As I sit, amidst the trees
placating calm, soothing breeze
tips of leaves, flutter in the night,
pearl of the skies, shines in my eyes
Cover of dark, blanket for gripe,
one moment clear, one moment all life
sands of time, slip through my hand
haywire actions, beliefs still stand
Days of yore, etched to the core,
dance with a daze, unending maze
need to clear, all that is up here
but......
Can i leave it, should I leave it, can i leave it...No.
For Sleep is Just a Cousin of Death
'When I grow up...
....I want to be an astrophysicist.'
That was such a long long time ago.
Now that I have grown up, I guess I just want to be.
'To BE or not to BE' turned out to be the question I gave the wrong answer to.
Punctuation
The pen moved on from an initial exclamation mark(!) to a question(?) The colons(:) and semi-colons(;) were followed by a plethora of thought-provoking options and having encountered many a straddled commas(,) all that could be done was a wait before the stamping of the final fullstop(.)
Then the next chapter began.
Life's the same.
Just Do It
All in all, any pre-emptive measures, all the anticipation, cribbing, anxiety, charm of things we plan out does but extinguish the off-guard elation we might feel had the very same thing been presented with an element of spontaniety.
When you know the outcome, no matter how pleasant it may be, the exuberance is distributed over an elongated time span and all you get is a diffused contradiction of 'I know it will happen but just in case?' doubt and 'I knew it would have happened' prophecy that all but kills the joy.
The only aspect of life where spontaniety has proved to be rather unwelcome is a sad ending. For then, anticipation or its nemesis, coupled with negative thinking proves a blessing, as 100% failure is expected and anything better is a boon.
God may not be playing dice with the universe, but he did give us the idea to roll one! Just do!!!! Let the chips fall where they may. Give chaos a chance. Disorder never ceases to surprise. If you do not spin the wheel, hitting the jackpot is out of the question.
Contemplation
And strolled off he, into the night, on the weary street
splattered the rain against his face,
a little stream with another in race
off the edge of his chin, like neighbours who never meet.
A startled stray did bark his heart, the watchman gazed in suspense,
with pocketed hands, and lowered eyes,
deaf to the night's creatures cries,
walked on he, quiet, silent,along the wooden fence.
And then he took the sidewalk, for water pooled the road,
muddy rapids and whirlpools in sight,
hazy reflection of the clear street light,
a funny amalgamation that nature of man bestowed.
Avoided could have he the demons he fend,
and stay put through the pour,
contained that foot inside the door,
but for the drive to straighten the bend.
And till the static and the living blended,
all became one, for he lost the score,
he desired but a few steps more,
return had he to, for the sidewalk had ended
Blah
a) You know what you want and don't get it.
b) You don't know what you want and don't get it.
c) You don't know what you want and get it.
d) You know what you want and get it.
Curved Line
Its past midnight, you can't sleep.
There is no particular reason. You dribble between the net, TV, cell-phone , throwing one away and catching the next. You talk, you listen, you watch, you laugh, you think, you read, you do everything humanely possible to pass time. If Only.
You can't go out, its raining. And having nothing better to do, you end up siiting outside and observing the rain. Weird occupation of the mind . Trivial phenomenon get magnified and engross you with your eyes wide open, nobody else in your thoughts, no flicker of how the day went by, now anticipation how the next day is going to be, just that patch of a few minutes wherein its just you and the rain and the tree that extends its arm over your balcony. If Only. The deprivation of all other senses makes you marvel the order amongst the chaos.
Vision and mind, both, are encapsulated by misty darkness. A noisy silence. Your attention focusses to the trickle of a thin stream of water making its way across the the plethora of dark green leaves that appear blueish black under the dim light of the lone streetlight . You are so captivated by the path the stream takes that the miss of a single leaf that it should have hit upon makes you feel like declaring war upon God.
And then, the phone rings. If Only.
The Element of Choice
I never quite get it when they tell me to let life take its own course. Should I just sit around, do nothing and wait for every instance to unravel itself before me and then accept it hands down because, Hey! Thats life, it took its own course!
All of us, whether we like it or not, stand where we are because that is where we chose to be, by doing what we chose to do, listening to whom we chose to listen, believeing what we chose to believe.The point where we blame it all on destiny is when the choices we made/did not make were not what we should have. And the worst category when destiny finds itself taken to the mattresses is where we try half-heartedly. For then,
1. Success in obtaining the result as we want it to be is almost never the case. Period.
2. 'Hey I tried, I guess thats the way its meant to be' - is the only false solace that we can acquiece ourselves too. (Shame really).
I am not against the idea of fate, I'm against its interpretation. Circumstances are responsible for the outcome limited only to the plane where you need to choose what should happen next. If beyond that things end being as you wish or don't wish them to be, take some responsibility, it was your choice!
I can't promise I'll tame the ocean,
when waves come in crashing ,
or tear the cloak of thunder,
at each footstep the world smashing.
I can't promise astral beings,
all roses and no thorns,
or a stream of crystal gobulets,
pearls and rings and crowns.
I can't promise absence of hurdles,
or abstinence of chaotic stirs,
I can't promise no commotion,
no momentary visionary blurs.
But I promise all you ask for,
and I promise all you ever shall,
and I promise you that I'll be along,
each second, each minute, through it all.
His ineptitude to grasp the jist of the situation left him two choices, none of which he could decide upon. What could have greeted whom he faced could have been a benevolent smile or hideous temper. The tar coal blood that rushed through his veins left him incapable of either as he stood there, his expression incomprehensible, his words without purpose.
His only solace lay in the fact that she faced a similar dilemma. And a sadistic pleasure in watching her wriggle with the flirtatious numbness brought a grin to his face. The gush of a possible million actions kept him exceedingly calm. He was the wick of a candle that had been burning for ages, which now, was no match to the stormy wind.And the calmness was just a masquerade for the flickering that would soon give way to the eventual darkness.
Why?
I was 7 years old. Me and dad went out to buy a car miniature as a birthday present for a friend of mine. It was a fantastic toy store, this one in Sec-22. The mere fact that it was set up in a basement was over-bearing to my kiddish mind for it gave a feeling of some deep hidden dungeon full of treasure.
I never used to ask for anything from my parents. Just used to remain happy with whatever I got. Somehow it worked out fantastically, for the very fact that would not ask for anything got me more stuff than I otherwise would have got had I asked. I still remember they bought me the 'Little Master' gaming console without me even mentioning it when I would see my friends going gaga about one and still not getting it. Poor blokes!
But this time I could not help. I loved watching Masters of the Universe. Disney still had some time before DD1 would start airing the Disney Hour at 9 A.M on Sunday morning (I just could not wait for the stupid gardening programme called 'Ankur' to end once DuckTales made its present felt).
Where was I...yeah, Masters of the Universe. Skelator was awesome, so what if he was the bad guy. He had the coolest weapons of all. The long stick with a skelaton on top of it. Of course he had to lose every-time, but every appearance was fantastic.
And there it was, all of it, Castle Grayskull, He-Man, Skelator,The Sorceress, The Power Sword....hell, i could see all my wants in material. As always, I did not ask my dad to get me any. Did not even give a hint about any of it. Months passed, another birthday, another present, another visit to the wonderland, another peep at the toy set and another non-show of my feelings.
And so it continued for about an year and a half. I wanted it badly now. Just if somehow I could get my hands on it, get the entire set and call friends to come over , get their action figures and cars and bikes and GI Joes' and have a blast! I had to ask, and so one fine day I did. 'Of Course' said my dad, 'We'll be glad to buy it for you' added mom. So off we went, to get this king his long awaited castle!
And at the shop, those five words were popped in my ear that any kid that age would die to hear...'Pick All That You want'! It was finally happening!!!! I could get all that i want, every damn action figure, every damn weapon. Boy, was it heaven! I spent a good twenty odd minutes going through everything that was available. Got every box spread out before me like dry leaves on a windy autumn afternoon. But something was weird. I did not pick anything. Come on, I want it so badly and here I am not picking any of it, nothing, zilch!
I could not explain to myself why what happened happened.
I did not have an answer.
And its happening again. Now. Just that its something more real this time. How can I be so crazy about something but not want it! What is it that is stopping me , that stopped me then?
I do not have an answer.
Just Shoot Me
The problem with life is simple....
you do it and spend the rest of your life thinking you shouldn't have.
or.....
don't do it and spend the rest of your life thinking you should have.
Why Even Ask?
Its infruriating to be asked to take a decision on something a decision has already been taken upon and then be infruriated for not getting back an answer.
Its like mixing hypocrisy with cynicism!
A Thought
Sometimes you mark a question thinking it will be asked again in case your answer turns out wrong.
What if its not ?
It Could have Been
Opened the eye with your view,
glorious and serene was the sight,
a touch of beauty and sweet surrender,
a lovely reminiscence that was the night.
The morning wasn't like that, but it could have been.
.
The content heart with all its might,
and the angel that resides in thee thus,
smile that cushioned days of furore,
happiness in unison from dawn to dusk.
The glory wasn't like that but it could have been.
.
Assuaging pleasure to the eyes,
feel of latent beauty galore,
each moment that compels the heart,
to marvel the scenic views in store.
The sight wasn't like that but it could have been.
.
When bereft is thinking of sins of past,
each second of joy an aeon in time,
no uncertainities plaguing the soul,
all served to ears are sonorous chimes.
