The 90’s kid

First of all my greetings to all 1990 born people. Remember Cartoon Network. Everyday after 1:30pm. Back from school. And sit in-front of idiot box to watch the kid series. Remember Make way for Noddy, Bob the builder, Scooby Doo, The mask, etc.

I have a better quality TV subscription now. But haven’t subscribed to kids channel. Though, I am 19 years old now. But still I love to watch animated movies and cartoons. Despicable Me, The Lorax, Kung Fu Panda, etc. This is a never-ending list so terminating with an etc.

We are humans, and the most important phenomenon that rules our life is that of regretting. When we were kids we always regretted. Thinking teenage is better. We are teenagers but still continue to regret, because this time childhood is better. Regretting has always ruled and will rule till forever. Maybe nature designed us this way.

Why do we forget things? As time passes memories start to faint and continue to. People do say that they remember some part of their life as it was, when it happened. That is nothing but exaggeration. Well this forgetting is important. Life will become more and more boring if we don’t forget what had happened. Every adventure will be good for a single time only. Nature forces us to forget so that we can experience it all again. Maybe, a cruel way to make things fun but that is how it is and how it has to be.

I didn’t start this post to put these philosophies that my mind gets. But here they made their way out. Funny but true. That is exactly what happens when you start writing.

I can watch these cartoon even at this age too. Well there is a small another theory that my Cerebrum has. Every body likes to think, imagine, feel the imagination as if real, and be happy about it. And that is exactly what happens when you watch cartoons or sometimes movies too. You successfully become a part of another’s imagination through the 24 frames per second videos. That is the only reason viewers get entertained. Imagine or be a part of imagination. Doesn’t matter from where the idea is convinced from but then it grows.

I love to spend my time pondering. Because of this habit I ran out of time in a medical entrance examination. I don’t remember what I was pondering but I do remember that I was doing that for more than 15 straight minutes. I am unable to help myself with that. It happens 24X7X365.

Ambitious

I want a million people who know me,
Be successful with all my failures as legendary stories,
Stand in-front of a 30 story,
Touch the wall and screaming, Damn! I own it.

Wear suit and shiny polished shoes,
Own a limo with driver in white too,
Every time I sneeze, it’s a headline news,

Ride on a bike every Monday,
Beaches, seas every Sunday,
Sky dive once every week.

Every appearance with standing ovation,
Everybody applauding with fake smile session,
Thinking that I am a false person.

You think I am egomaniac, just want to have money,
But this is my ambition, and it is only to show,
One day I will be something more,
Stand strong in-front of those,
Who show me I am just somebody,
You cannot ever score more.

The game of throne

The game of throne,
is too simple,
Never lose the crown,
Here, lies the wisdom,
This wisdom may never have reverence, though
But don’t make a mistake,
To lose the reference fork.

That is what started in the past,
But follow ups still do last,
With new tactics,
To put everyone apart,
You don’t even realized how smart,
It all went down street so fast,
You cannot catch it till last.

My Poetry

My Poetry, is just like a prose,
It hits WordPress in rows,
And then I am on Dashboard,
To see a notification, that pops,
And says there are two like more,
And a follower waiting,
for me, to write more.

But there are no comments to show,
Only spam filtered out,
And that too four,
But still I wait for comments to show,
Not only appreciation, but your opinions, Oh,
So, I am back on WordPress,
To press this prose.

But still I wait for comments to show,
Somebody, asking me,
“Is it a sonnet in these rows?”
And I’ll reply, “Oh, buddy I just don’t know,
Never had poetry as my interest,
In high school and intermediate,
What so ever so.”

I almost ended this prose,
With “What so ever so”,
I went back into the rows,
I had something missing, Oh!
And it was the starting,
No, neither the first line,
Nor the rhyme,
But the title, though.

Now, what it’ll be,
You already know,
The first two words, “My Poetry”
How is it?
My friends and foes.

Prejudice

You don’t know what he felt like,
You don’t know what he dreamt like,
You don’t know when he slept tight.

Feels You know all,
but you know non,
but prejudice has a throne to run,

Passing through,
I met a boy,
I never stood with a choice,
But prejudice had its voice,
Growing in my head with noise.

It whispered slowly,
But made its message clear,
I knew I was jealous of him,
With no tear.

Prejudice stood weaponless,
And you had a mighty weapon,
The brain you were born with,
As a freedom right given.

But brain is where prejudice lives,
That’s why you lose a win-win twist.

Life

Life’s the game of up and down,
Going here and there with no frown.

It all started with a cry,
Cradle of Life stood by,
You don’t know the journey took a start,
With the earth as your path.

Death came and waved,
Soul has departed,
And boarded a train,
Train that have heavens aimed.

From the cradle to the grave,
Life has played its game,
All over once again,
With tears that have rained.

From the ashes,
a new body will rise again,
Same soul,
But with new Life again.

Now Life has a new game to play,
Crossing the mountains,
And valley again.

All will start with a cry again,
Cradle of Life will stand by again,
You still don’t know the journey took a start,
With the earth as your path.

Characters names

Maybe, you are down on WordPress once again. With some fabulous fantasy story going in your cerebrum. Or just a foggy impression you got or maybe some vibe from your past days or experiences. Which makes you feel could be a novel one day, or just a short story.

