Heal the world, make it a better place.

Flipping through a magazine with pages dedicated to a handful of good citizens who were brave enough to slide out of their comfort life and dedicated their whole being for a higher cause...who believe in Joy of Giving, I realised how ugly the models posing for a cloths brand or a fairness cream seemed comparatively. Beauty is truly skin deep.

It got me thinking, why we can’t plan our weekends off work doing something for not-so-privileged. May be a visit to an orphanage or an old age home or may be volunteer helping people in need and make a small but a long term contribution. We spend countless hours on what movie to watch or which place to eat or where to go for a vacation. We spend loads on trivial selfish pursuits, why not do something for someone in need and get the unspoken satisfaction that we hope to achieve at any other place.

We do not take seconds calling a friend to tell him/her about a sale in town, but never to talk about finding a place to donate our old but good to use clothes.

My heart goes out to those who, in some way, no matter how small, make this world a better place to live.

Lets be the change we want to see!

Keeping negativity at bay..

There is something about negativity, the more you let it affect you, the more it will enter your life. It will clog every pore and seep in every vein of your system. Why do people concentrate so much on what's bad or immoral or waste their time on useless chatter? Why don’t we open our eyes and see how beautiful things still are? While cribbing about the people and things around us, we miss out on some of the most beautiful moments that life has to offer. We can either crib about the broken road behind our house or raise our eyes a little and appreciate the shades in the sky while the sun sets.

Even humour has gone to a different level. Today we laugh out loudest over the people we supposedly care about most, degrading and humiliating them. There are few who are as capable of cracking jokes on someone as lightly as they take it on themselves. But is laughing at others really that funny? Aren’t we actually pushing away some of our dearest people in the process? Honestly, it’s laughing with them that contributes to d real fun. Nothing like brightening someone’s day with a genuine compliment than putting them off by a sarcastic remark to gauge attention of the herd.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines

Read it during my graduation, somehow this poem always stuck to me. I think Pablo Neruda did a wonderful job at this one.

This poem like the most, testifies the theory that some of the best pieces of art come out of extreme emotions. When one is either very sad or very happy.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example,'The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voide. Her bright body. Her inifinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my sould is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.