Yesterday was yesterday’s today
Today is yesterday’s tomorrow
Tomorrow is tomorrow’s today

Yesterday, today, tomorrow
Weeks, months, years
Time flies like an arrow

All of our todays
We work for tomorrows
But tomorrow only sends today

In our todays
If we only do what we did yesterday
Future merely becomes a tomorrow of yesterdays

- Akash Gadiya

Like the things we waited for
But which never arrived
Like the thoughts in our head
When sleep takes over
Like the hazy dreams
Of the night before
This is a poem
That will soon be forgotten

Like decayed memories
That are bound to fade
Like childhood dreams that die
Little by little
Like some work of art
That is doomed to oblivion
This is a poem
That will soon be forgotten

Like small recognition
Received for personal achievements
Like great triumphs
And most crushing defeats
Like every love we shared
Every tear we shed and hope we held
This is a poem
That will soon be forgotten

-Akash Gadiya

“They laugh at me because I’m different; I laugh at them because they’re all the same.” — Kurt Cobain [Image source]

It’s been 68 days since I have been brushing my teeth using my left hand, 17 days of sleeping without a pillow. 7 months of going without watching the television. 7 years since I changed my Instagram profile picture. 9 years since I have been using the same helmet with…

I passed him quietly at first, then few steps later, walked back to him. “Ek photo lu?” I asked. “Haan” he said, nodding his head. Unfortunately, he batted his eyelid just when I clicked.

They wander in a spiritual quest
Living on the generosity of strangers
Their appearance, in itself
A form of artistic expression
An ode to the god they worship

Some have vermilion
Smeared on their forehead
Others have sandalwood ash
Some adorn saffron robes
Others black loincloths

They wear chains and bracelets
Made of strings of beads
Chanting the name of the divine
All day and night
Beads in hands, prayers on lips

I wonder where they come from
I know where they are going
Led by their spiritual quest
To a place where they
Do not want to be found

These devout holy men
Bask in the sunshine
Wander on the streets
Of Haridwar and Rishikesh
Dip in the holy Ganga

Their appearance is bold
Their devotion, strong
Their ways of worshiping, different

“Do you believe in afterlife?” Asked one dream to another. [Image Source]

what if i tell you
there’s an island of
dreams
somewhere
far out there

there
where empty crazy
unaccomplished abandoned
dreams
land after their death

there
where myriad dreams
float in stale air
aimlessly
like flaccid ghouls

you can catch as many
like a dreamcatcher
to hear
their shattered stories
their mournful songs

a pang of
sadness
is bound to seize you
and you’d wonder
how good would it be if

if only history showed reverence
for our ruined dreams
like it does for
ruined works of
art and architecture

-Akash Gadiya

But can a game which has no real-world consequences be your life?

The possibilities in sports are so infinite, just like life. [Image Source]

Currently, I am at that stage of being a Messi fan where I do not really care to debate with people about his supremacy in the game. There used to be a time — a stage of being a Messi fan, rather — when i used to fiercely contest in…

This is the right time for Something. This is also not the right time for everything other than Something. [By LUM3N on Unsplash]

everything comes
to us at the right time
doesn’t it?

but tell me one thing
how is the track record
of Right Time?

does it have
a good record of
coming at the right time?

does Right Time
always come at the
right time?

and even if
it does or does not
who decides?

Akash Gadiya

Half writer, half web & graphic designer, half baked entrepreneur & a halfwit. Writes on life lessons, books, cinema, love and technology.

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