The company of Thorin

The company of Thorin

13 survivors of the war for Moria,

A wizard, a grey cloaked companion,

A hobbit, a peaceful lad from the shire.

A journey they set out on,

For long lost erabor.

Elves and dragon gold,

Orcs and evils of old,

Mere half-human acquaintances met,

Some dark secrets revealed let,

One ring Bilbo shall get,

On and on gollum shall fret.

Wizards of varied colours,

Mountain trolls with elven treasures,

Homely house of Elrond,

The evil house of dol-guldur.

Spiders and webs,

Shall lead to seeking of courage, nothing less.

Dark woods and drowsy waters,

Getting out is all that matters.

Orc kings as bounty hunters,

Thorin's thoughts about Bilbo turn blunders,

Eagles shall aid,

Save them from an orc raid.

Storm giants will play,

With boulders in storm and rain,

Howling through the wind will wargs come,

From the scabbard elven swords will run.

Then the dragon will awaken, and

Turn laketown into a brick kiln,

Bard will rise to a thrush's warning,

He'll shoot an arrow to send Smaug to its departing.

The desolation will see a war,

Armies will gather,

The dwafs from the iron hills,

The elves of mirkwood,

The men of lake Town,

Orcs of Borg,

For the prize is high.

In the hands of the winner,

Erabor will lie.

Arkenstone taken by Thranduil

Bilbo shielded by mithril,

Thorin dies with a war wound,

Durin comes to rule.

f.o.r.g.e.a.r.t.h

F.o.r.g.e.a.r.t.h.

Forgetting something is the most toughest thing

Only the good ones sting, bad ones flow.

Railing against ones memory is railing against ones self.

Great perils surely lie in the adventure.

End result may still be hostile.

After all, going against yourself is clearly hostile.

Realisation dawns, that you must live on with those memories.

Time may or may not heal it. You have to remain shielded.

Happiness, these good memories boast of; sweet pain is what they carry along.

Shadow

Shadow

A cliche line it is

That a shadow follows wherever one is.

A Shadow, it looks it takes no bliss.

Thou great Shadow,

Hailing from the land of the helio,

Tailing behind every lad and lass,

Clinging on with a lasso.

Thou great Shadow ,

Dark mail to the arrows of light,

Invisible person of the night,

A form with no hype.

Thou great Shadow,

Stoic companion forever,

Cheerful never,

Depressed never.

Thou great Shadow,

Silent imitator of actions,

Calm form of mixed passions,

Similar to all of the nations.

Thou great Shadow,

Who comes in all forms,

Driven by the wind,

Over oceans and farms.

Thou great Shadow,

In all shapes and sizes,

High and low,

Pink and mellow.

Thou great Shadow,

Unique and shallow,

May you live on forever.

A Mediocre Plea

A Mediocre Plea

A diseased moon. A patchy moon.

Dark spots all around her face. Spotty clouds around her,

Diseased spots like, they appear.

Slowly they start covering her 

Pale white face.

Slowly do they hide her and take her into shadow.

Suddenly, her aura is the only thing giving light.

Her face does not exist.

What if it's not a disease?

What if it's an engagement?

King ilekosh, is that you?

Oh! No, you possessive king,

Do not take her away from us.

Her light's all that lights our path.

Without her, all is dark.

Be generous, bold king and 

Show her partly.

That light would suffice, aptly

I'm Sad!

I'm Sad!

Another loss. 

One more crime-boss

In my world of vigilantism and chaos. 

One more Quiz I lose,

One more thing which makes think of hanging from a noose.

Well, bad idea, there's a lot to lose.

Why is this? leave me some clues!!

They say a pride goes before a fall .How do you differentiate between pride and confidence? Who can draw that line? How can one ask that question to someone who had just lost?  Why can't one just see that someone is depressed? Do they have to worsen stuff?

Yeah well I lost something I had the confidence that I'd win. Well, maybe I had weak pillars by me. Maybe I, myself, was a weak pillar. Whatsoever, it was a sad day. I'm sad! I'm depressed and highly frustrated. 

Well, I did break my phone. Frustrated enough? Its display is screwed. Now, i'm not even nostalgic about it. Its this perpetual thought of losing this quiz which makes me sad and even more gloomy. This mood has started to become what defines me. 

Well, there won't be a next time for this. So maybe, somewhere else. Till we meet again, competitor, adieu. Congrats again! 

