The Stars We Worship


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Do you look at the stars sometimes? Awful beauty, eish! They spend their lives shining and fighting off entropy. Yes, just like us. When Time, that unruly bastard comes knocking, do you know what stars do? The small ones fade off Supernova style. Terrible! It’s better to burn out than to fade out of sight. Passenger taught me that! Kids! The mature ones do it Black Hole style. They grab onto anything in their event horizon. Ever wanted a definition of courage and hope? 

Such a privilege to watch the stars! See, the dope stuff in life is free. Actually, when you see any star next time you’ll be time travelling years, thousands to millions of years into the past. The light rays have to travel ridiculous distances before they can grace our sky. Oh, and smile or wink at least once during the day when you can’t see the stars; it will be your turn to be seen by them.

Gowns and Caps



A glimpse in hindsight,

A peep into history;

A proof that a hard part

Has reached completion.

An implicit pride as we

Fiddle with our knuckles,

Feeling the scars that were

Just schematics to the future.

The sleepless nights,

The soldiers we lost;

The dream that lived

Because we gave it breathe.

The hardship that became our skin,

The lies that became our code;

We were born in a farm

Full of landmines.

What we can’t afford to eat

Should give us appetite.

To chew dirt and its insects

And build a DNA of warriors.

For the next hard part.

We will burn out like stars, yes,

But we will leave a supernova

For the next stargazer

To find his dream.

Congrats, Ellen!

Missive In A Time Capsule


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A speech impediment;

Swallowed up in a vortex of thoughts,

Amazed at such adult fiction

I only knew in theory.

Funny, I always thought

I was good at painting realities.

But never had I challenged a past

Narrative by changing it completely.

The most amazing thing is the logical

Off chance that I am delusional.

That the past really happened as narrated.

After all, the eyes look but the mind sees.

To question my own eyes is to

Lose sight of reality.

To question her mind is to drag

A black hole to a civil war.

Can’t I be mesmerized by the pyramids

Without asking if slaves build them?


Benign Courtesy



Burnt off my leather skin,
Grew soft like solder;
Weak legs and bent knees,
In worship of water and wind.

This way light would shine,
And fall on my delicate skin;
UV occasionally scorching me,
Eating into my essence.

Numb to the pain,
Emotionally hygienic;
Pain is a cunning creditor;
The Devil and his due.

Picked up the leather once more,
Wore it and flipped a switch.
Having understood the concept
Of benign courtesy.


Schrödinger’s Cat


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On my dirty bathroom mirror,
I look at my pupils.
I lecture them about sincerity,
Innocence, reason and faith.

Fascinating to see self
From sober and fair eyes.
Soothing to let a part of my mind
Lecture another.

Curious to know why I always 
Cross my conscience with her.
Grappling with plausible deniability
About the Schrödinger’s cat.

If I open the box and it’s dead
I will have killed it. Curiosity!
Still the angst turns my eyes to black holes
And betrays my pure intention.

The box gets kicked away.
We just lost nine lives!

Ocam’s Razor


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An Ocam’s razor cuts
Through concrete and metal;
The cunning irony is
You have to hold it by hand.

A stressful dilemma;
Simplicity and safety vs a soft palm.
A singularity in the philosophy
That gave us Socrates and Plato.

Use Ocam’s razor 
Or trust a creature to do right.
Trust a creature of habit,
Subject to self-truism like any other.

There is honor in trying;
Diligence in emotional hygiene.
Risk politely asks us to scrub off
Another’s untimely puke.

For Ocam’s razor can cut
Through anything but this truth:
We all need soft toys and punching bags.
Even the worst of us.


Would you pick a picture of your palmprint from a bunch? If you ignore what seems to be the most immediate implication you will realize that not being able to do so attests to our self-truism. We are busy trying to get others to know our palm prints.

Thought Experiment


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Thought experiments can be quite a thrill. Questioning things may not be just a benign sport but a habit that most intellectuals have nurtured to give the world everything we have come to know as beautiful. Perhaps most persons fear to spoil the taste of wine by knowing a little too much and maybe it’s not a moot concern but there is something…great about knowing and questioning stuff,even if you were wrong.

In one of my latest thought experiment I arrived to a conclusion that the Christian God is a pessimist. There is likely a way around the logic I used and maybe one apologetic can explain this away but, till then, hear me out.

According to Christian worldview, Jesus will come and rule the earth. Now, the problem lies in numbers. The number of people that have lived on earth since time, even if we were to assume that the earth is only six thousand years old, is a ridiculous lot. The earth’s resources won’t be able to sustained everyone. Hells, even space would be a problem. Wait, it is already a problem. In India, a square kilometer for about three hundred and thirty people is the population density. Well, who said that the so called ‘thousand years’ are for everyone? Exactly!

If you were to miss a somewhat mandatory flight and had to pay a penalty fee for that, how would your perception change if there was never enough seats for everyone to begin with? That’s pessimism.

Logical Consistency


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There is a common systematic error in relationships; be it a religious one, a love relash etc.: People tend to evaluate information differently as they would normally, rarely inviting some basic principles of good interactions such as fairness, reason and sound thought.

Perhaps this stems from a common belief that Love is irrational or that Reason and Faith are mutually exclusive. Because such ilk of Love is unintentional, a plethora of mistakes and bad judgment is inevitable in the same sense of a blindfolded man trying to manage a way through a maze. Maybe a little more generous in the sense that the blindfolded man will have tricked his mind into thinking that there is ultimate fulfilment in just the walk itself. This is a classic case of lazy thinking, managing an easier target or a path of low resistance. This is a sustaining compromise probably aptly describable in the case of Religion.

A Christian learns to insist on Feminism and Bible, Evolution and Creation etc. The idea is to not invite any logical tools that threaten an emotional benefit and still sober up from the same when we are at a round table with some thoughtful friends. This is good enough to live through life but may not be the best way to go about it. In my opinion, a great life is a life of logical consistency and coherence.


Survivor’s Guilt


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The Cross Race effect
Reminds me of a common plight;
How they put my kind
In the same basket.

The basket that holds water
Only cuz we poured much;
Enough for a lifetime;
Enough for a few generations.

The weight in my eyes
As best friend inadvertently knocks up;
The tears that inexorably irritate
My tear ducts with the high of drugs.

Cough syrup in wine glasses,
Dilute that with frustration;
Fill our lungs with smoke just cuz
We are too poor to sell them off.

The economy prompts you
To steal or die;
The legislature punishes you
With rigid passion.

The president, pushing into ninety,
Pushes all you know and love,
Into a common plight that
Puts his people in a basket.