whimsicalsunflower

Standing out does not mean that someone is better than someone else. It means that someone is a better person today than what they were yesterday. The journey is to evolve and not put someone else down. We are all on the same ground, in the same soil. It’s all about how we make the most of our time, here. If you have ideas, work on them. If you have dreams, fulfill them. If you have opinions, place them. If you have doubts, ask. If you feel stuck, change the road. If you feel lost, search. If you feel sad, cry it out. If you feel happy, share it the world. The world needs no competition. The competition was made with the aim of happiness. Happiness was never in the destination. It’s in the journey. A journey you have to travel; by yourself, for yourself and with yourself. You’re the path maker, here. Believe it. Go ahead! Take every opportunity to make your journey memorable. Have no regrets.  You owe it to someone special...

"What if things do not turn out the way I want them to?" "It's okay, I'm prepared for the worst." "What is the worst that will happen?" "That's not even possible." "I feel it is out of my reach. Ugh" The mind paced around faster than the speed of light. Fingers entwined, an uneasiness brewed. Sigh. Meanwhile, a kid and his mother were passing by me. He insisted his mother to buy him a balloon. And she did buy him one. A thought crossed my mind as the kid walked away with his mother, happy. Aren't dreams like the balloon and the universe like the mother? The insistence of the little boy got him what he wanted. For him, getting the balloon was an accomplishment in itself. Of course, our dreams/aspirations are a lot different than a balloon but aren't they something we want to manifest? A lot of times it happens so that we forget to give ourselves the freedom to dream. The freedom to prepare ourselves for a po...

Innocent, she nurtured her heart ever since.  Little did anyone know that a fire lived within her. Burning and growing with every fleeting moment.  Holding on, was all that she knew. A certain restlessness brewed within her. Breathing became a task.  She clenched her fists and gathered all the courage, "but.." is all that she could utter with a sigh.  Nice, obedient, sweet was what the world labelled her.  More than a label, those words bounded her. She knew that none of those word belonged to her. But how could she revolt?  A lion in a sheep's body that she was. The restlessness brewed more and more and more and... "NO!" her being roared. Everything fell silent. That silence was empty yet full. A journey began. The destination, unknown. The path, unknown. The traveller, to be known..

Click, Click, Click … A dog, a random street, an iconic building, a flower, the sea waves and much more are a part of a photographer’s collection of pictures. Not  always does a photographer click pictures to please his or his audience’s eyes. He captures ‘moments’. The pictures are the world through his eyes. It’s not just a     passion. It’s more like a way of life. Sure, it does involve some technicalities but     once a person starts living it (photography) all the technicalities come naturally to him and later on, they won’t really matter. Why? Cause it won’t just remain a subject to learn but an integral part of one’s life. One’s way of life.       Photography doesn’t just mean to set the angle right and with a high resolution camera, click pictures. It means to capture the beauty of the moment. To capture something that adds meaning to one’s life. Some call photographers,   ‘lost’. Little...

          I was sitting by the window. It was raining. A few water droplets planted themselves on my face, delicately. Effortlessly, I began to sing a song. There wasn't any particular reason but it just felt good. On listening more carefully, even the raindrops had a little song of their own, it was more of a rhythm. The birds had their own rhythm. The trees, the little creepy crawlies, the wind and everything else had some rhythm to it. In fact, even silence has its own rhythm. Makes me wonder, what is it about music? Is it just various sounds compiled together? Or just another rhythm that pleases our ears? I guess music is beyond that. Its roots are deeper than the old banyan tree's. It unites minds of various backgrounds irrespective of age, cast, creed, and religion. Music doesn’t require a particular language. It has its own language. When in love we listen to music, when out of love we listen to music. Sometimes, even while working automatically, we sta...

It was winter. Ranveer was sitting on the bench outside a park, alone. Suddenly, it started snowing. The snowflakes planted themselves on his coat, hat and hope. Hope to meet Avanti. He opened his palm and a snowflake rested itself there. He made a fist and held it close to his heart. It felt like her, delicate and innocent. A tear rolled out of his eye. But he kept the promise, wiped it off and left for home which was less of it since Avanti left. He opened the door and walked in. It was dark. Not just the room but also his mind. He dropped himself on the couch, a dim light on and a book in hand. He missed his Avanti today, a lot more than usual. Maybe because years back they had met on the same day. He decided to her. He opened the book.. Avanti had always been Ranveer's first. His first friend, first crush, first date, first love, first kiss and only wife. He had never felt so complete before. He decided to propose to her. Being a struggler doesn't pay you off that well ...

      "Should I? Should I not? I think I should.. No I shouldn't. Ugh! What should I do? I won't go only for the party. Not a single appropriate outfit. I need to shop!" Well, the mirror didn't respond. "Who are you talking to?" asked my mom. "Myself," I replied. Myself? Talking to myself? Sounds normal to me but it didn't to her. I had always been communicating with myself but today it felt different. Maybe, cause for the first time I witnessed this conversation.        We all have been gifted with the right to communicate ever since we were born. We have been communicating with ourselves more than we do with others but the fact skips our attention. As I'm writing this, I'm not only communicating with you'll but also myself. Approving and disapproving every word, every thought. Our entire life has been a conversation. Just that this conversation has no particular purpose or no particular language. Neither it has a particular ...