The hardest task, may not always lie in setting up the story, series of events, possible environment, the dramatic expressions or in inking the weather on the paper. There was always something worse that lie with creating a fantasy or fictitious work within my past school days low profile essay or story experiences. I was never good, though. I don’t think so having some experiences requires to be good or more importantly it requires a failure too, at-least some time.

The hardest task still have been the characters names. Huh! It is not funny if somebody is thinking so. Actually when it all comes to naming. You want to have a name, something that matches the characters, sound to have a descent amount of likeness too. You come across many names daily, but your brains don’t. At-least not at the time when you want them the most. The entire sarcastic problem lies in the simplicity of the names. The names that come are generally too common, and it all feels like arresting the attention of your readers to some neighbor instead of the character of your fictitious creation. 

Now under these circumstances you creation don’t makes you feel that they won’t ever attract your readers into your creation. And without going into the content they’ll feel like “Oh! just another”. And you wanted your creation to act like a successful introvert getting all of ’em into the content. The simplicity lets you down.

Signature that changed

Like all other, children. The first a bit mature child’s game was to sign. Entire last page of maximum notebooks were covered with signatures. Even the text books were not spared.

Though it was the beginning but what we all wanted was a unique and flawless signature. And practice it to such an extent that the signature start flowing with the ink onto the paper.

It was back in ninth grade when we (me and all of my classmates) had our first opportunity to sign something of official value (admit card for our board examination). I made a signature which had some theories of the time behind it. It looked like the alphabet “A” cause Amar is my pet name. And an inverted “S” in lower case because officially my name is Shubhashish. I don’t know if the signature was awe-sum or not but the theories indulged me to feel like got something perfect. I practiced it for a week. Trying to master it. Every attempt must make a clone on the paper.

But you know things are not always intended to go straight. And the series of event happened to be the same. Our turns were in alphabetical order to sign. My turn came I had a thick bodied black pen in my hand. Ready to carve another clone. But I was in a room with AC turned on. I don’t know the exact word for it. But the cold environment of that room and a freezing breeze from the ceiling fan made me shiver for a particular instant. That particular instantaneous shiver made me tremble. And what that tremble caused. The signature theorized with two theories, was not only a signature but a sign of self perfection changed into somewhat two leafed flower like initials. Overlapping caused this.

Poem with no rhyme are too a poem

Like you all I have been raised in a school environment. With my beginning days with “Twinkle Twinkle” and “Baa Baa Black Sheep”. Poems that used to rhyme. In this due course from a child to a teenager. I went through many up and downs, though non of those up and downs were  too serious.

I never went too deep into the literature. But some days back while creating a post on Life On Surge, I felt a rhyme. They were two or three “enter key” strokes that took place and a post that started was changed into a poetry. Small but good. And way too much excellent for me because that was my first poem ever. You know how first time always feels like. The first thing I did after creating that poem, I called my mother and made her read it.

After some days I wrote another. The second was about my school. It was morning when I had a single word in my brain. It was hung. But I was not sure, if it was the  second form of hang or just another morning light dream’s remainder. I was back to blogger again. And this time only a single word was molded into another short poem.

Now I want to write more. But I have no sudden surge of intelligence going through my nerves again to rhyme once again. But I realize one thing. I am too young in this poem game to realize that poetry don’t always need a rhyme to be a poem. Maybe they were the childhood Twinkle and Black Sheep, that are probably the one rendering me with a mentality of existence of only the poems with rhymes. And all others are just forced to look like a poem and sound too in some places. Like the last word of the first line makes a rhyme with the last word of the last line.

Now here’s another funny thought. I was never interested in this poem thing till my 10+2 when I needed to have it the most.

Absent Minded

I am very absent-minded fellow. I don’t like to share it but that’s what I am. Though I felt good from inside when I found out a recent news that absent-minded people are more intelligent. That’s another matter of fact that I never have been way too good in my academics or even sports. But the thing of positiveness that came to my mind while going through this news were my tenth position in eighth grade. And My runner-up trophy in photography during my 10+2 sessions, of-course the last days of my school life.

Now, I’d like to share my stories of being an absent mind. Apart from going to buy bread and coming home with milk.

A couple of years back. We lived in a house on rent. And our apartment was just above the ground we required an electric motor so the supply water reaches the tank. My mother when ever asked me to turn the motor on or off. All I remember was the motor word nothing else. And usually used to forget whether I was asked to turn on or off, either the way downstairs to reach motor or much worse the very instant my mother uttered it. So what I usually used to do is go downstairs, reach the motor and apply the condition, if it is already on turn it off and vice versa. Most time it all used to work. But some times it don’t.

One day much worse happened. A needed a hair cut. Needed to go to the shop. And my mind was struggling with the two options either go walking or by a cycle. I don’t remember which option actually won but I took the cycle had the ‘hair cut’ thing. Now it’s time to go back. And so I started my journey back. Now there was something that was way too much unusual. I felt a calculation in my brain. The time taken to reach the shop was much less than the returning time. I was half the way back when I realised what actually the reason was. It was not the speed that was unusual instead it was the vehicle. I forgot my cycle on the shop.