Thoughts to Words

Our brain is not an extraterrestrial substance and it should not have taken a pandemic to teach the majority of us that mental health is important.  A news release published on the World Health  Organization's  website on 5th October, 2020, stated, "WHO has previously highlighted the chronic underfunding of mental health: prior to the pandemic, countries were spending less than 2 per cent of their national health budgets on mental health, and struggling to meet their populations’ needs."  Looking at the meagre investment in the field of mental health, the theme for World Mental Health Day, 2020 is 'Mental Health for All: Greater Investment - Greater Access', as declared by the World Federation for Mental Health (WFMH). One aspect of investment is the monetary funding that we are talking about but there is work pending in the department of mindset transformation too. When it comes to my country India particularly, the underfunding in mental health is as severe as t

The tunnel was blocked and I saw no trace of light, the pain was a shark,  my strength was out of order,  the severity of my condition  was as ambivalent as the future. The misery roared inside, the mountains were oblivious, I greeted them,  described the mythical sunshine and how it worked as a relief spray. They were considerate  to exchange pleasantries. I didn't want help, so condemnation is irrelevant. I was too tired to fight, and who was I against? Myself? My mind? I estimated  the permanence of peace in death  and I slept to be cremated. I was perhaps done  with the rationale  life provided. ©songbriti

Sins percolating the pores of heaven, souteneur of sinners disparaging the nucleus of goodwill, a warped desire fraught with fire in the belly, berating the gardener and the water lilies, symbolizing humility, campaigning for devotion. Nemesis’s modus operandi  on vengeance, wasn’t exceptional. Who's the doppelganger? Who's orginal? Uniqueness dies an ordinary death. Was it even born in the first place? In the fabric of angels  contrasted with demons, grab hold of the grey skin, cast off the monochrome of compartments. Hell is as heavenly as Eden, and Heaven is on top of the power game because who bids for Hell? Providing such a hazy insurance. ©songbriti

If it wasn't for humour,  I would have collapsed  in planets I had never been to  or didn't want to go to.  They say, "You're funny." A compliment? "Thank you!  I take that as an accurate interpretation." Un-funny is feeling caught up in a rigid stiletto of customs, where my wings wonder if the stadium for laughter is passively occupied with a poorly attempted punchline. Seriously, serious is not my aptitude. I mean I did try cracking it like a joke but the ball bounced out of my court. It's like chewing neem leaves early in the morning. The bitterness doesn't go  even when the leaves have fallen into the lap of your stomach. You hunt for some sweetness as the lioness whose claws  have given up on dependence. Do I get a reserved seat  in the Happy-go-lucky department? They wouldn't select me, I can't jump around with dopamine when I want to cry while performing a parody on Trouble's insult comedy. I am funny,  but my sense of humour 

The session began at 8 pm. You shared about how the day has been and the highlight I listen to is that you haven't had the time to eat any meal throughout the day. I can see the exhausted look on your face right through the screen and I know how distracting hunger can be.  "Please go and eat something and we will reconnect in a few minutes." The word empathy is an action that you practice in the healthcare industry like an anthem. You have got to memorize it and meditate in its rhythmic light. My next session is at 9 pm and this one was already delayed by an hour which means my mini-break between two sessions is cut out. And that's okay because therapy is not just about talking, it is about doing what is the best for the client.  Therapy books written by renowned professionals who have been kind enough to share their wisdom have taught me a lot and one thing that I understand is experiences like these help you grow as a human being.  As your therapist when I ask you t

The blade is drooling over the blood it has, your blood. Unperturbed by your gig of screaming, I chopped slender slices of your thumb. A minimal percentage of the deformed finger is left for you because you can suck on the fear till you graduate from my world-class school. The laptop on my desk is fully charged and I have to watch a documentary on Charles Sobhraj but you just won't shut the thumb up. You're putting ideas into my head...Sushi out of your tongue? Fuck it, I am not a fishy person. I am good, I am your expert guidance. Blabber in silence, my patience is running thin. I have done a great job on this short slideshow. Without wasting my energy put your eyes and ears on my presentation. The second slide shows the picture of a man with a burnt palm and the third one is of a woman who lost her wrist because a robber had demanded for her Apple watch. She had to pay a bomb (I mean a working wrist) for not spending her attention on his command. The following photograph is o

The plea was audible, but governments mute, environmentalists on a rally, axes had a ready to cook sally, brokers meddled with the soil, assured trees of mutual benefits. Impelled to be of service and a novice to selfishness  the forest backpacked the family, relocated to a sea, in deep water,  they were out of depth, sinking away with generations, mermaids heard no death throes. Progess leaks of slaughter and anonymous sacrifices, from a private island, a tycoon uploads a post- 'Go Green'. ©songbriti

