But what about the infinite stalks of fresh grass; the innocuous infants wandering around; whom you had trampled indiscriminately in your insatiable march towards victory?
You may have drunk cartons full of mineral water; quenching your thirst under the scorching Sun of midday,
But what about those people reeling under severe drought; whose wells you had emptied to tingle the food in your stomach?
You may have lived for a 100 years; surviving on the most conventional of medicine and steroids,
But what about those innocent whom you had slaved; in order to clean every iota of dirt you spat on this earth?
And you may have loved; imprisoning every girl you set your eyes on with the power of your wealth,
But what about all those billion lives you had assassinated; in order to satisfy
each desire of yours?
31. IT REALLY DOESN’T MATTER
It really doesn’t matter if we kept awake all night; admired the stars till the last beam of moonlight,
It really doesn’t matter if we rubbed squalid tomato's on our uniforms; winked at each other in the classroom,
It really doesn’t matter if we drove the car at full speeds; forgetting completely to stop at traffic intersections,
It really doesn’t matter if we pummeled the walls; screamed at the top of our voices when we actually had to loads of homework,
It really doesn’t matter if we hurled eggs at people on the street; blurted a volley of indiscriminate slang at those trying to control us,
It really doesn’t matter if we swam on dolphins in the sea; splashing tones of froth on the ships passing by,
It really doesn’t matter if we counted the notes wrong; tore the shopping list into pieces before actually purchasing it,
It really doesn’t matter if we bathed in pure ice-cream; didn’t wipe our face for
hours on the trot,
It really doesn’t matter if we stared at the walls; sat lazily swapping flies even in brilliant afternoon,
It really doesn’t matter if we shaved of our scalp; danced in a pool of scarlet jelly with the clouds coming in,
It really doesn’t matter if we dug the earth; rubbed worms traversing under the soil on our cheeks,
It really doesn’t matter if we slapped the postman hard; then tried hard to suppress our giggles as he ran at us full speed; with his stick,
It really doesn’t matter if we drank a bottle full of whisky; flirted around dreamily on the busy streets,
It really doesn’t matter if we took out our tongues; scowled at our neighbors for not allowing us to play,
It really doesn’t matter if we left a battalion of red ant; to roam freely beneath our teachers desk,
It really doesn’t matter if we didn’t brush our teeth; ran on the roads with our night clothes on,
It really doesn’t matter if we caught crabs on the beach; instead of attending formal parties with our parents,
It really doesn’t matter if we didn’t sit for a moment; kept fidgeting around; once in a while sipping cola and food,
It really doesn’t matter if we pinched our sister; teased her as she tried to learn the
bicycle,
It really doesn’t matter if we set on to conquer Mount Everest; without even equipping ourselves with a single coat,
It really doesn’t matter if we ate our breads burnt gruesomely black; wore our
shoes without embroidered socks,
It really doesn’t matter if we dreamt wildly even in commercial meetings; said i Love you; when the man sitting opposite was questioning us about our yearly income tax,
It really doesn’t matter if we played pranks with our aunt; presenting her with a balloon that burst into infinite pieces; instead of a chocolate cake on her birthday,
It really doesn’t matter if we spoke lies to save our skins; scampered at electric speeds at the mention of studies,
It really doesn’t really matter if we didn’t wash our hands; tore apart raw chunks of fruit with our uncivilized teeth,
It really doesn’t matter if we didn’t comb our hair; grew a beard as long as the elephants trunk,
And it really doesn’t matter if we lived life at ease; basking in the glory of every moment to unleash,
As we were so young now; floating on the island of pure ecstasy; and had a thousand tomorrow's left; to really make it matter.
