Articles, fiction&writing, Freehand Writing, india, Social Media, think, Work from Home

Blight of Social Commentary

Let me paint this visual for your eyes, It is a lazy laid back warm afternoon, the verandahs are still your only quinessntial medium of communication with world and people outside without stepping out of the comfort of your home. A glance from a verandah to another is an invitation in silence, it is a language of intimation with eyes. This weather draws families to this pod for every human is a social animal.Over tea or coffee with snacks, discussions brew within and outside the family and they ususally end there itself. They revolve around the upcoming world cup or the local elections, few people discuss markets and some pupils dilate at such whisperings. Mostly it is the gossip that survives a session, the potpurri of happenings around the society or sometimes the world is where the aroma of excitement never dies within one room but spreads from house to house. It was a time when thoughts had a very little chance in becoming a idea that grips a nation overnight.

Things have changed dramatically, technology whose purported meaning was to make life easier has now engaged societies, people or even nations at scales unimaginable. Every single thought now has the capabilitiy of become an idea. No matter good or bad or worse. With the means of communication at our fingertips, is the conscious movement of people driven by an idea tearing down the social constructs of “individualistic decisions and its sole consequences”? In simpler words, do we still have the capacity to originate an original idea and stand by it ? Or even better, do we have the time even to sit and gauge the idea that is being pushed down our throats? Can we like old times, sleep over a perception, or research over an idea? Is the entire construct of developing ideas and perception has been affected by the huge unavoidable influx of social commentary driven by humans drunk on an Idealogy?

In a time, where the definition of freedom is debated, can we debate the individualistic freedom of making self driven decisions? It is almost ironical that this is a social commentary, another idea pushed down by a social means but there is no end to this circle. I would sleep over this off, Its a weekend, let it be like that.

Shashank Bhardwaj


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creative-writing, fiction and poetry, Heart, india, musings, Poetry, Work from Home, Writings

Relapse

It has been a long time since I have penned down something quite originial in this blog. There has been a lot of thoughts that have been going through my head seeing this world change. There is an uneasiness as to how things are unfolding, I have started my shift from poetry to non-fiction writings. Now I am trying my best to craft them into comprehensible and readable thoughts worth pondering upon. Its time to relapse to writing again. Time to end the drought.

Meanwhile here is the picture of some recently brought books.


Shashank Bhardwaj

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beauty, Fiction & Poetry, india, kids, Life, Love, Poems, Poetry, poetry, think

The Tea Stall Warrior

his armor, is a vest with holes,
shabby shorts with a mosaic formed
by the stains of oil,tea, ashes of cigarette and coal

a foul-smelling cloth graces his shoulders
that sweeps the dust from the tables,
coincidentally it comes from the very stars
to which he prays sometimes in night

independence day for him,
is about selling his freedom
and a dozen flags,
a free plate of jalebi,
from the nearby school,
is the only reminiscence of the place
he was once born in,

he lives inside creaking doors,
surrounded by walls
capable of collapsing
by tremors of continuous coughing,

paints his dreams
from the acrylic color box found in a dustbin,
with bare hands on newspapers,
and scrapped sheets

he has no regrets
he might never have,
for he has never seen
the sun of expectations
rise in the morning.

the moon of contentment,
is what he only cares for.

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Desire, fiction and poetry, Heart, india, Life, lost, pain, Poems, Poetry, think

Rush

A train passes me by like a bullet
People surround me like a swarm of bees
till I become one of them
Instituted and brain washed.
Riding the bullet
To places where my creativity succumbs
and brain acts like a fucker with no love involved
doing monotonic fucking periodic motions.
But Why?
Because we trust our feared heart more than our balls.

© Shashank Bhardwaj.

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Articles, beauty, fiction and poetry, fiction&writing, Freehand Writing, india, Life, Love, Poems, Poetry, Random thoughts, Uncategorized

Silver Lining

It’s easy to spill out pain,
even easier to pen it down,
a thousand sighs goes into writing,
and you might end up with a master-piece,
soaked in your own tears.
People do take pain seriously,
But what about a merry trip?,
A blackout over a couple of beers with friends,
a laugh so hard you cried,
a kiss you cannot forget,
a gift you always wanted,
Try writing about them
you might end up
soaked in wicked smiles,
and memories to share,
It’s perfect to be happy,
even better if other become because of you.

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