Mess being off, I went on another round of loitering in search of food. Feeling gloomy, I went to Chedi's for a Tinku (a nice spicy and juicy egg burger). But what I saw only added to my gloom. The shop was closed. Having only Rs. 35 in my pockets, I couldnt afford to eat something fancy to dispel the gloom. I headed towards Billoo's and ordered for an aloo paratha.

I chose the chair farthest from everybody else, sat and decided to stare at the light-studded tree till the time I could stare at my food.

Ten minutes were over and no food had arrived. My order number was 16, and number 13 was the last to be served. Reluctantly I glanced over the other side of humanity. I saw the owner of the shop missing. He was talking to the men in the kitchen and pointing at my direction with his head.

Within three minutes, a man came with a plate in his hand. With my aloo paratha. I smiled at the man, but not for too long; and pounced upon the paratha.

It was kind of you Mr. shopkeeper.

Somebody else's poem for a change

These few months have been a kind of strings of  painful eyeopeners for me. I realised that I had been purposefully numbing myself and unleashing it all out upon myself. I wanted to avoid looking so that I could be able to see properly sometime. Well I guess I am seeing properly now, maybe.

I have realised that strength can sometimes become a double-edged sword. If it could really be called strength. Is there strength in silence? Is there strength in pretending to keep living as if nothing ever happened? That strategy can only go so far. You cannot keep running away forever. Most certainly not from yourself.

What do you do when nothing you do can retain the torrential acid flood of negative memories keep seeping and searing through your brain?

I used to think that I was a strong person. I could face anything. I just needed to have faith in myself. And somehow, I couldnt see that I was actually destroying myself. Well, I could see, but I believed whatever I did to myself would not really affect me. Or may be I couldnt care less what happened. Because it some how kept me sane, kept me going through, kept me capable of dealing with the day to day life. It helped me keep myself numb to whatever was going on the inside. It seems pretty insane now, but then, that was all that made sense. Scarily enough, it still makes sense.

I had been strong enough to destroy myself in one go, without even knowing it. My faith in me has taken a blow. But what I need now is a strength strong enough to hold myself back. Even if it means to become weaker in some ways.

After all, I have come face to face with this brutal truth that I have no one but myself.  A person with no helmet cannot afford to throw hammers at his own head.

I probably needed this self inflicted slap to wake up, to pick up my guts to really deal with what was wrong, instead of denying it away.

My life doesnt make sense to me still. Long time ago, I had struggled to find a reason to keep on living. There is no sense in living if you dont have one, isnt it? At least it seems so to me. I sometimes slip back into that searching mode, and I feel it probably would have been better if well I never existed in the first place.  Its scary, to feel there is no need for me to live at all. Its scary to know that the dreams from which you derive peace, should actually be nightmares.

But even though my life doesnt have a meaning, I will have to find that meaning. And if I dont find it, I will have to give my life a meaning.

It has to make sense.

Red ribbons upon a stitch 
Melancholia, is my switch 


Empty vessel, a clockwork mime 
Stranded in land of the blind 
Drawn by loose ends of time 
Over and over, and over I find 


 Red ribbons upon a stitch 
 Melancholia, is my switch

Endless night

Give me all the darkness you can
But do not promise me light
I can take it all, Lord
But your glimmer takes away my sight.

Broken, bent, but standing
That's all in my might
Do not be so cruel oh Lord
Have pity on my plight.

These bones dont seem to last
Soul craves for the flight
Do not promise me the sun, oh Lord
In my endless night.

Poison ivies cling to your mind
Bearing venomous but irresistible, red fruits
Where the fiery pink snake darts
Among the garden of eden
But I aint either a-going to heaven
So, meet you in hell
Beeches.

Don't be kind

Thoughts unfurl their fangs
Dig their claws inside
And while they invade the land of Morphia
A grim finger points at me
What have you done now, see?

"Clemency was never mine to give"

Its not a shiny penny
Its not an extra change
When you dwindle it away
Into your pocket, back
Its not gonna find its way.

"The quality of mercy is not strained"

Daggers burn on to back
Revenge does not cut slack
Twice blessed is not the age
Where fear knows no bound
Greed is on rampage.

God smiles a furry grin
through my gritted teeth
and laughs at the world.

Dont be kind.

Burn

Held a fly in my hand
to keep it in the dark
a ray of light
seeped through my fingers
Burned its wings.

Hands revolving
racing against time,
why dont you pause
for a while
Let me feel the peace
while it still lasts
Let me feel the calm
The uncomplexity
of idle moments
while they still are
For tomorrows another day
with sets of prices to pay
Perhaps this lucid moment
is just what
I was looking for
all my life.


