Before, The Morning(Poem)

At 3 A.M.
a quiet pissy feeling
woke me up or
a thirsty throat.

the wormholes of the universe
were wide open
no one was there to melt into it
no, not even the gods
for they were too busy
in auditing the spreadsheet of
vices and virtues.

productivity games of man
did not start
air was not yet wet
with the sweat of joggers.
the birds, the dogs, the cats
the coffee cups, the babies
and the karma has not woken up

and
were still in their erstwhile positions
like a Spartan army, disciplined and tamed.
but the cockroaches were moving.

The nothingness of 3 A.M.
was blissful not yet intruded
by mechanical and robotic 5 A.M.’s of the man.

3 A.M.
it’s the time
you are utterly alone with the stars
and the darkness
in a state of true living.

the only moment
I hear the time
slipping by.

only the watcher remains
with no mind
to explore the geometries.

—Drunken Monk.

Examined Life?

The legends of philosophy and spirituality have one thing in common apart from their weirdly grown long white beards. They recommend an examined life. To savour the infinity in the present moment and live in deep reflections and ruminations.

But even a 5-minute meditation done over an app or contemplating about life’s purpose while having your coffee reveals the beauty and the beast, the sun and the moon, the light and the darkness of it all. It holds a yin-yang that delights us with a sense of calmness and dazzles us with the ugly dissatisfaction of life.

Conscious living is hard. It reveals the hallowed nature of life and makes us scratch our heads on the “Whole point” of this existence. This is fine and we can tolerate it.

However, past the 5-minute timer, the examination uncovers our own life’s shortcomings. The insecurities, anxieties, emotions all come for a ballet dance and play on the tunes of “pity” streaming in the neurons of our mind.

It’s like walking on a hotbed of coal or get repeatedly stung by a hornet. Why go after these musings? Just for a temporary soothing?

That turns us into the woods of unconscious living. This too has its shortcomings. It’s easy to get by in this mode but after a while, it becomes robotic and repetitive. You become a passive boat wandering in the waters of weariness. One eventually becomes a bystander and a nodding machine to the choices of life.

There is no juice left in the fruity life. Just counting seconds in a zombie state.

In the end, both states are hard thorny roads to make a living. The way ahead could be a conscious-unconscious or unconscious-conscious mode. But then—()


Future (Economics)—1

Resources, Good Governance, Human capital and even Institutional development till now to an extent determined the success of a nation and its economic growth and development.

But in the future, I think the “Attention Capital”, that is, the attention capacity and the capabilities of its citizens will tell us the trajectory of the nation. With attention spans falling off the chart to a minimum and some claiming even to that of a goldfish, the promise of the future is bleak. With people unable to concentrate on their tasks, productivity and prosperity can be deteriorating.

If that’s the case, governments might launch yoga and meditation schemes for the poor in future and so-called affirmative programs. That’s a hard nut to crack, I guess.

What if the primary skill in future resumes of the employees is the ability to concentrate and sit in a lotus posture for 90 minutes?
and the companies might hire a Spiritual CEO and a guru to guide their gullible employees?

—Drunken Monk.


Heavyweights(Poem)

Under the load
of wisdom
we miss insights.

Under the load
of solitude
we miss love.

Under the load
of illumination
we miss the now.

Under the load
of driving
we miss moving.

Under the load
of deadlines
we miss the divine.

Under the load
of water
we miss the waves.

—Thus spoke the drunken monk.


Integrity(Poem)

Not—
dishonouring your soul
scamming your spirit
phishing your trust.

Not—
value trading
hiding truth in syllogisms
and selling lies with certitude.

Yes—
taming the corrupted
wolves and sharks.

Yes—
aligning the magnetic conscience
the magnetic moral compass
to moral maps.

Yes—
wearing the just hats
taking in the honest breaths
and conserving the core, un-sugared.

Yes—
the words
unchanged to seasons, sun and the winds
and insomniac to injustice and un-crooked
fingerprints.


Stoic Ways of Happiness(Poem)

The Player “X”
could do anything
for only the last time.

The Player “Y” should
run the time machines
and the ‘If’ loops
and the ‘While’ loops
to reckon the coming disasters.

The Player “Z” shall
swim the silent waves, currents
and the tides of remote-controlled sadness.

Rationing is the best and
dwell on the minimal musings.

{X, Y, Z} to omit the evolutionary cravings
And the nuclear fusion of programmings.

—Drunken Monk.


Alone(Poem)

Aloneness is
being drunk
with questions
and dichotomies.

Aloneness is not
a sad clock that
has a time of its own
but a moment with
its own eternity
transcending the tides of thoughts.

Aloneness is
a fresh slate
a virgin land
a polished mirror
a pause
a surprise
a light and
a vacuumed relaxation.

Being alone
is togetherness with vast distances
and a state of explicitness and implicitness.

A quantum state of duality
with wet words and dry neurons.

—Drunken Monk.