Tangent

 

The sun outside has taken shelter behind a thick sheet of dark grey clouds. It's raining like it hasn't rained all year. What am I doing? I am here, staring out of the window, reminiscing about my today's physics class, thinking about a lot of things-the jokes, inertia, test, and most of all-mud.

Yes, I am spending my Saturday night thinking and writing about mud. Mud, something we often dislike. Who likes mud after all except little kids who find it soft and like to jump on it with their friends to stain each other's clothes.

Kids are brighter than us. Mud isn't all bad.

I look as the wheels of the cars cause water to splash at the passer-bys and the other people on two-wheelers. I can see them annoyed by the mud and water. But is it the mud's fault?

When the car drives over the mud, the mud wants to get attached to the wheel. And the wheel also wants the mud to get stuck with it. So, it tries, and there is a centripetal force of attraction acting on the mud from the wheel that allows it to stay connected with the wheel for a while.

But that's it. It's just for a while.

The wheel tries but has no other option than to let go.

So, it does.

The mud flies in a straight line, tangent, towards whatever there is in front of it. And we curse at it. But it's not its fault. It just wanted to stay with the wheel. And the wheel just wanted to stay with it. But they couldn't stay together, the pull wasn't strong enough to let them. And the mud flies towards us.

Just like some people in our lives with baggage. We find them like that and blame them, but is it their fault? Perhaps their wheel was a person, a thing, a hobby, anything.

It's not the mud's fault.

Nor is it the wheel's fault.

But then, whose fault is it?

Fantasy For Friday

 

Fantasy.

You know, I personally hate it when people criticize fantasy. I am often told to read and write about the real world, the social life. They say I am just too lost in my “inexistent, imaginary, unreal” world. They say that people like to read about what’s real, about society. And that fantasy doesn’t exist, you have to be real.
It makes me wonder, that a thousand years ago, this world would’ve felt like a fantasy, does that make this world unreal? Philosophy, something, which is just as real as it gets, even it says that fantasy can be real. Under metaphysics, subjective possibilities, branch epistemic possibility, it is clearly stated we do not know whether something is true or not (no one has come up with proof yet); so it is (epistemically) possible that it is true and it is (epistemically) possible that it is false. But if it is, in fact, probably true (as it may be, for all we know), then it would have to be (subjunctively) necessarily true; what being provable means is that it would not be (logically) possible for it to be false.

It means that we might know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it is not raining outside—but that would hardly mean that it is (subjunctively) impossible for it to rain. 
So fantasy can be real for all we know. And why do we read social articles? Aren’t we having enough social problems in our life, that we should go read someone else’s (likely an “unreal” character’s) problems? Or so we seek solutions to our problems? Well, guess what, it’s a fiction world. The only one with the solution to your problems is you. Social articles ain’t getting you anywhere. They are, in fact, “fiction” too. Fantasy. You see, most writers hate giving sad endings. They just “imagine” a good ending and put it in a book, and everyone just loves it.

At least when we write about fantasy and unreal stuff, we kind of admit we are writing about it. We don’t put it under the name “social” to increase our readership. You see, fantasy is imagination, and so, every fiction book, is, as a matter of fact, fantasy. It is imagination. Non-fiction, I got nothing against it. But fantasy broadens the mind, perspective. If humans didn’t imagine that we could go to space, we could not have gone to space. If everyone just turns their back to fantasy and becomes close-minded, narrow-minded, we humans are getting nowhere.

So, we can just spend our time worrying about tomorrow, or we can literally create our tomorrow. A fantastic tomorrow. Fantasy starts where reality ends, but is itself endless. Nothing beyond fantasy exists, it is infinite. But I can assure you, that even, by any chance, the fantasy ends, humans will cease to exist.

Announcing My Next Release

 

Divulging Facade

 

As I laid with my head on the pillow,

Staring at the fiery sun, and the beautiful willow,

With mugged up thoughts crammed inside my mind,

And Lucifer whispering at my side,

One after the other, fell my dreams like petals from a flower,

And the tears escaped the cage of my lashes, making my sweet mouth sour.

