Paradox of Management

"Paradox of Management"

Walking through the hallways of history, the magnificent walls seemed to be narrating the stories of its greatness. Along a gentleman, I foot in the door, I was welcomed with a gush of gashing words; I swallowed them. Later on, the rain of humiliation started, I rescued myself with an umbrella of the membrane of an open heart. Then, I was panned to the limit that I ran out and spent some moments of realization of the intensity of the matter and the reaction to it. I stepped in again, bewildered and feeling as if I was breathing in a world unreal or of the world of witch of agnesi, but I was living in a world of humans of a different kind that I never experienced. So, I took the challenge.

Now, maybe the person guessed the storms of confusion in my head. Which is why, a sermon was delivered to me. "Alright, that's fine," I said to myself and tried to stretch the strings of patience to the last limit I knew. Though, after a crisp of time I felt breathless and my heart pounding, yelling and screaming for a way out; I slightly tried to show. Thus, I was told that it was just a reaction of a depression that someone had and the flu was cleaned over me! “Oh what”, I asked myself and tried to make the situation understandable for me, “the depression and the reaction over me?" I couldn't believe the time I was living in. Consequently, I asked God for mercy. 

Afterwards, I was tested and evaluated, jumbled up in my own words; ENGAGED for the reasons I didn't know. Even the two gentlemen sitting by the side got confused and exchanged smiles. After watching them grim over me, I wanted to bang my head over the desk in front or run out and never come back.

In the end I was told, “It was all 'The Paradox of Management' ", I looked up, "Oh Lord! You must be kidding me, I asked for mercy! Is that so....?" Flowing in the river of paradox of management, I was chanting the chores of my burial in the graveyard of insult; I had never imagined before those gentlemen that I used to call my seniors and the man I never knew.

Now, the tone was apologetic and friendly but I didn't need it, at this point; it was of no use. "To bring the best out of you, you should be treated with worst, to bring the finest of you; you should tolerate the ebb of dis." Those were the conclusive words I heard. I walked out with the theory of "Paradox of Management", being experimented upon. "I shall never forget this 'Paradox of Management'", I told myself as I walked back in the same hallways I came through, yet the stories were different that I heard from the walls this time.

 Before, I strode the last stair; I looked back and said, "No! This time, you used this 'Paradox of Management', theory over the wrong person at the wrong time; your management of your paradox was wrong. Not all are the same and not all theories turn up to become laws." I walked out with an experience I shall remember.

The reason, for which I was put into the situation, was never actually fulfilled and it never worked; though, I still ask myself of, "Why did I go through all that when it never had to happen?” Everything was out of my mind and my head kept asking questions like, “Do they put everyone in the same situation without even thinking about the results? No…, maybe I’m too sensitive for all this. Well, I don’t know.” I kept talking about whatever just happened to my own self. With the questions in my head, I walked towards my car and was taken away from the place towards my home with my head filled with many mysterious things; I still try to figure out.

Hawk

" Hawk"

                                       

Your eyes that stalk,

Your tongues which talk,

I can see,

I can hear,

While I walk.

Hey listen! 

"I'm the Hawk,

How can you forget?

That you were called,

The same, just recall

The history, the charm

Of the religion

that sprung,

Long ago,

You're the descendents

Of the same clot."

"But you forgot,

You only stalk,

What you do is talk,

To catch the passing flock,

OH No! I'm the Hawk

You can't ever flog!"

What Should I Write?

"What should I write? "

                                 

I picked up a pen lying at the edge of the table with it's ink spilt over the table and the cover rolled away. I glanced at it for a moment and then started writing, words were flowing in the flood of my mind and ideas were rushing. I chose an idea but I was hesitant to write about it, so I put the pen down. Meanwhile,sun through the windows touched my ears, entered my heart and enlightened my mind. I gave a look back to the sun and smiled, I picked the pen again. I started writing, I kept on writing; I felt as if it was only me, my pen and my mind around the world alone. Words were jumping in my head and I was throwing them on the paper. After writing for a few minutes, I sat back and took a deep breath. I looked at the sun again, it wasn't there, the gray clouds had covered up. I assumed that a storm was coming so I stood up and reached the windows of my room, which showed a bird on the tree covering her hatch-lings with her wings. I closed the windows and went back to the desk, I realized, whatever I wrote has vanished; my mind frozen and my words blocked. I threw the pen away and scrapped the paper in my fists, I asked my mind, "What should I write? "

Diddle

"Diddle"

I encounter no tree

Without wood,

never I espied

a flower without petals.

"Did you ever witnessed

sun, sans a ray?"

I discern of what you'll say,

retort me with, "Nay!"

"Withal, what fashion you

have made over me?"

"Can a heart beat,

unless it caress feel?"

"No!, then why thee bequeath,

this juvenile only besiege,

by dolor and anguish?"

As no birdie can flee,

unless comes the breeze,

she then, unfurl her wings,

takes off with a cheerful shriek.

"So, why did thou leave,

when embraced have ye,

all these realities?
You can't diddle me!"

Shoes

"Shoes"

You ask me to put myself into her shoes and think of what she has done is how to be done? Feel like how she felt and whatever she did was the way it should be done. 
You complain and tell me to put myself into your shoes and feel of how it feels to be into your shoes because when I put myself into hers I can feel her, then you say to feel like you too and want me to proclaim that, "Oh whatever you did was right too and you're genuine about feeling glumly of what she has done."
Okay, alright, I do that. Nevertheless, I feel of how you both would feel into each of your shoe pair. But did you ever think of how do I feel? Who would put themselves into my shoes? Who would feel like I do? Who would know of what I know?
Your love, your ignorance, your comments about me, who would know of what it means to me and how do I feel about them? My sorrows, my heavy heart, my tears on cheeks and my immeasurable love for thee, did you ever think of all these?
No, you did not. I felt like both of you and took the pain even. Now you are into each other and I alone with my shoes with no one to put themselves into the shoes I walk in. I'm alone with the shoes. Yes I am alone now with my shoes walking in the cold hail.

They do it because they do it

    

"They do it because they do it"

    


They'll never understand their worth in our hearts because they know of how worthy they are to us. Which is why, they'll keep on doing it to us, they'll keep on exploiting us because someone else is exploiting them. They rightly know all the feelings that we feel because of their ignorance and all the thorny aches because of their quietness, as they are dying for someone else just as we are for them. Though, they keep on doing it to us because the other is doing it to them. On the contrary, they'd never feel to not to do us the same that someone else is doing to them because believe it or not we are not as important as the other is. Therefore, they exploit us just because the other is exploiting them. Rather, you must be happy for one reason that is, they are in the same pain as you are, though, the bad thing about it is, they are not feeling the pain for you and not dying for you but for someone else. 

You'll never understand....

The winter Coffee

" The Winter Coffee"

A cup of hot coffee,
in rainy, stormy winter.
The ardent smoke of the cup,
the toasted air through the mouth,
the tip-tap-tip of a rain drop,
reminds me of our laughter and crack-ups.

I still get those hallucinations,
of our tapping feet in rainy water.
With every sip of the coffee,
I take in, arouses all of our reminiscences.
These showers says to me,
"Now you listen to my aria alone."

I took a few steps in,
trying to absorb those memories,
every single drop whispered in my ear,
"How can you forget your friendship.?"