Reflections of a restless eccentric

I'm reminded of a snippet I read a long time ago.The author draws a simple yet profound analogy between telegraph poles and life. By the way,I don't think telegraph poles exist anymore,but the analogy holds. You look out the window of a moving vehicle and see a telegraph(electric if you like) pole.It looms large in your eyes.And then,in an instant it starts diminishing.It gets smaller and smaller and finally fades away into oblivion.Before you have time to process this,the next pole appears and all your attention is drawn to it. Such is life.We obsess over these tiny little things without realizing that they will soon be irrelevant.We reach heights of ecstasy and sorrow over things that don't even matter in the big picture. It's all transient.There one moment and gone the next. And yet,over and over again,we make the mistake of missing the forest for the trees. P.S:It's funny how thoughts travel.I was pondering over the transient response of some circuit

Unable to breathe.I feel that burning need for oxygen.All I need to do is inhale.Something that happens so easily every second.But when it doesn't,you realize it's significance.My muscles are frozen.I put in every ounce of my will into concentrating on getting that breath in.It doesn't work.Panic overwhelms me.I know that I need that breath--desperately. I force my sluggish mind to think.I reason that if I can open my eyes,the rest will somehow follow.Like the rest of my body,my eyes too refuse to cooperate.They feel like they're glued shut.I can't get them to open,not even a little.My voice too is frozen. The only thing I can do is think.I know this isn't a dream.It's too vivid to be unreal and too bizarre to be real.The only possibility is that I'm stuck between wakefulness and sleep.I don't know whether what's happening is real or imaginary.The agony is getting too much now,any moment it's going to be over. I ponder over th

“When all else is eliminated, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.” The rest of us merely see.He observes.We dismiss the intricate details of life as insignificant trifles.He weaves them together to come up with a deduction that’s brilliantly simple. In contrast to conventional minds which reason out the way to a solution given a problem,he effortlessly does the reverse.We seldom notice the absence of events--even if we do,never attribute importance to them .”The curious incident of the dog that didn’t  bark” says it all. To worshipers of The Canon,there is no man as brilliant as him.And the year is always 1895.

My first memories are of being with you.Of being woken up early in the morning by your warm endearments and piping hot coffee.Of sitting in your clinic watching the myriad people who walked in and out.Of being read my favorite stories on countless afternoons.You were the first person I loved.When all the world was a stranger;you were the only familiar person.Those were the days when everything was intuitive.I loved you blindly,I didn't question it;nor did I think about why. Slowly,as we grow up, we come to terms with the real world.We face what is called disillusionment .Our glorious dreams clash with reality and we're left with the shattered smithereens and a vague memory of times when things were perfect. So it is with people.We realise that they aren't perfect.We still love them,but we don't like them a lot.One of my favorite authors refers to this as the ' tyranny of love '.Love is unconditional,liking isn't.And so,we end up loving the people in

noun 1 . an uncertain period of awaiting a decision or resolution; an intermediate state or condition. synonyms: oblivion ,  void , non-existence, Imagine you were falling from a great height;plummeting to the ground at a bizarre speed.That scream of terror is frozen in your throat,your thoughts move ironically slowly--it's as if they're crawling.And then things just stop.You're suspended mid-fall.You wait a second,then two.It's still the same.Neither safe somewhere,nor on the ground.Ever wondered what that'd feel like?  That's limbo. To think of it,this is much worse than falling.Not knowing what will happen.Any moment you might start falling again.Or you might wake up to find that it's all a dream. Each time I go back,I feel more like a visitor.Each time I come back here,it feels more familiar.Those subtle changes freak me out.One day they'll all come together like the tiny snowflakes that form an avalanche.Soon,I'l

I have always marveled at perspective.When I was much younger,colored glasses used to fascinate me.I would see through them and the world would look totally different.Sometimes more colorful,often drearier.Take them off and things are back to normal.On,off,on,off.A million times.Yet,each time you see something different.Perspective is exactly that--imposing colored glasses on your mind. I sit here today watching the daylight fade.I have seen the same transformation countless times in my 2 decade long life and yet each time it has a different hue.Today,I look at it and see sadness.Sorrow that the cheery,bright sunlight seems to be fading.A feeling of numbing cold thinking of the all-pervading darkness. This too is a magic trick--remember that wizard Perspective I mentioned? Your mind is his stage.But the thing about perspective is that you have a choice.If you think the colored glasses make the universe look drearier,take them off and choose better ones.That is what I choose to d