Smile …

Smile and sway and don’t obey…

The foolish rules of the world…

The laughable decrees, the despicable commands… We bear so painfully…

So shun them… Its that easy…

But it isn’t… Is it ?

Snagging those cobwebs… Those rusty iron gates which you need to pulverise…

But which stand still like an undeserved, old king, unwise…

Refusing to give way… To your dismay…

So smile at your fate… smile at this hate, that is bred so easily…
Smile at the irony… Smile at your felony… That is smile.

Smile at the pain… Because smile is the only gain…
Until you decide to change all this… break all this…

brave all the struggle that will come your way… When you won’t obey…

And then smile… More broadly…

And sway… And have things your own way…

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In love with the hills….

The nonpareil beauty smiles at me.         Like a knowing mother.
Because beauty never screams.                     It smiles, then whispers.

The star spangled sky, in all its sheerness  looks at me with those starry eyes.

The moon dazzles in the lapping waters like an angel revelling in her endless ethereal beauty.

Morning, like a gust of fresh air caresses me.

Evening, airy, jovial, but heavy, is like a friend saying goodbye, vowing to return soon.

Those immutable, immovable, timeless, ageless sentinels stand silent, unblemished, unperturbed- mountains.

Along with them stand their gnarled brothers under the foliage, a green curtain.- Trees.

The sweetness in the unaddled air is almost intoxicating, addictive.

The sun jives with me.

And shines. Then dazzles. Then glistens. Then goes back beneath the shoulders of his friends. To make someone else’s day.

Clouds are like fleeting halos around their gods. Those towering leviathans.

And we still don’t see it. And we still don’t get it.

The sound of silence is absolute, like still water, and a distant random sound, like a small pebble upsets the tandem.

Simple lessons of life.

The birds do what they do.                       Chirp and caw and coo.
The insects make their own sounds too.

And this cacophony is like a latent euphony, waiting for the willing ears.

What makes me happier is that all this is not a fantasy, but reality. But then what else would fantasy be? If not this.

Realism screams at me, that it’s all so obvious, trifling, trivial, not a miracle.
Reality pulls a face, and asks me, “is it so?”

“We always fall for the wrong ones.”

“Do we?” The boy asked.
“Yeah. We fall for the wrong ones. Always.” The old man said.
“Is it in our hands?”
“No.” The old man smiled. “Love doesn’t happen like that. ”
“I don’t understand. ” The boy said.
“Oh you will. Son. ” The old man chuckled.
“You will like some. You will lust for some. You will love that ONE.”

“Really? That’s … That’s sad.” 
The boy pulled a face.

“Life’s nothing but those pockets of happiness in the seemingly endless expanse of sorrow and hardships. ”
” Damn… That’s deep.”
“We meet many people. You will meet many people. While we make many bonds with many different people. Some of them come close. Very close.”
“Why are they the wrong ones then?”

“Because they were never destined to be with us. Because the ones we love were never made for us. Because the ethereal is always ephemeral. Because they just go away. Far away. Giving us just memories. And their bittersweet taste STILL lingers, after years.” 
He answered, without blinking.
“Just like that?” 
“Just… like that.” 
The old man sighed.

“We always give our stupid little hearts to the ones who were never ours. Who could NEVER be ours.” 
Lost in his little reverie, a wry smile adorned his craggy, crooked profile. And he wondered at the atrocity called love and marvelled at the irony called life.