A premature thought: Arranged Marriage

A Premature Thought: Arranged Marriage

This could be a very highly premature thought. Probably 50 years ago, it would've been a very lately thought thought. Anyway, I find the institution of arranged marriage to be something that'd be bad, something unfriendly, something temporary.

I believe that the vedic customs and traditions can't be followed forever. I believe that traditions must be continually changing with the dynamic society. Society is not the same as it was a minute ago. 

Every other act in a society without dynamic traditions, would be a criminal act. Every other act would be blasphemous and unethical. In a society where MODERN technology plays a dominant role, VEDIC traditions and customs work with great difficulty. Where are the customs now that were once very prevalent and important? Who lights up diyas? Who checks vaasthu? Who actually does all Shit they must for some pooja or something? A fast life demands a fast changing custom. 

Imagine living the rest of your life with someone you've just met. How can you go marry someone whom you've known tops for a month when people can act fake for years and years and lifetimes to come? Would divorce be a remedy? "Oh no! Divorce? How dishonorable is that??! How would we raise our heads?!" Practically, a life filled with divorces would make the society with memory bondless and chain-broken with each other. The only advantage is lawyers getting richer. 

Well, think of living the rest of your life with someone you've known for a loooooong time. A time period enough to say that that person and myself can live!! Atleast the attachment between you and the other person is strong enough and not breakable by random comments and misguidance. Spending your whole life with someone you know would result in completely knowing the other person rather than marry a person you've known for a month or a year and not know them at all.

I once had this crazy or whatever dream which I don't even know the purpose of dreaming. It was all messed up. An ostentatious wedding. It was my wedding for some reason. Very lavish and guests were pouring in. I recognised few, some, I did not recognise nor wanted to/ felt like recognising. It was a marriage i had no clue about. Something I had not known at all. Maybe it was symbolic of the enigma and questions aroused in a person's mind before an arranged marriage. Maybe its the dilemma or confusion or a state of being lost. When I mingled with people and when they asked me about my 'fiancee' all I was able to do was stay quiet. I did not even know her name. Her face, when I saw it, was one of a stranger's. I did not live in the dream long enough to see the conclusion of it. I hope I did not get married in the dream. Sometimes i'm grateful I woke up!

If it was a person I actually knew and liked and wanted to marry, I'd curse myself for waking up.   

Birthdays!!

Birthdays!!

What I used to like about birthdays: cake, presents, friends, wishes, Birthday!

What I like about birthdays now: friends, solitude, wishes, Birthday!

But how peculiar is it that as time passes on, the things one likes about birthdays decreases gradually. It could just be 'maturity' or being busy. Whatsoever, its a sad thing anyway. Well maybe its a varying trend for a few. Cakes have become something cliche in my life. Presents are not novel anymore with the advent of social platforms or whatever. 

But whatsoever, every year contains 1 birthday of yours.
How peculiarly legitimate is it, the word 'birthday'? Birth and day. 

Think! 16th Birthday. How cleverly or how unknowingly did the person name it birthday? 16th-Birth day.
Every year, you are the same as you were last year. Every year, you're a completely different person. You're just like an android upgrading  itself regularly. Every year, you're novel, unlike birthday presents, someone new to have a look at, unlike birthday cakes and you get a chance to look through how you're new and better. 

Every year, you're reborn. Hence they say 16th-birth day. That that day was the day you were born for the 16th time. A 16th re-incarnation. 

Battle of Thermopylae

Battle of Thermopylae

The fierce battle of Thermopylae. 300 Spartans vs an entire Persian empire. Leonidas Vs. Xerxes. The fierce battle fought for 3 days. Spartans, a valiant fight, a deadly comeback, a war to remember.

~rewind rewind rewind (sound)~ ~different scenario~ 

~ |> play ~

3 days of intense, fierce war. 30 students. only 12 get a higher rank. Only 2 get to win. A 'hunger games' scenario. Well it was another day of quizzing. This quiz needed something else. Aptitude, presence of mind, thinking capacity with agility. 