The story wasn't like that but it could have been.
Good-Bye
The strip of paper, that once a flew,
and land at my feet,though still try,
torn from all edges, and squalid to core,
had all but one word on it, 'Good-Bye'.
I'm Still Here
Broken maybe meanings,
shattered maybe dreams,
the flowing grace of water,
split in a million streams,
and grips the vine of fear,
look-up, I'm still here.
.
Opinions have conflicted,
and people have digressed,
disillusioned quest for unknown,
has left you cold and pressed,
don't think that end is near,
look-up, I'm still here.
.
And time, the old nemesis,
has taken its toll,
when storms and gushing breezes,
won't set the life's ball roll,
worry not my dear,
look-up, I'm still here.
Sometimes....
............... I feel like saying something but the time is wrong.Othertimes, the time is right but I don't have the courage to speak. It sucks.
....and so chugged the train.
It must have been a long day, a day when she could bifurcate her life as the 'WAS' and the "WILL BE'. Packing her dreams and her luggage, she boarded the train, her eyes fixated at the myriad of million unknowns commuters, yet oblivious to each one of them, for they were looking not at them, but tomorrow.
Initially,however,she was unable to grasp the magnitude of the change that was to follow suit.
Each little step that she took in preparation ,slowly, but surely,introduced her to the same.Each step where she was blessed, each step where she was teased, each step where she was congratulated,each step that resembled a leap.
She knew she was amongst the fortuitous few for whom the ever glorious dream comes true, so what if it took its own time coming.
The train chugged on with her and her bundle of emotions towards her home.She waived a silent goodbye to the city, a city that has been her home,a city thats got her where she is, a city she would be leaving soon.
Music and random ramblings of a stranger kept her awake,for the while they could, but eventually had to submit to the desire to sleep, for tomorrow beckons a day when there's a lot to be done.
Little Bit More
Some things lose their charm once you get a closer look at them. They are best appreciated at a distance, a closer view only belittles the resplendent larger than life image you have conceived in your mind.
Take the White House for example. For those who have watched Independence Day, the image of an alien laser beam blasting away the President's abode into countless miniscule particles leaves the mouth gaping with shock and awe written all over it.After all, it is THE WHITE HOUSE! Honestly,the White House sucks. You walk half way across it to realize the same (that you have already walked half way across it and that it sucks).
Once the curiosity has nearly killed the cat after it has taken a peek-a-boo at whats the truth, all thats left of it is a meek purr and a subdued meow. There's a good side though, the cat is never going to be curious again.
The same logic,when applied to people is no different (not the cat one). Most of the kind that make the first impression on you are mostly never going to live upto it with the subsequent ones.It leaves you with a gaping hole in your belief, a doubt on your judgement. Is your perception about the good things in life flawed? Are you in a world of make believe where you are chasing the wrong things?
Not at all. Time is the answer. How many times have you or I given ourselves sufficient time to come to a sound decision? Most of our life is lived in the lane of haste as if a foot on the brake will skid us off the highway. We let go of things, people et al only to realise at a later point in time that we should not have, when a mere thought-before-doing would've probably made this world a much better place for us.
And Thats That!
Maybe she has not been in conformity with whats expected of her or maybe because surreal things are expected of her.
I have no clue.
I just know of a headstrong girl who had gone out there to get what she wants and acted on it .has she of late, got a little confused if what she wants is actually what she wants.
I have no clue.
She can still be the kid she's cast adrift towards the marooned island. She can still be someone who'll burst into laughter at the stupidest joke at the drop of a hat. But will she, under a myriad of a thousand observants do that?
I have no clue.
For long now, she's been on her own. Her own support and encouragement in her ups and downs. Of sense and sensibility, whether in times of tense or tranquility. Does she still retrospect on what all she has accomplished and inspire herself when she's down?
I have no clue.
She'll always tell you what she thinks, and do according to what she thinks should be done. I don't say she's always right or wrong,in her judgement and actions. Does she think the same and reconcile?
I have no clue.
All I have a clue of is that she's a simple person caught in a web of conflicting loyalties and confusing patterns. She can fight her way out of it, or wait for the web to itself break off.
Which path will she choose?
I have no clue.
Take Me Back There Anytime!
Not walking on top of the stoned pathway alongside the lake and hopping over any crevice that comes on the way.
Not throwing water balloons at passers by on Holi.
Not filling up a vessel with soapy water and blowing bubbles using a rolled up sheet of paper.
Not sailing paper ships in the gushing stream of water along the street in the rain.
Not giving prank calls to strange people and laughing hysterically with cousins after doing so.
Not hitting the cricket ball in the angry neighbours house and hiding as if you were never a part of any such thing happening.
Not 'accidently' bumping into the girl you like at the water cooler at school.
Not waiting for dad to get you something everytime he returned from some trip.
Not shouting and laughing madly at that late night gathering in the locality with friends and being shouted at in return for the ruckus.
Not envying the kid who got the latest Reebok shoes while you still have Action ones.
Not hurrying to be the first one to submit your answer sheets at an exam or being the one who asked for the most number of extra sheets.
Not excited about Dexters Laboratory airing at 5 PM anymore.
No more victory in convincing parents in letting you watch that late late night movie.
Not stopping the street hawker and buying the sumptuous sugar candy.
Not cribbing when not allowed to hop onto the rides at the Rose Festival.
Not in any sense does it mean that there are not things now that may enfuse in us the same excitement as these, but,growing up has the biggest price tag,.....our childhood. Is it even worth it?
Bhapaji
We all always thought he should be in ads that endorse smoking. Ram Swaroop " Bhapaji" Manrai had been smoking since the age of seven, a minimum of 2 bundles of beedis a day, putting a dying one down only to hold a fresh one a moment later. He even humoured that the reason for his energy is the fact that he never smokes less than that!
He worked as an income Tax officer for the GOI, and was as honest and dedicated as they come. Of course I never saw him during his working days, for he retired as long before me as i am now or even earlier! But I have seen him when he used to come over to our city from Delhi-6 , alongwith Beeji and spend a few weeks.
Bhapaji,the younger brother of my Grandpa and Beeji, the elder sister of my Grandma were married sometime in the late 1940's. I found it amusing and cool as a child, and to be honest, still totally agree with my feelings then. That makes it over 70 years of married life! Their arrival always meant a time of sitting together in closed groups and listening them take out stories one after the other out of a box. What they narrated are, by far,the most astonishing and captivating tales i have ever heard. Be it encounters with ghosts,a funny dig at someone from the family, a personal experience, everyone was spellbound and fixated by the old couple's enthusiasm in what they said and the fervour they said it with.
In 2007, they stayed with us for a month and a half, stepping aside from the initial plan of just a few days. Evertime the topic of there going back would come up, me and my sis would ask them to stay just a week more, and they would. We just didn't want them to go, and I guess they too, waited for us to say so. Everyday morning , Beeji would make me some paranthas for breakfast ,I would get Bhapaji three bundles of 501 and be off to college. 2007 was the same, except I could only meet them for a couple of days, work having taken me away .
While going home next week, I had plans to meet him up on the way. He was in too much of a hurry I guess.
Bhapaji passed away two days ago,aged 86.
Will love you always. Thank you for being my Bhapaji.:)
Imperfection - The Perfect Thing!
As far as my understanding of life goes,the biggest folly any of us ever commits is when we try to change ourselves for someone, or for that matter, the society, which Eddie Vedder correctly put,is a crazy breed.
We are not perfect, we are not meant to be! "We are human after all"....whoever said that ,well, i salute thy genius. This statement symbolises the fact that imperfection is desired of us,we should celebrate follies of our own, doing deeds termed as 'incorrect', 'inappropriate' and whatsoever. But because, we are constantly peltered by conflicting opinions, and the fact that we are obliged to be someone with zero aberrations, or atleast expected to be, we change ourselves. Lo!, we end up committing the biggest blunders of our lives!
You eat too much,you eat too little, you drink too much, why don't you drink?, you are never paying attention, stop being so particular, you are never serious,you are impunctual, you drive rashly, you are an intovert, you are too much of an extrovert....and a million others to follow....too many questions/opinions showered by the scrutinizing eyes that constantly watch us, for no reason.
They say it because they are expected to say it, we do it because we are expected to do it!
I hate that, I dont want to be perfect. I know I do things that may be perceived as wrong,but I am the one who derives happiness by doing them. Isn't happiness supposed to be the driving factor of our life? I love being inaccurate, giving into my desires,indulging.... I love all I do!
And as long as I do that and am happy, give me one good reason why I should stop. Because you or somebody else disapproves? Really, should I give in to that?
The Astraddled Sailor
The storm was a flamboyant evil,
against the placid trees,
and nature a helpless victim,
begging down on its knees,
the waves then pounded relentless,
like fire in hell relentless,
against the cliff relentless,
and into the hideous creek.
.
The captain,marooned,wretched,
gazed little but far into the dark,
fear refused submission,
under the moon,an arc,
he sighed at the lurking danger,
broken by the lurking danger,
agonized by the lurking danger,
that resided in his heart.
.
The ship drifted, untamed,
towards the rocky shore,
the scream of sailors dissolved,
in the venom of ocean's roar,
And Lo! then struck the lightning,
the piercing bolt of lightning,
glaring like the sun the lightning,
into two the ship it tore.
