SMILE

We differently understand life and how to go about it. It is not pessimistic to not want to worry about the things that do not happen in our lives; when we do not see, get, or give the things we want. It all takes time, and time itself flies. So, why worry? The falling in place of things will happen eventually. Just smile

When I smile…

I smile because I understand
I’ve experienced such a circumstance
I fought, won and past through it
It really doesn’t worth the worry

I chuckle while I smile
Recalling the similarity of mine
Then I look up and admonish
Admonishing those who are in the situation

To live is to suffer
Suffering from whatever life offers
Then, to be happy in this life
One must learn to embrace suffering

You can smile only after this you’ve learnt
After the badge of suffering you’ve earned
So that you can later smile at life’s stories
And smile again, chuckling and admonishing

~GMK

NOT IT

Many times, almost all the time, we don’t feel convenient to express our true emotions because of the circumstances surrounding us:

Either because of the nature of people around us or nature of events occurring around. I might want to celebrate my long awaited employment letter the very day a loved one dies; what collision of emotions there would be in my heart!- of joy/happiness and sadness/gloom.

As humans, we are adept in switching moods (mood swings) and still totally act pseudo -displaying fake emotions- depending the situation at hand.

So, what we do is not what we do!

–GMK

[A Pseudo Feeling]

I’ve learnt to cry but not cry
I’ve learnt to laugh but not laugh
I’ve learnt to smile but not smile
I’ve learnt to do things but not actually do them

I can outwardly show what’s the opposite of my feelings
Just to fit into the world
Just to make people know I’m not sad
Just to make people know that I’m not happy, likewise

And all outpour of emotions seems fake
All that is in the heart differs from what the face reads


So what I write now is not what I feel!

WHO ARE YOU?

As today marks an end and the beginning of something newish, I scavenged through some old dusty papers and look what I found.
A little graceful poem I wrote 2 years back. In 2019, when I was preparing for an exam whence I read a lot and this thought happened on me.

WHO ARE YOU?

I am the man Zacchaeus
My height is inconspicuous
But this Jesus I must see
With the aid of this lofty tree

I am the Mister Know All
They say I am quite too tall
But if beneath me is a book
Into it I must bend to look

I am everybody’s Queen
Though Biology is my King
For the ugly things I must study
To make my beauty worthy

Yes, I am, to myself, beautiful
I don’t care if my ugliness is undoubtable
For my heart must be pure
To stand here and there like before

This poem is graceful in that it tells of self-worth or self-esteem and unwavering determination and commitment.

In the first stanza, Zacchaeus knowing of his incapacity due to his short stature still makes efforts to see Jesus. He did succeed and was recognized by the one he sought. –Determination

A man who is acknowledged by the society as an intelligent, smart fellow is regarded as being taller than his contemporaries -mentally. Like every King who sits vulnerably at the feet his barber for a haircut, a tall man, in this context, bows to books. He sees books as the source of his wit and so reverences them. That’s the message of the second stanza. –Commitment

The third stanza is of a beautiful lady who studies Biology. As beautiful as she is she has to study even the littlest and ugliest organisms to pass this course. If she lets the pride of her beauty get into her head she mightn’t pass well and no one would want to keep admiring a beautiful dullard. She knows this and she’s set to accomplish her goal. –Commitment

Of an ugly one, the last stanza talks about, who knows one’s physically unattractive, outwardly. One doesn’t care at all. It doesn’t bother one how one looks, for in one’s heart one conceive of an internal beauty that can only be bred in a soul that has no spite for anything. –Self-esteem and Self-worth

I particular like this poem because I wrote it out of a pure thoughtfulness. I rarely find myself in such energy again.

–GMK

THE ADJUDICATOR


I watched how he was pushed through, on the wheelchair, into the hospital. Can’t tell what ward he was being driven to. He didn’t look like a victim of any kind of accident, domestic or wild. Sweat drops were clustered on his forehead, with that I could tell he was in severe agony. No sound came forth from him, he wasn’t groaning or crying. The three behind him were pushing gently and all they could see, I could tell, was a sick man who needed a doctor’s attention. But I saw something different; a somewhat despairing, gloomy darkness around him. Though he wasn’t shaky or talking or even moving his eyeballs, the quick glance I took at him returned me an ounce of information. He alone knew what he was going through, and no one else. He smelt to me like the aura of court whose adjudicator was judging over Death and Life. He, like the court, was inanimate but conscious of the happenings in his body. As through the window of a court one could see what was going on, I, too, through his eyes saw how it was happening in him. I have no idea how long he has been going through this inexpressible pain. Such a torment is as dangerous as death and that was why death was winning the case in him. He too knew his death was close and had already given up on life. The choking stink of death in him had impaired his ability to speak, thus no sound could he make, and had obstructed the adequate flow of blood around his body. He was paralyzed, the reason for his non-locomotion. At the moment he could see death doing away with his soul into hades, and he smiled. Smiled maybe because he would soon be free of the bearable, seeming unending anguish. Perhaps, because his soul was going into the actual unending suffering that’d be quite unbearable, and he couldn’t cry instead so he smiled. The struggle between Death and Life in him had gone a long way and at last his spirit would be torn away from his soul, and his body be rested beneath the soil. All or one or two of these caused his suffering smile, perhaps.

I thought about all this after the quick look I took at him before he was driven out of my sight. In the next moment, I saw the wheelchair, now empty, driven back by one of the three that were with the paralyzed patient a moment ago. Anything else that would go on around this sick man would now be out of my knowledge. But he might live! He mightn’t pass away even after I’ve seen Death winning the case in him. His morphology seems to be of one who could fight and win. Though he has given up on life, Life might raise some grain of hope in him that he’d want to live fully well again.

*Fiction*

—GMK

TEARS

Ever thought?

Photo Credit: Dreamstime.com

When you’re sad and you cry, tears drop from your eyes. When you’re happy and you laugh so hard, tears drop from your eyes. The heart can feel pain and sadness. The heart can feel pleasure and happiness. After the rain falls on you, the sun still shines on you. After the pain comes on you, the joy still comes on you. The tears express your innermost feelings. From your heart-tears to heart healings. So precious are your teardrops. Each drop holds a huge deal of emotions.

Cherish them…

NOSTALGIA

Nostalgia is listening to that music that you’ve not heard for ages. Music that once struck a strange chord on your teenage heart’s pages. Nostalgia is watching those pictures in which you smiled with a full set of teeth. Then you laugh, mouth wide-opened, but you’re just able to show your hidden molars a bit. It is picking up a pen at the age of 80 and writing about your first love. It is when a writer rereads his work of decades ago, and it all seems… It is laugh accompanied by tears. Tears of joy from a fountain. A fountain of past and present emotions’ collision! Nostalgia is reading this piece in the next fifty years.

NOT AT ONCE

Death striketh not at once. From the conception of man it was. And it has thrived without a single pause. Slowly it eats into men’s course. Their flesh, bones and cores. Until it halts their life source. As man lives on, death lives on too. And a part of death leaves as each man leaves too. Therefore, for each man there’s his own death. From his birth right to his own death. Slowly each man pays death his debt. The debt the first man couldn’t pay. Death striketh not at once. It is and will be as it was!

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