The Ballads of Gravity

There were times I dreamt of experiences for my self-wandering lone-traveler seeking experiences of all kinds. The past days were the epitomic declarations of my romances. I love her like I love my life, out of all her imperfections and indifferences I love her. The sentimental reasons of mine kept her alive even in her absolute absence. My impetuous sentimental inclination towards her has grown into a mature one. There, I was a boy imagining myself in different genre of existences, differing from the animus and anima I could never find a hiding place for my own.  She was a girl living in her utopian social dilemma and I was a boy living in my own anonymity loving the uncertainties ofj existence pertaining to the probabilities of possibilities. (18/12/14, 09:1 d I have edited something here. Those words are left to eterninty. Above, those words are still there in their alter life, ghost life. 0 PM) I’m grown into a man; she into a woman and I see her now, glowing like a st...

We are the harvesters of destiny, gathering the leeches of existence and the capriciousness of emotionless masks amidst the shores of lucid dreams and nocturnal splendor. I yearn to sing, to dance, to cry out like a madman. Bring me wine, and I shall whirl the world around the whims of human consciousness. Lead me into the depths of hell's darkness, and I'll illuminate her gates, infusing them with the exuberance of joy, filling the chalice of primal desires. Drinking deeply from life's cup, its bittersweet nectar rejuvenates my senses, enriching the tapestry of my existence. I embrace life, I consume love to its very dregs. Love, the sacred effusion of existence, binds me in the inability to unlove. I am submerged, intoxicated by the essence of my desires for her. And there, amidst the throng, I see them—men of remarkable vitality and determination, reflections of my own life, incarnations of staggering resilience. I am alive. I am Nature, she is my masterpiece. You cannot...

I am a lone wanderer. The stars above are my guides, the wind my unyielding speed, and my dreams, those untamed forces, propel me forward. Time unfolds beneath my feet, the road stretching endlessly, and space becomes nothing more than a marker of milestones—yet I do not seek to know where it all leads. My destination is a mystery, and that mystery is enough. There is a reason behind every encounter, a force behind every meeting. What drives us to act as we do, to choose one path and not another? Have you ever considered your own death? Not the mere event of it, but the various ways it could come? There is a strange discomfort in contemplating death. The energy that once surged through our veins, that vibrant force sustaining life, gradually fades. This is the inevitable rhythm of existence. As our bodies decay, the universe itself renews us in its cosmic furnace—where the struggle between life’s resilience and death’s inevitability unfolds. Life finds its way, and so too does death, ...

Hey, DO you know something about her? S-H-E- P-R-E-T-E-N-D-S- A- L-O-T, A LOT MEANS- SEE, SHE HAS THIS AFFECTATION AND CRAZY UTOPIANism. HOWEVER, SHE IS VERY PRACTICAL, I should admit it after all. And I’ve been all the way praising and singing her beauty, actually adoring, isn’t it? You know one thing? Actually, she’s isn’t really that pretty or beautiful or A-T-T-R-A-C-T-I-V-E. Really, im not kidding. Mmmmmm.. well, I’m sorry about that (I’m chuckling now). See dear, ( I know you are reading it I ) you are absolutely b-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-l and y-o-u- a-r-e something else I couldn’t ever find anywhere. So precious, you moron. And I saw that you were perfect and so I loved you. Then I saw that you were not perfect and I loved you even more (well, the last sentence is a quote from some wallpaper <which I didn’t put in the quotation>. I’m having it for my WhatsApp  profile picture. Did you see that? if not, do it now because I may change it sometimes I ). And, she has this v...

Of course, time and space run together. Working on a mutual understanding and habituation, they never overrule each other, but make the feel like one. In fact, they exist in two different sub-segments of a whole ever running chain of Life-Energy. Say, each segment carries particular memories connected with each time and space. There’s an atomic interpellation in each segments of time and space continuum.  They are designed like our DNA structure- myriads of segments and sub segments forming an ever-changing structure that progresses unto its destiny! If so, is time and space different? Yes, course, they are. Well, if that so, do they have separate existing parameters and entity or are they independent? Yes, they have separate entities and they exist in separate sub segments of one among many segments of a very ever-running wheel of Life-Energy. So, each sub segments of time and space contains particular events of our lives. They record everything in their respective fields and ...

"All characters appearing in this work are not fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely not coincidental." Epigraph First encounter is always a beautifully weird one if it was not planned beforehand. (16/08/14, 7:00 PM) … And that was the craziest thing he has ever done in his life. Whilst he forgot the place, the people, and the time- present and past, the whole universe became comprised into hers. Sounds around him became the echoes of some vague and random undeciphered chaos he heard under water or more like that of sounds he heard in his mother’s womb. Familiar public is tactically a good space for you to place yourself in a comfortable zone. It helps you both to pretend socially that you are enjoying their talk with a gorgeous smile.  (17/08/14, 9:46 PM) I can’t continue because I face a block here. I wrote this passage a month ago and each day I come in to continue the epigraph; then, I meet expression...

