Cruising Through Freedom.

ありったけのゆめをかきあつめ

(Come on board and bring along all your hopes and dreams)

さがしものはさがしに行くのさ

(Together, we will find everything that we are looking for)

-One Piece opening 1 and Translation

Under the endless sky, above the sea, as you sail, nothing feels impossible. The horizon is far away. But we keep on chasing it, right to the other side of the world.

That is the adventure of life.

As I looked at the elevation and depression of the waves, I closed my eyes and let the wind hit my face. I stretched my hand towards the sea and at that moment, I felt free. Like I could achieve anything. A world full possibilities was lying before me.

There is not always a pail of gold or jewels at the other side of an adventure. Sometimes, we just set sail with dreams in anticipation of an adventurous journey.

The seagulls doted over the sky and beyond as we went farther. They flew right overhead and swooped along my line of vision. For a moment, I felt mocked by their timeless freedom. But as human beings, we are not entitled to freedom, we need to achieve it – amidst the chaos of our thoughts.

The setting sun hovered right over the coast and shone on the sea. A sight to behold. As it sunk deeper and deeper, it wrapped around all the light within itself.

My eyes captured that moment into the expansive storage of my heart.

After half an hour in the heart of the sea, it was time to turn the helm. We traced back to the coast. As the shoreline approached, the high flying seagulls were replaced by the cawing crows, who, I believe envy the guts of the seagulls to stay away from the land.

As I felt the concrete beneath my feet, the polluted hair hit my face. I was back to reality. I turned back and looked at the sea, who merrily sang away, accommodating new people, who were about experience a similar half an hour of adventure.

Somewhere, far away, my dreams lie dormant. One day, our paths will converge. That is the hope that the sea gave me.

You can only achieve what you want if you free yourself from the shackles of the anchor weighing down your heart. And once the anchor is lifted, set sail and explore opportunities that are spread out before you everywhere. The world is an ocean of possibilities.

Let the current of life hit you on the face. Take a deep breath and stretch your hand towards the sun. The world is waiting to be yours.

~~

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My Baywatch Chronicles.


The bay is a beauty unexplored. Yes, there are people swarming about. People jogging along the footpath near the bay and couples having a sweet time at the sitting area overlooking the sea. 

Yet it is like an untouched paradise. How many people even listen to what is the sea trying to tell us? The sky has a story to whisper. 

The stones notoriously scatter themselves in the big puddle joining the ocean. The buildings go along with the whims of the sun. White during the day, onyx at night.

The sky and the sea feel like a single entity.

I’m a casual photo enthusiast and my phone camera is just a mere shard of glass against the lighting nature plays. 

The sea is shaded. Amidst the sky-blue hue lies a darker shade. They make incomprehensible patterns. But maybe they have a meaning.

Maybe the sea is the nature’s sand. With her nimble fingers of the wind, she writes the name of her unrequited lover on the sand of the sea. Though the syllables are out of our reach, maybe the hawk can see a hawk eyed view of it. 

And when the setting sun washes away her patterns, she cries.

Geographically, the bay looks like an abnormal robotic hand trying to unsuccessfully hold the water in its palms.

Like silent mermaids the rocks lounge about lavishly.  

The love story of the bay is forever incomplete. Like two lovers who are physically close but impossibly far away. As one end of the bay reaches out to connect the string of fate with the other, the horizon acts as a malicious witch. The two lovers never meet. They just gaze at each other from afar. Day in and night out.

As I walk along the sea, the winds calm down. The sunlight burns my head with Vitamin D. My panoramic eyes scan the entire expanse of the bay in one go. 

I listen to their stories over and over again. 

Yet I incessantly go along with the tide every single time.


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Learning from the Sky.

(Image source : Pinterest)

The other day, when I looked up at the the sky, the clouds surprisingly looked like symmetrical round blobs. They stuck close to each other like they sought warmth. 

The vast blue sky was full of these festoons, indulging in their childish shenanigans. I thought I’d take a picture, but then my phones camera felt inferior to capture the essence of the authentic hues. 

So I stared and drank in every bit of the scene. But it was just for a moment. I had to look down again so that I wouldn’t trip on a log or broken concrete. As much as I wished, I could never be a part of that stratospheric realm.

Those clouds looked like waves in the sky. It made me wonder. What if there is another world over these clouds? 

No, I do not mean a fantastical world. I mean metaphorically. What if beyond these clouds is an ocean of possibilities?