.
Ensued then mayhem,
all scattered like pigeons in flight,
the captain,exhausted,panting,
caught betwixt wrong and right,
the lifeboat lay at an arms length,
hope resided at an arms length,
life whispered at an arms length,
how angels and demons fight.
.
An ode to Alfred Noyes.
Scattered
Scattered is the soul with the burden its under,
scattered are notions in these times of thunder,
scattered are loyalties amongst the crowd that fade,
scattered is trust, broken, betrayed.
Besieged by unknown, the future is scattered,
the present, in debt, finds itself battered,
distance prevails, and friendships are scattered,
triumph when fails,hope stands scattered.
Scattered finds itself the esteemed sense of duty
when heart is deceitful, scattered is beauty.
scattered is ego in this worldly quagmire,
the will when submits, a scattered desire.
Too many questions scatter the sleep,
scattered ideologies, scattered beliefs,
scattered lies, long for one to be true,
scattered I find me, scattered I find you.
Life is......
........all about meeting people.
Some to be loved, some to be hated, some never to be thought about. You will detest somebody to the core of your heart only to be full of admiration at another time. You may love someone with all your life and then forget them altogether.
There is no concept of a perennial relationship with anyone. Because the other person, or you or the circumstances are bound to change. All that is important, are the roles you play in your own life and how well you do justice to the character you are at that moment.
Neither is there any truth is the notion of getting back what you give. For you will play the part of every single somebody that you see around you. You will be the hater and the hated, you will be the lover and the loved. You will be the star and that guy who never got known. Eventually, you will, at one point or another, be the every single person you see around you. Its all a question of when. Its just like a circle.
Whomsoever you meet, gives you an insight of a way to deal with things for the time when you'll be them. Some call it experience, others wisdom. You imbibe something good, and do good, you absorb something bad and sin. You can't help it, you are bound to.And in these terms, it seems futile to be ecstatic or depressed at how things turn out to be. Stop thinking about your actions, stop useless pondering abour right or wrong. If you feel like doing something at some moment, atleast you know what you want,dont ruin the chance, just do it. Beacuse if you dont, somebody else will.
Reasons may be different, notions may be different, experiences may be different, but it all comes down to the fact....its all about meeting people.
Reprobation
Watching the cliff hiding the sea,
I heaved a heavy sigh,
When I was up from the world below,
beyond it all, up high,
and I thought how you get what you give,
all this while as time goes by.
Sometimes I think I'm a wicked weed,
sometimes a godsend,
sometimes the pivot of worldly worlds,
all reality where bends,
but I'm the big black wall,
where every path ends.
To be what i truly am,
or to be someone in line,
of what he wants and truly needs,
extravagant yet sublime,
makes me bad and moral-less,
but I guess thats just fine.
Bad Day
What is a bad day?
Is it one when you hear a tragic story?
Is it when you bite the dust when set out for glory?
Is it when you want something to happen and it does not?
Is it when you dont want something to happen and it does?
Is it when you feel frustrated because you have nothing to do?
Is it when you are frustrated when you have a lot to do?
Is it when you're pestered for answers when you have none?
Invariably, one of the above mentioned reasons always prevails in a day.At least thats what I have observed around. Nobody seems happy, nobody is content with the way their life is.There is always going to be one thing that will elude you,the yearning for which will make you feel your life is devoid of even a moments peace, only till the time you get it, for then something else will fill the void of being that elusive thing.True as it is, the happiest person is the one you don't know about.
Richard S. Fuld, Jr, CEO of Lehman Brothers worked for the company for 39 years, no other company in his life, and he had to watch it dissolve into oblivion. And you think you had a bad day...
Just a thought....
If you have already decided that you are not going to do a particular thing viz. someone, and then you think about not doing it and feel bad, yet never do it, would you term it as self-respect or ego?
Balked
A subtle caress of care
brushed against her cheek
and stirred a calming madness,
with the fire he instilled
and whence the distance faded
what should have shone was jaded
and Lo! was killed.
.......................................
Today I asked myself the dreaded question.
The answer came out, " I do".
That Second....
......the time stopped. Everything around him ceased to exist. He found himself thrown off the space-time continuum, floating away into the unknown. All the banter and cacophony around him that he was striving so hard to run away from became the vacuum of reverberating silence, a silence so deafening, he found it impossible to shun it.
He went white, the blood suddenly dried up in his veins and he could feel the drops of perspiration trickle down the contours of his forehead. His hands were trembling and numbness was slowly taking over his body. He felt he was choking. The few words that did manage to make their way through seemed like scattered pieces of an unconceivable jigsaw.
A minute later, he collapsed.
The Transition
It was not a long time ago, and it was not even a galaxy far far away, but he just loved moving onto the dark side!
Journeyman
I traversed lonesome grassy lands,
and the forests in between,
and clambered atop mountains tall,
past the gushing streams.
In all seasons at all times
all barriers have i wended,
into abyssmal hideous creeks,
for answers have i fended.
Tip-toeing past the virgin dew,
under the morning calm,
where nature bestowed pleasant thrills
and unpleasant charms.
Replete has been the journey,
with totality i surmise,
yet i crave an enchanted moon,
or a reassuring sunrise.
Random
And then he tried a lot harder to stop thinking. Finding ways to keep his mind occupied. He picked up the broken old lamp hoping he could put some more life into it. He thought of how the day had begun,looking at the small school kids doing their morning assembly, just like he used to, years ago. It reminded him of how old school had been fun, so much to do and yet so little to little to worry about.It was a time when he couldn't mark the difference between when morning ended and afternoon started, when the jubilant day gave way to the all encompassing night. Time flowed from its one form to another in one smooth curve.
Soon he was looking out of his window, a landscape full of trees in their prime, lush green and august, especially the eucalyptus, that made its towering presence felt everytime the wind caressed its leaves, tilting from one side to the other.The orange hue of the street lamp only adding to its magnificence. He looked for subtle features, something..anything that would take his mind off from that one simple question that was plaguing him.
If he already is all ash, does it matter if he burns anymore?
As Udit would have it
" Is baar yeh dil bhi zidd par ada hai kisi bachche ki tarah,
Ya to ise sab kuch chahiye, ya kuch bhi nahi"
They stood facing each other. Her presence always gave him that sanguine relaxation that nobody else could. Al his troubles,and for that matter, hers, seemed to have locked themselves in the deepest dungeons of their psyche. It always was that ways.
He felt she was the only person he could talk to without any effort.The realization that none of them would judge the other on the basis of what they said was the reason they always felt free and without any strain in each others presence.
"Hows it been going for you?" - she asked.
"Good." - he replied.
That mono-syllabic reply was what she expected, and he didn't let her down. He knew she would merge the word with the tone and come up with a conclusion that would exactly match how he truly felt.She realized after a moment of profound analysis, that this time around, he wasn't lying.
Do I Want What I Want?
We all have desires, wants, things we feel we could die for. We actually would. Its feels great to get what you've set out for. To finally accomplish your goal, be it whatever.
However, if I sum up from what i've felt and been through, I'd say, it could be a two way situation.
You may just lose the value of things the moment you possess them. The very fact that its now yours wipes off all that you perceived it to be! Initially it amazed me, the very first time i felt like that.At a time when i should have been overjoyed and ecstatic, at a time when i should have been out shouting about with mad joy and overflowing happiness, I couldn't feel a thing.
I remember that day, vivid and clear, I just sat down, doing nothing, thinking .......nothing. What was there to think about? What was there to do about it?
And suddenly i realised, it was not what i had set out for that kept me going,that gave me the high.... it was the very act of setting out for it. I was in love with the longing to get it, it gave me immense pleasure. And like that, it was gone.
But then it will be foolish of me to generalise it, we eventually do want what we want, dont we?
The Day I Don't Remember
I dont remember the day at all,
When the first time i saw u,
meek yet sublime you stood,
courage, i had not to approach you,
i didn't know then that i would.
The world was an empty farce,
an abyss beyond my gaze,
all that engrossed me then,
was your radiant,angelic face.
The rust stole that clung you,
ears festooned with silver chimes,
the gaze of mischief that stung me,
and planned a million crimes.
The leaves of the flora murmered,
the breeze, its only aim,
was to carry along, a messenger,
of the melody that was your name.
Twilight then submitted,
devoured by the night,
and left my heart a victim,
of a prodigious pleasureable plight.
And so etched itself in memory,
that fortuitous day of fall,
of far-reaching reverbertions,
a day i don't remember at all.
The black screen was staring at me. But my mind was somewhere else....lost. And a bad time to be wandering into the unknown. But i couldn't help it. And with a wavering mind i did the dumbest thing in the world. I messed it up. 'Failure' seemed etched on my face. It has not gone well at all with me. Failure never does.
The Broken Rubber-Band
Never let yourself be a rubber-band. One day, someone is going to stretch you, and then stretch you a little more to the point that at some moment,not far from the time you let yourself be one,it'll break. Things then, can get chaotic.
There is nothing worse than a broken rubber-band that doesn't know what its supposed to be.
It So Happens
The journey is more important than the destination they say. Is it, then, true also for the people we meet on the way?
Call me old-fashioned,impractical or plain crazy, but my assessment says, though it should be, its never the case.
Its saddening to see people move away from each other simply because they've reached where they were supposed to and don't need each other anymore!
