tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-800931783804559732011-11-28T05:02:47.761+05:30Obaid.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13362630166983737080noreply@blogger.comBlogger301100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80093178380455973.post-70459437080872603552008-10-05T01:21:00.000+05:302008-10-05T23:29:00.784+05:30

Too much filth brought about by humans,we look around but don’t feel what we see, don’t even see ourselves .The whole world is gone wrong butright now each of us can make a difference.You are an essential fragment of the unified whole.Another secret of life, to find that subtle link that connects us all,to one another and to the Infinite Eternal.It's not as tough as it sounds, nor a fantasy as it

Obaid.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13362630166983737080noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80093178380455973.post-30608292461270904172008-09-30T23:03:00.000+05:302008-10-05T23:17:58.933+05:30

When you look around and see all the chaos infecting us like a pestilence, don’t you wonder about the reasons that we present as ‘reasons’ for all the unreasonable things that we do…Why do people do the ugly things that they do?!... Is it like someone once told me that they do the things they do because they are scared? People doing things for no particular, logically sound reason but just for

Obaid.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13362630166983737080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80093178380455973.post-65188527558963694142008-09-19T01:26:00.000+05:302008-09-20T00:03:00.179+05:30

Little boy stares into the haunted eyes of the old man,the one who taught him to laugh, and songs and tunes to clap.But now he's silent waiting for the call of death,waiting to see the light and the end of the tunnel.... with haunted eyes.Little boy sings his songs, dances around and giggles,trying to remind him of all he'd gathered and taught,but the old man just looks at him... with haunted

Obaid.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13362630166983737080noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80093178380455973.post-73671068201646042522008-09-18T00:42:00.005+05:302008-11-18T13:00:46.819+05:30

Sometimes in the depth of these quiet nights, i hear a shrill echo from far. They say it's the echo of silence! Yes indeed, i've heard songs on it, read poems about it...heard the dumb and the wise commenting on it. But when i hear that silent cacophony, i feel elated. It's like a song that anyone can relate to, a truth that noone denies, like a love that never leaves a void, a youth that never

Obaid.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13362630166983737080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80093178380455973.post-28858791160043822902008-09-13T23:44:00.004+05:302008-09-14T00:12:15.986+05:30

These few days have been kind of edgy out here. Strikes, protests and curfews for some pseudo-political purpose I fail to really comprehend. Sometimes i wonder, what is it that we are striving to achieve... a little fame, a little power, a little more wealth? All at the cost of the very reasons that we want to achieve these for! It all reminds me of the little kid who jumped across the stream to

Obaid.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13362630166983737080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80093178380455973.post-89326972826649250642008-09-08T00:05:00.002+05:302008-09-22T23:03:47.236+05:30

…Sometimes I feel like a milestone, pointing out destinations but myself always ‘on the road’.…sometimes I feel like a lamp post, shedding light for all but itself hidden in the convenient dark.…sometimes I feel like a shooting star, the brighter it flares the quicker it recedes.…sometimes I feel like the sun, holding the solar system together but itself all alone.…Sometimes I feel like a desert

Obaid.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13362630166983737080noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80093178380455973.post-28415003522147447722008-09-03T01:25:00.006+05:302008-09-05T00:49:01.298+05:30

Did i feel that i heard the cymbals and the chimes of a beautiful world unfolding before me?Did i feel that the long awaited eternal togetherness was waiting just around this solitary corner?Did i feel that the rearrangement of my priorities was so worth it?Did i feel that being alone doesn't mean being lonely... 'coz the beauty i dig, resides within me, for me?Did i hear the echo of a happy song

Obaid.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13362630166983737080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80093178380455973.post-64602396645956561742008-08-31T01:41:00.000+05:302008-09-01T01:59:59.535+05:30

Thoughts locked in some solitary late hours of the night, they ramble from one loose end to another of a tangled up existence. I look around me , and all I hear is the shrill echo of silence that darkness brings along with her, the silence that always provides too many answers for a question. Noise irritates and disturbs you… but silence? It confuses a ‘thinking ear’. There are always these

Obaid.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13362630166983737080noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80093178380455973.post-744959385651467312008-08-26T02:21:00.002+05:302010-12-04T01:00:49.967+05:30

... continuation to 'I Choose to Live - I'.Aaah… I know, you might think that it’s just the rush of a young mind and that time and age will calm me down! But consider this, how ‘old’ is ‘young’ and how ‘young’ is ‘not old’? Everything is relative here. And if you relate your age to the universe, too old is not old enough. Time, as we know is infinite and a lifespan is just a mere moment. So live

Obaid.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13362630166983737080noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80093178380455973.post-57990953079217151042008-08-23T03:19:00.000+05:302008-08-24T00:12:34.269+05:30

Around 1,700,000 people of Kashmir marched to the streets with banners and slogans protesting against the atrocities in Kashmir by the Indian government and demanding independence. A memorandum stating the same was submitted to the UNO office here a few days ago. This is not a post reporting about the event. It's just an echo so that you become aware of this voice. Google "kashmir independence"

Obaid.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13362630166983737080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80093178380455973.post-57752246114532953602008-08-18T15:08:00.002+05:302010-12-04T00:58:13.379+05:30

Well now… I’ve been running after the trails of shooting stars, and as one burned out, there was another that flared up in the sky. Beauty so haunting…frantic, frenzied, scary chases. Oh yes! They went speeding by, leaving behind a granular sparking trail, never in the same direction, inciting all the 'wandering wonderers' to follow enchanted. So we never got far, though it was always farther.

