You catch sleep or the sleep catches you?

You close your eyes and squeeze your thinking neurons a bit; the happenings of the day flash like a blinding fluorescent chain of lights. The sequences start blending with one another so perfectly that the intervening lines get voided, with no realization of the same. The period of wakefulness had fatigued enough to be wanting to rest in coffin; the coffin of shredded hopes, rummaged beliefs and crushed spirit. You gradually direct your optical focus to the liquid crystal display of your television set and the pixels start turning into howling circles of peppy colors.

The night is so unpredictably exaggerated; it has an ocean of subtle emotions waiting to be touched and aroused. That is one of the very important reasons why we have programmed ourselves to go into a numb state of mind as soon as the black blanket covers the Mother Nature. The darkness is asphyxiating for its obvious appearance and freeing for its occult power. The equations seem weirdly unsolvable because they are not seen with the relevant perspective; problem doesn't lie in the mystifying nature of the equations that waft from the night, problems lie in the unenlightened states of mind that lack the knowledge, courage and insight to address the equations properly and solve them altogether.

Finally the ultimate happens. The centers of wakefulness in your brain are forced to experience a temporary death and you sulk in your bed with limp limbs. They say this programming is to get your body the required invigoration; I feel it has more to it than what we fathom by our gullible eyes. The sleep is the order of the nature; an order of the magnitude that it can cost you a life if you don't fall in the line of abiding slaves. Have you ever realized that the night shields a lot of conspiracies of nature from us by making us attain a forced hypnotic state? 

Benumbed Blitzkreig

All of a sudden, your eyelids get a life. They get away from the mutually cuddled position and resume the usual role of visual sensory watch guards. As vision enters your retina, the neuronal circuits get a life and occipital cortex takes a sigh. It’s the onset of another morning; the bodily clocks never fail to astonish you with their cold-hearted accuracy. Who invented the clock? Who invented the necessity of slogging for money? Who invented that night is meant for dizzy galore? You appreciate the heightened lassitude of your body with snail-paced-velocity of crisscross thoughts. The order started appearing in your thought processes with noteworthy inclination. You sit, you yawn, you stretch your stiff musculature, and you step down the bed.

You think for the day’s schedules, the apprehension disseminates in the billion cells of your body. The iron-fisted day has blazoned its arrival. You hurriedly finish up with the daily rituals and get armored to fight for your existence yet again. Where is the time for self appreciation? Where is the time for discovering unknown horizons? Why do we allow ourselves to get occupied in the whirlpool of humdrum? You glare yourself in the mirror, tuck your hair, watch those fine wrinkles in your forehead, those crowfeet besides your eyes and you turn away. Did you really see yourself in the mirror? Can you identify yourself? When was the last time that you were turned to see yourself in the interior mirror; that is your soul?

You ate a little with you thoughts ricocheting like the bubbles of boiling water. You are almost ready to move out of your house. Haven’t you already moved out of your house? Were you there in your house? Where is your house? Who are you? Why do you exist?

Where Is My Bed?

You just exhausted your last kilo calorie meant to be burnt for tedious professional commitments of the day. You relished the succulence of your otherwise ordinary supper, the food smelled like alter-ego of divine vapors. The presumptuousness failed to die down as you feverishly gagged the buttons of the slain remote control. Effrontery caught the craze with a gall and soon you were submerged in some old classic film or the vehement debate over some breaking news. The law of relativity smells you as a potential victim and you swim in the sky of thoughts, mesmerized and frozen.

Your eyelids soon started turning soporific, nothing can help it. The signals have turned green and hypnosis would prevail with indefatigable might. You turn your posture in that comfortable cushion once more and have a glance at the old wall clock. It’s already midnight. The nature is workaholic and its machinery has no match. One more day passed with eyes open, one more night will pass with eyes closed. What are we here for?

An Evening To Remember

The orange light of nature’s traffic lane. Evening is the tune of addiction. Who hates an evening? It’s a flash in the pan before all is covered with a black blanket. A cathedral of pre-retirement. The bed of young rainbows. The lain of infatuation.

Flocks of hymning birds trespassing the kingdom of sky with stubborn spirit, sips of coffee with whips of thick cream, tubs of peppery popcorn with naughty aroma, vapors of infectious playfulness whirling the little parks and playgrounds, the army of roadside assortment of eateries squealing their larynx out, the sight of a an ordinary human returning back from a hard day’s work, the evening is a precious environment.

Evening is otherworldly. The lumbar bone of the day. A moment when you switch from day light to dark night. Things which define the day refrain the knock of evening, but to gradually succumb to the hypnotic hymns that reverberate in the evening’s soul. The lilt of the reddened sun seeks shelter in the broad wings of evening, and tranquility starts floating. Watch the evening and forget yourself.

The might of night

The night is a veil. Howling moon and scowling stars guard its dynasty. The night is factory of delirious dreams and silent screams. With charcoal in its core, it fumes the flow of fright.

The night is slithery and monstrous. It fans the flames of fear, a habitual intimidator. It blinds you and preys you. Does it hides from you; or hides you? In the midst of its chutzpah, it makes your sensory system frozen.

The night is a scion of mystery. The night is an unrequited acquaintance with ample of attraction. Its fangs infuse the hypnotics into your vessels and suspended animation rules. Night is the biggest knight of the universe.

The night is clairvoyant at its peaks. It is the blotting paper for many glooms. Like a psychic charlatan, it derives pleasure in watching you deadened. Black clouds hover on the sky roof; electric thunders give shudders to the spine.

The store house of supernatural ammunition. Its essence lies in its plentiful provocative plea. It judges your inner-self and hampers your judgment. It is bleak and bleary. It is non-perspective. It silences your senses and forces you to take a temporary recluse from the world.

Night fetches our quandaries to light. A pale ghost of the day, it roars in organized anxiety. The juggernaut of gremlin. The mishmash of creepy agonies. The sinister, at its best.

Moaning Morning...

The timorous darkness of the massive night fall prey to the rising roars of dawn with scintillating hues of unlimited colors. This morning appeared bathed in abundance of hope and happiness. This is the time to unleash the spirit and the Beaujolais, to uncork the veiled wishes and radiate ardently with the hope of tranquility on earth and kindness to all its citizens. New Delhi chill is yet again having its pre-geriatric spurts, arguably the most totemic ones, and the valor of frothy fog rules the spaces of the city.


The sound of bunched newspaper hitting the roofs and floors, the glow and blush of toddlers barely able to hold their mothers’ hand and waiting for the school bus, the cantankerous cab drivers relaxing after the marauding spell of screeching the highs and lows of the road, the fumes of freshly brewed ginger tea springing from the aluminum pot with black bottom, the infectious vigor in the public parks with a sight full of joggers, yoga buffs and bird watchers, Delhi Metro being hoarded with eclectic horde with floating frowns, brooding bellies and imprudent squeak of airy annoyance, we live in a city which deserves bowing salutes for its rich diversity and impeccable capability to keep pace with hurriedly changing times.

The moaning mist of morning refuses to keep mute, the sparks of shines striking windowpanes stagger in a riot of colors, the traffic signals start witnessing edgy sedans making jittery sounds, the mobile towers start getting pre-term labor and the cell phone signals start fading furiously, the coat of smog steals the real vision and ruby red turns into lathered pink, the temples are brought to life with earsplitting chants and sounds very close to those of primordial fusion rock, welcome to the high rise morning of New Delhi. Let’s make a joyous day till the sun drops in the ocean again and moon swells proudly and let’s make an easy night to observe yet again jaunty and idyllic morning.