Mind Tales

A call to pause more often. A call to cherish meaning more often.   I hear voices everywhere, A plant whispers from the cracked earth, "Oh, look at me, talk to me," But I move on with time in dearth. I hear voices everywhere, The stars shine waiting for their myths to be heard. Each twinkle a subtle throb in the universe's heart, But I move on without a spoken word. I hear voices everywhere, A wildflower blooms celebrating its chance to live. The breeze blows to dance at the sight of life, But I move on with not even a smile to give. I hear voices everywhere, The water in my tumbler brimming with eternal memory, Yet, I gulp it down in one go, my mind elsewhere, And move on, thankless, lost in mental allegory. I hear voices everywhere, The ethereal dawn glistening life's another chance, One more of life's expensively free gift, But I move on too self-absorbed to alter my stance. I hear voices everywhere, The clouds dissolve into the returning rain, Its rhythmic cad...

A personal reflection on the experience of having been to a circus. A connective exploration of Aristotle's  Eudaimonia. We live in a society where the valuable and the valued don’t mean the same, sadly. People may choose to align their lifestyles to suit individuality. However, staying true to yourself by walking your path may not always earn a due response. This may sound counterintuitive to individualism in the first place because ideally, what’s believed is that, one must not call for internal emotional swaying when imprinting your own footsteps on the sands of your life-trajectory. One must consciously stay anchored in what resonates with the self. However, we’re all humans after all, and situations can get overwhelming; feeling lost or let down may feel unavoidable, when a greater segment of the populace around seems to be plotting against you. Speaking from personal experience, stoicism feels beyond reach when your ideals, visions, perspectives, and your core are attacked. ...

A poem that captures a natural transition from the dusk to the night, all the while it rains, in poetic glamour and motion.  Oh, the earth breathes, Life dances at water's embrace. Oh, the sun shines vermillion, Dives in the seas to hide its face. Yet, the earth shivers in fear, Almost steers off-course from the rug of astral dust. The sun's nowhere near, A half of hers under the fearsome Dark. The elemental guardian to all, Wrestling in her worry timeless, Is provoked at the Light-giver's injustice. Shine over a half and leave the rest rayless? Oh, the earth chokes, Life dances at her tears' embrace. Oh, the sky drapes the Dark, that light-soaks. Life coils to the warmth within. The floating shadows give way to new-found hope, Seen emerging is the silvery moon. The rains continue the welcome,  The earth bows to the ethereal boon. Gaurav Chandra Tuli

An introspective poem.  I saunter across the meadows, On a journey unknown. Open are the fields and so is my mind perceptive to questions that want to room. Questions about questions, Thoughts about thoughts. Abyssal conversations with the depths of my core, A covert monologue with someone who understands like no other. The palpable mist of the night stirs my skin shivering, The chills rouse me to a sensation of - Life, Enliven me with the sentience for life. Remember, it's frosty and cold, The essence of still life, Not lifelessness. Pearls of dew on the velvety grass draw my attention. My reflection on the reflection of my form on the dew makes me wonder, Am I that or am I not? A cobweb tangled in the blades of the grass makes me admire its contorted intricacy. Are all of life's events interconnected? Are we all threads woven into the web of humanity? Are we all related? Yet, walk ever-diverging paths never to converge? My timeless speculations. It starts to drizzle. The sof...

 A reflective poem. An abstract take on a journey we all undertake, yet call it different names. Where am I really going? Do I really even know? Perhaps I do, forgot long ago. Thought seeds are in sowing, Musings are always ongoing, Time, you shall take me, I know, But you already are, you know. To remembrance, ultimate knowing, Of where I come from exactly where I shall go.  Gaurav Chandra Tuli

A journey of self-acceptance. I kept running. It was all misty in front of me and the future seemed uncertain. Direction seemed uncertain.  "Where am I going?", was a question maps and signboards could no longer answer. I wrestled in inner turmoil seeking a clear route, but my map of the self lay incomplete, with blank white spots almost everywhere. After timeless running, the fog cleared a bit to show me a rustic cottage that lay forth.  I was pulled to it. The dense fog around me hid everything but the darkness. On the windowsill of the cottage's cracked window lay an old lamp. The light from the candle within shone hope in me, yet it flickered too. A force seemed to pull my hand away from my body to the doorknob. A hazy grey shadow of my body fell on the withered scrubs beside.  I knew it was there, yet pretended it wasn't. I resisted every thought that arose in me, to even give a fleeting glance.  And my hand stopped, just an inch away from the knob.  It.. i...

A reflective piece brimming with memory, sensory association, and nostalgia. Smells can really take you places. For most of us, our vision dominates how we perceive the world. But sometimes, when you attune yourself to your environment, living and breathing spaces, a smell can take you on a stroll down the memory lane. Or even to visions of the future. Sometimes, an oracular realisation of a philosophical message. It may even ground you better in the moment by cultivating presence. A simple recent experience triggered this thought. That evening, the sky seemed to be clearing a bit after a gentle downpour. The air scented of petrichor, which I seemed to be relishing. I enjoyed getting my feet wet in pools of water, trying to thoroughly soak in the sublime experience. As I walked past scrubs and bushes having bathed in water, I could simply not resist the mellowing curiosity to examine pearls of water crowned on leaves. Oh, the rustic joys I delightfully indulge in! It is at this momen...

I have always longed to experience the placidity of the late hours following dusk. There’s something quietly magical about the night’s stillness. It’s not caused merely by the near-absence of roaring engines that race down heated roads. It’s not just because the noisy throngs of commoners have turned indoors to drift into anxious slumbering and the Indian Sun has gone down to spare the dwellers of this land from sweat. The serenity of the night is more than a regular respite from the loathing heat and the daily groaning towards work, responsibility and the mundane. It’s a time, when nature takes centre stage to heal.  I stood there feeling the Night, Her eerie quiet echoing loudly. Whispering were gentle rays, silver threads of Moonlight. Hesitant was she to leave me, holding me warmly. I walked down the lanes of my residence, trying to drink her potion of peace, an antidote to the everyday venomous chaos we surround ourselves with. In attempts to suit the requirements of worldly l...