Obaid.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13362630166983737080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80093178380455973.post-46307676178357919392008-08-14T20:12:00.000+05:302008-08-18T08:48:02.871+05:30

-- Nights of Evolution Naked in the auberge rated with a billion stars,vulnerably exposed for the night with it's cruelties to char.The Divine power, rearranging these galactic spectra just for me,harbor me from harm, heal me with your chaste charms.A shooting star, sailing silently across the night,diminishing, receding, animating the cosmic carpet by it's flight.No thunderous lightning

Obaid.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13362630166983737080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80093178380455973.post-51069905577761718042008-08-10T14:00:00.000+05:302008-08-12T04:53:31.984+05:30

”Nobody knows where you are, how near or how far… Shine on you Crazy Diamond” hums Pink Floyd into my room through the speakers of my IBM Lenovo while some distant flashes of lightning shear the darkness of the midnight outside my half-opened windows…I understand the TimeHorizon now, all so clearly. The relation between my existance in this dimension of space, time and possibility, and with

Obaid.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13362630166983737080noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80093178380455973.post-22586302251855153432008-08-06T15:31:00.000+05:302008-08-12T02:36:16.117+05:30

- from my "On the Road Again".Whew! Finally got to Old Delhi…”The City Of Djinns” as Dalrymple baptizes her in his book. The city that never sleeps, never tires… always moving, hustle and bustle forever. I glanced at my watch and realised that I had less than 30 minutes to make it to the station before I missed my bus home. I got an auto-rickshaw to the Tourist Station at 30Hazare from the

Obaid.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13362630166983737080noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80093178380455973.post-20722688385231742232008-08-02T15:27:00.000+05:302008-08-03T04:37:50.923+05:30

...The midnight-darkness trickles into these quiet streets where fancy frilly faces dance in the day time, and as softly as it seeps into my days, it passes as gently, without a trace, leaving behind a whispering twilight that escapes from me even more deftly.... A little laughter, a few hidden tears, ... a few kicks, a few licks, a few thrills, a few drills... what more could one want from these

Obaid.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13362630166983737080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80093178380455973.post-32275338624420325992008-07-31T02:17:00.000+05:302008-08-03T04:41:45.773+05:30

..."Don't want your grip, don't want your greed..." screams Metallica into my ears through a pair of headphones that never fail to accompany me through these nights. One of my best friends that stuck through thick and thin. The next number to be streamed into my ears is the number called "One" by Metallica. With a thumping rhythm, a melody of its own, this has always been one of my anthems,

Obaid.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13362630166983737080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80093178380455973.post-62405494879688831542008-07-28T04:21:00.000+05:302008-08-03T04:25:27.895+05:30

Dim streetlights shielded by the milky mist,where lanterns in a timeless moment swingfor the wayward to home, their bundles of confusion bring.Sometimes don’t you feel like we choose a mask everyday from our locker along with our shirts and flaunt it all through the day, finally taking it off before retiring to our solitude at night...a role through out the day and it is only when you are alone

Obaid.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13362630166983737080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80093178380455973.post-84185978574476703622008-07-24T14:59:00.001+05:302008-09-22T23:06:24.954+05:30

-a journey through space, time, values and definitions.Turn off the lights, close your eyes…lets form a circle and hold each other’s hands. Yes, let the music play in the backdrops of our minds. Now listen to me intently as I guide you through a short soft journey, and we may come back with the experience of evolution…Midnight friendly to dreamers,under the banners of peace.Searched for the truth

Obaid.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13362630166983737080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80093178380455973.post-85689368494503833912008-07-21T15:06:00.000+05:302008-08-03T04:43:59.206+05:30

...The music plays her own chords and I feel like only just another note on the tablature...These midnights come in chilly and windy shades. Another new year rushed in as the last one slipped by. What do we have to put on the table... and those that we do have, do they pump some meaning into our existance?We do the fancy gig, play the 'got ja answer' jig, walk the 'made man' walk, see the 'been

Obaid.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13362630166983737080noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80093178380455973.post-6150336720153655772008-07-18T13:41:00.000+05:302008-08-03T04:45:43.565+05:30