A series of questions, conquered. There came a time when it was tense. Everything was tense. 15 seconds demanded an answer. War cries echoed in my mind and with a quite audible voice, I remember shouting at my friend. "Shut up!". 8 seconds demanded the same answer. "3.6!" I blurted. Approval and points were all i got. It was not done. Needed more fight in it. Needed more bloodshed. The battle grew tenser as we seemed to have approached the end of the day. The last chance to strike was ours. We needed to strike and strike at the right time, in the right spot. There was no use otherwise. ~Sherlock mode on!!~ There came the quest "Established in 1908, leading car-manufacturer.... turned aero-based manufacturer....which company?" 15 seconds demanded it. Boeing fogged my thoughts. I knew it was not the answer. I was running around memory lanes. Finally caught it. "ROLLS ROYCE" shot out before I was able to think why. The answer followed "Rolls-Royce: engine manufacturer: Boeing and Airbus". It was the right strike. We managed to qualify. The whole Rolls-Royce incident felt like Sherlock cracking 'Van Buuren's Supernova." First battle: Conquered. 

Second one followed the next day. This was one I had to win. Win this, my name would be echoing and glory would accompany the sound. Prelims sounded the war horn, we emerged victorious. A 21 kill count. The most number of kills for the prelim. We qualified. One step closer to eternal glory. As is reached the pinacle of this hill, I saw in front of me, enemy ships delivering armies and weapons. The job seemed tough. But who was I? A person quigically fit!. Who was with me? My partner. What could I become? Sherlock Mode ON! And there started the kill streak. One by one, as me and my partner cut each question into mince, there sounded the horn of victory. A kill count of 195. A 70 count margin. We emerged victorious. Back at home, Felicitation had an air of glory and honour. The path to war veteran was laid in green, accompanied by words of praise, shouts of cheer, screams of happiness and all-in-all, there I laid for myself and possibly for my comrade, a path of glory. It was a wonderful feeling. This was not all. One battle remained.

This was on foreign soil. Home ground advantage: zero. Support: zero. On our own: completely. 

It was ambush. I saw my health deteriorate. I saw my army dwindle. I saw a definite loss. I had to do something. With what I had left, with whatever sherlockness i had left in me, I stood up, Threw my guard down, I was vulnerable to anything. But risk was needed. Adrenaline accompanied my voice, mics were redundant. 4 quick buzzer answers laid our path to 4th position from a state of -5 to a state of +25. It was worth a run. It was a run, Leonidas, and finally, I threw my spear at Xerxes. It took a major part of his chunky body. I lost that battle, The Persian Army moved on. I don't know, nor do I think i care about it now. 

But today, I'm a new warrior, renewed, replenished, upgraded and bettered. Today I'm ten times of what I was before the Battle of Thermopylae. Tomorrow when another battle arrives and when my country calls for help, I will answer and I will lead to victory. Because when one falls, he rises up to be someone better than who he was.

  

x

x

Does it not burn when something that kills you has so many degrees? Does it not pleasure you that something that has so many degrees does not have a job? Its something you hate, you wanna kill. But its a dilemma as to whether you want to kill it or not, because that's the only thing that defines your life now or what makes life more or less interesting. Its like Sherlock Holmes and Moriarty, Batman and the Joker. They want to kill the other, but they know that everything gets meaningless without the other person. Sherlock= Master sleuth. Moriarty= Master criminal. One dies, the other rots. 

Its a similar relation I hold with this variable that 'constant'ly rules my life. This variable called 'x'. It has so many degrees. It can easily have infinite number of degrees and that without any difficulty at all. x^100000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 and goes on till it is x^googoll. 

"It BURNS US! IT BURNS US!"

"What's the use, x?! You don't have a job"

"Oh really?! You think so? What do I do to you and what have I been doing to you for 6 years?"

"Killing mental peace"

"You have my job right there!"

"And what have I been doing to you, x?"

"Solving me to my very last degree. To my very last bit of power"

"You have my job there"

This goes on. I'm like this semi-master sleuth and x is the master problem. I could well rephrase Sherlock:

"You're a student. Infact, you're a math student..... Seen a lot of violent x[deaths] then!"

But it has become my Moriarty, my Joker. Life seems to cease without x in my life. A thought of not having x makes me feel empty. Maybe its like there should be some master problem which would always trouble someone just to give their life a meaning or something to live for. Something that defines their life.

"Oh! What's in your life?!"

"I keep solving x's problems"

"Oh so you're a science student?!"

"Yup"

"You must be having a life."

"Pfft"

"What? Think. Solving cases. Finding projectiles. Measuring Impacts. Implying logic. Logical implications. God! It's a life. Wish i had one!"