Maybe the blur of clouds you see are actually the vague obstacles of life. When we rise above them, we have the entire world below us. Stability is important. Be it life or an airplane. If they flinch, a downward spiral is inevitable.

But along with aiming for the sky, we shouldn’t forget to look down  once in a while. Otherwise we might trip face down.

But don’t be so engrossed with success that you forget to close your eyes and enjoy the breeze. And there might be rain too, but let it fall on your face. Cry within its garb. But there will be a rainbow. Keep your eyes open.

Anyway, coming back to the scene in context, it has been burned into my memory. It adorns my eyelids in the most randomest of times and teaches me something new all the time.

Nature is the most experienced teacher. She has been through the most trying times. She has been through exfoliations, retributions, interventions and what not. She has a plethora of stories to tell.

She is just like an aged mother, who has wrinkles, but is still an evergreen beauty. Her tutelage will make you prosper. 

So be her best pupil and keep your pupils dilated.


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The Rising Sun of My Dreams.

(Image Source : Pinterest)

Japan is known as ‘Nihon’ in Japanese which literally means ‘The origin of the sun’. Every morning Japan wakes up before anyone in the world and greets the sun. 

With that sun, my dreams take an ascent. 

The intricacy of simplicity and the magnanimity of the citizens appeals one and all. The varied kimono have a unique ballad to tell. The culture and tradition create a perfect harmony, which is the soul of this island nation.

My fascination with Japan began with anime. As years passed and I crept more and more into the depths of my fandom, I discovered Japan. Or rather Japan discovered me.

That moment itself I found my dream.

Japanese inculcated the love for language within me. Haiku became a way of life. Slowly, Japanese words unintentionally slipped into English. 

And I decided I would make this passion my life.

Still in the early stages of learning Japanese, I dream to be an interpreter and visit the country of my hope and dreams one day. 

Currently, it’s a long way to go. A world so beautiful that I believe that it is my fantasy. But I know it exists. Some far away but yes, it does. 

No dream is small. It all begins from somewhere. We all need to listen to the calling of our heart. That’s where the answer lies. And that is the origin of our dreams.

No matter how many conspiracies come in the way, never give up on yourself or your dreams. Grasp your dreams with your tightest grip ever. And keep looking forward.

My dream is the origin of my hope. 

And that is the origin of my life.



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What’s in a Desert?

(Source of image : Google)

What’s in a desert? You may ask. Sand and sun is your self-thought answer. But for me, the desert is the manifestation of words.

The waves of sand dunes elevate and steep every alternate moment. An ocean of sand. The wind constantly sculpts the shapeshifting sand according to its whims. 

I look at the desert. My words flow. There is no cessation to them just like the air currents. The entity itself is a mirage. The horizon coaxes us to believe that it is the end of the vast sandy expanse. But as you try to reach the horizon, it notoriously evades. And you lose yourself in the horizontal depts of the desert and the vertical depths of your mind.

Eyes flutter within itself as the miniscule grains play with their lashes. The camel just laughs by in mockery. But then the sunglasses are a nuisance. I let the sand caress my face and my hair. It innocently plays a game of tag with my eyes. My bandana flies away towards the core of the sun. 

Sandals and shoes lose their credibility as gusts of sand decide to tickle your feet. The sand gives you cold feet. Yet leaving footprints on the sand is always desirable. Literally and figuratively. Let the sand remember you. 

But it has the tendency to move on. No matter how many pair of feet walk on it, the desert covers up all its scars over and over again. It never lets them percolate within the core of its heart. 

The sky shines down without mercy. The clouds desert the desert. Yet I look up with my half shut eyelids in defiance. The sun smirks and momentarily blinds my eyes. It does not seem to be photogenic towards me. But my companion filters out the bright ego of the sun with an app. 

But the symmetry of the sun brings back memories. Memories of those warriors, thousands of years ago, who swore their battle cries over this sun.

I keep my eyes peeled out for an alchemist. But then the sun reflects across the desert and makes it gold. I scream in glee as my vehicle moves over the lesser dunes. But the forbidden, mammoth dunes, look down at my existence. My car has no choice but kowtow to them. So do I.

At night the stars journey across the sky, getting attracted to the moon deity like pilgrims. The tents light up with lamps and I write my name on the sand. 

Reluctantly, I board my car to go back. 

The sand kisses my lips in farewell. My hair gets tugged behind as the winds rebel. We make a promise.

My words intertwined with my spirit stay buried forever.


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