Guess thats how it is.
Late-night Heartbreaks
Even though he had decided what he was to do, he found himself on the horns of a dilemma. Should he or should he not. It was way past midnight and there were another three hours before the taxi was to depart.
The airport looked deserted barring the handful late shifters puffing smoke into the dark oblivion of the night. The chilly purposeless breeze lifted the plastic packet from the pavement's edge and was toying with it before the rusted iron grill stamped its authority and snatched it mid-air to hold it in its clutches. The rumble of the airplane taking off was puny compared to the clattering in his head at that moment.He had to act fast, and that meant he had to stop thinking. Things were easier after that and he signaled for a cab.
The neurological workstation went into overdrive again. He envisaged a thousand different outcomes from every word he might say. The anticipation of what might happen half an hour away was killing him. Equally torturing was the thought of what might not. He got off the cab and made his way past the flickering lamp-post. The unrelenting rain a few hours ago and rendered scarred the already muddy path and he had to carefully make his way past the puddles of mud that clutched to the shoes of anyone who passed by like dying lepers begging for alms.
He had reached now and only the doorbell lay between him and who he had set out to see. He could feel an awkward lump in his throat and after taking a couple of minutes to regain his composure, he pressed the little red button.
A minute later he realized, she was not there.
Sparrows
Two sparrow's sat on a wire,
and talked for winter approached fast,
they talked of places to migrate,
they talked of taking varied paths.
'The one along the river is silent death,
uncertainity and danger there play,
I took it, why, i can't comprehend,
i never again shall go that way.
At every stop i was unsure,
what awaited me where,what awaited me when,
i reached where i was supposed to reach,
but had i not what then?
'I took,too,course dat you describe,
and second what you hav to say,
turbulant, tumultous it sure was,
an unknow abysmal way.
But i prefer to take it still,
and so i will at once start,
the grandeur of where it leads me to,
belittles the perils of the path.'
And flew away they into the sun,
and flew away they wid their kind,
the second one shall have its say,
amongst the two sparrows of my mind.
The question is, do you really know what you want in life?
I presume, hardly anyone knows the answer, or is it the fact that we dont realise that the answer is in front of us , just that we dont know it. The luckiest of the lot may seem like the ones who know that, but a closer look reveals that its not the case. Knowing what you want is not the end of story, the toughest part is getting it. Failure to do so plays havoc and can be a total mind-alterer. It so happens that one sets out to achieve his/her goals but gets lost on the way.
Why does that happen?
Its because,primarily, people give up. A small jitter is perceived as a catastrophe and psyche gives way. Failure sets in and when ego clashes with failure, its the end of the deal. Its at this point you need to choose, whether to take it as a final blow or take it in the stride and go on.
The choice is yours. Make a decision now!
Let me just put it this way, am just not feeling that good.Dont know what to write, dont know what to say, dont know what to do. But then thats just me, isnt it.
An there she lay beneath the stars,
like a sculpture moulded of a drop of dew,
with the quiet breeze that explored her hair,
swept away were the fortuitous few
at the sight of beauty in true display,
gave way pride of nature at this simple sight,
calm yet bold with her smile her weapon,
a splendid view! Oh, what a night!
Slowly then she raised her hands,
two ribbons dancing in a flow,
and then her flowing golden strands,
in the moonlight glitter and glow.
With a blush that melted many a few,
and feelings in each heart....ignite,
bless me God, bless me still,
bless me with such splendid nights.
Shadows
Weightless meanderings of a burdened body,
playful,mischievious, onlookers delight,
surprisingly near yet seldom in grasp,
a moments's mistake and they are out of sight.
Never has there been more selfish a friend,
appearing for share at behest of a spark,
long and treacherous when times descend,
left are you lurking for self in the dark.
For moments they do, you're awestruck to core,
at splendour and genius of nature's design,
they rise and fall like waves in an ocean,
they rise and fall leaving smiles benign.
Stuck
Minutes trickle away,
hours slip by,
the heart just refuses to let go of you,
building a cocoon around my feelings,
no matter how much I strive,
no matter how hard I try.
I share it with no one,
no one but me,
wanting to steer clear,
fighting to be free.
Its your face that haunts me,
when the mirror do I glance,
and my hands extend to catch you,
from the world I try to snatch you,
only to fall to knees of fate that offers no second chance.
Forsaken
The wind rises out of the night as he sits alone holding the world in the corner of his eye. He is not bothered by the orphan grain of sand or the wild drop of rain that cheats its compatriots to have a way of its own. He slowly raises his gaze at the stars he can still make out between the torn sheets of clouds with his mind looking for answers he was never given yet so many questions were asked of him.
He still is polite when he could have been abusive,
he still is approachable when he could have been elusive.
For him, life has been a wave, near yet never in grasp.Why does life have to take away all the gems of happiness away from him and then ask, as if mocking whether he likes emerald or sapphire!
He cares no more however or atleast pretends to. He has learnt to live with an insane world, a world of deceit and betrayed lyalties that extend a hand, not for him to hold on to, but a means for them to cling on to him.
The Photographer
He captures as he sees it,
a click and the world is in his palms,,
a glimpse of happiness, a touch of grief,
roaring storms and pacifying calms.
He's just an observer,
starking true to his job,
he grasps the world he lives in,
doorman of truth holding door's knobs.
Holding mystery of oceans,
the vastness of sky,
he prowls for concealed emotions,
not once he asks why.
Lives on prints of paper,
eyes singing soul's songs,
he cannot stop to share glee
or gloom, for he must go clicking along.
Boulevard
This was written long long time ago . Found it scribbled somehwere and here it is.
Path that was once alive
is now dead since she left.
The trees, the pebbles, the once blooming flowers
bereft of a purpose, they moan in the dark.
Her smell once subdued the flowery fragrance,
her laughter once echoed through the trees
it was a time when been contemplated
seeking nectar from flowers or her lips.
That meandering path became Universe’s centre,
that meandering path.. happiness’ abode
a touch of beauty and sweet surrender,
a musical touch to life’s ode.
Solitary is now the environ,
lifeless is the fauna and flora,
the evening breeze has lost its companion
the boulevard…. its charm, its aura.
The Solitary Flower
All I wish of you oh solitary flower.
is but a smile....that lasts an hour,
for I'll be off on my path then, away,
a traveler i am, i can't stay.
That hour though, I am a mesmerised worshipper,
of splendid patterns that under the sun glitter.
I know not what awaits me hence,
why must I worry, I got you whence.
And alone when you have blossomed aplomb,
why fear I?? ....the feeling I shall carry along,
and make me when obstacles shun and stop,
I'll remember you, make them wither and drop.
O flower of the wild... your beauty's divine,
never can you die, will live till the end of time.
All in College's Day
Tears of time scattered around,
tears of joy in the glorious path,
tears of sadness that conceal within,
tears for a life that'll be a past.
A lifelong friendship that nurtures secure,
resentments that cast friends adrift,
lets scamper for binding chains
that bridge the gaps and erase the rifts.
And then one day love prospers,
and as it scurries along,
touches, mocks, confuses, pleases,
making self weak yet strong.
In nooks and corners that withhold
a myriad of laughters, i heave a sigh,
to every grain of sand that rests,
my restless heart bades goodbye.
Brand New Day
The day had been a long routine,
a touch of joy dressed pristine,
the evening offered a maiden blush,
encompassing self with rhapsodic touch,
stolen away by sordid night,
unleashing mayhem, harnering fright.
It cornered the psyche to submit to decay,
when may had promised that it may.
Alas the evil could conceal no more,
the devil danced making pain his whore.
And tumult then was all one could see,
futile prayers of hope to thee.
Minutes trickled like aeons of time,
that made fate accept,wishes resign.
Engulfed the dark of sleep, then a bliss,
tormenting moments of pain that were missed,
for morning dispelled the night as a dream,
a new day dawned, a new routine
“How are you”, she asked
“I am fine”, I replied
Its Been three months now since I broke my shoulder one fine day cruising along feeling like God, when my view about life and death was remodeled to be as it stands today. I still don’t understand why I prayed for the doctor to tell me I have a fracture, to be honest I wanted to know how a fracture feels like. Insane I know.
It was just the beginning of the final semester, and I could see all my plans for the remaining months in college being swept away.
Its was hard, to be true, being dependant on others for your needs. Time went on, the broken shoulder carried me to Rishikesh where that camp has made its way to a permanent spot on the blueprint of my memory, to Haridwar, a visit which shattered my faith in the so called upholders of Hinduism. Another awakening was the meaning of ‘Nirvana’ for the millions of ‘babas’ that adorn the landscape of these Holy lands.
Life back in college was like a rejuvenation. To be honest, the last semester has given me the best time in my 4 years of college. Each day is like a footstep for something new and exciting. And I look back and I see, Me, two years ago, leading a completely different lifestyle. The variables have once again re-established their property, for they now have new values under same titles. Also, things have stopped mattering, its OK either ways and that is something I find good. And then one day she again asked,
“ How are you?”
“I am fine.” I replied
Unshakeable
And then they gave him pain,
to see how it makes him feel,
if he submits to submission,
if it curtails his zeal
To live a life less ordinary,
they tried to make him die
they tried to get his conscious
to yield a begging cry.
