Have I been pretending all this while?

I thought I'd opened the shell and stepped out finally. Tried seeing the world, tried facing reality. I'd done it, and then I looked back. I rushed back to the shell, snuggled inside and shut it.

Can it be believed that I missed being miserable and in despair? So much so that I turned back to it? To it's comfort in discomfort?

What I want now, I don't know how deep down that want is, or how superficial it is; is to stay miserable. I want to get worse. I want to break down completely, I want to become hopeless. I want to inflict pain on myself. I want to drown this suffering in more suffering. I want to shut out even the slightest ray of hope. I want to end all the happiness, all the comfort, all the feelings of security.

And the sane part of me, however diminished, is angry because I want all that. It's angry because I've given up. Because I don't even want to fight back. Because I'm forfeited to my emotions, to my misery.

But that sane part is gradually losing out. I'm getting insane. I'm getting masochistic. Badly.

What's wrong with me??

She has chosen.

They say she needs to let go.

She asks herself why.

They say she needs to move on.

She asks herself why.

They say she needs to forgive.

She wonders if she needs to forgive herself or others.

They say she needs to live life.

She wonders what the point is.

They say she needs to make friends.

She's skeptical about what true friendship means.

They say she needs to socialize.

She doesn't like it.





She knows she has to choose.

She's always had to do that.

And it's never been easy for her.

But she's finally chosen.




She needs to spread out her wings of hope and fly.
She needs to befriend herself and accept things right.
She needs to strike a balance between reality and illusions.
She needs to overcome the difference.
She needs to know and believe in what she wishes for.
She needs you in any way. She just needs you.

The November Rain

(Composed on November 11, 2009)

Yearnings in the wind that blows
Cool drops and warm drops seeping through
Some the rain, some the tears
Over and over again, yearnings for you.

Here pours down the November rain
The cold and the wet atmosphere
Chills and thunder hand in hand
The warm and the wet tears.

A drop falls upon my palm
I wonder if it's a tear you shed
Or a ruthlessly hurt heart
In November that bled.

Here pours down the November rain
The cold and the wet atmosphere
Chills and thunder hand in hand
The warm and the wet tears.

A thunder rolled through grey clouds
A chill ran down my spine
Lightening flashed its shiny teeth
Lending the moisture on my cheeks a shine.

A broken heart lay stuttering
The same name over again
A few blisters of a burned dream
Still stung with the pain.

Here pours down the November rain
The cold and the wet atmosphere
Chills and thunder hand in hand
The warm and the wet tears.

Yearnings in the rain that pours
Cool drops and warm drops seeping through
Some the rain, some the tears
The November rain pours for you.

A Father to Fill the Void?

I've never felt it and may never feel
The love of a father, a father for real.
Never in my thoughts so far had a doubt formed
Somewhere, maybe it was always there deep down.

All I want is someone who'd care
Who'd hold me in their arms and whisper,"I'm there".
A father who'd advise and share thoughts wise
A father who'd kiss my forehead and my tears wipe.

All this while I never felt I'd need him
Always believed I had everything.
And all of a sudden when I long
I'm guilty; I've questioned the love of a mother strong.

Why do I need him now?
To fill a void left cold since time long?
Or is it just an emotion-the same
Manifesting in a different form?

Of Dealing...And Needing.

The orange sunset leaves me in a blue mood. Strange- according to the colour-theory, they complement each other.

It's time I headed back to my health-food. My hostel. The days(3 weeks, to be precise) I spent back home weren't exactly exciting...But things here felt like addictions. Some like indulgence.

I noticed, that whenever I came back, those voids called out to me. The corners in my house...They all held memories. The window sill, the computer area...Almost every corner held some memory. And they reached out to me. And, the worst part, if you may call it, is that I succumbed to them. I fell back into the voids, still finding my comfort. A strange sense of satisfaction in self-pity.

And then all of a sudden, reality breaks down on me. Now I have to get back to the hostel in a day. And I dread it. I abhor it. I want to defer it. Indefinitely.

I wonder if I should try not coming back as much as possible. But then, that would be avoiding things I must deal with altogether.

It's tough...

And...I still need that person in order to need myself.

My Virtual World

(This is supposed to be a song :D)

I find, I find it in your eyes
A world with a new sunrise
I share, I share with you
Everything I ever wanted to

In my virtual world
Where all my dreams soar free
I have me, I have life
I have love, I have you
And that's all that I need

Lets reach out together to fantasy
Lets break free from this reality
Lets build a world of our own
Lets call that our home

I see, I see everything of me
In you, truly and completely
I smile, I smile with you
It's an everyday feeling and it's every time new

In my virtual world
Where all my dreams soar free
I have me, I have life
I have love, I have you
And that's all that I need.

In my virtual world....

Acceptance

Slithering in the damp dark murk
She made herself at home
No trace of joy, no sense of sorrow
Masochism and numbness alone.

A quivering sensation at times
And murmurs of fear
Everything seemed lost
Life was a waste, sheer.

All voices, all eyes, everyone she saw
Manifested a deep want to see some life in those eyes
She would try, always against herself
And that was where the problem lied.

"Against my will", she kept thinking
The inertia just wouldn't leave
Her shell she tightly held closed
Want was her ultimate need.

