Permanence of Happiness!

When i was a kid i was told, “your purpose in life is to provide and be happy about it”.



Life was never discussed as something fluid, something that takes it course and lets you flow around but was explained as an incident, an instance that happens to you when it happens, and these instances these moments, summed up make your life. But it was always expressed that these instances of past or present are what will define you and your future, which makes it altogether paradoxical as life then automatically becomes fluid.

If these instances are what defines our present and our future then permanence of happiness is not just a myth but a complete lie told to us by the world. Life as it takes its course, sets things into motion unknown to us, like a huge domino of which we can’t see the end but we know will end up in a loud thunderous fall.

But an evaluation of life (maybe during midlife crisis) makes you weigh your options, is happiness your final aim or is it satisfaction that helps you attain Nirvana? Though sometimes stated as the same thing, satisfaction and happiness are two different emotions and result in different kind of emotional triggers.

Satisfaction, an emotion of desire, maybe more than happiness to some is the universal king of emotions. Satisfaction is a sense of completeness, a sense of being healthy, a sense of stagnation, a sense of relativity. It helps us survey the world and not compare our life with it being a parameter of evaluation. It helps us realise that life is mortal and mostly unimportant to others. It never makes us question our decision as the instances that occurred or the flow behind us that pushed to this point is the point of nirvana, a point of satisfaction. A state of calm, a harbinger of peace. It’s an emotion that works like a dam, it stops the flow of life but draws the power of its potential and makes it work for you.

Happiness, though most popular and most sought after emotion is not the king of emotions. It’s not permanent, it’s not stagnant, you can’t stop it, its fluid like life, but relative, it flows ahead of you and may meet up with you later while you are busy fighting the waves and trying to be afloat. Happiness doesn’t stay with you like a loved partner, its like a loved one who doesn’t love you back. It’s like a mother who doesn’t nurse, its like a gust of wind which rustles you up but is suddenly gone in seconds. Happiness is generally the root of all evil. It is like a shot of energy as when inhaled causes utter sunshine in life but when lost crashes badly and brings out the worst in humanity.

Happiness shouldn’t be sought after, as it will always comes and goes in our life. Satisfaction, though an emotion impossible to be permanent in an ever-changing world of emotions, is something to cherish and to harbinger. Happiness makes man go on quests which sometimes lead to the fall of civilization, whereas satisfaction is a quest that defines not just us but the society, the people around us. Satisfaction is like the love that never leaves us, once attained, its like the air that’s always around you.

Thus in my life i seek to attain a level of satisfaction and not permanence of happiness. What do you seek?


Why is it asked to hold the metaphorical prism up to your eyes and look at the world; is it because the prism scatters the light and shows you various, vivid, lovely colours that make up the bland white illuminating light? According to me the prism is meant for us to see vivid colours or characteristics that a fellow human being is made up of. But we have to ask one thing, are we holding the prism properly? Whenever someone mentions the prism I start thinking of the Pink Floyd album cover for their album “The Dark Side of the Moon”. The design was chosen because it represented three elements; the band’s stage lighting, the album lyrics, and Richard Wright’s request for a “simple and bold” design. Thus the idea behind the choice was to explain various characteristics that made up the band, their strengths and their power.

Let’s ask one thing, are we holding the prism right, are we really trying to know and understand the person we are holding judgement of or are we just fragmenting his properties so that we can judge the fellow earth dweller and make it easier for us to create the picture? Let’s also ask why is it easier to pick on people and judge them by their worst and not love them for their best. Why is it that we see the colours we hate first and not the colours we love the last?

Are you still searching for an answer, I guess you already have one, now rethink it. Is it just because it’s more convenient and effortless to just keep away and not get involved and understand the situation, understand the person in question, their likes, their dislikes, their very mere existence on this planet. Being the narcissist we are, we always wonder why have been put on this planet, what is the need, but


The Prism

do we ever care to ask, why others are here as well? Why do we co-exist? Does their existence affect my life, why do they hold a control over my life, directly or indirectly?

