Awara Kutta

Musings of a decrypt soul

[promethes]

my inbox is open 😊 (people who are secretly in love with me ONLY!)

[pagal-kutta]

People can be so disappointing sometimes. Is it okay for our unmet expectations to determine whether we choose to keep someone in our lives or not?

[pagal-kutta]

For we’re all alone when we die.

The privilege of having a name.

For when you die, the world cries with you Sends love to your beloved, Prayers, together, a community come through. Your name was known, The privilege you had, born Out of sweat and blood perhaps, or not. A name not so easily forgotten, Or overlooked, A name more than a pile of bones  Even in death.

You see I have a name too, but no one knows it. I'm another other, Far from being worth it. An unknown faceless number, a statistic Or a photograph to champion The world’s hues and cries for outrage - At the fate of my abstract end. A pawn in the revolution, Forgotten like the winds of time, As they come and go, Normalised, not even an anomaly, As if my death wasn't an issue to be raised.

But who decides?

You see I'm not afraid of being forgotten, Or being buried under your fame, I don't envy you it's just I have nothing to my name My family grieves alone. You say you feel it personally 'This one, it really hit me hard' 'We're a community, you gotta reach out' In episodes of the known, not with pain any less, But somehow sweeping under the carpet A throng of souls, young and old, Like the endless scattered leaves of a tree that bears few fruits, Just one of many, Just another other.

Your name carries privilege, And pray I don't ask you to be guilty as charged, What scares me is the mirage of care And solidarity, Please, spare me the trouble. I don't ask for fame Or memoirs in my name, I just wish to be significant, At least in your memory At least in my death.

Just an honest appeal for When you meet another person, Camouflaged in rhetoric  About to be sacrificed at the altar for, Any war that decides what is fair, Ask them their name.

[littleprecocious]

[renovation]

[anamorphosis-and-isolate]

[pagal-kutta]

If you react before you listen, if you're defensive without cause, if you hinder movements that have nothing to do with you, that at best demand your support, you are the problem.

#takenote #getwellsoon #blacklivesmatter

[pagal-kutta]

The internet is a dark and sordid place. We consume media by the million, not stopping for a second to think, or let it digest. My brain has started to feel like a sponge, with the only letting go happening when I sleep - perhaps also in oblivion because I don't remember my dreams.

Just like feeds are made of cluttered thoughts and ideas, repetitive yet different, emotional or ridiculous, my psyche has descended into a depth I have somehow managed to lock myself out of.

It's like a wormhole, where existence is as real as anything else, or not. The notions of space and time, as we spend endless hours stuck in the walls of our safe and secure homes, warped.

I don't know how to make it stop, the internet is like those voices in your head like they show in movies, that just don't stop.

What's next?

[minuty]

[pagal-kutta]

A brand new world

[pagal-kutta]

Lockdown, with me

[love]

by Sam Alive

[pagal-kutta]

Mountains lay strewn across the horizon

Capped in snow, against a sky so grey

Bereft of warmth, and the touch of love,

No sign of the endearing light of day.

He looked beyond a valley of victory,

A valley of death and defeat,

Echoing songs his ancestors had sung,

Their paths, the stories repeat.

Courage hammered into his soul,

Marching ahead, to catch a glimpse of dawn.

No fear in his eyes, and resolve in his arms,

This is the story of a young soldier born.

[love-personal]

[pagal-kutta]

Sometimes you just want someone to tell you that they want to listen to you.

[munaaa]

‪i wonder if we ever think of each other at the same time?

[pagal-kutta]

Alll we need is love.

Why is it so hard to live with it, so hard to ask for it, so complicated to expect it, and almost impossible to look for it.

Millennials have learned how to live a life for the gram, for the screen. We've accepted the individual way of life, as the forefront, as we embrace liberal ideas and uphold rights and support mental health. In all this, how did we manage to skip the essence of emotion? How did we end up so lonely? Why are we so afraid of speaking out?

If you want to talk, about anything at all, my inbox is open. I don't know how to make the world a better place, but I can do my bit in pushing someone to cry out for help, for love for validation, for comfort, without worrying about the pressure of self love and contentment.

It's okay to want.

It's okay to reach out.

It's okay to ask

And it's okay to fall.

Let's talk