"Ya whatever!"

However, one does not know the complications and hardships in dealing with their arch-enemy. 

Whatsoever x, "Kill you? hahahahah! What would I do after I kill you? Go back to ripping off tally marks? No. You complete me!"

Life without you would be dull and boring, x! Thanks for making it interesting!   

When Dogs Charged At Me Like Horses Of Rohan

When Dogs Charged At Me Like Horses Of Rohan

There was this one time I used to live in school quarters. A huge school. Vast in area, with fields and brilliant architecture. It was not a school beyond par. But it was a school which had its own charm and awe. 

It was just another ordinary day in the life of a 8-year old: carefree, playful, irresponsible, childish. It was the time when the sun just began to set. Maybe around 4:30. I was walking across one of the many fields. Playfully jumping around and swaying, alone, merrily. My surroundings looked quite natural and as if they had been that way since ages, yet new. There was a huge tamarind tree behind me, which looked like a HUGE umbrella. Beside it was another huge mango tree. To my right was the primary section, big and wide. To my left was the wide expanse of sand and field, with tiny goal-posts. 

This merry mood of mine chose to ignore the dogs resting far away in that field. As I was journeying homeward, dancing with great pleasure, i heard a 'Woof'! A bark that seemed revengeful and angry. I looked in some directions and thought it was an illusion. A moment later, another bark, louder than before. This time my ears heard them right. On my left, running across the field, towards me, were 20 dogs, in one lengthy, abstract row, which seemed to be bringing doom and injury in every trod of theirs. Impulse said "RUN!". It did not tell me where. I was stuck in a dilemma as to climb a jungle gym and sit there or whether to run in another direction. 

In that spur of a moment, I ran. I looked back, and saw an army of dogs, charge at me like the well-bred, strong horses of Rohan. It seemed as if they'd stomp me to death. I remember this one dog. It was definitely not stray from the beginning. It was a breed one would usually have at home. Maybe it was abandoned. It was furry and hunky. Even more deadly looking than the others, though its domestic-pet-counterpart would look cute. 

Well, the run broke and I kissed the ground. My slippers tore. I was too slow to react. I was surrounded by these horses.

I was grounded, in every sense of the term. I could'nt get out of that ring. All i did was wriggle and swing my hands and legs wildly. I had no spear, i had no sword. I tried to inflict damage by delivering fluke kicks and punches. None of them landed. Now, i only tried saving myself and saving my body from any bite or scratch. I remember this one black dog, which only tried to bite my thumb toe off. And another one behind my head which tried to bite my head off. 

All i heard for another 5 minutes were my own wailing, loud, cries and growls of dogs. I did not lose hope for a long time but eventually lost out on stamina and energy. 

My swinging slowed. I became more vulnerable. I lost the power to survive. The Valinar saw. My cries were loud enough. High officials like the principal and other members from the B.O.G came with foot-soldiers and kerns, armed with sticks, stones and plastic pipes. This weaponry was enough. The horses, usually well-bred but turned wild, ran away. 

Somehow, I got out of it without a scratch. It did not make me hate of fear dogs. It just made me more close to them, maybe. 

Now I remember this in a series of images rather than one strip of video. But its still something i don't think i'd ever forget.  

Memory..

 Memory..

The problem is not bad memories. Its the good memories.
What harm do bad memories do? They probably sting for a jiffy. 
What harm to good memories do? They keep stinging for ages. 
If not ages, the time it takes makes sure the damage is done. They last long enough to inflict the damage.

The thing is, only few memories which are sad retain. Very few. Maybe ones which you caused and worsened and now you can't revert them.
But when a good memory which you really want can't be obtained, that's what stings more than a sad memory. Because sad memories can be gotten over. Good memories; you don't want to get over and want them back.
There will be one good memory you want to relive like hell. But you can't. You won't think the same about a bad one, nor will you care about it after sometime.
Better ones may come, you say? How do they matter when your focus is to relive those few memories. What good is it to get some other memories which are again in the risk of loss? The very thought of the good memory is impossible to leave behind and impossible to keep aside. As more good memories keep pouring in and emptying by the day, one is filled with regret and remorse and stinging pain, drowning in deep nostalgia.
Life has good things which it gives for rent. Its like giving a really awesome dog just to take it away the next day.
There is one particular time which i want to relive and i'd love reliving it a gazillion times.
The good in each passing day is gulped by nostalgia. When one is in constant nostalgia, there can't be much of identifiable good.
And every good memory leaves a scar. Every bad memory, leaves a healing wound.