Apparently, Humour has a 'clandestine' affair with Pain, clandestine- is a hushed opinion, as good as the paparazzi’s interference. The lovers meet secretly but in the open, encircled by cosy zones, and cushions of comfort, sometimes crossing lines, perhaps to touch the horizon, to sing the chorus of their ascension, loud and clear, of the love that has it all. The cookies crumble, but are not heard on purpose, noise gives you the urge to purge and you act in accordance with your health  to protect its wealth. In love,  you may not be  'made for each other', but all that matters  is the unifying power  that you have  when you are together.  ©songbriti

The M.O.R.N.I.N.G in the morning stands for? You find out. Motivational quotes  are mostly sources of instant gratification when you consume it,  it is the summertime rain in your mind, pacifying you, you can dance to its beat and retweet it. Summer, being strong-headed, won't be lenient with heat, you'll sweat, sweat like a human and not a pig, a much-needed break,  you'll NEED, not WANT but NEED. The break is an experiment, the scope for further research you get after the break, is yours rightfully, even assessing the sunlight  without a recess, is up to you. Scientists may draw inspiration  from libraries and laboratories, but they have a unique dream  walking the talk in their revolutionary patents. ©songbriti

Ajay Pandita, a Kashmiri Pandit sarpanch was recently killed by terrorists. I am not interested in joining the club of pseudo-liberals and I will voice my humble opinion when a life is lost due to terrorism. About terrorism and its employees, a terrorist is a brainwashed person who has cut all ties with humanity and can go to any extent to fulfil a nasty agenda. Whether terrorism is hidden behind the mask of a political party and operates on fascist ideologies or it is being practised by keeping guns and bombs on religion's shoulder to set ablaze innocent lives, it is the same damn demon performing atrocious crimes and conspiring against civilization in different clothes. With the ability of logical reasoning, how hard is it to understand that the immoral deeds of a person have to be challenged and it has to be done without siding with a particular label? The only team you should be rooting for is humanity and it doesn't have reservations for a specific caste, creed, sex, race,

When it comes to instincts, it's hard to walk past them. Damn, they're the testimony of how I ran out of tissues to wipe you off my eyes. I shouldn't be appalled if my eyelids explode like a pressure cooker punched in the tummy. I trusted the trust you fabricated with the diabolical atoms from Lucifer's body. Although you never were a fallen angel. You were the slur that perchance died out under the sun but the dead are loafers chilling out here and there as the darkness to the conceited sky which is hungrily lusting to have eight distinctly adulterous consummations with the moon.  The venom in me isn't your contribution. I wouldn't give you the power of attorney because anything that has you in it is an arrow stuffed with the yolk of the deil. Plotting to drag me to a bed that has a sheet flattened out of a dragon who is in his slumber but is very much in contact with the inferno boiling in his mouth.  In the cup of your hands was the fault in my stars, I worsh

Absorbing a thousand and one Arabian nights in fear, my feathery filaments supply oxygen  and sonnets of hope in the bloodstream. The marsh arteries  in my courtyard, compile political convulsions and maritime disputes, contusions sprouting  from partition and bleeding internally. The flamingos legally keep shifting homes, summarizing the winters to their baby cousins  at the summer palace, but I am a refugee and an earning, with ordinary fins  in this extraordinary estuary. Fishermen of Kutch and Sindh ritually have their dignity ripped and boats seized because of me. Borders have sledgehammered  the heritage of my solitude, any considerate Jinni in the sea who can bring me a glimpse of it? ©songbriti

Socializing is a component that is a partially gold and partially silver member if not a platinum member in an ambivert's circle. As much as I enjoy entertaining my family and friends with politically incorrect jokes, I also love talking to myself, loud and clear in my room.  I have a soft corner for books. Last Christmas, I was gifted an e-book device (on my demand of course). The only child is pampered for the better sometimes, isn't she Santa? There are a list of books queued in a disciplined way on my Kindle's shelf to unveil their voices to me and I am delighted to give them all the attention I can during this free time. The question of making peace with self-isolation is not applicable to me because I am my best company and solitude is more than invited. How difficult is it anyway to stay indoors and do what you haven't had the time to do in a while? First off, family time specially with my furry brother is saving coins of happiness because none of us can practic

Poetry is the mountain  where I meditate  in the crest  of calmness. Poetry is the rope I grip with hope when fierce tornadoes gobble up the sunshine and there is existential crisis. Poetry is the moonlight arranging a romantic ambience for all my solo dinner dates. Poetry is the universal donor donating a reason  to quarantine myself when a pandemic  is simmering in the air. Poetry is the history left in me, poetry is the reflection of my aspirations, poetry is the backbone of my soul. ©songbriti