I am writing here again after pretty a long time.  I made myself not to write the lives.  I live many lives literally, of unbelievable kinds and non-existing; sometimes platonic Romeos and Juliets or Ulyssess and Aristotles.   An Expat! Far from the land of roots and romances, time took me to the exotic and strange lands of dreams. The air is suffocating with the pollution of dreams of expats including mine. It's strange and horrible to feel the air of my new lands because I feel wetness of tears and hollowness of dreams in the air left by my unfortunate fellow beings. Here, I stand on my own legs firm and staunch, to witness the passage of time along with the depletion of age of my fellow being. I fly above them like a hawk. I don't prey them, but I prey their dreams left untamed and hollowed. Who am I here? An occurrence? Falling into the perfect shapes of time and space gravity contradicts its own laws. Reality is much better than the fantasy as it constitut...

It was the 13th of August when I received her message, a simple note on WhatsApp: “I was in Kannur last weekend :p” “Coming tomorrow.” She comes and goes, a presence that lingers yet never truly stays. Each departure, each moment of leaving, is marked by the same phrase: “I was in Kannur :p.” It’s her signature, an emblem that always follows her, like a shadow trailing her every move. Why does she return to Cannanore? Is there some occasion I’m unaware of? A gathering, a celebration? The thoughts swirl like a storm in my mind. I, seeking answers, reach out to my mother, casually inquiring if there’s some event—perhaps a marriage or a family function. It was then that she revealed it. A family friend’s engagement.  (02/10/14, 03:30 PM) I sat in silence, overwhelmed by the weight of it all. “What is happening?”  I thought, my chest tightening, each beat of my heart louder than the last. “No… I can’t… I didn’t…” The realization crashed over me, a wave of panic that nearly pulled...

കണക്ക് , ഈ വിഷയം എന്നെ പഠിപ്പിച്ച അധ്യാപകരെക്കൊണ്ട് ഞാന്‍ വെറുത്തു പോയതാണ് . ഞാന്‍ തോറ്റു പോയ ഒരേ ഒരു വിഷയവും കണക്കു തന്നെ. ഓണ പരീക്ഷക്കാണ് തോറ്റത്. ഞാന്‍ ആദ്യം കണക്കിനു തോറ്റത് ആറാം ക്ലാസ്സില്‍ ആണ് . അന്നെനിക്ക് ഒരു മിഡ്ടേം പരീക്ഷക്ക്‌ 25 ല്‍ വെറും 4 മാര്‍ക്കാണ് കിട്ടിയത്. അതുകഴിഞ്ഞ് ഇങ്ങോട്ട് ഒന്നും പറയേണ്ട (ഊഹിച്ചെടുത് പൂരിപിചോളൂ). അപ്പന്‍റെ കണക്കിലുള്ള ബുദ്ധിയുടെ ഒരംശം എങ്കിലും കിട്ടിയിരുന്നെങ്കില്‍ എന്നുഞാന്‍ ആഗ്രഹിചിട്ടുണ്ടായിരുന്നു , കാരണം അപ്പന്‍ കണക്കില്‍ ഒരു പുലിയും ഞാന്‍ എലിയും ആയിരുന്നു. അപ്പന്‍ ഒരുപാടു എന്നെ നേരെയാക്കാന്‍ നോക്കിയതാ , ഒന്നും നടന്നില്ല. എന്നാല്‍  പത്താം ക്ലാസില്‍ അപ്പനും അമ്മയ്ക്കും എന്നെകുറിചോര്‍ത്തു പെടിതോന്നിയപ്പോള്‍ അവര്‍ എനിക്കൊരു സ്പെഷ്യല്‍ ട്യൂഷന്‍ ഏര്‍പെടുത്തി . കണക്കിന്‍റെ ദേവതയായി എന്നെ അനുഗ്രഹിച്ച ആ MSc ക്കാരി ചേച്ചിയെ ഞാന്‍ നമിക്കുന്നു. ഞാന്‍ അങ്ങനെ പത്താം ക്ലാസ്സ്‌ കണക്കു പരീക്ഷ 50 ല്‍ 36 മാര്‍ക്കോടെ പാസായി. എന്‍റെ കണക്കു ടീച്ചര്‍ക്ക്‌ പോലും വിശ്വാസം വന്നു കാണില്ല ഞാന്‍ ഇതെങ്ങനെ ഒപ്പിച്ചുവെന്നു. ഞാന്‍ എന്‍റെ ജീവിതത്തില്‍ കണക...

Is there something awaits us in our home? A sense of sentimental attachment or a kind of purgatorial self-alienation from the loneliness conceived by the multifaceted façade of our social dramas? It’s always a great relief to be back at home. Everything remains the same; preserved by the radical consistency of time and memory, we realize the treasure preserved by the home from the ruins of the sa me time and memory is nostalgia in subjective correlation. You see the same green Cyprus standing gloriously; hear the swan songs of willow, rhyming and lulling of the brooks, whistling of the bamboos, murmuring of the woods and the fondling of zephyr; there, you smell the same age-old virgin earth. Father, mother, brothers and sisters, cousins and friends and your little secrets come together for a ride with you in the numbness created by your alienation effect; your room is like a newly wedded girl wanting to be loved and cared immensely. The walls want to hear your new stories and ...