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Hear Heart’s Hymns

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There is a voice within that natters to us. Occasionally it’s a persistent prattle that jars our nerves. At other times, it is the voice that guides us through troubled times.


What is this inner voice? Is it actually the divine talking to us? Or is it the celestial that is within us? Does this voice exist among the terrorists, murderers, and other anti-social elements?


Sigmund Freud called it the Super Ego chatting with us. Some call it the God within. Others say it’s a 'gut feeling'. Sadly, there are plenty in the world today who are hard of hearing their inner voice.


The voice of reason essentially means that every person has some goodness and astuteness in them. Even before committing an act of crime for a split second, the heart stops, the mind recoils, the blood recedes from even those who are deaf to the inner voice. Just like we get habituated to narcotics, alcohol and other substance of dependence, people tend to under-hear the tune within as a habit. Those who are deaf need to overhaul their spiritual self.


Why? Because being hearing-impaired by choice to the power of self-reasoning is preposterous!


Every learned man, all spiritual or religious text requests its readers to look deep within where all the answers rest- the answer to illness, grief, triumph, and harmony. Let's try to take note of that little voice within. I am sure it is whispering the happiest and purest phrases into our spirits, hearts, and intellect.



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Mighty Kites_Blog

Mighty Kites

Posted on Leave a commentPosted in Blog, Motley
Who doesn't like them? I see you all shake your heads to negate. I know you all love it, and so do I.


The universal appeal is heart-warming. Every one of us can narrate at least one happy moment with it, if not more. This flying wonder has been a fascination for one-n- all ever since it was invented. 


China in the 5th Century BC did not really know that the readily available silk, silk yarn, and bamboo could give the world a universal getaway when it soars.


The Polynesians used it to send prayers to the Gods. A kite according to their customs symbolizes the Rising of Jesus. Homage waits for it on Easter annually in many countries. Vietnam modified it, making it sing a whistling note.


The Indian subcontinent uses it for almost any special occasion, be it the celebration of harvest, Independence Day or any other rather special occasion. Sometimes the citizens of the subcontinent use it to settle animosities too- in a most dexterous, harmonious and creative manner. The biggest personal wars usually end with one bout of competition. Not only this, team spirit; leadership also develops while we interact with it.


In Afghanistan, kite fights are common. No, don't take it like that! It’s a non-violent one! I bet there are no casualties of life, maybe of hopes and sometimes ego. Sadly, Europe didn't get to join in the fun as long as the Asians and Polynesians did. However, when they did, it led to the golden age of knowledge.


Wherever this invention went, it brought hope. It brought creativity and enlightenment. Humanity owes a big thank you to the land of the Great Wall. This object has demolished all worldly barricades in the craving to fly- the mighty- kite.


Kites have let to social harmony and development of scientific theories. The Wright Brothers became the first to fly, inspired by the Kite. Then, Kites have served well in military espionage and message delivery and something as mundane as fishing as well.


A kite for me, symbolizes the freedom to express, of fearlessly exploring my horizons and opportunities; a direct communication with the vast universe through its most popular medium- the sky. Through the kite, I send my wishes to the spirits above;  blessing and love shower upon me. I meet a stranger flying a kite; we become friends by the time my kite makes its route. Not everyone can afford to commute on a plane, yet a free ride of desire on a kite is always welcome.


The biggest lesson of life that this positive object- the Kite, teaches us is that we control the strings of our glories and stumbles, of joys and miseries. Hold the string too tight, and the flight never materializes; keep it too loose and it crashes mid-flight; maintain it just right, tactically strategize your personal skills and self-beliefs; then the sky will be yours.


Let’s all enjoy this euphoria. Let's all do some kite flying.


Author: Kleio B'wti



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Unravel Your Sparkles to Wakefulness

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Unraveling Your Sparkles to Wakefulness!


This Blog section is all about “Unraveling your Sparkles to Wakefulness". There are things that spur us in life. There are times we are motivated; at times defeated. Sometimes, we stand up for personal and social issues. And sometimes, we are mere spectators. The spools of emotion that remain coiled in us gives us our individuality. Let us embrace the ‘spirit’ that drives us to take action or the lack of it that allows us to be victims or audience.


Through the Blog posts, we will cure the venom that runs within us into an awakened state of consciousness. The idea is to use the venom and turn it into nectar. We will extricate the negatives; transform them into positives through our passion of writing.


Our write-ups have fire, honesty, zeal, creativity, fun and mischief. We the Toxicologists of life, the 'Slumber-Hunters' of Wake-n-Shine, welcome you to the path of discovery and human revolution.


"Existence is the ability to endure while living is the blessing to exert towards perfection."- Kleio B'wti


Art Of Missing Blog Post Author: Kleio B'wti ©, 2017.

