The Buddhapriya

If someone asks you, "Are you happy?" And if I ask you to believe, happiness is temporary, then? You must be feeling hopeless right? And helpless? And uncertain?  If someone says, I want to see you happy. Next moment takes away the happy moments. By the way, this struggling moment comes once every month. This leaves you with fears, no hopes, zero trust, helplessness and nothing more as terrible as this.  Then why should I be expecting from that 'someone' to make me temporarily happy? I can have chocolates, it will provide me temporary happiness. It will provide me with not just oxytocin but, endorphins, serotonin, dopamine too. Laugh Out Loud to all those 'someone' who are the sole reasons to shatter.  If you are looking for temporary happiness, then why not going to areas which will please your fire. Why burning me? What is need to make me numb? Doubly numb, because you gifted me a past where my eyes daily contained tears which can build seven tho...

Ranting has become my daily routine. But it won't be one this time, because I have a serious incident to tell you. I am going to tell you this but promise me one thing. You would not get angry. Promise?  So, the story goes like this. My mom is going as an escort teacher in one of the National-Level Karate Tournament tomorrow. She calls the parent for the  itinerary  and the essentials to pack. So far, it was all set. The parents are now aware of the fact that with whom their child would be under. Meanwhile, the mother, whom my mom was talking to, comes up to inform her about an incident that took place inside the school premises. I should tell you, that my mom was entirely unheard and unknown about this mishap.  My mom, very delicately with subtle curiosity asks her about the happenings. The mother suddenly bursts with a common-tuned motherly sorrow. She begins by saying that, her boy had to go through violent, harassing, abusive behaviour from the Karate teacher at ...

Viewers call my writings, rambling. Yes, they noticed facts. I cannot deny the fact, I do not want to.  Viewers show me, my lacks My trough and crests. Which no one ever does. Haters overlook the errors, they pray So that I keep making errors in the loop. I encourage criticism,  And I love coming across What viewers ponder about me.  

Nights make me realize why I was born. The purpose lies so clean, so sheer, I almost see the parallel universe. Am I writing or just at some slumber party in that other world, wrapped in cosmic silk, laughing with my forgotten selves? It sounds flaky, I know. But it's a glass-skin kind of realization, translucent, impossible, almost unachievable. Still, it clings to me. My monochromatic musings must have been tedious for you. I know I become I-centric. But what else can I do? Somebody has to speak my language. Somebody has to understand me. Somebody has to be my spokesperson. Because there was absolutely no one when I was dragged through the bumpy, unpaved road trip of life. Believe me when I say life asked to see me naked. And not metaphorically. It was a demand, a confrontation, raw and unrelenting. So under the elusive canopy of night, when most lives fold neatly into silence, I felt the spectral tug of existence. Not in the noisy glare of day, but in the gossamer hours when tim...