The Starry Ground

The Starry Ground

That place was just amazing. 

Like random mosaic maze-ings.

The view was stark and breathtaking.

Three-hundred feet high. 

A cold and mildly starry night.

A fort of rocky might.
A light towering above all of the city lights.

As I looked down, it seemed as if space has fallen onto Earth.

Felt like stars fell from the sky after ripening.

As if they left the sky and their allying.

Wierd patterns these 'stars' formed. 

Some moved. Some lazed. 

A few amazed.

It was a sight for clueless gaze.

Down under, far below,

A conch bellowed.

Careful speculation showed gallows.

Right in the centre, the stars formed a lit halo.

Beside me went random chit chat and gossip.

How could they miss a sight 

Which gave serenity 

In every sip?

It does not seem like its quite justifiable.

Some stars heralded festivity. Some showed melancholy.

Some honked jolly.

Some were just holy.

A palace i ignored for this.

This was not a view someone could miss.

A cold mild wind gave me a gentle kiss.

Suddenly, there were a myriad stars up there.

Some shot through the pitch black sky.

A stupid floodlight spoilt that sight.

"Break the light!" There's enough starlight. 

Maybe, this is not  enough to describe it. 

Again, describing the sky on land 

Is not an easy knit.

An 'Unmarred' World of No Memory

An 'Unmarred' World Of No Memory

It is said that neither person nor object can be perfect. A person is alive. An object is not. So obviously, how can one decide the perfectness of an object? There are many ways: physics, chemistry, biology, philosophy....perception. It all depends on how one perceives things in his life. 

But what makes one perceive things? Experience? Emotions? Attachment? What do all these big yet little words add up to? They all sum up to memory. These words are all stored in this thing called memory and that's what decides how you're living.

Once a perception of something is on a negative scale, a bad memory is created. A memory that could haunt you forever or cheer you up forever. But eventually, one has to get over them. But is it not that many many people suffer for as long as they live, from these trauma? Is it fair to let the people with positive perceptions lives happily and people with negative perceptions live in grief? Is it fair to let them live in such a way until they die? Why not destroy memory? Why not make a world in which recoverable memory is absent? 

This world would have no sadness nor happiness for eternity. No pain or joy forever. No boredom. No ego. No selfishness. No permanent relation. No experience which would live on. No one would cry or laugh, frown or smile, chafe or praise anyone forever. 

A world without memory would be an unmarred world. Words like "everyday" would not exist and a new day would dawn new experiences. Everyday would be an adventure no matter how many times one does the same thing. 

The everyday problems of ego, greed, temper, obnoxiousness etc would not trouble anyone the next day. 
No need to dwell in the past. No need to think of older problems or happy moments. Maybe, without knowledge, one would relive the moment he would've wanted to if he had memory. Maybe he'd do the same thing the next day. 
There would be no authority. There would be one authority. Oneself! he is the master of himself. Maybe an authority would rise by depriving himself of sleep. How long can one live without sleep? 3 weeks? then what? death. Authority is dead. People will forget that there once existed an authority. 
Well, why? Is'nt the world similar to today's? What do people remember once something dies? One finds it hard and worthless to remember a dream. How would they remember a death? A birth? A joy? A grief? A similarity. People just forget once something is gone. The dead object is just another molecule in an ever-flowing river.
This world could only exist in a primitive one. maybe where the basic instincts of satisfying hunger, sleep, reproduction are the only ones that have developed and where evolution is at a halt. 
Careful speculation and questioning, however, shows that even this world is flawed.
No attachments, no heed to the dead, no permanent meaning of life, no ways of knowing oneself.

"how would you love them?

how would you know who you are?

what your own moral fiber is made of?

what you value?

it takes years to know oneself

love for everyone is good but like i said balance as much as there is love just as much there must be violence

thats why mother nature is not fair"
 These questions need answering. 
Turns out a perfect world of no memory, after all, is not achievable. Turns out memory plays a crucial role. Turns out that perfect and flawless are boring. Turns out that life is nothing without memory.
But thinking about such a memoryless, primitive world, keeps me enchanted and thrilled. New possibilities may pop out. New perfections, new pros and new cons. However it may go, i'm for a memoryless, primitive world.