Art of Missing

Posted on Leave a commentPosted in Love

"Not seeing you is like not breathing. I see dead leaves everywhere. The red rose looks black and crumpled to my eyes. They pain, yet no tear runs through these dry sockets I use to see the world with. The delicious smell of yours that makes my world fragrant is now an odorless, clinical place. I wish I could run these miles in a second and you could glove me up with a surprised glee in your strong arms. Maybe, I am talking too much. I am not sure, though, if these three simple and overly used words would communicate what I truly feel.


Yet, I shall try-I MISS YOU!"


Alone, bereft, emotional, sad, insomniac ache are the symptoms of throbbing for someone’s presence. Some compensate ‘missing’ with ice-cream, hot chocolate, some cake or pudding. In other words, they replace the absent individual with calories devouring comforting food. The number of people hitting the pubs and drinking themselves insane, usually attribute the impulse to the 'Act of Missing' someone they love, as well.


As Jeremy Sherman has pointed out in his blog, 'missing' isn’t always being sad.


Giving up something unwanted or unpleasant 'a miss' does sound like a wise choice sometimes. Most importantly, when someone becomes a part of one's environment, he/she ends up influencing the other. Humanity is about connections- good or bad ones. When something good exits one's immediate universe, it pains, yet when an unpleasant stimulus gets deleted from one's vicinity it brings a reprieve.


Yet every wise man, poet or philosopher ends up ‘missing someone badly’. Poetry on longing, unrequited love, betrayal, the guilt of deception, reminiscence, and longing are different shades of nostalgia dealing with the central omitted emotion that binds the poet to the cherished.


A fragment from 'My River' by Emily Dickinson goes like this: My River runs to thee. Blue sea, wilt thou welcome me? My river awaits a reply. Oh! Sea, look graciously.


She makes an indirect reference to that special someone. She awaits his reply and desires to join him, in that emotional sea; to mesh herself with this person she loves. While only the creative minds write poems and music about the person being remembered, the feeling is universal.


That pang of pain, that sudden stopping of mind, that literal heartburn, those misty eyes, the lonely nights, and that sullenness of the early sun distresses every abandoned soul; suffer the pang of longing. It's because the one who moves on leaves us, goes on a business tour or vacation takes that major chunk of the heart where love dwells. Essentially stingy, they leave behind just a wisp of themselves. That big piece of love that can keep one warm during those long wakeful nights, that caress when the nightmares knock, that makes the mornings brilliant, the days agile is never shared by the miser.


The ‘Art of Missing’ is that mushy feeling of passion that makes one ardent until their love returns. Love is a crazy feeling. It is the wackiest when it cannot be instantly articulated.


Brian Adam's points out in his song; only when someone leaves, only then one really understands the feeling of being in love. A love that is hopeless, irrevocable, absolute.


Author: Kleio B'wti

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Soldiers Weep Blog Post Author: Kleio B'wti ©, 2017.

Soldiers Weep

Posted on Leave a commentPosted in Motley

These eerie verses speak, “Build me a son, O Lord, who will be strong enough to know when he is weak and brave enough to face himself when he is afraid, one who will be proud and unbending in honest defeat, and humble and gentle in victory.” - Douglas MacArthur


There are few mortals who rise up to this immortal speech and live and die for a greater cause, something nobler than their desires- called the passion for their land and the citizens.


For this love, they hunt, fight, destroy and kill! They are men or women who temporarily become the heartless machines. These live machinery sing, "There is not to reason why its but to do and die (Charge of the Light Brigade- Alfred Lord, Tennyson).


Ernest Hemingway quoted, “There is no hunting like the hunting of man, and those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it, never care for anything else thereafter.”


Strangely, no one likes violence except for a sociopath! Soldiers hunt their enemy down, protect the families of their beloved land; sometimes march and conquer other lands- only for patriotism! They provide homes, wealth, richness to others at the cost of their own lives and sanity. How do I know this? Because I knew such a soldier- that young boy in his late teens, who saw the devastation in victory and the crumble of the dreaded German General, Rommel.


Abhay Kinker Sharan won many medals and honours including the prestigious medal from the President of the country, in time!


Yet, what I saw was a man who wiped tears secretly, living as a deputy- representing the friends he had lost, especially in the combat of Operation Desert Fox during the Second World War.


I am proud to say that I was born to the son of such a courageous yet ill-fated, triumphant soldier!


Many of us say that we hate war! However, a candle march is not going to stop the hatred! The conflict and hatred can only stop when we understand what pain and remorse we put our soldiers through. Movies and novels glorify soldiers. They talk about the martyrs, mostly. Very few talk about the ones who survive the ordeal.


An unknown poet rightly wrote,

“Those who survived were forever scarred,
Emotionally, physically, permanently marred.
Those who did not now sleep eternally
'Neath the ground-
They had given their lives to keep free.” -The unknown


Ones who withstand war live a dead life until they reunite with their friends in death. They die each day, their hearts cry; but no one sees! They feel guilty for being alive. They suffer from PTSD that medicines don't cure, only subside. Death cheated them! Life makes them feel dishonest, yet they exist, coz they are those unfortunate beings who were ignored.


