IdeologyInk: Where Words Paint Worlds

My dear  Universe , the first time I knew you was when you were mentioned on the pages of science books 📚. Back then, I was too young to fathom who you were, what you were, or how you existed! I was conventionally programmed in my mind that you were some place in the sky 🌌, and that you contained many planets 🌍, stars ✨, and galaxies , and my Earth was one of them. Period! That's it? Naah, I wasn't fascinated at all. Why would I be? I had no business with you. You were in the sky and I was down here.  For me, you were just an intangible, abstract place in the space that I barely cared to stare at night. 🌌 Often, I would smile at falling stars 🌠, wander my eyes across your wholesome blackness, and seldom would I force myself to locate the farthest planet . 🌍 But on most occasions, you lulled me to sleep. 😴 Poor me! However, some part of you always touched me tenderly, but I was only young enough to feel you, and not to know you. 🌟  So, what's the damn connecti...

A dead pigeon! Perhaps the most uninspiring, simply passable, and loathsome event we might have come across myriad times, have we not? Trace back to your timeline, and you will notice that there were plenty of instances from your childhood to this date when you had seen or heard about a dead pigeon, yes? And what was the best out of it that you can remember presently?... That it smelled awfully fetid? Hmm, undisputedly, it did, it always does.   Nonetheless, lately, I was forced to ruminate over and over emotionally when I encountered one such passable event. And believe me, apart from a stink, it offers almost everything you must incorporate into your lives.   Dead Pigeon: Finding Life's Meaning The Encounter It was a pleasant sunny morning in early April when me and my wife, as a part of our routine, stepped up to the terrace of our apartment for a workout of maybe half an hour. Shedding our clinging laziness we were just about to finish our last set of stairs a...

Crematorium - A place of utter liberation, a place of total submission, and the only place where you believe to acknowledge your EGO for the first and last time. This is the place where atheists and theists, forever, share the same point of view for life; "Yes, Everything Ends Here!" A place where "Giving up" doesn't damage your self-esteem anymore, the "Present" starts making sense all of a sudden, and you come to an agreement (Although temporarily) that futility is nothing but indulging yourself in the web of worries that rarely manifested! Here, you see another person ablaze upon a pyre, pondering about his/her Karma , and at the same time sighing deeply, accepting the fact that you shall be here too someday!   Image credit: AI Generated image by Copilot designer software of Miscrosoft Why Am I So Wise Only Inside the Crematorium!  No matter what it is; a crematorium , a graveyard, or a funeral place, the point is very much clear that it all ends he...

Let me make a long guess that many of you know the word " Mongolian Face ". A face that is round and flat, has slanted eyes, small chin and ears, and some tongue mostly sticking out of the mouth. In a jiffy, my medical fellows would promptly  diagnose it as a face with Down's Syndrom , but those scholars with no medical touch might resemble it with the famous Mongolian face of  Genghis Khan , and in all sense they are right!  When I See That Boy With Mongolian Face!  However, my point here is not to preach about medical science on Downs's Syndrome or plainly, the Mongolism, but about how it feels when someone with this face SMILES😊at you! Yes, the SMILE  😊  from this boy, who, if not daily, but frequently accompanies me from my apartment gate and shares his troubled pace  with me as we begin our final steps towards our homes.  He is the boy with Down's Syndrome and not the face of  Genghis Khan, who lives in the same apartment where I, too...

My siesta woke up to the Silence that had thickened into that afternoon scene just outside my square window. Feeling it slowly, I yawned, dampened my lips, and heaved myself against the wall. I even harrumphed, and as if in a jiffy I was cajoled by the Silence that hung outside, I chose myself to savour the window picture. That Yellow Brilliance! It was late in February when the sharp white light of the sun blanketed daily life outside my window, I realized that I was about to bath into the warmth that would follow the shine. Rubbing my eyes, I ventured to browse the outer world; Warmth and the yellow brilliance , though lasted ephemerally appeared cooling my nerves and hazing my eyes. Yet, I stared, and an intangible smile on my soporific face tickled my heart and knocked my aching bones. Yes! It was the Silence with the Shine. Yes! It was the Silence with the colour. Oh yes! There was, even the Silence with an inharmonious humming, a rhythmic flapping, few far-flung chirpings, and s...