I could hear faint sounds across my bed. Some are shrill and sharp prolly a woman talking and some beeping prolly anna's alarm. I opened the shutters of my eyes lil by lil and it was semi dark n blurry. A tear drop streaked across my left eye and I felt my hands are cold and numb. I called for John twice in the voice I could muster but he din't answer. I moved by head and tried looking for him but found no one near me. 'He must be out for his dinner, Anna will be mad if he don't take his meals properly', I assured myself. I closed my eyes and slowly by slowly the voices around me started dissipating. I felt comfortable I couldn't feel the pain of soreness of my body anymore. This feeling, ah , I knew this feeling, I felt it before, for so many times.........

I was crouching my 6 year old legs between arms, hot red blood was pouring out from the fresh bruise of the knee . I tripped myself over the skipping rope ,of which my mom warned me before. I kept on blowing air over it for the short of intervals of relief; of numbness. Getting exhausted of blowing, I slowly lifted my head up and saw the scenery which I kinda ignored all my childhood. The grassy low hill edging with a murky river emerging from the southern hills. The hills gradually turn to hazy blue and bald as they move over the eye's horizon. A small grassy breeze held my conscience and I forgot the pain of the bruise, the surrounding sounds disappeared and there I was feeling 'this' feeling: " Neither sad nor happy: A blankness in serenity".

'I was looking at the intersection line of the Azure skies and the Sapphire sea, with the waves playing rhythm in my ear drum.... I was there on that hot afternoon sand in an ink smeared shirt of a 12 yr bullied kid, with my anger slowly melting into emptiness...'Neither sad nor happy: A evangelic point of balance'

'I looked at the 18yr old girl standing before me, into her big hazel brown eyes, a guy confessed to her and said words she never heard before....for the first time she felt "they were indeed honest and beautiful". I looked into them more intently under the mirror light and suddenly I felt myself falling into this feeling, my happiness vanished into void..'Neither sad nor happy: A fleeting moment of emptiness'


'I was looking down with my chin rested on the railing of the 4oth floor,my eyes were fixed at the sight of cars... for they looked like small ants relentlessly n restlessly running between concrete pillars to keep up with the seconds hand. There I was standing with a 24 yr old heart wounded of betrayal. Voilent and sucidal thoughts flashed..I was split into two people of life and death....i was completely lost...but for a moment my lost and agonised mind got focused at the ants in the evening sun...and i was calmed down...there..that feeling..'Neither sad nor happy: A transition point from dark to light'


'I was looking in those Emerald eyes of 8 yr old John when he said he will look after 36 yr old me, when he grows big' ..I wasn't expecting that...all the shock eventually turning into happiness...in so a less a time than the blink of his eyes...in which the nothingness prevailed..'Neither sad nor happy: A lapse of a neuron'.

'I was looking at the one man show, the words of Eric Nelson were always mesmerizing, he always gave my 60 yr old mind a comfort wen John and Anna leave the house...i slowly falling into sleep...'Neither sad nor happy' : A moment in solitude.

..................................................................................................................................................................

Now i am lying in this 72 yr old withered shell on this bed not clear of the surroundings...i lay..
Numb and this feeling again.....
Neither sad nor happy....for a split second a flood of images came across my mind...I saw the image of my father helping me cross a brook...my mother cooking in the kitchen...my first love.....the baby john all appeared all so sudden..my heart began to race...and this time i drowned into it....Neither happy nor sad: A life's journey from Earth to Ether.

My poem of this month

A Thing of Beauty is a Joy Forever

by John Keats

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old, and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
'Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
All lovely tales that we have heard or read:
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.

Nor do we merely feel these essences
For one short hour; no, even as the trees
That whisper round a temple become soon
Dear as the temple's self, so does the moon,
The passion poesy, glories infinite,
Haunt us till they become a cheering light
Unto our souls, and bound to us so fast
That, whether there be shine or gloom o'ercast,
They always must be with us, or we die.

Therefore, 'tis with full happiness that I
Will trace the story of Endymion.
The very music of the name has gone
Into my being, and each pleasant scene
Is growing fresh before me as the green
Of our own valleys: so I will begin
Now while I cannot hear the city's din;
Now while the early budders are just new,
And run in mazes of the youngest hue
About old forests; while the willow trails
Its delicate amber; and the dairy pails
Bring home increase of milk. And, as the year
Grows lush in juicy stalks, I'll smoothly steer
My little boat, for many quiet hours,
With streams that deepen freshly into bowers.
Many and many a verse I hope to write,
Before the daisies, vermeil rimmed and white,
Hide in deep herbage; and ere yet the bees
Hum about globes of clover and sweet peas,
I must be near the middle of my story.
O may no wintry season, bare and hoary,
See it half finished: but let Autumn bold,
With universal tinge of sober gold,
Be all about me when I make an end!
And now at once, adventuresome, I send
My herald thought into a wilderness:
There let its trumpet blow, and quickly dress
My uncertain path with green, that I may speed
Easily onward, thorough flowers and weed.