Self-told words had now proven to be lies,

And the fake façade had come with a price.

No longer could I make believe,

No longer could I just live.

Bounds were unbreakable,

But my imagination had turned out to be killable.

And as it took its dying breath,

It planted one last seed in my head,

Told me it wasn’t the boundaries,

The true Devil was the lies.

It wasn’t bound by any line,

Imagination wasn’t made to falsify.

I rose and fell,

Over the chime of bell.

I had trouble standing,

But was it the costume I wore that led to my crash-landing?

Soon, the Angel reappeared at my shoulder,

And I felt a little less colder.

The realization hit, the illusion divulged,

The mask dropped,

And I saw my face,

Just as pretty, but no longer hidden behind a veil.

The Forgotten

 Legends often become myths. But one good thing about them is that even as myths they are remembered. In storms, earthquakes, calamities, the working class is usually forgotten. The working class means the class of poor people. It doesn’t just comprise of one, two or a dozen people. Around 54% of India comprises of working-class, that is, the poor people. Shocked? Now imagine, them all being forgotten.

Scientifically, people are born, they grow old and they die. No spirits, no reincarnation, nothing. Then how do we live after we die? Most of us would be “forgotten” a hundred years from now. What happens after that? We are the forgotten. Burned and just simply, forgotten. Why? Because we are have not made an impact. Paint a piece of metal. After years, it will wear off, and then one day, it will seem as though it was never there. Forgotten. But now, make a big dent on a piece of metal. It will stay there, no matter how much you try to undo it, it will stay there, forever. Like a legend. That song, Legends Never Die, what does it mean? It obviously does not mean that the people in legends would live forever, or does it mean that. Maybe. Yes. It does mean that. Physically, everyone dies. But their soul lives through words written by them, for them, forever. Einstein. Existed 150 years ago, we still know him. Didn’t he accomplish the purpose of living? I mean, what is the purpose of living if you are just gonna be forgotten after a hundred years or maybe less?

We are born, we grow old and then we die. But what if, we can live even after dying. Through people’s heart, their minds, through words. We could live forever. Then why not live forever? Then why not do something, that makes us remembered? Then why not make a dent on metal than paint it? You know death does not scare me, but being forgotten really does. Some people think that it is superstition, that it is impossible, but maybe it isn’t. I mean we remember the ancient kings and queens and them all.  Why can’t we make ourselves remembered like them?

There are rich people owing big factories and all that. But even most of them would be forgotten. Because being rich does not ensure your placement in everybody’s memory, being something does that. Then why don’t we set the goal of our life to be remembered for at least 50 more years than we are most likely to?

Emotion Morphosis

 

Emotion Morphosis. This is the suitable title to this article, at least according to me. Now, after does some experiments on myself, I have come to a conclusion that emotion morphosis can be of two types.

So, now, I would like to take lemonade as an example to explain emotion morphosis, since it is the easiest thing to make, and most of you would know how to make. When you meet someone, your emotions for them are as clear as water. Neutral. Now, in this example think of lemonade as a bitter feelings for someone you love/loved. It is a bitter lemonade. Lemon is sour, but it is exciting, and here it stands for drama. Everyone has their own choice of lemonade, I personally like the lemonade more sweet and less sour. Sweetness here, crystals of sugar, stand for love. And salt, well, salt is the blender here. The secret behind the taste of lemonade, without which, the lemonade’s not the same good.

For example, after pouring the lemonade, you realize it’s bitter. Cause the drama, was bitter. The fault was in the lemon. So, most of us try to add hatred to the lemonade. But the thing is, it will make it more bitter. And you can’t just drink the bitter one. Nor can you just let it be. It will just make it worse. You can’t throw it away, cause throwing it away won’t blip it out of its existence. It will still exist, you can’t change that. What you can do, is add the right ingredient. You can’t add crystals of sugar (love), cause it will take forever to dilute and by that time, the lemonade might get more bitter. You have to choose the powdered sugar. Positive emotions, like empathy, sympathy, hospitality. You have to decide what should be added. Cause those are your emotions. And instead of spending forever with a bitter lemonade, you can just add a pinch of sugar, and live in peace.