No medal ever makes up for the devastation they saw- their regiments’ men and that of the enemies.


Death does not take sides. It takes the wretched and the blessed away, in the same way. The Grim Reaper does not judge, he pulls a life away from the body with the same dispassion be it a hero or a villain! So many die daily, but none die like the veterans do. They sign up for death when they join the defence forces. They nevertheless, do not sign up for the wretched life they live after losing their men at war. Their bodies survive, with no hope of remittance, no desire of rebirth, no conviction in worldly good!


Soldiers never quit!


Soldiers live a worn-out time with the same valour and courage that they faced the first bullet at war. They endure the outcome of the war, pledging to fall every second with each martyred soldier. They resolve to live with self-worth and intellect, they determine to fulfil their dreams- yet they perished daily, with every new breath.


Is it worth letting the ones who survive the war to go through this ordeal? What makes us such heartless living beings? Why do we support violence, and not love? Why? The fearless warriors- the veterans, who were tricked by death, exist- because they hear their peers- marching, laughing, weeping, cracking jokes and saying something that's summed up in this touching poem by John McRae.....


In Flanders Fields, by John McRae


In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Author: Kleio B'wti

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Mask by Kleio B'wti


Posted on Leave a commentPosted in Motley

Everyone wears a mask. And the things their disguise cannot hide, they cover with a shroud. I see it every day. I hear it in my (so called) near one’s tone of voice.


How many contact us not only because they think it’s their duty or want some kind of help or advice? Rarely anyone. Then there are some who make it a point to be in regular touch with you, however, are not interested in the conversation you hold. Why call then?


I don’t understand the world. I meet so many liars and pretenders every day. I wonder what they see in the mirror- the true them or what they pretend to be?


How appropriate sounds the famous saying by the insightful, Victor Hugo- "Virtue has a veil, vice a mask." Makes sense, doesn't it?


Yes, perhaps it's a vice to wear a guise. Although they try to hide behind the camouflage, I know those faces, I can see the true them. I accept them the way they are. Because someone somewhere is accepting me with all my mantles too.


Author: Kleio B'wti

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wake me up

Wake Me Up!

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Early morning, when the sun is rising and the alarm blares a- ‘Get Up!’; it’s typically such a squat! The eyes are groggy, the reverie had almost hit the crescendo and the dreaded alarm went- Wham! The heart laments the interrupted bliss.


There is nothing more humungous than the early morning blues. No sunshine can dispel those sweet nothings of the forgotten dream, the cozy bed that is more inviting than the washroom where the toothbrush resignedly cries an alarm- "Dare you! Don't squeeze that peppermint filled tube on me!”


Early morning lows can only be vanquished by a loved one bringing you a steaming cup of black coffee with a rose on a tray- a romantic notion which is almost nowhere in sight, in reality, every day. We lead a busy life, after all! Daylight leaves the eyes ajar, reminiscing the sweet thoughts of yesternight. Although unpleasant, there is no way we can forego waking up.


After all, there is a school bell waiting to go off, an office elevator about to open, an imperative meeting that cannot be postponed, a reality that is waiting to knock on the door of bliss.


What is this poison of everyday living that breaks all norms of comfort, that which desperately wants us to face the reality of a new day?


Maybe it is life- a verve that waves its magic wand on harsh realities, of a drive, to succeed- to meet deadlines, to win against all odds. Or it is possibly that desire to never be complacent, to learn, to give and in turn to receive the insights of a perfect permanence.


Deep within our hearts, man and animal know that the days of our existence is limited. We all recognize that our yearning to accomplish comes with an unexpected and mysterious time limit. Geoffrey Chaucer’s “Time and Tide Wait For None’ rings so true!


Whatever it is, waking up every day is the very essence of our existence. We work hard the whole day; unwind into joy until we stir to another day of toil. Likewise, in life, it's always imperative to wake up from the slumber of trying circumstances with vigor and new illumination for problem-solving.


We are programmed to excel and to shine in our endeavors. To venture towards our goals we sleep to plan unconsciously, arm ourselves to the best of our capabilities to fight another day in achieving our goals. Those who cannot do so, perish as Charles Darwin explains in his ‘Theory of Evolution’.


The living beings that choose to sleep through their ambitions and personal conflicts and wisdom go extinct. Those who evolve, do so by sacrificing that desire to remain in a bubble, by waking up- although reluctantly; to make the most of their time, to contribute a better tomorrow.


There is no way to avoid arousing ourselves from the ecstasy of fantasy.! There is no shying away from it, therefore it’s best to embrace 'wake-up'. Waking up is a step to the paradise of a tranquil reality and informed learning. So a huge round of applause to the Alarm Clock and our innate determination to fight- to be strong and to conquer every given day a trophy of new possibilities.


Author: Kleio B'wti



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