The answers to all these questions are very complex and have been pondered upon by the greatest and weakest of minds on this planet, then again who am I to decide who has better or lesser mind. Is it really my place to judge? Freud connected everything to latent sexual fantasy of the human subconscious, but is it really the case. Do I really hate the people I do because I want to have sex with them badly?

The mere human emotions of hate, love, fear, peace etc., can also be seen as the dispersion of the human response towards the people he/she is surrounded by which can be interpreted as the spectrum of colours and the white light as the final emotion we present to the human being under the lens of judgement.

I am not saying that we should not intercept people or try to decode their complex persona but to judge them and let them know that they are wrong on a particular front because you think is so, is wrong according to me.

This post doesn’t discuss or is not meant to answer the questions that I have in my conscious, subconscious mind. But is to put forward the ideas I have. I just want to put forward these ideas and drop them in this world, the infinite abyss. But, I request you to consider this the next time you meet someone, please try to understand the person, try to know what he/she is made up of, what are his/her strengths, what are his/her weaknesses and if you see more bad qualities then the good ones, try to help, not judge, or simply just walk away. This according to me is the perfect human, societal behaviour.

Blood Hounds

P.S. : Something very personal and close to my heart, please be sensitive to this, and I hope you can’t connect to it.

Cut me, hurt me, kill me I’m so bad; sinner I am, I fight, I scream, I shout, the love in me is profound.

Hate me, hurt me, I’m still around, I’m still abound, I’m wrong, still strong.

I’m not backing down, turn on me; change the voices in my head.

Shatter the glass, empty the jug, refill the acid, fuel with vinegar.



Undying souls are trying so hard, free us satan, cry, cry, cry;

So hungry, ready to devour, weaklings roam the planet, hurt and pathetic they prowl.

Cut me, bleed me, empty my veins, fill them with vinegar, how bad can it be?

I spew acid, I spew pain, I spread hatred, all disdain.

Love, touch, smile, all emotions wasted,

Garbage bags filled with hopes and dreams, filled with one’s pursuit for dreams unstated

Creamy and foamy, sheik and classy demons abound us, all around us

Suck the blood out of our veins, hurt us, at least less than our loved ones

Horns on your head, tail on your back, hide it as bad as you can

I can see them from even from miles away, the evil you are, less than what I imagined it could be

It’s far less because my tail is longer than you,

My wallet is filled with the golden shillings; give it to the rower to take you back

Fire, heat, burning sensations, better than the touch of the ones around

The wounds of the former heal quicker than that of the latter ones

Hounds scratch my doors, paw marks all over my door and face,

My soul is scarred, stretch marks from your loss, and blood stains on the sheets

Your touch, the warmth of your breath down my neck is all I crave

Hate me, hit me, make it hurt, throw me around, toss me around

A shot in the arm is easy to take than one in the heart, and a dagger in the back


Something’s I have always wanted

Something’s I can never have

Sometimes I cry

I don’t know why

I have a pain in my chest

I don’t know why

I am trying to march

But something is pulling me back, ripping me apart

I don’t know what’s holding me back, creating these cracks

SOS! Someone please come and save me I don’t want to fade away

What if I do know what it is

What if there really is something to deal with

I have been fighting with my demons

But it’s becoming hard,

Some kind of darkness is taking over

SOS! Please light a candle someone please illuminate and get rid of this darkness, these fears

What’s hiding behind the façade

No one tries to find out

I am scared

Scared of losing the real me,

Behind these shabby lights

SOS! Someone please save me I don’t want to lose the real me

I worry if someone cares

I am almost sure no one does

They are all duped by him

They don’t know the voices, the screaming’s, the shrieks

They don’t know there’s someone hurting behind this promising facade

SOS! Will you please ask me, Who am I

Who am I

Who am I

Who am I


By harshit151989 Posted in Soul

A Helpless soul and 2 Angels

HELPLESS, a word that brings some very horrible memories to some minds and a blank despair to some other and nothing to the rest. Everyone has felt helpless here or there in their life, but we always assure ourselves, we can do something about it, we try to, we do it or we don’t and if we succeed at achieving what we were planning to kudos, but if we can’t, then what. Something similar happened to me and what I felt when it happened to me when I met two little angels.