Dear God, Do you write the fate of human beings beforehand? Your way or the highway kinda gameplay? Actually there are spoilers sold out by astrologers, palmists, tarot card readers, numerologists and a few others. Quite interesting professions to mint money out of the cat's curiosity. Then you have motivational speakers who contradict these fellows with the gift of the gab. They are like baits who make a fish market of people buy tickets to listen to how fate can be changed by hard work, smart work (latest update) and with a tank full of positivity that is somewhat twinning with a protein shake for the speed breakers in the hurdle race. These are trades that draw good profit and that's okay because we all have to figure out a way to feed our stomachs. My question isn't to them anyway, it is to you, you who is Great and the Ultimate, that is what I have heard so far from the majority. Going by the theory of you being all Powerful and the Creator, I often think why do people

Ruminate in mindfulness,  be a transient tourist for the thought, with an eagle's eye see what others can't,  shoot close-up shots, that photographic memory has an inbuilt high definition, but let the imageries not push buttons, operate with the mind of a scientist, and the heart of a poet, in the amphitheatre of a beautiful day, the trials and errors of the performance and the findings are yours, a show was rolling before you knew it and will continue to after your blood and bones  manure the land, while the stage is beneath your toes, compose tunes at this harvest, feathers on your cap will be added, albeit take them not to the future, the orchard is but a walking example, of fruits growing when they have to. ©songbriti

"Fighting like cats and dogs."  What baseless rumour are they distributing like a virus? I always share my crunchy biscuits with you that are daily kept at 7am by a good Samaritan near 'Paradise Apartments'. We even play catch and fetch on weekends. Our progressive development on peaceful coexistence has not reached their idiot boxes and smartphones. People know that your paws are retractable and mine are not, I bark and you meow, I love hanging out with my pack near the meat shop and you love your 'Me time' in the park. We are very different but there is no divide between us.  How many five-year terms will it take for these species with apparently working brains to figure out the Shakuni tactics going on in the executive forests? Funnily, there are too many clones of Shakuni and here is when casting votes becomes a dicey business but nobody told them that the world's largest democracy would come without risks. In the reigning age of tik tok, some of them

Eating without an appetite, hunger's hosting the stomach. Smiling without eyes being bothered, zygomaticus major muscle lifting courtesy. Talking without attention, the bills of acquaintanceship are on socializing. Sleeping without a dream, heavy exertion pumping adenosine. Dying without a worldly crucification, the draft of a will on grains of sand, the ocean has properties of a detergent. Meanwhile, when the universe is hiking, life is styled by time, it goes on even if there are power outages. ©songbriti

In a world which is so stagnant on temporary, thank you for being permanent, love, gratitude, faith are conduits for transcendence, the accnicc moon of this friendship, has no wishing pond, willingness to stay holds paramount importance, a conscious decision to be or not to be, an open secret behind a shooting star's good luck charm. ©songbriti

Barefoot these trail of ants, they got their backs, boarding a local train, in a metropolitan, hoarding sweat. Hardwork- an organ overworked, Passion- the recent Amazon forest, the esophageal bridge distributing 'provisional permits' to drive from 9 to 5, also sometimes overtime, speeding at zero dreams per hour. A ventilating cigarette purifies sleep in the 1BHK, curtained by a nest of necessities, though the wingless cannot fly, they can climb the highest high. The backpacks of duties are heavier than weighed, the horizon is not going anywhere, when the curtains are raised, they'll get there and beyond. ©songbriti

I could be the emergency candle when flickering dangers dodge you, keep me in a jar, that contained lemon marmalade, you love oranges I know, life is fond of sour lemons instead, culinary arts is so much more than Michelin stars, it hardly is a fair-weather place but in any season on Earth and phase of the Moon,  a firefly pixie is your friend, delve into your spiritual growth, a well-wisher won't push you  into the well when you take refuge, in the dense fog,  tons of silver linings we can craft, an ethereal friend-ship sails and sails, in due course blessed with bountiful harvests. ©songbriti

Marriages and how I implode when the antipathy it assaults me with is venomous. Hell, how old and bad habits die hard. Grey habits with a habitat that is downright dangerous and should go up in flames. Only a dolt with candy floss in his inner circle will be sucking up to those fairies and the second hand lies they go around littering and pick up the mushy teddy bears with 'I am all happy and distilled' popping out of their chests. Mending is not what a prince does in Sleeping Beauty or what the house of Hansel and Gretel which is plastered with confectionery, candies and cake is. You cannot just mend things like that especially when they are broken. Broken is broken and when you are desperate to mend the broken you break the broken into dandelions that lose their cause in the quest of getting back to where they were. Hiring adjustments and designating them to work on assignments that are baseless claims of some forced agreement is insanely patronizing the supermassive black ho

I fish for the fleshes  of good sunsets, for instance the tangerine ice  that blooms in Antartica, and in the manure saltwater warps their carcasses, my thirst is a camel's reservoir and hunger fed to bones,  I was teleported out of Hamlin but my ache is rented by lease, the menace of plague in doldrums repugnance spat out in cypress logs, a shelf life of honey it has, bees howling in packs, the moon is on an idle saunter, a settlement out in bail, I fish for the fleshes of good sunsets baiting bloodstreams for prospective mutants, monstrous in taste. ©songbriti