Extroversion

A trait that is associated with most successful people of the millennium. Entrepreneurs to scientists to writers, often to players and dancers too, people who can say it in front of a group, a crowd are those who can perform. Have you ever heard a successful man of today's generation say, "I have sat by a window that looked over the emptiness, contemplated the situation and decided to do this?" And to take your skills of communication and socialising with people around into account might not sound good, but it is far worse.

I've been there, done that. Brought up in a almost rural suburb, educated in schools where memory power meant marks, and in systems that cared for your problem-solving skills more than your ability to express, we never knew who extroverts were. Until we met these super-talented cool dudes from the urban convents, oh how fluent their English is, how cheeky their references to literature are, and how easily do they come up to initiate tasks and relationships while we sit in the corner of the same group praying no one points out to us and says, "how about you start?"

Yes, they were the cool dudes, the civilised ones, until we saw them at work, across the table, peeping into their sheets and screens to see how coolly they would have performed the same task we'd both been assigned. And thanks to good fair selections all the time, we were all in the same boat. Yet they're the leads and heads, just because they can socialise well with the higher officials, fake up smiles and relations, carry out tasks well (as they flaunt it) and not to mention, negotiate us introverts like a boss.

As if that were not enough, as if we only belonged on a farm and not on campus, the introverts are often ignored out of gangs. And we well know that introvert gang is an oxymoron. Thus, being a teacher who's introvert at heart, extrovert by profession, I now see what efforts it took me, and how different my personal and professional lives are. And it is very true that the measure of ones language and presentation is leading the measure of work abilities. You better know how you judge.

Friends

A mould of clay, in inertia of rest lay, passing night and day, to know a better way,

to become a human, to be the only one, with all thoughts done, to shine like the sun, 

and give to mankind, what they didn't find, in the dark lust blind, let my story unwind.

Once upon a time, I found a pal of mine, whom I could mime, in every virtue or crime. 

Came the person two, a pal of mine too, whom I would woo, and trust to be so true. 

Came a person three, I got many pals free, thou be my talking tree, thou be my thinking spree.

It's the verse third, now I am flying bird, the philosophical nerd, the perverted shepherd. 

The clay my wings shed, washed in an emotional flood, in tears had been bled, let it go enough said. Thanks for being by me, I'm not me I'm we, let us celebrate this chi, oh that is the peace key.

Kites and strings

A bright day and the sun was up, the cool winds blew west.
The kite took flight and in moments and joined the rest.
I watched at it from very far, to see the kites' random dance.
And now I don't rejoice my great flight, no more lost in the trance.

I lived by a pond with a lot of fish, most of them were bland.
I wanted to know something new, and flew across the land.
It's been a long time I've moved out, tasting every prey,
my feathers have worn out, my white wings are now grey.

On my way, I met black feathers and many such kites.
I've made many friendships and enjoyed my rights.
Now I see that I am lost, there's no more bland fish,
to return to my own old land shall be my last wish.

Oh, look at all these kites that are bound to their own,
and yet by breezes are brought up and flown.
After the day is done and the night has come,
they have a place called own where they are from.

It is good to fly long and free, to hover and soar,
and to fill yourself with the storms' lightening and roar.
But where you come from and who you are,
is all you shall not forget when you travel far.

Unique

Would it take a thousand pictures to tell a good story?
Would it take a million people to make history?
Would a hundred people at once make a hangout better?
Would a random bunch of words make a love letter?

Would a cat jump the same wall if not for the ancestors?
Would a soldier be as proud if all were Nestors?
Would one man lone in thought change the human mind?
Would one tooth alone, a bunch of peanuts grind?

Wouldn't all the dishes suffice one hunger?
Wouldn't all the leaves in one breeze linger?
Wouldn't all the worlds follow the same law?
Wouldn't all of us end under the same claw?

Wouldnt the same twine have many knots?
Wouldn't the same art spark different thoughts?
Wouldn't the same victory be the result of all games?
Wouldn't the same randomness be given many names?

There are many there is one,
there is none for there are none.
The duel of one and many is not ending soon,
it's moon after the sun and sun after the moon.

There is one for many there is many for one,
would you not believe if I say it is a lot of fun?
Swim out of the ocean and sit by the beach,
you will see you follow what you will preach.

Speed thrills

The breeze had carried away the seed, tossed it in lands where stallions speed.
Thousands of seeds later was a sapling seen, to thrive and grow was its destiny keen. 

Time had watered and the luck was in favour, years before such fruits could a stallion savour. 

The nature likes changes steady and slow, such lives last long standing many a blow.

With great might does the sea rise, to gulp all the land at once, cheese to mice, 

only to recede and end up where it began, such is madness, chaos without a plan. 

Every marsh would sprout up in an year, such hasty changes, Mother Nature does not fear. 

The nature hates changes frenzy and fast, the faster the future, the lesser the past.

We wasted millennia to cover our skin in silk, to be alive on love, warmth and milk, 

and only in a century are reverting back, to shelters under rock and building a shack. 

We flew and communicated in air, and left the ground for heavens stair, 

five generations later we changed sand, into costing more than an acre of fertile land.

For we are changing faster by being smart, we will end up soon busy in our own art. 

For victory came like a lightning in the sky, wait to fear the thunder rumble, wait to cry. 

The human race shall end faster than we think, think before you wink, think before you blink, 

for tomorrow there will the earth be, but what about us, animals like you and me?