Untitled

This was done about a month back, but I forgot to upload it.

Youth is a quality of being, most naturally exhibited during time, and most difficult to retain post the time. Youth is bestowed upon a child at birth, a gift of purity from its sender, to cherish for as long as he dared. Yes, it is fear that takes youth away. Fear of consequences, fear of "what's-to-come?", fear of unfamiliar situation, fear of challenges, fear of being singled out, and fear of unacceptance. They all occupy greater and greater portion's of the thought process, pushing out the pure, carefree, lens in the child's eyes. He's worried about the answers off too many questions to ask any himself. He's taught to seek external approval for every step he takes, and to avoid steps which don't assure that. He's blinded and artificial eyes are fit into him. His being is poisoned by the venomous worry, by the external, ununderstood orders, by the concepts of power and control, by stubbornly injected doses of disapproval of all things not bringing profit, and the fear of condemnation.

It is important, and beautiful, to hold on to the gift of youth. It acts the x-ray for the gold plated filth in reality. It guides him through the murky mass of human contempt and envy. It sheilds him from the bullets of power shot down on him from all sides. It helps him remember what purity is, a thing forgotten so very often with age. It infuses him with molten hot innocence, that drives him through all decision-making, where others are stuck trying to gauge options. What happens in absence of youth is the being stops being, and starts giving an examination.

Youth, is what I wish most to retain, till my deathday. People ask me, "So, what do you wanna do? What are your ambitions?", and I don't say anything. Well, that is my ambition.

Deafness gone

After recently being told that my writing ability is not, in any way whatsoever, connected to my state of intoxication, I tried my hand at writing without the high. Personally, I still believe that they're connected.

Music isn’t actually just what we think it is. It’s difficult to gauge the depths of music with a normal mind, and personally I admit that I cannot do it unless intoxicated! When one’s high, Music really starts stripping down to what it is. She reveals her hidden nuances, her secretly guarded details of beauty. It is at that state that one realizes why Pritam could never ever become A. R. Rahman, and why Matchbox20 can never ever become Deep Purple. As far as I can recall, it’s the Bass notes that begin to matter most at the beginning. This is where most of the rubbish fall out, the ones with almost no bass frequency and shrieking treble sound. The subtle, powerful and everlasting bass notes welcome you to this new better way of perceiving sound. They flow deep within this stream of sound, but are ever so luminously prominent. Sometimes fading away, then returning with new purpose. The higher frequencies do their best to attract your attention, and you finally turn, satisfied, to their performance. With gritted-teeth and wild ferocity you emit every note out of your face, as it fades away. The music of the beats now snatches you into the regions where music controls your body. You shake your head, making your torso float and sway. Your legs join in a little later, one at a time, right first and then left. You feel the beauty of being able to move your two feet with two separate minds.

The dance is over. Techno music announces it entry with flat, overtone-less notes of medium frequency. They proceed in drawing a techno-ruled background for you to observe. Some weak yet strengthening bass notes keep you just on track. The medium frequencies now rule the sea. They blare out, not too rash, in a simple repetitive melody.

That's about as much as I could write in the limited time I had, but I think I shall resume this topic at a later, more comfortable time.