Imagine a beautiful fair coloured child, covered in dust, wearing a dirty greased up blue coloured night suit, with sweet little tiny gummy bear print on her pyjamas, barely covering her beautiful chubby little ankles, showing her bare feet. Her boy cut hair, almost adamant and a persuasive smile, a confidence in character were what attracted me when she approached our coach. I thought it was just a naughty kid running through the aisle soiling her clothes by rolling around in the train, but as she approached our coach she started banging the two stones between her tiny, little fingers in right hand and her left hand stretched forward in a very innocent but desperate plea for help. Money, food, anything materialistic, not love, apparently in today’s world love and compassion towards strangers hold no place.

Being a human being with a very impressionable heart I was forced to reach in my wallet and cough up a rupee or two for her. She was so happy she bowed and jumped over to the next coach. I was shocked and awed at the serenity she showed upon receiving the money. Being a critical thinker and almost a raging pessimist the times when I received money from my parents I barely thanked them, I always thought, aren’t they obligated. No they are not, unlike western countries we Indians are blessed in terms that our parents provide us with all their might and soul to provide and help us become the person they never could be.

Coming back to the point, as soon as she moved away she was followed by a much younger girl much more beautiful, much more fair in complexion, wearing a very beautiful knee-high stark red frock, twirling around she looked very beautiful and far more cleaner. She actually looked like a fellow traveller, but as she approached the coach she started twirling and started bouncing to a show tune sung in her innocent, 2 years old child’s voice. I was shocked, once again in the recent 5 minutes to realize that she was, a fellow traveller but of a different kind. After finishing her song, which I can only assume is her daily routine, she also put forward her tiny, little palms this time both of them and her eyes gleaming with hope, begged, begged for future, for something that can help her.

After an hour or so, as we were about to reach the destination of the train, and my destination, the girls laughing and jumping, all happy and gay, approached me, as mine was the only coach with empty seats and may be because I was the only one that gave them some money, so they felt a tad bit comfortable. One of them sat on the window seat and the other one looked at me with those big brown eyes to please make place and give her the window seat. I couldn’t resist and moved. As they started chatting and I enjoyed the sound of their voice next to me reaching through the tunes playing in my headphones, I tried to decipher what they were so happy to talk about, but their language was all alien to me.

One of them asked for my headphones, she kept pointing at one of the ear piece and kept asking for it, but I don’t know what stopped me from giving her the pleasure of listening to the magical voice and the blasting pop tune. She insisted upon it but I couldn’t give it to them, I still wonder why, what stopped me, distrust, the fear of something, something very small or something very big. Anyways, I put them aside and tried to talk to them. I tried to talk to them in Hindi, but apparently they were oblivious to the language, but they were able to understand my otherwise horrible Gujarati. I asked for their names, and they told me Tara and Vandana. I couldn’t ask them what do they do, because I was afraid of what I might hear. But I asked them how old they were. They were, 6 and 4 years old respectively. I couldn’t stop but being mesmerised by the fact how happy and elated they seemed and how enthused they were; singing, dancing, jumping around oblivious to the real world, their situation.

I took it upon myself to ask the most dreaded question by the BPL Indian population. Do you go to school? I tried to frame the sentence in broken Gujarati and they looked at me puzzled and amused, they asked me, what is a school? Oh my god, I was taken aback, what’s a school, I would’ve never imagined hearing this question from a child in this day and age. A school, seems like air or water to me now, something that is there and is used by society on daily basis, I never wondered how someone is still unaware of the fact that there is something that is, school.

Then, all of a sudden, out of the blue, as I was in a deep thought and was pathetically trying to talk to these enigmatic girls, a tall stout, a very muscular, almost black man, approached me and started shouting at the girls in that alien language and looked at me with despair through his blood-shot eyes. I couldn’t fully contemplate what was happening, he hit both the girls on their faces, imagine a 6’2’’ man hitting 2 little girls and took each one of them to the nearest bathroom and locked them in. As the train was nearly empty with only 3 people in the coach I don’t think anyone else other than me took notice as the girls never cried, didn’t even make a sound.

