An answer that life is; Or a question?

It's divine how I can find answers to everything while writing a poem.
But some of them are difficult to complete. Something from within stops me from finding out what I probably know.
Wishing to be wrong. *Fingers crossed*
Hopefully I'll complete it tomorrow, with an end that today can't be written.

A fraction of the whole

Unless obstructed by a viewer’s gaze,

The two masterpieces everyday,

Stare at each other as if a maze.

They come from a different time,

They come from a different space,

Which someone decided to eternally contain.

Wishful thinking of a painter may be,

Existential crisis of the painted may be,

A picture takes a bit of your soul they say.

Donated? Did they themselves,

Or stolen were they?

I cannot say.

The mistakes in the two remain,

The Lord of those two never saw them again.

Left them for the gallery to sustain.

Judging material for the world,

They shy away from each other’s percept,

Or the mirror which they think of the other to be.

Destined to witness the same colors

Unless pixelated by another gape

And Dusts on the glass and frames.

Déjà vu

This is the script I wrote for a 2 minute film making competition. It was Aakanksha's idea to take part in the competition. The resulting film was disastrous, which should prove the point that envisaging something and executing it are two different things. But it was a brilliant experience which made me realize that Aakanksha and I have the gift of telepathy. It's always a wonderful feeling when brainwaves match, isn't it?




#1
Christy and Priya, a happily married couple, lock the door of their apartment as they are headed to their respective workplaces.
To their opposite side, they see a young pretty lady unlocking the door of an apartment that had been empty for a long time.
Christy and Abza(Their new neighbour) share a warm glance as Priya observes this.

Priya(to christy): She's pretty haan?
Christy(with ignorance): Um, I guess.
Priya:You free at lunch?
Christy:Yeah I guess. (After thinking for a bit {He is looking towards Abza}). No, actually I have a meeting. I just remembered.
Priya:Oh. Never mind. I'll see you directly at dinner then.

They both walk off in opposing directions. Camera moves upwards. (To signify some cosmic participation.)

#2
Location-Studio(Dark background)
[Prabhjot is the personified form of Universe. He is playing with a Rubik's cube which is solved right now. He begins to mess with it. There are bubbles in the room]

Universe(Laughing, almost with disbelief; while shaking his head) : I don't believe humanity. Such funny people. It's just hilarious, their confusion. (laughs again) I love to mess with them. They never disappoint me. I've been deriving this entertainment for the past 4.5 million years.

#3
Location-Canteen
Abza and Christy meet for lunch. They are holding hands.

Christy: I love spending time with you.
Abza: Who doesn't?
Both chuckle

#4 [It's 3:00 A.M; location: Christy and Priya's room]
Christy wakes up and Priya is already up. He is confused and breathing a little heavily than usual.

Priya: What happened??
Christy: Um, nothing. I..I just had a weird dream.
Priya: What did you see?
Christy: Nothing. Leave it.
Priya: It's graveling, isn't it? Our sub-conscience embarrasses us at times. It's almost like a sin, to have visually experienced those thoughts which you'd never claim.
Christy: I know what you mean. I could literally swear on the bhagwad geeta to prove I'm innocent. "Main jo kahunga sach kahunga, sach ke siva kuch nai kahunga"(says dramatically) Those were NOT my aspirations. Right?
Priya: Most probably.
Christy: Why are you up? Another of those creative headaches?
Priya: I had a weird dream too. It's not your domain after all.
Christy: What did you see?
Priya: (Smiles and gently shakes head)

#5
Prabhjot(While playing with the Rubik's cube, calmly):
What if your entire life is a dream? That too someone else's? You won't like it, would you? The people in your dreams don't like it either. Which is why they try to be a part of your REAL life. You simply reject that as dejavu, but that's really an intersection of two parallel realities.

#6
Christy and Abza, a happily married couple, lock the door of their apartment as they are headed to their respective workplaces.
To their opposite side, they see a young pretty lady unlocking the door of an apartment that had been empty for a long time.
Christy and Priya(Their new neighbour) share a warm glance as Abza observes this.