Dekhte hi dekhte Saturday gone!

Summer dreams, winter dies,
Along comes summer;
Last year, I lost
This year, another.

Nobody has ever measured
How much a heart can hold
Abysses of darkness
Fortitude of gold

Epiphany of prophets
Copse of fears
Zephyrs of memories
Cascade of tears

No, no, mere words cannot
proclaim what lays
Defended, broken, cherished, hidden
Under the corporeal cage.

Nobody has ever measured
How much a heart can hold
This poet's  expression fails
In a venture so bold.



Another bad attempt of viruses instilling dead WBC and poetic fervour in my head :P

It seems a tad sad when
friends who were by you
move on to people
and experiences, new.

You may feel lonely,
you may feel alone
but loneliness doesn't have to be
A sin for you to atone.

If you couldn't even
accompany yourself,
what good could you possibly do
To someone else?

Let your angst, worry
be awashed by peace
like a shower of raindrops
on mudstained green leaves.

Make each day
a wholesome sensation
Easy to say it is but
Not that difficult an alleviation.

Coz the journey which is
a complete narration
is in no way more perfect
than one who seeks completion.

Wallow in light, not pity
Loathing wont help;
Trust me, God has better plans for you
than you have for yourself.

Stasis to Metastasis

1. Stasis : from Greek στάσις "a standing still"
Also known as Stasis (pronounced /ˈsteɪsɪs/), or hypersleep, is a science fiction concept akin to suspended animation.

2. Meta : from Greek: μετά = "after", "beyond", "with", "adjacent", "self", is a prefix used in English (and other Greek-owing languages) to indicate a concept which is an abstraction from another concept, used to complete or add to the latter.


3. Metastasis:  the spread of a disease from one organ or part to another non-adjacent organ or part.

The unheard

Saw the movie Dhobi ghat... and as the movie came to an end, this is what came to my mind..

Yes, sometimes,
just a single string
than a full chord
is enough to touch and sting

A solo, rather than
a choir of noises;
a single silencing finger
among cacophony of noises

Lingering whispers
to move your world
where money, power, strength
lose their worth

But at times,
amongst all the zest;
what moves you most
is when Silence speaks best.

Dear God

Just gonna stand there 

and watch me burn?
Well that's alright 
because I like the way it hurts

Just gonna stand there 
and hear me cry?
Well, that's alright
because I love the way I die. 

I love the way I die.

High

Days of thirst, hunger
No sleep
Cursing all along
But thats not all bad
Thats the stuff
I get high on.

Molten fire is what
Runs in these veins
Creeping up the spine
About to explode
Each moment ticks
But everything is fine

Shrieks fill the air
This is one nightmare
With no dawn
But thats not so bad
Coz thats the stuff
I get high on.

Still remember
How my face looked
That night
Pain searing through
Ripping in two
Against myself I fight

Bleed, till no more
Need, till no more
Shaking, still holding on
Oh yeah,
Thats the stuff
I get high on.

The Toll

The car screeches
A sudden halt
the Toll needs to be paid.
The ten rupee note passes
from the drivers hand
into another.

An unnamed, faceless hand
mechanically stretched
from a hole in the wall
to offer a ticket in exchange.

Who is the owner of the hand?
What does he live for?
What kind of family does he have?
What does he do,
When he is not here?
Does he like his job?

Don't ask me
I only saw his hand.
But if you want
I can paint a picture grand.

In this world
He is Narayana
He is the caretaker
of the Land of Toll gates
No one passes, not a single one
without an appropriate offering.

The picture ends, for now I hear
The bell telling me to move on
It tolls not for me,
But the cistern, that holds me.

A Happy New Year To You

Returning on a rickshaw
a scene caught my eye
Kids celebrating new year:
Rebellious moves
Dancing bare feet
Barely seen through
the sheet of kicked up Dust.
Joyous, yes it seemed
Is this how
the New year's gonna be?
Like the kicked up dust
Animated into shapes?
Will it be like
the dust as it is now
mingled and settled on the ground.
Or will it be
Brushed away
Under the carpet of tomorrow
just like your
New year resolutions?
Or will it be
worth the memory;
Etched in your mind
with the ink of happiness,
success, creativity
Even perhaps humanity?
Whatever it may be
We wait and grow
with bated breath.
Light up your face
with a fresh smile,
Yell "Happy new year to you!"
Begone days
I bid thee, adieu.