And trampling upon his feelings,
they prayed for a loser’s shriek,
they prayed for wreck of strength’s ship
at the entrance of grievance creek
Yet he stode forward unrelenting,
he never uttered a sigh
What are you to cause my wreckage?
What are you to make me cry?
And emerging free from worries,
He never let out a wail
he faced them eye to eye
all but none could hail.
And then the world submitted
to glory thus divine
of one man free from error
of one man free of time!
Not My Type
This goes out to my friend Mr. A who happened to be the inspiration for this one. Sorry bro….;)
And I see her everyday,
in my knees I go weak,
A thousand words I practice,
not one can I speak.
She passes me each morning,
sliding hands in her curls,
Smitten I stand eyes wide open,
world spinning around in twirls.
To go and exchange a greeting,
Oh! She’s standing so near,
to go and exchange a greeting,
drowned I am in fear
of what? I can’t comprehend,
maybe I’m too shy.
This world won’t crumble to pieces,
for a meek, sincere ‘Hi’!
And like this another day passes,
and again I see her face,
Stuck like glue at the startline,
I’m too many laps down in the race.
And now its been three years,
Status-quo has killed the hype,
I tell myself to move on,
Oh well! She’s not my type.
Whom do i share with,
my bundle of feelings,
trampled each moment they are.
No sun on horizon,
no calm in the moonlight,
smiles receding far.
My self is broken,
absorbing your pains,
reminding you who we are.
Lost in the journey,
the times that we shared,
now we are miles apart.
Floating far in the ocean,
the corpse of efforts in vain,
floating far in the ocean,
no dolor can match this pain.
T-Time Lexicon
Continuing the attempt of his to immortalize the elements of some individuals, who played a part in making the journey worth remembering and offering gratitude for being an integral part of the story, here is the PG-13 format of the same literary piece with examples.
Note: Some explicit material has been edited. Still, viewer discretion is recommended.
Also, if you have no idea what this is and are alien to its content, dont bother, its not for you anyways.
A tribute to 4 glorious years!
T-Time Lexicon
1.assignment n. an act of charity, often repeated sedulously
Usage:
a)His generous assignments are well known, no one has ever returned empty handed from his door.
2. bagai n. 1 artificial intelligence. 2 an unending quest for a goal. ---adj. seemingly good but proving otherwise.
Usage:
a).Dont worry about robots, what are they but a bagai.
b).I thought his creations were appealing, seems I was bagaied!
3. chinka v. admonishing one and all. ---adj. a perfect out-swinging delivery.
Usage:
a)The appeal for repeal of the Act was ‘chinka’ed.
b) Thought he had firm control of the situation, alas, he was done in by a chinka.
4. dogra n. good stuff in a small package. ---adj. morally corruptible over a period of time.
Usage:
a). Anne never wished anything grand from Santa, for her, just a dogra would do.
b). “Don’t hire Archie sir, from what I know of him, he has a dogra personality”
5. feedback adj. trivial, of little or no consequence.
Usage:
a).It was believed his fetish for sweets was the cause of diabetes, this notion turned out to be a feedback in the end.
6. gudral n. 1 a badly played act (often overplayed). 2 a peculiar method of operation. 3 instigator of insurgency.
Usage:
a). Rosy is a good actor, however all he can manage on stage is a gudral.
b). Don’t trust him, he may seem a dogra but I can sense gudral in his mannerisms.
c). The riots are widely believed to have been gudralled by Joseph.
7. hostel n. refuge camp
Usage:
a) After all that ridicule, what could he do but retreat to the hostel
8. insults n. a prerequisite for college life.
Usage:
a) He though he had it all to be a college star, Lo!, with no insults in his armoury, he was the butt of every joke.
9. jk n. a grammatically incorrect statement. ---adj. begrudging.
Usage:
a). The jk was never expected from the esteemed English professor. It shows anyone can make a mistake.
10. kalia n. a well organized carousal. ---adj. a life of extreme indulgences
Usage:
a)Not a penny in his pocket, yet he advocates a ‘kalia’n life, pity him.
b) The ‘LBA’ marveled at the ‘kalia’ at the ‘hostel’.
11. klol n. an everlasting state of euphoria. ---v. disaster management when in dire straits.
Usage:
a) Life is not always a klol my boy, there will be ‘bagai’s’ strewn around at every juncture.
12. lba n. ideological group, nearing extinction
Usage:
With lessening number of lba’s each day, wonder where this world is headed!
13. manrai n. 1 idle gossip. ---v. 1 to over-analyze. 2 acting paranoid. ---adj. having split personalities.
Usage:
a) Don’t manrai the issue beyond necessity, lest you should stress yourself.
b) His behavioural swings are beyond my understanding. I think he has a manrai disorder.
14. minku n. expert con artist. ---adj. small and annoying.
Usage:
a) Its not the dacoits I fear most, but the minku’s around me.
b) His ‘chinka’ manners leave me with no option but to label him a ‘minka’.
15. mittal n. 1 one who readily takes up a challenge, which is usually risqué. 2 a unique perspective. 3 art of scraping through.
Usage:
a) It was the old convict that turned out to be expert at ‘mittal’ and escaped.
b) There is no point being a mittal here, the cause is too weak.
16. placement n. an excuse for a thrashing.
Usage:
a) He thought he was being taken to the bachelor party. Little did he know, it was but a placement.
17. sethi n. a killer smile. ---adj. 1 gullible. 2 prone to ridiculous decisions.
Usage:
a)He thought he would not fall for the lady, but he could not resist the sethi.
b)There is no point discussing the situation with him,he’s a sethi after all.
18. shitty n. hegemony in a virtual world. ---adj. 1 tranquil, stoic. 2 rancid.
Usage:
a) He’s an unknown shitty. It wont be long before Microsoft picks him up.
b) Whats that shitty smell, is it you ‘Shitty’?…;)
c) He may seem shitty at first, deep within, he’s a hardcore ‘minka’.
19. sohi n. unit of time. ---v. 1 procrastinate. 2 prodding unsuspected victims.
Usage:
a)Many Sohis ago, due to unawareness, many an ‘on-paper’ kalias turned out to be gudrals.
b) First he committed a tita, then he was sohied , he’s done for.
20. tita n. 1 a gratuitous confession. 2 whimsical. 3 head-strong. 4 to hold an important office but usually titular. ---v. 1 to take up 16:1 odds.
Usage:
a) With a priest, its understood, but I don’t approve of a tita with everyone you know.
b) Sometimes he’s calm ,at other times he’s a maniac, to me he seems a tita.
c) In the aftermath of chaos perpetuated by a gudral, all that was left of the Captain was a tita.
21. zidane adj. untimely attempt at humor.
Usage:
a) His zidance excesses coupled with his jk phrases show him to have a mental equivalent of a three year old chipmunk.
The Hunter and the Rabbit
A hunter, pale and glum with hunger,
wandered about a mountain steep.
Marred, mauled, a beggar of mercy
alone he did within himself weep.
A rabbit caught the hunters’ gaze,
hopping about the quiet field,
It grazed him, death, in purest form,
latent behind a human veil.
Perplexed the hunter checked his aim.
Intrigued by its unnatural instinct.
followed the mute creature as it disappeared
behind a pile of weathered flints.
As he approached he saw,
a blanket of leaves , a pillow of hay
shivering, naked, with half open eyes,
two most exquisite new-borns lay.
The arrows confided with their quiver,
the arms of hunger laid their arms,
awe-struck, astounded with magnificence,
at lucid display of nature’s charms.
Agog the hunter scampered for thoughts,
how reality amongst utopia flies,
He kills the babies, with himself he can’t live
he walks away he slowly dies.
If you were the hunter, what would you do?
Think About It
Ranting a bit on human nature, I picked up certain subtle nuances that go a long way in defining our psyche. I mean look around, you’ll seldom find anyone who is content with what he/she has in hand. We keep striving for a little more, a little bit extra hoping that it will make us happier. Personally I feel there is nothing wrong with it, these small traits make us human after all. ‘Contentment’ is a word that can lead to serious hereditary disorders.
One more trait that I’d like to mention here is “the grass is greener on other side syndrome”, in other words, “what I have presently is crap syndrome”. I realized this today while listening to radio. Just kept flipping between channels thinking something better must be on somewhere else. Seinfeld accurately sums it up. Men are not interested in what is on TV, they are interested in what ELSE is on TV.
If we backtrack a little, we’ll realize, its all to do with the innumerable options we make ourselves available. Think if you have only one thing, how high you’ll value it. You’ll never get bored because you know you cant get anything else.
This however defeats the purpose of life. Monotonicity is a the EIGHTH sin that Jesus’ stenographer accidently missed out upon. So I say, go on ,whine, crib, curse , stand on top of everest and shout out at the top of your voice that life hasn’t been fair. That’s the only way you’ll come anywhere near contentment. A satisfying life is a life wasted.Will such a life be worthwhile? Absolutely not!
Hope
Hope is but a trojan horse,
unsuspecting we let it in
in strife, in pain,in times we are down,
it betrays and wrecks from within.
Illusions it casts on the naive mind
with promise of balm,a guiding ray
i stretch my hands to clasp and Lo!
unwavering it floats away.
