Redhya

“He’d been waiting for the right moment to use his perfect arrow that had divine powers. However, before he could use it, he died in a war, fighting for his realm. Thus, the arrow remained pristine. While taking his last breaths, he gave me the arrow, and before I could leave, he grabbed me by the hand and narrated an incident.” “What incident?” “He told me that once a sage had advised him not to use the best horse for a trivial war. I responded with a nod, because I believed that the sage was right. Then, he told me one last thing that the sage had told him.” “What was that?” “Your hardest war is to decide whether it’s trivial or not.” After saying this, the man narrating the story became lifeless, and the arrow was lying by his body, being in its pristine form. *** buy my books on amazon - redhya

May my words resonate ferociously and reach masses far and wide! May this reach the people who know how it feels to keep on going through hell. Having said that, it reminds me of what Winston Churchill once said, “If you’re going through hell, keep going.” Honestly, at this moment, I don’t really care about the world, except for some people: the mad people who are often misunderstood and labelled as confused, the dreamers who want to be more than just ordinary, and especially those who misunderstood the poem “The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost” for some hopeful verses. This is a declaration of support for those who are dedicatedly chasing the only thing they dream of achieving. One Dream. Because it's not easy if you come from a background where the kith and kin aren’t even remotely related to the work which you are burning the midnight oil for. And it is funny that some of them don’t even know what you even do.  Sometimes it feels like driving a car at extremely dark, s...

In a quest to know ourselves better, we often travel so far away from ourselves that we no longer know who we actually are. Perhaps, the man’s search for meaning set about soon after the fear of survival dwindled to the least of his concern, and he had enough time to think about the cycle of life and death. Therefore, while lounging on a recliner inside four walls with his stomach filled and penis gratified, he contemplated the meaning of life. Thereupon, this confused, curious man decides to go on a journey full of perils to seek the meaning which is often sympathetically mentioned as purpose. Pursuing something that can define his life, the man fails to notice that his journey has become an escape from people, who make him realise that he is merely a weak human, during sporadic encounters. Moreover, so certain of discovering the meaning, he deviates from the path to enlightenment time and again. Despite that, he makes constant sacrifices and gets back to the perilous journey and kee...

Imagination is one of the most fascinating words in my life. I can’t imagine my life without imagination, can I? It's a paradoxical statement. When we imagine, we start with a layer: the first layer, the seed, or the thought. The person, who is imagining, can imagine by being on the same layer, or he could create a new layer. Isn’t it wonderful to bounce on every layer of imagination until we reach the highest layer? After reaching a new layer, you are only going up and up, and far away from the root which is the base of your imagination. It is like jumping on a trampoline, and who doesn’t like to jump on a trampoline? Some may say that it becomes monotonous after some time, because you’re just aimlessly jumping on a trampoline and it is purposeless too. If this occurs to you, it means you still see things as they exist in nature and don’t think deeply about them. Create layers. Don’t see things for the sake of seeing things. Look deeper into things and events, for yo...

“I, the body with senses incessantly listening to the cosmos, want happiness. And when finally happiness is evoked inside my head, I ungratefully wish there could be more of it.”   Weirdly lying on a tattered sofa at a corner of my room, I was dwelling on psychology, especially human emotions. Imagine a hairball. Intertwined with manifold strings regarded as emotions, of all entangled strings, happiness was the one that intrigued me the most. Almost every human on the earth gives priority to happiness, and why one shouldn't. It’s not immoral. Besides, one whose pro-attitude gravitates to accumulate happiness should undoubtedly keep it above everything else to experience pure joy. As a result, the aforementioned shallow insight begs the question of how much happiness one needs at a time. Pondering the answer to the question, then and there, I posited - “to experience the state of infinite euphoria is what conscious beings long for”. I went about untangling the happiness string from...

hey girl! are you there? i’m worried, and i’m looking for you everywhere – behind the drapes, under the bed, and especially in the cabinets filled with fancy glassware, but not inside my head, girl. Phew! i’m tired now. just in case you change your mind to end this race and to be mine, i’m sitting by the backdoor of our house and writing a song for you, hope it gets complete by night until nine. something i want to tell you. love yesterday of mine. make love to me today. and i swear I'll love you tomorrow in every distinctive way. love me here. love me there. love me more when I’m sick, and I can’t go anywhere. love me through thick and thin under a roof or in open wind. darling! wrap me when I’m cold. put me together when I’m in pieces. hold me tight if i be scared. put your skin on me when I’m completely bare. you know, girl! sometimes, i imagine how adjectives fight with each other inside my head to be with you. i imagine you. i write you when I’m not with you the world is a bor...

while scrolling through your feed on instagram, an innocent jealousy messes with your head when you come across a few beautiful pictures of some old friends. unwillingly, you like some posts, skip some, however, ignore the most. Finally, you bump into a plain but nostalgic poem – “some old friends” “no one reads these days!” tired and stressed out, that’s all you can say. sighing, you fall facedown onto your bed, throw your phone away, put a messy cushion over your head, and take a nap to escape away rhythmic tremors earthquake! bloody no! it’s your phone, idiot. vibrations, they certainly disturb your soul in a dreamy state, don't they? in your dreams, you were probably in heaven drinking wine with sultry demons. you check your phone with no emotions, “mother!” you keep the phone silent and flipped it over; it make you believe that you fortuitously missed some more calls. still lying on the bed with a restless mind, state of jactitation, you feel an ineffable agit...