Loss - A private feeling

Define "Loss". What is the feeling of "Loss"? Think about it. I am pretty sure everyone has lost something or someone very dear to him/her sometime to know well about both the feeling and the word.
The reason I ask the question is because I hear people quantifying loss and talking of how great their loss is, often rediculing the loss of someone else. To substantiate my point I shall ask one more question :

Whos is a greater loss?

A child who just lost his favourite toy and has been crying over it ?
A girl who just ended a 7 year long relationship which she thought would last forever?
A guy, the sole bread winner in the family, who lost his job?
A man in 40's who lost his mother two days back?

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Iceberg

ICEBERG

Image Courtesy Google 

Iceberg shows more.

More of what does not melt.

What melts lies inside,

deep within,

as it melts slowly

weeping in despair.

In its own private moment

it melts,very privately.

No sound, no words.

Nothing. Blue world and

many more icebergs

are all that is around.



Find this poem in the post about loss: http://unfoldthefolded.blogspot.in/2012/04/loss-private-feeling.html

Agent Vinod - The non Review

- Note : If you intend to watch the movie do not read any further for the risk of spoiling the fun (or maybe just read and you would know ) -

The most talked about couple in Bollywood at present, teamed up for Agent Vinod  and with promotional videos of "Pyar ki Pungi" and  "Dil mera muft ka" it all seemed to be some team!


The movie kicks off in Afghanistan with a fight sequence where Saif and Ravi Kishan (his friend and fellow RAW agent) ninja fight more than 5 hand full men. The camera angles are bad enough for not letting you  realise how idiotic  is the scene with saif and ravi running around and also managing to save this hot chick while bullets are flying everywhere on the planet earth but on them. Anyway, later Ravi kishan is killed by some gangster for having heard the number '242'. He obviously manages(just somehow) to pass on a video message about it.

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Him

Within me, a man died today.
He suffered because of me,
and now I mourn his demise.
In my eyes , his pyre burns.
And disappears in the sights.
He suffered for himself,
For all he had done and
all that others thought he did.
Now, time swallows him, to finish it all.
Leaving little that was good, to miss

Careless Beauty

A dress carelessly worn,
hair unmade,
and violet fields.

I though
nothing is more beautiful than
a piece of art
precise in every part.
All till I dreamt of her and mornings.
Carelessly beautiful.

Mornings gone and
those yet to come
are all that i dream of now.