When despair and sorrow,disappointment and loss
trample upon my gullible heart
it hides in deepest trenches,lost
i'm the prey on whom the demons dart
Reflections of a Broken Heart
A poignant depression sinks my heart,
Your incog indifference punctures my soul
I long forever to go back to the start
I’m rendered a plaything, my heart’s a gaping hole
All that I thought was paradise
Was truly a burning hell
Every moment I die as I am living
There is no difference I can tell
Anguish and pain I have concealed
With laughter that has been fabricated
Tribulation dwelling in myriad smiles
Fluttering atop grief aggregated
I was so naïve , I thought you cared
Leave me now and enjoy your days
Diffident you have been and diffident you will be
Its time we went our separate ways
I will not ever trust again
My feelings I will not ever share
I think though I might love again
I certainly will never care.
If you have really lived your life thinking one thing, it would be pretty devastating to find it wasn't true.
What If I Were to Die Today
What if today is the last day of my life???????????
Will i be sad, Will i be glad?
Will i re-live the times that i've had?
Will sky at sunset seem more bright
and i see day as envelopes me the night.
Will i feel bounded, Will i feel free?
Will i be someone else, Will i be me?
To fulfill desires will i still wait?
Will i choose love over the people i hate?
Will words of wisdom flow from my mouth?
Will i for mercy top of my voice shout?
Will i be panicky, Will i be calm?
Will there be hands of beloved, comforting and warm?
Will there be demons sucking away my breath?
Will there be angels and pacific silhouettes?
Will there be repentance, Will there be joy?
Will true emotions emerge or still be coy?
Will will still be will or will will be wont?
Will do's be done or will they be don't?
I live my life as if i can die any day
regret if there is, it doesn't happen that way.
Success
Aroma of success is an addictive feeling
to see the world subdued and kneeling.
Encouraging the psyche it gives a high
left unrefreshed, it shrivels up and dies.
"Its a lonely feeling at the top"
are excuses of losers...stop.
To see the smiles that are wide wider
it takes effort unrestituted, ask the spider.
Let no one stop you, no hail, no rain
meet them in the eye and win again!
Wonderland Airways
Wonderland Airways take me away
to a place where there are no tears
Infinitely blissful paradise
with no reasons for me to sear
Where crimson coloured tulips
giggle under the blue sky
To a place I love the most
Greenest is grass and joyous doves fly
Wonderland Airways take me away
light years from this madding crowd
A place for none other just for me
where I’m not followed by dark clouds
Adorned by pious mountain streams
With glee and happiness abound
And angels dwell beside every brook
Just what I want surrounds!
Wonderland Airways take me away…..
Go ahead, ask yourself, isn’t it true that
we all have a square in our life that we
don’t seem to cross because we don’t
know which of the ways we should take.
Its like that little scratch on the top of
your mouth which would heal if only you
would stop licking with your tongue but
you cant, or so as Tyler says. We need
an escape when we reach such a junction.
We need a Wonderland Airway to take
us where our mind is unpolluted with the
indecisiveness and cluelessness. Someplace
where we can be just us with nothing to
torment us, no unsolved puzzle to plague
the neurons. Whats your wonderland?
Yourself Naturaly
What is the sea if it were shallow?
what is the mountain if it were small?
what is the rainbow without colours?
what if the grass if it were tall?
What is a vision if it ends tomorrow?
what is a fighter if scared of a fight?
what is a friend not there when needed?
or an argument not asserted when right?
What is a star that cannot sparkle?
or a straphanger who loses his way?
what is an arrow that misses its target?
what is a feeling if not conveyed?
What is distance if at arms length?
what is hope if not instilled?
what is a tear that refuses to trickle?
what is a wish if not fulfilled?
What is a rose if it has no fragrance?
what are people if there is no country?
what is a blush without a maiden?
what am I if I'm not me?
Everything in this world has an identity,
an attribute which when taken away leaves
its parent worthless. Something similar is
with us humans. Each of us has a unique
persona, be it a godly or satanic. So many
times we find ourselves manipulating our
true self to appease those around or merely
to prove a poing. I say stop changing. You
are not and cannot be somebody else, its
unnatural. The sooner one understands it,
the better.
Sssshhhh..........
Sssshhhh. Let her sleep
its cold and dark outside
she's on a journey of a million dreams
behind those closed eyes, let her hide.
Sssshhhh. She's a baby
let me watch her sleep
its been a long fall from heavens
cuddled up, let me her guard keep.
Sssshhhh. A stolen beauty
a rose amongst a million thorns
a serenade, she's the sweetest symphony
a painted yellow field of corns.
Sssshhhh. Let me drink away
every pint of grief, every drop of sorrow
let me stroke my hand in her flowing hair
she'll wake up to a better tomorrow
Eyes Wide Open
There are two categories of people in this world. Those who keep sleeping all the times,and for whom Jesus took a minute off to mention it in the Ten Commandments under the tagline Sloths. Then there is the variety who’ll keep staring blankly into the darkness all night long, commonly called Insomniacs. I’m the third kind. You see, I CAN sleep for long hours and they can be really long trust me, so much so that during childhood, I was christened a certain sleep loving character of the Ramayana. And I can stay awake late too. But the climax comes into the picture when I’m unable to do the first thing at a time when I do not want to do the second thing. Believe me, its not just the text that’s complicated.
As my friend Cornelius/Rupert/Tyler said, when you have insomnia, you’re never really awake and you’re never really asleep. Everything seems like a copy of a copy of a copy. It holds in my case too. Issuing in public interest, I would say, you should understand that u have a similar problem when you cannot tell the difference between 2AM and 3AM and you simply don’t care. You gaze with day-dreamy eyes at each and every contour of your room walls just to find an aberration, u look blatantly into the outside gardens just to spot a pregnant cat with a fur covered paw looking for the ‘caught off guard’ mouse, peeve with expectant eyes for that neighbourhood hottie to come outside and check if the cloud at 16th parallel has moved ¾ of the way across the moon or not( whatever that meant!). Believe me its serious. Firstly, you get your parents storming into your room in case you have lights on, though they even come when lights are off just to ask why lights are not on because they are also used to your metabolism. Secondly, your head gets mashed up with all the worlds thoughts that just masticate themselves to form a sour dough. Third and most serious of all, you feel like starting a blog.
In my case, I’ve had people all over telling me remedies to this particular condition of mine. Some have advocated doctors( get the pun here, ADVOCATING a DOCTOR), some have suggested Baba Ramdev exercises( yeah right!). To be honest, even I have given a thought if something should be done about it, and have withdrawn my case before the first hearing pleading guilty. You know why, well, there is so much to think over. And whatever is going to come out of all this thinking is going to be, as Barnie would say, LEGEN….wait for it….DARY. Say it isn’t so.
Well, till I fall asleep, hasta la vista baby and suit up!
Stars to Moon
Why do you leave us alone?
not long ago, brightest you ever shone.
Unconditional love we have for you,
purer than an untouched pearl, selfless, so true.
You comfort us in the silence of the dark,
orphaned we are without you, naked , so stark.
tortured through the day for the night in your yearning,
calm and cold outside, inside we are burning.
Since time was timeless, there were no minutes, no hours,
To you are we important, or mere useless stars?
Sometimes, i feel the moon just plays around with the stars.
It pretends to be always there alongside and then, like that,
its goes into hiding betraying all that they have conjured up.
Isnt it unfair? All along the month, it hangs up there with em
giving them promises all when it knows it has to retreat to an
unseen abyss! And then everything starts all over again. It'll
grow each day, bit by bit, exhibiting its full glory and then
start taking steps back to disappear once again. Hope is the
worst thing anyone can give anyone.
PS....TO THE ANONYMOUS COMMENT WRITER: Thanks a
lot for the birthday wishes and wish you a very very happy and
prosperous New Year. Would like to know who you realy are though.
This will be the last entry this year coz I have no clue where ill be tomorrow nite.Its very late as per IST and Yours Truly felt like spending some time with his old and trusted buddies, alone yet amongst millions of them…stars I’m talking about. The moon is about 3/5 th of its full glory up in the sky much like a baby lying asleep in a cradle with countless eyes to take care of it. There’s a chill in the air, a cool soothing breeze is flowing. An instrument to facilitate easy communication amongst homo-sapiens is with me, my mobile. Sometimes I just hate it to the core but that’s another story.
Its 31st of December today. 2007 has just whizzed past leaving behind a lots to think over, a lot of opportunities…..some taken away, others presented as if trying to maintain the cosmic balance. I can hear a distant rumble of an automobile, the tick-tock of my watch, continuous flow of my thoughts. For today, id like to close them in an iron maiden and throw it down in the deepest trenches of the ocean I so fell in love with over the past week, wishing that they would never re-surface. Its 2:15 AM, maybe ill spend another hour here outside before the bliss of sleep engulfs me. Tomorrow is gonna be another day in paradise. Just wish God had a contact number or an address so I could thank him personally.
all I can say for this New Year is………………………………….
DO GOOD and GOOD HAPPENS.
Life's Like That
All of us, at one point or another in our life have felt life’s unfair. In case you belong to some other category, stop reading this further without any delay whatsoever. Others can go on.
Sometimes we feel, WHAT IS THE POINT of these 8460 seconds God lets us live everyday? We lose money, we lose opportunities, we lose chances, we lose people…some of them just walk out of our lives for reasons we understand, some for reasons we cant comprehend, some for no reason at all…all of this to start all over again!
