to my note making philosophy.......decently called as a blog!! Today i am going to simply bullshit about anything that comes to my mind. Please bear with me!! What exactly is it......the confessions of a wannabe to reflect the world how hard he is trying to reach the level where he will be declared an “achiever”. But the act is still the same, and he continues to be one of the million wannabes. Now if that’s not a joke, let’s take it seriously!! Let’s try to write something “Different”. I am no different. Whatever I do, I find myself doing it the same way many others have already done. The very idea about an uncommon idea is that, is should be one of its kind. But as the population increases, the probability of seeking the rare diminishes. And that’s how neatly I can blame others for responsibly killing my originality. I think that won’t be fair. I tried Business. Energia. I thought it was rare. To professionally design business proposals and sell it in business plan symposium

The age-long longing for this poetry has finally ended. I heard this first time somewhere in some Kavi-Goshthi. I was in Class 10 th or 11 th then, I don’t exactly remember. The words were well beyond my understanding; the meaning was well beyond my scope. I was yet to experience the feel that is required to understand these wordings. I was yet to be exposed to the beauty of Hindi Literature. Although I have read all of Premchand Sahitya, Sharat Chandra, Ishwar Chandar, Devkinandan Khatri’s creations, but they all appear to me as they were meant to be told as tales, say, stories. Only poetry can speak the language of the heart. It does not narrate, it talks to the reader; it sings. Here every character can be replaced; every incident can be suitable matched to something personally relevant. Every feeling here is wired to the readers personal emotions. There continued paragraph here is say, 40 years old ; and is Written by Mahadevi Verma ages back. He writes his heart out questi

3 Days in the new school. And I was appointed the class monitor. Again this time, for a weird unimportant reason. I was sitting in the front most row ; closest to him. Identified simple target, therefore killed. Not like my old previous school where I used to be class monitor just because I was tallest in class. In higher classes later, nobody else was interested. (They were partying, having “tafri” around, and busy in mainstream bird-watching).Well, I am not complaining. But maybe it was just like you can guess the future. “I always knew I will be given responsibilities again and again, doesn’t matter how boring it might be, doesn’t matter if I will be interested even or not, they just will be pinned on me. And I will always try to match their expectations. The expectations will keep going high, no matter how I perform. I will go on working selflessly, like a donkey after the carrot attached to his own hood, right in front of him.” I knew I will be a good employee someday. Because th