Camera shows Priya as this conversation takes place-

Abza(to christy): She's pretty haan? //Priya shakes head since it's very common for her to receive such comments. She has been a centre of attraction and reason of jealousy, a million times.
Christy(with ignorance): Um, I guess.
Abza:You free at lunch?
Christy:Yeah I guess. (After thinking for a bit). No, actually I have a meeting. I just remembered. // Priya blushes, looking towards the Christy and gives a thumbs up for a 2'o clock date.
Abza:Oh. Never mind. I'll see you directly at dinner then.

Priya gets in her apartment and shuts the door.

#7
Prabhjot(Fiercely playing with his Rubik's cube)
They say they don't know what they're dreaming, but they know.

Visibility

Cleaning the end of a glass
With mist on the other side,
Does not really help.
I need my eyes
As soon as I wake up
The soul, I may
Or may not need.
I love the idea
Of being here
You, I might take or leave.

I could sit on a cloud
And make it my ride
If it weren't the way it was,

I'd treat me to apple crumble pie.
And if it hurts to say hello,
Let's start with a goodbye.

Degrees of Attainment

And that was it.
Her eccentrity was untouched, not by him.
Her liquidity swam past his soul.
He was all hers. She was the only one.
Among a herd of many with a heart of stone.
But did she belong? to him he didn't know.
"Meh. How could you compare?
My spirit mustn't be captured by your
rigid atomy." she told Quartz.

He was no one to take no
for an answer
Quartz never gave her the choice;
She'd not surrender her lustrous will.
Eighty Days, and no luck
Quarts arranged for Vermillion.
"Convince your daughter,
or she'd be the last of your generations."
Vermillion complied...

Anders and Daniel, two of his
Most loyal men,
Summoned the pope.
Mercury dressed up in White.
She had no plans to escape,
No plans to melt.
Stern and brave as her father was,
She flashed a smile.

He had her, he knew it
As did the grin on his face:wide.
The ceremonial glee terminated
And he proceeded to touch her.
He died.

A strand of light, a strand of colour

In her laboratory she tries to figure-
Psychology of the inanimate;
Objectifying the movements of life.
In the film of portrayal of her life-
She acts like herself; plays self,
dressed in the drapes of red curtains;
As they fall when the show begins.
In her chocolate factory she counts-
Wrappers of the chocolates consumed;
Wrappers of chocolates, yet to be used.
In the school of producing knowledge-
Says good morning to one;
Good night to another.

Acknowledgment (for the book yet to be written)

This is my first book. It is not, however, for the first time that I'm writing this sentence. Ever since I was learning the alphabets of the English language, I saw the multiple universes that they held within them. My knowledge of permutations and combinations is not sufficient to calculate the diversity and possibility of each one of them. But I do sincerely believe that each language and its building blocks contain a multiverse of emotions, experiences and times.

It has compelled me to write and lose myself in the territory of thoughts, some of which I've visited more often than the rest. I have my personal favorites too, such as the idea of creating a small house and decorating it with interesting interior inspired by the wit of graffiti artists. It often finds itself fighting with the thought of never settling, for my attention, but is good friends with the thought of me creating a wall-hanging. Ah, petty thoughts! They don't understand that I can't ink all of them, and hence keep popping up in my mind. The leader of their clan is the thought of me writing a book. They all collectively admire it and wish all success in the world for it.
This is one of the reasons why I always knew that I'd have to write "this is my first book" somewhere, sometime. Every alternate year I used to attempt writing an acknowledgment page. My family has constantly inhabited it, even if a long period of quarrels surrounded us, since I knew it will definitely disappear (reappear and disappear)^n by the time it got published. As you must have observed, foresight is one of my characteristics. Friends too, have been sitting like kings and queens on it. I've never been able to conclude it though. Of course, having not written the book might be one of the reasons.

(To be continued...)