Emotions are like chemicals. Your hatred can change to love, you just have to add the right emotions. Feel the right things. You think you can’t control your feelings? Well, you are wrong. Cause there is one thing more powerful than them, your brain. Which can control your thoughts. Your mind, as they say. It has the leash around its neck. Which you just have to hold. Some believe love doesn’t exist, well, it’s up to your brain. You can make it exist. Emotions are unreal. Abstract nouns. You can only feel them. And you can stop yourself from feeling them.

The other type of emotion morphosis, is adding the lemonade to another drink. Transferring your emotions for X, to Y. You hate X, you don’t want to, you add all that hatred in Y’s cup. You exchange your perspective for X, with your perspective for Y. Your force yourself to feel towards Y, and believe me, once you hate Y, your lemonade X, will itself become less bitter. Because there is a limit till which you can produce any emotion. Your emotions are your guardian dogs, but sometimes, instead of protecting your soul from negative emotions, they can bite you. I am using metaphors to explain my points. Cause it always comes down to you. And you are the only person who can hold the leash and restrain your mind. Thoughts affect emotions. And emotions affect your actions.

New Trilogy-Crime

 

As a theft takes place at Lyric's mother-in-law's place, she must reopen the horrific events of the past and to find the hooded thief. But with spies in and out, the case takes a mysterious turn when someone jeopardizes their traps and all the clues become undependable and Lyric must face her old enemy from the past. When the survivors die and dead turn out to have survived, Lyric is forced to face her past and separate the truths from the lies.

New Book!!

 

The first part of my crime trilogy.

As a theft takes place at Lyric's mother-in-law's place, she must reopen the horrific events of the past to find the hooded thief. But with spies in and out, the case takes a mysterious turn when someone jeopardizes their traps and all the clues become undependable and Lyric must face her old enemy from the past. When the survivors die and the dead turn out to have survived, Lyric is forced to face her past and separate the truths from the lies.

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Not Everything Can Be Fixed

 I have a pair of spectacles. Two pairs, actually. The old one’s broken. So, my mom got me a new one. I would fix the old one again and again, and it would keep breaking. I am very attached to the old ones. So, I can’t actually let them go.

I have a friend. Actually only one friend. After publishing my first book, I started losing my friends. One by one. But that one, I’ll call her Berry here, she was there, always. We would fight, and then I would apologise and fix our friendship, scared to lose my one friend. It happened again and again.

In our chat, I said I would choose her over my other friend, a new friend, the one who I have been talked to only a couple times. Let’s name him Apple. Apple and Berry are enemies. So, I didn’t get too close with Apple. And Berry said I didn’t have to choose. And then she said that she was selfish and that she would choose herself, always. I was confused and then she said that, As long as there a remote part of Apple in her life, she would be screwed. I was taken aback. I asked her if she was breaking our friendship. She said she was.

I think it’s time I put away my old spectacles and try my new ones, and hope that they’ll be different.  

Phoenix

 

Burn me down,

I'll rise from the ashes,

The fire's crown,

Raging over my lashes!!

~Janushi Raichura

Author of the novel series Ventures of Gem Land

Imagination

 

Imagination is the creator of all. It ignites curiosity which is the base of all humankind.

~Janushi Raichura

Lonely

 

You all ask me,

'Who am I ?',
Not 'How am I?'.

You just see my face,
Not my hobbies.

With a tear in my eye,
I went to hear,
The chirp of my bird,
Who flew above me,
Ignoring me.

Today I realised,
I was lonely,
I am lonely,
But maybe I can change my future.

Hear everybody,
"You didn't reject me,
I rejected you.
You didn't make me lonely,
I made myself lonely.
You invited me to play at night,
But I stared at the shimmering stars bright.
And we'll see who will be,
how much successful in the future,

And at that time,
You'll all ask me how am I,
Not who am I."

~Janushi Raichura

Author of the book series Ventures of Gem Land