Breath has become Air: A Melancholic Poem

By Gaurav Chandra Tuli -

 Reflect over a loss most of us feel but fail to name. It isn't a critique on all aspects of modernity except one, "living with transaction at its essence."


I can hear her breathe,

Soft and gentle.

Rhythms of care

gracefully flow.


But suddenly,

She is asked to quicken,

To hurry.

Her rhythms of care

slowly lose their rhythm.

Breath has become air

that enters and exits

but forgets to smile and rest.


The world is moving on,

Faster than humanity can keep up with.

In such a world

only business 

is legitimate

and credible.

Business in itself is not the poison.

It is living

with transaction at its essence.

Transactions not for collective help.

Transactions to leverage aganist humanity.


So, it isn't any surprise

that breathing too has become transactional.

I live.

But you don't.

I live at your expense

and hide it with flowers

of "progress" and "ethical growth".


And I move on

to optimise my life.

Make it more productive,

More efficient,

More worthy of modern taste,

Quicker,

To save time

that in our era

doesn't seem to wear off the victim-complex

of being saved.


I don't want rest.

Humanity doesn't want rest.

Only Life cries

hoping it may be allowed to live.


I can hear her breathe,

Only hear her.

Soft and gentle no more

because I can't feel her anymore.

I can't feel Breath herself.

Breath has become air.


Gaurav Chandra Tuli

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Spend time: A Satirical Poem

By Gaurav Chandra Tuli -
  Reflect over the dangers of constantly outsourcing time as a distant idea - a concept of a resource to be used. Spend time but don't waste it. Anything spent -  A resource  of productive optimisation. You know you have less time, Rather, you always had. Don't "pass" it away. Use time, again productively, That you may have more free time. The golden future awaits. Invest time in the maximisation of output, Don't kill it. Time is a resource valuable. It can be extracted, Spent, Measured, Bought, Made output-yielding, But not lived as experience. It can't be dwelled in. No thoughts to that. Or you risk obsolescence, A timed-robot malfunctioning. What do we even know or understand of time (its nature) other than our phenomenological experience of it? Isn't it equally wise to sometimes - if not always - live and focus on psychological time as opposed to clock time - popularised by late-capitalism? Think. Read "Waiting - A Philosophical Exploration of the...
Read more

Compassion - An Understanding: A Humanitarian Poem

By Gaurav Chandra Tuli -
Compassion - An Understanding This poem seeks to establish the right  idea of compassion. Is it a mere outward display of sympathy or an emotion that essentially makes humans human ? Compassion, Compassion, What's it all about? Love, empathy, care and no-doubt! It's just a scrappy old puzzle, And lots of pieces to juggle, Out-and-out only through tenderness, And yes, don't omit astuteness! Compassion, Compassion, What's it all about? Is it only pity? Or can ya include sympathy? You must certainly be humane, Sufficient enough to easily sustain, Or all that you'd have to hold, Would be a basket of pain and heavy load! Compassion, Compassion, You know what's it all about, An outpour of love, A helping glove, A shovel and saw sensitive, A pail and can supportive. Compassion, Compassion, All that I want,  Is what humanity wants, An end to people's taunt, Spread of utter jocund, And misery absolutely shunned. Gaurav Chandra Tuli
Read more

True Patriotism and Duty: A Short Satire

By Gaurav Chandra Tuli -
True Patriotism and Duty: A Short Satire We all make mistakes, don't we? And yet, we ignore ours and seize every opportunity to criticize others for their follies. This story is a grim attempt to make, not him , not her , not them , not it , but us contemplate over our own deeds, whether wrong or right. Also, it throws light over the difference between jingoism and true  patriotism. I was indulging in my sweet, honey-like slumber. It was probably the best sleep I had been experiencing. Little did I know that I was going to be pulled out from the depths of my slumber and brought to the surface in an instant. Suddenly, in the midst of my seemingly eternal sleep, I could hear my mother screaming out her lungs. She spoke with an extremely shrill voice just like a crow that sometimes caws merely to pester those around it. “Have you watched the news?” asked my mother, her pitch high suggesting the ‘importance’ of her saying, “They say that the government plans to fix the roads of our co...
Read more

Waiting - A Philosophical Exploration of the In-Between: A Poem

By Gaurav Chandra Tuli -
Explore the philosophy of waiting, a quiet transition often considered unproductive and futile.     I'm sitting here, Wondering what I can pen down today. And, as I continue to wait, I realise something. The art of waiting. Simply beautiful. It encapsulates   the soft undercurrent  of anticipatory patience like no other. There's a tinge of restlessness, Precisely, contained restlessness. A hopeful expectation. Like, counting each second until your dear one arrives. The mind wanders. It drifts into divergence, Into exploratory possibility. What may happen? And what may not? But, it all the more tracks the same path. It runs on the same chain in a patiently restless wait. Each second is felt passing by. The rhythmic tick of the wristwatch is not unheard. It seems like  time doesn't want to go by. But in the enigma of time, We seldom understand but feel it quietly dissolve. Hours fly by but I can't claim that they run. And, as I wait in patient expectatio...
Read more

Only Stillness Reigns: An Allegorical Poem

By Gaurav Chandra Tuli -
An enigmatic journey into the dense forest of the soul, in an attempt to ignite its life once again, and pull it out of abandonment. Only Stillness reigns. The abandoned forest of the self is where danger lurks. Because it is empty, Not of trees, But of life - the subtle embodiment of stillness, Like a deep breath that draws life inward, A wholesome inhalation of rejuvenating purity. That abandoned forest of the self is empty, Yet packed with trees, Crooked, Withered, A decay of life, A decay of the Spirit. Yet packed, Adopting the semblance of a full mind, Cluttered and exhausted. Please do leisurely pace, Walk to saunter and let Wanderlust tie you and direct you to that forest of the abandoned self. One step in and the mystical winds blow. The other step in  and it gently begins to pour. The water with ancient memory knows how to heal. Time unfolds to further unfold the fragile creepers, To make them spread their arms wide to the darkening clouds. Receptivity to inner clutter awa...
Read more