And so we feel fucked up because we are left clueless, without anything to make amends. We feel like a farmer who just can keep gazing at his crop being pelted with hail and cannot do a single goddamn thing about it. And then what do we do? We drown ourselves in sorrow, in gloom, in grief, in a futile attempt to live in the illusion that we are strong, when deep inside, its as if someone is hammering a nail into a concrete wall!
It is here that we need to change our point of view. We fail to realize that the hammer maybe of rubber, we fail to recognize that it all is part of a bigger picture. Lets take me for example…..im 21( 22 tomorrow unless God plans otherwise), and to see, for how long have I lived? Even if I’ll be 60 when I die( though I’d like to be 18..;)…its just 1/3 of my life that I’ve lived so far!
Another thing I’d like to add is that there is a higher power above. And not often do we realize, that we have another opportunity knocking on out door, another chance waiting to be gambled, another person, right there waiting to fill the void that’s been left empty. Just need to give them a chance. A gardner might feel that the honey bee has stolen all the nectar from the flower he so fondly cared for….but then , its he who’s gonna taste the honey!!!!!!!!
Summing it up, all i'd say is............................
A thousand golden sunsets,
waiting for an eye to see,
A thousand musical notes,
wishing to be a melody,
A thousand blooming flowers,
dreaming a bouquet be made,
A thousand kindergarten tiny dots,
with minds eager to be swayed,
A thousand picturesque paintings,
wanting a wall to adorn,
A thousand interwined patterns,
yearning the dress be worn,
A thousand glistening droplets,
wanting to confluence with the sea,
A thousand blissful moments,
to be lived by you and me!
Colour......Blind
Far across the distance,
with a baby she stood,
perplexed it was midnight,
to go home if she could.
Yellow beams on the highway,
she hid her face from the light,
stalled the car at her footsteps,
tears murked her sights.
Opened door then the stranger,
rain was pelting stones,
an offer to take her back where she belonged,
the little place she called her home.
"Dont worry you will be safe"
the stranger then uttered,
"Thank You" said the lady,
more than she spoke she stuttered.
And began the journey,
that would shatter her faith,
alter her mind a full circle,
definition of love and hate.
Stopped he at the drive-in,
and lighted a light,
brought her food so she could eat,
and feed the baby for the night.
Four crooks were watching,
gold chain that on her neck hung,
with a knife they approached her,
deep in flesh it stung.
Galloped forth the stranger,
made his way through the rain,
took the blows on his body,
not once his face showed pain.
Iron rod on the elbows,
metal wound on the thigh,
baseball bat on the head that drew,
a silent shrieky sigh.
Distant siren of police,
tires screeching through mud,
made their way to the stranger,
all soaked in crimson blood.
Trembling then the lady,
with the baby did see,
in a miniscule moment ,
the four crooks did flee.
And so thought the lady,
she was wrong all the while she thought right,
for the stranger that lay dead that night
was black the crooks were white.
Merry Christmas
Riding sleighing Santa,
over the moon he comes,
amazed at seeing stars like sky,
resting on million homes
A little girl who prayed,
for a wooden tambourine,
finds herself amidst candies and it,
a chocolate flavoured dream.
A curious cat then mews,
under the festive spell,
a brook nearby where grass grows high,
and a thousand blooms dwell.
Mysterious is God,
mystreious are his ways,
to make Scrooge a believer,
'Merry Christmas' he too says.
The Old Beggar
A beggar on the road,
tattered clothes, worn out and old,
streches open his arms wide,
shaking and shivery all in God's name,
a crumbled soul dwells inside.
Who cares?
With trembling hands he knocks at the door,
one, two, three, four,
gathers up courage but the lips are shaken,
a two and three quarters of words spurt out,
showcasing an identity mistaken.
Who cares?
In a split-second the car is spun,
across the street, fading into the sun,
all hopes of mercy, of pity are blown,
retreats the beggar to wait another turn,
he knows he gotta live coz life goes on.
Who cares?
Well, just tried my hand at writing a short story. Don’t know how it is, lets hope those who read it do like it. And those who don’t well, there are still the poems ;)
Dikrit was a 7 year old boy. He lived with his family in a small town, Kettinad. Like other kids his age, he went to school, he fought duels with his studies, he liked roaming around out in the wild chasing butterflies, climbing trees in hope of a rendezvous with the birds that dwelled there and of course, plucking the occasional Mango that the tree bore. Dikrit was the warm little centre around which the Universe crowded.
One day Dikrit’s father bought him a kite from a far town.Kites were not available in his own. Dikrit had always wanted to soar high amongst the clouds and the kite somehow gave him an avenue to realize his feelings. So for days together, he and his kite adorned the likes of Kettinad. High above the yellow sunflower fields, high above the hyacinth stricken ponds, higher still in his eyes that gleamed every time the kite would scare the birds away that had captured the freedom the skies had to offer. Life went on calmly, till one day, one fateful day, the string snapped, breaking the little boys heart as it itself shred to pieces and away went the kite, disappearing into the horizon where the sun had spilled out its
magificance lending a orange hue to the low rise clouds. For a week, Dikrit did not speak with anyone. Not his parents, not his friends, not even with God who he thought lived in the little brown wooden box that adorned the room of his grandmother.
His father, concerned about his son’s goodwill, brought him a tennis ball. Dikrit wasn’t excited though. To him, the kite epitomized all he ever asked from life. He decided to search for the kite he so loved lest he should find it someday. And so each day, he set off looking for it as soon as he returned from school. And each day he would take the tennis ball along with him. He searched far and wide. He searched the meadows where he had seen large four legged animals with horns and humps that looked like cows but were’nt actually cows. He turned upside down every stone, every leaf that lay hoping against hope that the kite be there. And for all this while he took the ball along with him. He learnt to catch it, throwing it high up in the sky till it looked like a dark little sun. He dribbled it, he hit the cows with it, he threw it at stones and see how it changed trajectories. He took it to the pond, he made little boats in which he sailed the ball ,amazed at how even when the boat capsized, the ball never drowned. He took it to the same sunflower fields and tried to match the balls colour with the velvety petals. It amazed him how a yellow coloured round thing could delve itself into any role he liked and yet stay with him always.
A month passed, and one fine day, as he was playing catch and throw with his friends, the gleamy eyes saw the sight they wanted to see. Lay there the kite alongside the moss stricken boulder. To Dikrit, it meant heaven. Tears rolled down his cheek, a smile erupted that revealed his two missing front teeth. He ran back home with the kite to show it to his parents, who couldn’t be happier at their son’s triumph.
Next day, after getting new strings attached, he ran for the fields. It was a beautiful day, gentle breeze that carried with it a promise to make the kite soar to heights never before imagined by him.But something was amiss. Something that made the little boy think like he had never before.
The Tennis Ball.
He looked at the cows who in turn were staring back at him wondering why a yellow coloured un-hurting stone was not being hurled at them. He looked at the boulders that looked dull and worn out, the very boulders that had amazingly, looked so full of life and vigour when ball used to be thrown at them.The ball had been his companion all along. In rainy days, when flying kites was incomprehensible, in those rooms indoor he had spent hours together catching the ball as it rebound from the algae stricken patchy walls. Dikrit did not want the kite anymore. He loved the ball more than anything else in this world,it was there with him always and he did’nt realize it.
How many of us keep looking for answers when all the time, they are right there, staring at us in our face. Answers that have been there always, answers we do not even realize exist. And because we don’t know where to look for them, because we are so entwined in the illusion of what we think we want, we fail to recognize them. We become Dikrits too late in our lives, it almost fails the point. Lets learn to let that which does not matter slide. Look around, life is beautiful!...and its never been any other way.
Sometimes i feel im eating myself up, piece by piece, chunk by chunk. the mind just explodes and the thoughts are akin to the survivors of a blast, scattered, running amock with no clue whatsoever. I just am unable to gauge what needs to be done. its like somebody is beating drums in my head and the noise is deafening. everything seems panicky and widout purpose. this mite last just a while but til da time it does, damn, i wish nobody ever feels da same.
Insomniac
In deep caverns of solitude,
entangled is the mind in a pensive mood,
wafting along the thoughts descend,
searches the soul for point quiescent.
Ramblings of heart with heart-beats entwined,
feelings one in too many enshrined.
Caught is the brain in a murky quagmire,
pondering upon fulfilled and betrayed desires.
Contours of walls like ghosts in hiding,
down comes a picture with breeze gliding.
For aeons the bliss of sleep then waits,
the heart loves the sinner, the sin it hates.
Eyes wide shut yet the world is clear,
lay distant dreams with me, so near.
A careless whisper at once the spirit echoes,
and paints a picture of you amidst sparrows.
Enter I, fly the birds, you stay,
the heart then dictates, the pen obeys.
Time albeit spares a moment none,
tick-tock tick-tock it goes on.
Binding Chain
What is it that keeps,
the thoughts from falling apart,
that sews the broken fragments,
holds them together again.
It has a price however,
for needles pierce the
burnt flesh, a chain that
does not let you free,confining you
midway betwixt victory and loss.
Its life they say, i wonder though,
life's dimensions are too diverse
to comprehend for me and you
and all that can be done is to live it
before it lives you out.
The Battle Within
Deranged are you,
that you pain self-inflict,
piercing nails in your chest,
virus of gloom in your mind infest,
indenturing yourself to the crucifix.
