In my dreams i wrote a million worlds ..
I walked around the sea shores of Indian Ocean..
and stars watched me from the skies and whispered
Yes.. we are here and take enough light..
Delighted i started writing a million more words...
From a distant land, from terrains i heard shadows whispering . They spoke to me like stars but squeezed out the sparklers of my bright eyes and walked back leaving my lamps to die a death without any light..
I was taken aback..but never gave up that i did not want my dreams to die a death in cold morgues ..
Let me polish my lamps and fill oil
I told to myself and when i spoke i heard a parallel voice from the street across ....
Cats were not my friends but one fat writer with permed funny hair all around her face, the one who looked like abloated potato tried to exaggerate a story because of her ignorance and wrote about cats as if her face got bloated up in one cat fight..
Seriously i dislike people like that..Not honest...Not sincere..
In my beliefs a writer should not sell in that way to please a lobby. A writer should be honest to his/her soul..
To please someone this bloated one wants to speak about cat as if writing like that way she achieves some greatness. People who created cat calls and crows talks from talks about tolerance and many qualities a human should possess..
In my dreams i know how a writer should be..
a writer should be like a beautiful poem...
I screamed at a few hypocrites because they tried to write like the ones who try to please the underworld..
My inner self warned me several times and the god from the temple of my origin, in dreams told me first to stop fighting but when things turned in a way that the offenders acting as innocent show case charmers and the my inner soul was brutely wounded my god stepped down from his sanctum and said.. FIRE..
the ignorance of the literate..
Yes... he said...
Do that to hold your dreams for sure otherwise they ransack your dreams to dust and walk away as if nothing happened.
Not alone.. there from the mystical fragrance of sandalwood i felt a hand extending great support and in Kurukshetra i stood alone without having any battalion and i never counted numbers..
From the face masks i have learned a lesson that wearing a mask got its own advantages and disadvantageous..You tried to fool me in one mask and i stopped believing you when your mask fell and i gifted one to Gayatri to wear it when the invaders exceeded their limit..
I wrote back to the ones who tried to disfigure my earthen boundaries...In limitless ocean shores i walked to find a way to escape and in my escape routs i found my dreams.. poems. Humans dismantled my earthen frames, tried to slice my soul, auctioned, wrote stories as if it is their ultimate right. I held my dream so tight, so close that i drown not in the spins of a river. Even on the blanket of hard feelings i wrote.I learned at the end that my dreams are like poems i cannot detach me.. I have turned more strong not to run back from the ones who wanted to hurt me..
Saturn shedding tears in cosmic paths but i take in hand pure earthen raindrops.. more like me.....