32. LIFE SHOULDN’T SLIP AND FLY
Let the cars on the roads fly; with the passengers seated inside simply astounded by the exuberance in the breeze hitting them like a rocket from all sides,
Let the mountains on earth fly; with their abysmally obscured bottoms; coming eye to eye for the first time in their lives with a dazzling fountain of Sunlight,
Let the gorgeously cascading waterfalls fly; inundating the exasperatedly gloomy atmosphere with infinite droplets of sparkling water,
Let the frogs philandering in fresh farms fly; frisking and bouncing majestically towards silken cocoons of silver sky,
Let the statues frozen in mock silence on ground fly; stretch their bones in sheer exhilaration after lying thoroughly dormant for centuries on the trot,
Let the eyeballs firmly agglutinated to the sockets fly; casting a glimpse at all the mesmerizing sights of this magnificently fathomless Universe,
Let the spiders rotting in dilapidated corners of the castle fly; deluging the overwhelmingly sweltering atmosphere with glistening fountains of their satiny
juice,
Let the camels trespassing painstakingly through the acrimonious desert fly; enjoying their rendezvous with the glorious clouds to the most unprecedented limits,
Let the insurmountably heavy watermelons fly; clashing like the titans with each other when airborne; fulminating into a stream of scarlet juice much to the delight of aliens gallivanting around,
Let the swords lying in a pool of ghastly blood fly; head towards a land of celestial peace; relinquishing those horrendous memories of savagely treacherous war,
Let the mirrors uncouthly shattered on mud fly; evolving a myriad of ingratiatingly fascinating images whilst their expedition through the voluptuous clouds,
Let the elephants loitering assiduously through marshy land fly; have the most fabulous time of their lives; moving faster than the speed of light,
Let the roots embedded infinite kilometers beneath the ground fly; rejuvenate in the marvelously stupendous draughts of air; after a torturously marathon time in
incarcerated blackness,
Let the inexorably fur coated cats fly; meowing with unfathomable delights in blue expanse of sky; greedily absorbing the milky rays of moonlight,
Let the monotonously embodied dwellings fly; metamorphosing the dreams of their occupants into perpetual reality; as they sailed through seductive carpets of profusely poignant breeze,
Let the battalion of nimble red ants fly; feeling engulfed with an aura of oligarchic royalty; as the world now lay neatly sandwiched under their diminutive feet,
Let the scores of innocuous children fly; be irrefutably closer than any other human being to the sacrosanct grace of the Omnipotent Creator,
Let the passionately palpitating heart fly; transgress past the most heinously diabolical barricades; to be in proximity with its immortally divine beloved,
And you could make all other things fly O ! Lord; making them transiently experience the absolute time of their lives; but please don’t make life fly,
For it is after countless births that we have relished the opportunity of being humans; therefore we want to lead each instant of our existence to the fullest; simply don’t want our lives to slip and fly.
33. INFINITE INFINITY
An island which you incessantly dream of; but miserably failed to reach,
A height which is so unsurpassable; that each step you clamber; still found you on obdurate chunks of rock bottom ground
,
A size so astronomically colossal; that is beyond the definitions of any size or veritable proportion,
A tunnel so perpetually unending; that perennial blackness engulfed you even if you took birth relentlessly; for countless centuries,
A land where no palpable organism can dare to transgress upon; a land where only the ALMIGHTY CREATOR resided since centuries immemorial; and would continue to rule till the time he wanted; was the land of infinite infinity.
A wave so mammoth; that rose and handsomely swirled even unimaginable kilometers above the vivacious clouds,
A ray so unprecedented; that indefatigably pierced even the most obsolete corner of this Universe with its overwhelmingly stringent light,
A shadow so profoundly mystical; that refrained to subside even after the ghastly blanket of profuse darkness; had wholesomely set in,
A voice so incredulously echoing; that it kept eluding you unrelentingly as it collided like a fulminating tornado against the cold rocks,
A land where no palpable organism can dare to transgress upon; a land where only the Almighty Creator resided since centuries immemorial; and would continue to rule till the time he wanted; was the land of infinite infinity.
A book so incomprehensibly long; that you remained on the front page; even after browsing for decades unfathomable,
A painting so enigmatically fascinating; that each time you saw it; it metamorphosed into a myriad of fathomless shades,
A tree so astoundingly gigantic; that kept blossoming and proliferating into innumerable branches; as each second unfurled,
A storm so cyclonic; which continued even after the entire planet had slept; caressing every object on this globe with passionate cloudbursts of breeze,
A land where no palpable organism can dare to transgress upon; a land where only the Almighty Creator resided since centuries immemorial; and would continue to rule till the time he wanted; was the land of infinite infinity.
A mountain with its summit augmenting till times beyond eternity; stretching over the most bizarre point of imagination,
A fantasy tumultuously surpassing the realms of unbelievable perception; incorrigibly refraining to quell even after inevitable death,
A cloud whispering an unending tale of existence; with majestic streaks of white lightening royally encompassing every tangible and intangible entity in the inferno
of its untamed ferocity,
A mission impossible for anyone to comprehend even an inconspicuous fraction of; a challenge which even the mightiest of mighty pathetically floundered to accomplish,
A song which tirelessly continues to inexplicably haunt every living being; right since the first day of nascent life,
A land where no palpable organism can dare to transgress upon; a land where only the Almighty Creator resided since centuries immemorial; and would continue to rule till the time he wanted; was the land of infinite infinity.