Mistaken my friend,
in your argument are you,
redemption of soul what i desire,
abluting my mind in my hearts fire,
painting life in a different hue.
False victory beckons you,
mirage its been from the start,
what good is flying high outside,
you in yourself cant confide,
when inside you are falling apart.
Rainy Morning
Rainy morning, a face so sweet,
silken hair strands,
soft caring hands,
oozing freshness, a grace so sweet
Teasing glances,lovelorn stare,
worries unwind,
life redefined,
scattering happiness, lifelong fair.
Crimson lips, enchanting smile,
the upper lip mole,
rejuvenating soul,
existance made worthwhile.
Mellifluous voice, melting words,
numb heart goes,
receding woes,
myriad hues adorn minds white board.
Caressing hands, satiny touch,
finger on cheek,
playful shriek,
life from you i ask as much.
Maybe
I know i'm not supposed to,
but somehow, i love this hell,
who's to blame, i do not know,
maybe its just the way i fell!
Life SNAPS
I still tingle with an experience a friend of mine narrated to me this morning.Life is cruel, yes it is, no two ways about it. When everything seems to be on the right track, life's train is chugging along at a slow but steady pace, one feels even the Devil himself cannot cause any aberrations in the smooth plans one often has. And yet it takes only a linesman to change the track, and as that lousy station master in a certain' Jab We Met' exclaimed, ' variation in angle by a few degrees and destinations get miles apart.'
My question is what does one do when the person finds he himself is linesman. Let me tell you, its the worst feeling one can experience.
Such a linesman, my friend Mr.M turned out to be. In this day and age who does not aspire to take a peek-a-boo at his/her managerial skills. He too was no different. And Lo! after much ado about nothing, the gentleman rose and the form of a ceratin SNAP was filled,albeit online. Such technology is a wondrous prospect of human existance in todays world. Most inhospitable places are a click away, the world seems at fingertips.
And so that day, that fateful day, Mr. started filling the document in question with much vigour and enthusiasm, or so he would have us believe. The family name was scribbled, educational qualifications mentioned with precision. Age, sex, contact numbers et al made their way into the Symbi database accurately. The test centre being the City Beautiful of course, but it wasnt to be.
The scroll on the mouse is a wonderful proposition and it makes it presence felt as one admires the functionality of a modern day computer. A scroll here and a scroll there and Johnny's sugar falls in his fathers mouth. Mr.M scrolled unknowingly and never looked back at the form, he's not someone who'd ponder upon stuff bygone. Little did he know that the little scroll button had done its work, in a manner that is both titilatting and saddening at the same time.
Mr.M 's admit card mentions his test centre as Chennai, nearly 2500 kilometres adrift. I'd like to meet that station master and let him know that.
I Like
I Like,
Saying silly things because I know they make her laugh,
that endless curve on her face I see,
like a winter morning sun; so bright,
the thought of which brings about such glee.
I Like,
To be away from her for,
the joy I get when i see her again,
like the heat parched earth;dry and out,
relinquishes its thirst at seasons first rain.
I Like,
to be close to her,
she makes worst of days seem right,
it lightens my mind, it lightens my soul,
it flies like birds in circled flights.
I Like,
talking endlessly to her,
never bored of each other get we,by far,
even silence such comfort gives,
words no longer necessary are.
I Like,
to whisper 'I Love You',
when she lay on bed, feelings for her to keep,
and feel the glow it brings in her eyes,
I like to put her smiling to sleep.
Will I?
There's a feeling i've been feeling,
its scattered around and I gather it,
with me for a little while it stays,
coz as I gather, again I scatter it.
Its a game I play with myself,
where i'm the seeker and i'm the one who hides,
I take small steps towards you, or from,
one step ahead, two backward strides.
I'm an insane man in a sane world,
yet a sane man in a world insane,
point by point I plot the graph,
point by point I erase it again.
I can strew back all the broken pieces,
I may fail to win, I cant fail to try,
an attempt to resurrect whats obliterated,
the question I ask myself...Will I?
The Star Gazer
I love star gazing, so i guess something should be here for it too......
I lay down lonesome on the grass,
sprinkled with blushing youthful flowers,
with beetles together they shared with me,
an eternal moment, staring at the stars.
Scattered high in the sky they lay,
shining sages, so peacfully,
onlookers since times immemorial,
each moment ageing gracefully.
The young ones flashed inherent fire,
calming ways of those matured,
flashy ones shot like arrows fast,
a time like no other this time ensured.
Someday when I try and comprehend,
nature of man and delve on it for hours,
I'll think of this day I lonesome lay,
on the grass gazing at the stars.
The Addict
Gripped by the Devil Himself,
submitted to the whore of desire,
letting mind drift anew,
rising in the sky, higher and higher.
When limbs feel devoid of life,
prickly pins on finger tips,
in oceans fly aeroplanes,
desert is so full of ships.
Speech corrupts, words slide,
sight seemingly fades to black,
voices scream from far and wide,
thoughts pounded by bygone flak.
Enlightened mind, a body so numb,
ricocheting beliefs that need support,
split personality, one genius one dumb,
when none, infinity denotes.
Questions arise, answers fade,
or a sea of answers which questions wade,
when hate and love at once one says,
the lifeless red, the vibrant grey.
Redeeming self, a repelling ego,
the spotless mind cries aghast,
burying remnants of an eternal sunshine,
like a baby, it then sleeps at last.
I'm feeling so weird rite now. Angry yet enlightened is how id describe it to be. I dont know why, i was ok ten minutes ago, and i know ill be fine ten minutes from now. But if i were to explain u the ramblings in my mind, id say im feeling like a drug addict in a rehabilitation centre( dat doesnt mean i take drugs!!! Im against em anyways) who knows he must not take drugs and avoids it but is angry wid himself for doing so. So u see, its a two way feeling. Enough of this bullshit, the day was awesome. Caught up wid some old pals. It was like a golden era had cheated time and momentarily re-appeared. Then there was a great re-union wid frnds wid whom frienships were broken for unknown reasons, reasons that dint even exist. But am glad today, coz finally after years, sense and sensibility have prevailed over false egos and mistaken identities. And how can i but not mention about the festival of lights. It was a simple celebration today,
not a pompous affair like times before, but it was a much happier one. See, its been around 5 minutes since i started writing and am already feeling better. Anyways, enuf said for tday. I wish you all a very very happy deepawali. Hope all of you have an awesum time this festive season. Signing out. Gnite.
not a pompous affair like times before, but it was a much happier one. See, its been around 5 minutes since i started writing and am already feeling better. Anyways, enuf said for tday. I wish you all a very very happy deepawali. Hope all of you have an awesum time this festive season. Signing out. Gnite.
Her Lips
Drenched with the colour of devils eyes,
as creamy as an ice-cream scoop,
lushness of a dew soaked petal,
softness of a pigeons feather.
A curve upwards and the world submits,
a curve downwards and darkness descends,
they part and exhibit a necklace of pearls,
yesterdays innocence, todays trends.
Dipped in strawberry red they are,
a glimpse for which kings trade their gold,
a firm line together when they draw,
the modern beauty, mature and bold.
A sight of their casts a spell,
I am enchanted in by their mesmerising glow,
the passageway to beautiful thoughts,
the honey dripping talk my mind that blows.
An addictive picture together they paint,
lending the hand a velvety touch,
a pale of sweetness with them entwined,
a masterstroke of God's paintbrush!
Things Have Changed
Its not that good, its just too far,
when you aim at the moon and you shoot at the stars,
a hush goes rushing through the night sky.
Its all too good, i am all too clean,
I think about the places lately i have been,
you just keep believing its all worth a try.
The world is amusing, the world is strange,
i am too perplexed, i am going insane,
i used to be concerned but....things have changed.
The Day the Hope Died
A war has broken out. It has reached this city. The people of the city know they do not have the slightest chance. Most have accepted the will of God. A man thinks otherwise and promises his son he will be back. As fate would have it, he does not return. His son waits for him all the while and dies eventualy. Should the father have told his son to run away, should the son have done so himself, should he have literaly stood by his father's word knowing what all is happening before him, these are questions one is free to ponder over.
Far in the horizon,
clattered drums and trumpets,
of death gliding swiftly,
shatter life's nest.
Pillaging march,
fear emanating all along,
hope receding he spoke,
"fear not son be strong"
"human animals lay ahead,
tormenting spirits within,
oblivious to humanity,
deceitful devilish denizens
Back i'll be to take you,"
Comrades gazed in astonish,
"a rendition of what i stand for,
back i'll be i promise"
So stood there the child,
as meek as a deer,
imbibing the words he just heard,
his eyes of grit,
his shadow of strength,
he believed in his fathers word.
Mayhem caressed the buildings,
devastation kissed a lethal blow,
sorrow cuddled the faces of women,
bodies of the dead who wont let go.
Fighting the gloom all around him,
the boy stood still,
apostle of manly character,
naked exhibition of strong will.
Plunderers came closer,
his hair the bullet grazed,
not a smirk on his face nor a shiver of hand,
he stood there unfazed.
The light dimmed,
the sounds faded,
the senses were lost,
beneath the tree,
along the road,
Ah! the boy was shot.
In his descent to the ground,
heavenly stars he eyed,
not his body, not his soul,
it was his hope that day that died.
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