Redhya

Before taking the path to spirituality, feed your mind with science, and understand the cause and effect phenomenon of the universe. If you believe in some powers or energies that miraculously do events around you, then you're viewing the world from only one pov that's yours. The earth is filled with 4 quadrillion quadrillion bacterias, 10 billion billion ants, 500 trillion Antarctica krills, 18.6 billion domestic chickens, 7.8 billion humans, 1.4 billion cattle, 1.1 billion sheep, 3 million great whales, 0.5 million elephants, and many other living things and non-living things that can become a part of the cause and effect phenomenon. Your uncertainty is not god. The uncertainty of the occurrence of an event is not God. If you assume the existence of a superpower behind the occurrence of an event, then you ignore the existence of other living things and non-living things in the universe. Their existence influences the events happening around us. The human mind isn't capabl

whene'er i pick a quill, a thousand words yet to be born intone a fearless song all night long. though as the raw ink is about to defile a blank sheet, a glimpse of a papery child curling numb amidst haunting fears appears and then disappears. the child afraid of screams has poems with no words, for someone told him - verses are nothing but piercing screams. with the tongue full of papercuts, the child says -  i’m not a poet, for poetry is a lie -  some random words that evoke emotions. though, some lies help dying souls survive, as if poesy were the last breath  blown into their mouths in hope  they might revive.  i'm not a poet, because poetry is a lie -  because words can’t make any difference to bland lives.  though, some words are powerful enough  to make people throw knives  that would’ve slit their wrists,  for pain couldn't’ve sufficed their empty lives.  i'm not a poet, for poetry is a lie - these verses are arranged rhythmically,  but can't be supported by

I'm the sharpened tip of the pencil lying on your desk. The peeled wood still stuck in your sharpener was my guard. You uncovered me so that I can become a bloomed flower on a bland white sheet. If you could read me, you would see my desire to turn me into a deadly serpent wrapped around you, squeezing every inch of you. You swiftly move some sheets, and the pencil rolls towards the edge and falls onto the ground. I’m broken - I'm detached and lost somewhere under the bed. To be honest, the fall felt like a lifetime. That's why they say - your consciousness summarises your life when you're dying. You look at the pencil with the missing tip and feel that pang has paralyzed your body for a few seconds. I look from afar and experience your grief through your remorseful eyes. You take a trip filled with guilt and come back with a sharpener. The moment passes, and you make someone like me. *** buy my books on amazon -  redhya

I hadn't ever seen death being peaceful. My dog was dying. My mother comfortably laid him at his favourite spot that was beside the shoe rack in the verandah. I watched him taking his last breaths. I remembered his early years when he was such a pain in the arse. He'd gnaw everything that smelt like feet: socks, slippers, and shoes. I didn't hate him when he chewed down my white crocs even though I liked them. I got him chewy bones a couple of times. He'd do "grrrrrrr" when I tried to reach a bone in his mouth. Lying on a tattered rug, he opened his eyes; they were filled with tears. My mother was crying. I felt nothing as if I were lifeless. I looked at him slowly crawling towards us. When he reached my mother's feet, he looked at her. Putting his head on her feet, he collapsed and didn't wake up after that. *** buy my books on amazon -  redhya

Incessant rhythmic tremors vibrate a nearly empty martini glass kept on a table; I’m desperate to see it leisurely falling off and shattering into pieces so as to know who takes care of a broken object and a fucking stolid life. Colourful ambient lights! Drooping eyelids and swaying bodies, underneath a disco ball, are imitating vibrating, deafening beat drops. I’m at a high-end nightclub in Mumbai, letting life slip away as always. Tick, tock, tick, tock! Through the hammered crowd dancing on the floor, a young man sitting across gazes at me. Damn! He looks so foreign. The blue jacket on his torso complements his buffed carcass. He’s sitting at the bar, whereas I’m sitting at the dance floor. Perhaps, he has been looking at me for a long time. Glancing away for a few seconds, I look back at him for a fleeting moment. Man! He has everything that stands him out from the berserk crowd. Messy hair, cute spectacles, a golden watch, short pants, and a pair of black Chuck Taylors. He gesture

The journey to Redhya was extremely long, for I took approximately 23 years to reach there. Hi! My name is Dheeraj Preet , and I’m an author. When I was fairly young, I somewhat disliked my name. The reason behind my irrational dislike was that I’d find the name, Dheeraj , ordinary. No, truth be told, I hated it, and, on top of that, people shortened it to Dheeru . Wow! It’d have taken me ages to think this as my pet name. I’d be pissed off when someone called me Dheeru except my family . It felt like they wanted me to take my thumb out of my mouth when they addressed me as Dheeru . Dheeraj means patience. I couldn’t name myself Patience. I thought that it would be so weird if someone said, “ Oye Patience Preet! Idhar aa. ” I certainly needed a cool name. As a result, I thought about Dherya . It’s a Sanskrit version of the words: patience and calmness. Later, I thought – If I am putting this much effort into finding a cool name, then why not I think a little more. In childhoo

It's sad when people can't conclude whether they are being strong or they are just dying slowly. I was hurt; there was nothing I could do. Thus, I accepted the things the way they were, not because I was weak, but because I would have ruined everything if I had done anything. Putting on the façade of being unhurt, I accidentally cut off the bridge between me and some traumatized parts of my cerebrum. Surely, it was just a phase, but I was shaken to the core. Eventually, time took its course of action, and the phase passed by. I wish "sorry" could be enough to mend the broken bridge. Unfortunately, any amount of repentance couldn't repair me. Now, I feel strong, but I know that I'm just dead *** buy my books on amazon -  redhya