Vinaya's Poem - II

The wound is deep, the ocean dried,

The pain won't leave, the unstable mind.

Shadows of misery, tend to grow,

from the glass angel, she turns cold.

On her head the roses bloom,

in her heart, there are none to.

The crisis miracle, beyond the lies, beyond the truth,

and the pain inside.

I look at the cracked reflection, lying across the room,

I look at the mirror - broken; I swoon.

The leaves turn brown, the roses cry

and as I stretch my wings, my feathers die.

Instinct.

I always used to tell anyone who bothered to listen about my so called belief in instinct. I even told that in one of my earlier HR interviews for a job. But at some point of time when you contemplate on the same, I have this not so faint feeling that its just my snobby attitude that makes me believe that I believe in my instincts. It might be because I recollect only those instances when my gut feelings were correct and not so much in situations where it all screwed up. And lately I think I have screwed up so much that I am not able to forget those situations :). Nonetheless its a positive thing I should admit. You know its always good to know the faulty parts of your machine, like knowing that the bike has got a not so responsive brake will always be a positive knowledge to the rider.

The Root Cause, The Moral of the story is : "It's always about me." Well it always has been. :)

Stay Hungry, Stay Foolish.

I read Steve Jobs' address at the Stanford graduation again today. I guess its the 19477th time now :). There is something about that address, that makes my stomach feel funny every single time I read it, every single time. There is something in those self made people that you wanna respect them, no matter how cocky or arrogant they are. I have always been a fan of this guys' ideologies. Once a reporter asked him why he always wanted all the stuff for a computer made by Apple itself, why can't you outsource something. Well our guy answers - If I find something in my product which I don't like or approve of, I wanna fire the guy who made it. Not your kind of boss, but still there is some zing in his ideas. 

He says in his address about, thinking about everyday as your last and then asking yourself would you be doing what you are doing now? And if your answer is NO for quite a few consecutive days, then its affirmative that you change what you are currently doing. Fair enough isn't it? 

Well now that leaves me with a tough question and an even tougher answer. What DO I like to do in my life? Well the other day I was having this conversation with one of my similar minded friends. I was telling her about some food I cooked and it did not come good. I felt bad, pretty bad. But then if I write some code and I get lots of bugs in it or something, I don't usually feel bad, I just feel plain frustrated. And when I cook something, which I don't usually do for some time now, I cook with lots of heart in it. And when it comes bad, I just feel VERY bad. And this doesn't mean I wanna be a cook or something, just that I'm passionate about it. 

Similarly photography, I would NEVER place me anywhere near the tag of a good photographer. Can't even think of more than one or two pictures I had taken and I really loved it and wanted to flaunt it. But I its just like cooking, in a way as in I'm passionate about it. I don't take much pictures. I am not that always carry my camera wherever I go kind of guy. I don't take pictures unless I really wanna take some. Otherwise it always comes out bad. Not that it comes out good otherwise, but still that's the way I think I am.

Staying hungry and foolish is not that easy, it requires lot more than just perseverance and luck. Instinct, Love and Courage to walk alone.

Vinaya's Poem - I

How can you hold someone close,

When your arms aren't open.

How can you want a heart,

When it's too late and broken.

How can you fix something,

With hollow bones.

How can you save anything,

Within a shattered home.

How can you keep afresh,

A withered leaf.

How can you hope for something,

Which you don't believe.

How can you run away,

When your feet are stuck.

How can you try to suicide,

And blame it on luck.

How can you lose something,

That you never found.

How can you break something,

That was never bound.

How can you hold onto,

What was never there.

How can you love anyone,

When you don't care.

How can you cry,

When there aren't any tears left.

How do you listen,

When you are deaf.

How do you see the light,

When you are blind.

How can you say you are alive,

When you are dead inside...