..Stopping for refueling, and they say we are going to reach Manali around eight tomorrow morn. A toot of the horn and off we go again over and across the dry barren mountains of Northern India. Naked brown mountains rising and falling as far as the eye can see. Some love song from an old Bollywood movie being streamed into the bus. Me, over the shoulder of the driver, looking at the world

Obaid.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13362630166983737080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80093178380455973.post-71143638476092523972008-07-15T15:52:00.000+05:302008-08-03T04:47:25.952+05:30

A chunk of rock which we affectionately call “mother earth”…instances of infinite possibilities which we lovingly call “relationships”…a word coined by warm hearts which we call “humanity”… Sometimes I am tempted to believe we all are really “nice and civil”. The Collective Conscience has such pretty definitions to lay on the table. I could believe that we could sing songs of peace and strew

Obaid.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13362630166983737080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80093178380455973.post-67574271026132186672008-07-12T14:48:00.000+05:302008-08-03T04:49:14.281+05:30

The present Collective Conscience has not had a really 'Dark Night'. And we all know, almost always, there is a dark night before the Awakening. The present Humanity, as a whole is quite inexperienced, naive. Quite unacquainted with the Dark Side of the Moon, we fail to comprehend and appreciate the Light. Maybe we are learning a bit with all the darkness we're experiencing globally these days.

Obaid.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13362630166983737080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80093178380455973.post-51326284662865433542008-07-09T15:43:00.000+05:302008-08-03T04:48:37.662+05:30

Midnight almost here, the night-buzz with its echoes ring in my ear and all is quiet here, quiet around me, and within me. I wonder how most people do not feel it although the answers are smeared all over the cosmos. It’s been smooth lately, the riding I mean. Of course a few bumps have for to be there so that you don't get paranoid over the sound of your own wheels rolling too fast. But it’s

Obaid.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13362630166983737080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80093178380455973.post-13720524422029814402008-07-06T13:31:00.000+05:302008-08-03T04:54:04.619+05:30

“There is always a dark night before the awakening”. There can be no awakening without the dark night, for it is in the depth of that darkness, in the silence of that utter emptiness, in the solitude of that estrangement that one is nurtured to be able to embrace the Light. And those of us who have had the dark night and have awakened to the cosmic truth will never be able to totally forget that

Obaid.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13362630166983737080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80093178380455973.post-79772762498524080692008-07-04T03:36:00.000+05:302008-08-03T03:39:30.170+05:30

Playing with the colours withintrying to blend the real me.Bridging the haunted gaps within.An occasional shudder hints me that I've risen above the restbut am banished to the valley of thoughtful strains by some ugly test.And the boyish traces still in me,feels foolish to another soul born in metonight under the starry roof, deep blue nourishing.Glow… snowy carpets rolled over the hillsand deep

Obaid.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13362630166983737080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80093178380455973.post-78828812027074566822008-06-30T14:08:00.000+05:302008-08-03T04:56:18.038+05:30

… "The End is Near" laments "Alter Bridge" into my ears through the headphones.Another midnight comes sliding in slowly and you find yourself growing numb. Why is it that even when the riding is smooth, occasionally all of us feel down and out in some ways...in our own private ways... Is it that the occasional ‘down’ from the experience of a void in and around us, is a basic nature of man...

Obaid.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13362630166983737080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80093178380455973.post-58621451929044477532008-06-28T02:09:00.002+05:302008-08-28T02:16:52.597+05:30

OzSoftLabs Helium

Obaid.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13362630166983737080noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80093178380455973.post-80709321561699851522008-06-27T14:13:00.000+05:302008-08-03T04:57:16.953+05:30

Sometimes don’t you feel so... jaded? Dream boats sail all around me while I lie back on the bed letting myself get sucked into the aura of the cosmos, engulfed within a deep silence. A pause... a pause with a depth that goes as deep as the soul, deep into the essence of my very existence. Everything inside me bares up and I get stripped down to my very deepest instincts. Sometimes I feel like I

Obaid.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13362630166983737080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80093178380455973.post-22103001167745564022008-06-24T15:08:00.000+05:302008-08-03T04:58:19.444+05:30

The Night in silence…The night in silence, sings her ancient songs..Songs of laughter and songs of tears, songs of heroes and songs of traitors, songs of lovers and songs of mongers...songs that warm the senses, songs that questions your thoughts, songs that initiate the heart, songs that elevate the soul...songs that leave you wondering where you've heard it all before.The night in silence,

Obaid.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13362630166983737080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80093178380455973.post-67976027666708911052008-06-22T03:04:00.000+05:302008-08-11T04:09:31.860+05:30

Cruel nights of territorial nightmaresancestral insomnia steers my gaze around.All of my home that remainssmoky shambles grazed by cannons,still meadows for their Apaches and Strategic tests.Me, a barefooted youngster, with eyes of tears that dried to blood,orphaned, homeless, ruthlessly molestedby devilish messengers of the 'Stripes and Stars'.Silent forbearance intensifies their fury,to

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