I was there, just there, didn’t know what to do, couldn’t understand what was happening, I was shocked to the roots of my nerves.


And as I tried to piece out the story, and the wind gushing in my eyes, rendering them dry, I could feel nothing and so many things at the same time. It was so horrible what I just saw and I couldn’t do anything, I felt, “Helpless”, even worse than that, an emotion, that you feel when you have failed when you try to fight back, even when I didn’t. As the train reached the station the men took them out of the toilet, held one in each hand and glided through the busy platform crowd and all I can feel was a shimmering light of hope for the girls and a tear drop rolling down my cheek.

By harshit151989 Posted in Soul

People please show solidarity to all the cancer patients. Lend a helping hand and join hands to the fight against cancer and help someone suffering from cancer.
Help them recover, get life back on track. Dedicate your life to the dream of a world without cancer.

Cancer Month

People please show solidarity to all the cancer patient and raise a hand and join hands to the fight against cancer and help someone suffering from cancer.
Help them recover, get life back on track. Dedicate your life to the dream of a world without cancer.


When the foot-over-bridge near the “NEHRU SPORTS COMPLEX” collapsed, first thing I tried to find out was the number of fatalities, and was happy to find, that there were none. But 19 workers there, were injured. This incident made me think less in the direction of the “SHAME WEALTH GAMES” and more about; what about the fatalities due to these unwanted incidents during civil works?



Two things came to my mind, firstly the picture of  my uncle who died in Kargil, being brave and fighting terrorists, and how his family received ultimate respect from the government, butt load of money, and lots of advantages here and there, which is obvious and non-debatable. Secondly, the picture that came to my mind was of the construction workers who died due to the bridge collapse during “METRO” construction again in NEW DELHI. What did Indian government offer their families? Nothing, but 3 lakh INR compensation. WHAT THE FUCK? Isn’t human life, that of a soldier and a civilian equally important (no offense to any army official). NOTE : THE TOTAL NUMBER OF DEATHS DURING METRO CONSTRUCTION ARE 109.

Aren’t we, in this age, fighting for equal human rights? Then why is it so that when a  “neta” dies even after killing scores of people and doing butt-load of crimes with all kinds of black money stuffed up his ass gets a full and proper patriotic funeral as provided to a freedom fighter or an army-man. Are they equal? Not in million years can anyone denounce the fact that a life given by GOD is as precious and important as any on this planet Earth, then why this favoritism?

Aren’t we becoming too much of a non-egalitarian society though trying to be otherwise? Why can’t a civil worker, get the proper respected funeral after his/her death while serving the society working on construction civil sites. They don’t die due to their negligence. They die due to negligence of those fat-bastards stuffing French-fries and burgers down their slimy throat.

What we need is a system respecting lives of all equally. An egalitarian attitude towards the value of life on this planet. Especially in India, where classless society seems like an unbelievable dream. We need to value everyone’s life equally. We should pay same amount of respect to anyone who’s working towards the betterment of society be it a construction worker building a bridge or a soldier fighting on the border. In a country like India, I think a construction worker lives under much harder conditions and provides almost equally important service to the society.

So why don’t we respect their service? Is it just because they belong to the lower strata of the society. Please think about it and let me know what you think.


Rolling Stone reveals the joys of vamp sex (via The Marquee Blog)

Well I have never seen TRUE BLOOD, but I believe, vamp sex is truly awesome.

If you watch “True Blood,” there really isn’t much on the latest cover of Rolling Stone that you haven’t already seen before, rivulets and spatters of blood included. The hit HBO show is known for unabashedly delving into a mix of blood, sex and violence that even at its most disturbing – as some called the scene from an earlier season three episode, in which Bill literally made Lorena’s head spin in the bedroom – it leaves viewers thirsting for … Read More

via The Marquee Blog