There are times when all things around you come to a standstill. No movement, no fluttering-just the eloquence of silence and the constant everything, like wind over concrete. You look around at the unrustling leaves of the trees, at the stillness all around. It haunts you. You seem to look around for something new, but all you see are the same faces, the same places. Nothing is new, nothing will be. As time passes, everything decays, stagnates, and you are left stranded at the altar thinking whether it is you who has stayed behind or everything else.<br><div>Look around you, now. What do you see? Perhaps a few empty chairs, an empty bed, the old, green curtain which at one point of time spewed of magnificence. Or you might see your mate sleeping noiselessly, unaware of the fact that he is the spectacle. But what is so special about all of this? You witness these, them, everyday. Now, you see- there is nothing special about anything that surrounds you. You caught in a labyrinthine quagmire of quicksand where the more you try to escape, the more you are sucked in. It is the black-hole theory revisited all over again, but this time you are on the wrong side. We are all semi-important useless, all-dancing and all-singing crap of the world (to steal an idea from the movie "Fight Club"). And so is everything around us. What is the importance of all the things that surround you? If you drop your favourite coffee mug, you feel sad for a moment and then you move on, perhaps buy a new cup the same evening and maybe, lament over the fact that the other cup was a bit better in design, weight, et al. But at the end of the day, you forget all about it and move on because the utility this new cup will provide will be similar to the other one. After a while, you will forget how that cup was and this will be your favourite. And what will happen if you drop this cup? Well, eat and sleep and wake up and eat and sleep and wake up- yes, repeat the cycle.&nbsp;</div><div>That is our routine. In fact, we have a routine existence. Consummation takes place, you are born-planned or unplanned, you were bound to exist. You are fed and taught to speak, and you grow- that is how it was supposed to be. You go to school and learn, meet people, learn from them, this adds to your learning and you pass school- this wasn't your choice for you had no say in it. You reach college and study more, get a degree, get placed, start earning- after all the things that preceded this, this was obvious. You get married, have kids, get old, die- the end. And now, retrospect and do not reminisce for the two are viciously similar and yet entirely different acts. You did not want all of this to happen. It is the flow of life- 'Zendagi Migzara'- and you exclaim "tempus fugit"- time flies and how! You were born just the other day and now you are on the verge of death. And ironically, you never wanted this to happen. All of this that happens is because what was initiated several billion years ago. Even in that, we had no say. We came into being without any consequence of our and we leave the world without much ado.&nbsp;</div><div>Things have stayed the way they always do. You simply cannot find a shortcut or a by-lane. It is the cliches that surround you and you realize, you too are part of the farce. The foals of the facade that we all wish to continue, unknowingly, comes down in a shambles. The smokescreen is lifted and behind it we see a multitude of 'us' who walk on without much thought about what happens next. There is no urgency in their stoic eyes. And then, looking at all this, I, self-proclaimed poet who knows not the meters nor the scales, asks-"Is this inspiration enough?" I answer my own question- "No". &nbsp;</div>

No Inspiration

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