Posts

THE FLEA IN MY DREAM

-
  Lobsang Rampa in “ Lobsang Rampa in “Chapters of Life” makes up a very poignant story of a scientist that studied the behaviour of fleas.   He thought he could correlate the behaviour of fleas’ psychosomatic patterns with that of blood. After much expenditure and time, he trained a medium- sized flea to jump over a matchbox every time he said, “Go”. Then when the flea had the idea, the scientist pulled off two more of the flea’s six legs. “Go”, he said. The flea jumped again, and was able to repeat the performance although not so successfully as before. The scientist grunted with satisfaction, and pulled off two more of the six legs. “Go”, said the scientist. Feebly the flea did so, and the scientist nodded his approval. Reaching for the flea he pulled off the poor creature’s last two legs. Unfortunately now that the flea no longer had legs the scientist could shout endlessly and the flea would not move. The scientist, after many tries, nodded his wise old head, and wrot...
Post a Comment
Read more

FOUND IN TRANSITION@MGC2020

-
FOUND IN TRANSITION@MGC2020 I sit here in this glass cube a quiet evening that is yet to dawn. The tranquil air suspended the moment like a frozen frame of a movie clip. I looked deep into my thoughts to ponder how I ended up here, where spaces that flexed authoritatively And windows that had their own lenses.   Giggles here and giggles there With shy eyes staring at me. For once I thought if I ended up in Alice’s wonderland!   The splashes of colours And the clicks behind the lenses, With endless engravings That paved the paths on surfaces so fragile.   Oh! What a bliss it was to share my ideas with the souls so young and innocent that left a mark so deep and pristine.   With the spirit of a comrade I navigated  through  the Maze Reaching a common goal That united our common aspirations.   I played a role that I was given I played it to the fullest of my honesty I am sure I left a few marks  I hope they stay where they belong.   With love Su...
Post a Comment
Read more
-
THE WIND The leaves touched the sky the branches waved to the tune of the wind. Brushing with a desire that it alone knew. But in the midst of the calmness it whispered into my heart, Can I be free, beyond the boundaries of my touch? Then it went along, brushing my blues, leaving marks that reveal, the impressions of my underlying passions, which were until now buried, in the depth of my memories. THE SOUL The angst of my primitive soul bursts into marks. Those which appear as impressions. The captive heart yearns to set rules those defy who made them. Rules of compassion…rules that we breathe, sigh out as voices. Some are heard but misunderstood, to reveal an identity, that is far beyond the perceptual. Now, who will hear them and what will be heard… The cry continues as a melody adapted passionately by a deaf musician,who misunderstood them …as notes from eternity. IN SEARCH OF THE FINE I GO..... In search of the fine I go, beyond my will I go. In search I go, I go and into a p...
Post a Comment
Read more