The Words I Would Say

       The saying “walls have ears” sets us humans on a chain of ascribing human-like features to non-human entities. Not just for the fun of deciphering the implications of the statement, but more to express ideas in seemingly perfect ways. Walls have ears implies that they have known very dark and deep secrets over thousands of years. And when the truth hurts us, and we lurk behind the shadows of secrets in existence and correlation, we sometimes wish walls could talk. Because they know. In the same spirit, I wish I could unravel the mystery of the eyes, complex as it is. I have seen things, I have perceived, I have understood. Most times not inadvertent as I have control of what I choose to see and what not to. But what about the flowers in the field, and the shoes on our feet? They've seen things, they've perceived, and they've understood, but unlike me, cannot choose what they see. Sometimes I wish I was flowers and shoes, sometimes I wish I was flowers and sho...

         Words. No one likes them better than I do. They fill the void of every writer, and try to express the ideas he has bottled up inside. They are sort of the proof of knowledge we have, isn’t it? I find being able to wield them a great privilege and a much welcomed burden. But as a tool for expressing emotions, I just find them inadequate, even in all their power. It’s the closest I feel to the person who says “Words cannot describe…” and is really torn up inside, hoping that his feelings and emotions, worries and cares, are understood as they are. But in the end, they are hardly ever understood, or felt the way they are. So we make do with words. We make do with them, hoping that somehow most, if not all, our emotions are conveyed by them. I love words. I love how they try. I love how they work and rework themselves till somehow, a picture is painted; a picture which once seen by another, stir up the same emotions which we felt with ...

‘One day’ always presents the twist in the story, doesn’t it? Always comes just before the point when things are just about to turn around. It never gets old for many an avid reader, because it is an interest-arousing prefix. Its announcement makes the human mind wonder what could be next, what was about to go down, what was about to be recorded that bore witness of the change in the wind. But more interestingly, and most importantly, it isn’t a word that is said just when things are about to turn around, but even when there is the hope that they are eventually going to. I feel it comes from the deepest parts of a man’s ambitions, aspirations, desires, hopes, frustrations, depressions, and in his moments of solitude, paranoia, and sobriety when he says, “One day…” And the moment he says it, nothing else matters. Nothing but the next few words that follow, which carry in them the weight of his emotions. The words in which all that he believes in and all that he has lived for burst in...