34. TO THE SERVICE OF MANKIND
Just moving your lips up and down doesn’t make any sense; the real art lies in speaking articulately; profoundly impressing upon your point on your hostile
adversary,
Just shaking your fingers aimlessly in the air doesn’t make any sense; the real art lies in embossing spell binding pieces of literature; captivating the entire nation with the unprecedented depth in your words,
Just swishing your legs waywardly in the pools of water doesn’t make any sense; the real art lies in audaciously marching towards the summit of victory; conquering invincible peaks with the colossal strength they posses,
Just admiring your reflection spuriously in the transparent mirror doesn’t make any sense at all; the real art lies in pleasing as many individuals as you can; mesmerize people around you with your stupendous beauty and seductive charisma,
Just writing books after books sitting in the cloistered interiors of your dwelling doesn’t make any sense at all; the real art lies in propagating your work to as far and distant as you can; sharing the essence of your enchanting fantasy with people
who badly needed it,
Just perspiring and appreciating your own golden globules of sweat as they trickled down doesn’t make any sense at all; the real art lies in slogging onerously under the mid-day Sun; to enlighten the faces of infinite children who were starving on the
streets without their parents,
Just sketching boundless shapes of abstract imagination on sprawling sheets of scintillating canvas doesn’t make any sense at all; the real art lies in capturing the ultimate beauty lingering the cosmos; the lifestyles of our century old ancestors;
with the pungent bristles of the gaudy paint brush,
Just playing incessantly imprisoned within the corridors of the ghastly jail doesn’t make any sense at all; the real art lies in stepping out in brilliant daylight; letting the poignant sunshine filter a mystical path across your dainty eyes; frolicking in
glee with the rabbits on the hillside,
Just winking your eye to stimulate your own nerves umpteenth times in a day doesn’t make any sense at all; the real art lies in fomenting kids afflicted with inexplicable disease to have a hearty laugh at your batting eyelid,
Just growing a garden of roses in your dingy little kitchen; obfuscated in entirety from the Sun and the world; doesn’t make any sense at all; the real art lies in planting them at every cranny you tread; to spread their supremely mesmerizing fragrance in every
house on this planet,
Just punching the sandbag suspended tamely from the ceiling doesn’t make any sense at all; the real art lies in battling the evil circumventing this earth; sucking blood from innocent individuals like an venomous parasite,
Just fantasizing wildly about beauty all day doesn’t make any sense at all; the real art lies in exploring all tantalizing form created by God on this globe; further assisting his cause in continuing the chapter of existence,
Just sleeping for unsurpassable hours on the princely couch doesn’t make any sense at all; the real art lies in sharing it with those who hadn't a roof to sequester their scalps; ensuring that they eventually got a bit of restful slumber,
Just remembering your childhood brooding over your present in utter regret doesn’t make any sense at all; the real art lies in walking on the sea shores again like a child; let the mighty waves of the ocean caress you; make you feel as if you were just born,
Just letting blood rampantly flow in your veins; swelling in gallons every day as you gobbled food like a glutton; doesn’t make any sense at all; the real art lies in engendering it to flow for the person you revered; disseminating it philanthropically to all those who were wounded; who died every second in absence of it,
Just screaming at the top of your lungs standing tall and domineering at the tip of the perilously deep mountain doesn’t make any sense at all; the real art lies in shouting for deprived women; blatantly reveal the atrocities being committed on them; the way the weaker sex was brutally assaulted,
Just swimming under the stars; splashing water lavishly around before ultimately sipping it doesn’t make any sense at all; the real art lies in sprinkling each droplet you possessed upon the land and people struck by savage drought,
Just throbbing your heart violently in perception of the person you cared doesn’t make any sense at all; the real art lies in embracing the same in times of supreme exultation as well as morbid distress,
And just breathing every hour for times immemorial doesn’t make any sense; the real art lies in deriving the maximum pleasure out of this life; living every instant for the person you loved; dedicating your life to the service of mankind.
35. IF YOU REALLY HAD THE URGE TO CLEAN SOMETHING
Don’t waste your time in spuriously washing your clothes; scrubbing the surplus dirt adhering to your fingers for hours on the trot,
For if you really had the urge to clean something; first clean your mind, heart and life in
stead.
Don’t waste your time in vigorously shampooing your hair; applying sandalwood balm all across your fatigued body,
For if you really had the urge to clean something; first clean your mind, heart and life instead.