And then she faced what seemed the worst
Breaking down, tearing apart
Confusion confined her
But rather than an end, this was the start.

Suddenly every leaf dropped
From the tree of her confused despair
And new leaves actually grew
Out of what was once shared.

Slowly gratitude crawled
Along with a sense of belonging
Those words from The One and all
Now held deep meaning.

It was all true, and herself she had punished
For crimes never really committed
For choices that could be undone
Her punishment was her sin.

And now the need, the want
Somewhere it returned from
She embraced herself finally
A smile broke through the dark into the dawn.

I wish I could have been like you.

I live, I die, and then I live again
In a dream, in a delusion
Reality gets washed away in the rain
I blink in confusion.

The world moves on marching ahead
I stand still, afraid
I came out of my sheltering shed
But the world's still fake.

What ever happened was once
The ghost of Christmas past
I clutch at what is shunned
Insecure, abandoned.

I still make visits to the grave
I want back my sun
But what is gone is gone away
Away and yet holds sway.

I can't let go and I can't even hold
You are now mere memory
I wish you were still alive and whole
All I have now is a gaping hole.

Maybe you can see me from up there
Like an angel in the clouds
But maybe I wish you didn't stare
For my unwillingness lies bare.

I may never be able to face you
The face of strength and strong will
I wonder where all of that from me blew
Don't look at me now, it's all rue.

I wish I could have been strong
I wish you wouldn't be ashamed of me
You left crying, but you longed
To see me before your knell tolled.

I wish I could have been strong...
I wish I could have made you proud...
I wish I could have been like you.

An end.

Since the past few days, I've been having a strange intuition that something is about to end. In a bad way or a good way, I'm not sure. Like all my sufferings, longings and vain efforts are finally going to pay off.

It's like I'm on the edge, one push and it'll all be over. Perhaps for the good. For the good in giving up, that is.

I'm not dreading it. On the contrary, I'm waiting for it to happen. And well, to be honest, I want it to happen soon.

Losing myself.

I'm fed up. I'm frustrated at my own darned self.

Every time, it's the same old story. WHY am I so weak? WHY do I always hurt the people I can't live without? WHY do I make others suffer on top of my suffering? WHY couldn't I be strong? WHY CAN'T I be strong?

I've lost it all...the feelings, the living. I've lost my want to live. I've lost my want to be happy. I've lost my want to fight against my own misery. I just want to stay miserable, I just want to die miserably.

I've lost myself somewhere among the blurs of confusion, frustration, unawareness, and giving up.

I've given up.

I've given up on myself.

And I felt...

I'm not sure how I felt at that time.
Those small things...those words you said...
It all stood out right in front of my eyes.
And I felt nostalgic.

I'm not sure if my reactions were rational and right.
Instinct and Impulse, Gratification and Reliving...
You pulled me up to you towards the light.
And I felt exhilaration.

I'm not sure how everything fell so perfectly.
Time seemed to have this destined...
I looked up at you with eagerness and happily.
And I felt it was divine.

I'm not sure how you felt.
Each time something reminded us of things...
All my delusions in front of me knelt.
And I felt sublime.

I'm not sure why I stopped you.
That was the first time...
I couldn't let you leave me again.
And I felt I was pleading against time.

I'm not sure what made you concerned for me.
I was a different subject altogether...
But you held out your hand.
And I felt grateful.

I'm not sure if what I formed was right.
But there were traces...
Perhaps I was reading too much between lines.
And I felt a bit confused.

I'm not sure why you chose those lines.
It wasn't in sync with your previous statement...
Things that come directly out are usually true.
And I felt worried.

If I'm sure of anything at all,
It's a plain reclamation of words-
With each passing moment
Love is still on the roll.


And I felt I couldn't express my feelings perfectly all through the rhyme.

The tree- The lover.

It's sepia with a green kiss
It speaks to me in a language called instinct
It's the neighbour of my solitude
It's the angel; the angel of grief's bliss.

It loves me like a lover
And demands nothing whatsoever
It hugs me with its shedding
Sepia scraps on the streets covered.

It's one with me during time all
From my childhood to the teenage toll
It has stood unmoving and non judgmental
It has truly been an answered call.

The tree, the life it bestows on me
My friend among unseeing enemies
The love of whose life is a personification of quietude
The unconditional lover off the street.

It's dear to me, it's a special murmur
It's been there all weather
I'm a weakness and a strength
Of it's unasked affectionate river.

The tree- the lover.

A new enviromment outside, the same environment inside.

So I've shifted to a hostel that's at a distance of about 3 hours from my house. It's all new for me. Staying all by yourself with sometimes annoying room-mates, having to worry about food and water, washing your clothes on your own...in short, taking up your responsibilities. I admit, it's not easy.

I thought the change in environment would affect my mental and inner state in a positive way. So much for hoping things.

It's been a week now, and my state has improved...as in, I do my chores, I don't cry all the time and I don't sit on the net for hours together. But I want to.

It's not the same, but it's not much different, either. On the whole, only the frequency has changed, not the intensity. I feel sad every night. I keep longing. Longing for what? I'm not sure. I'm lonely all the time now, in the literal sense. I don't have freinds. I've roommates and classmates and batchmates.

I keep getting anxious. I want to cry, but I'm not sure how to or where to. I want to get numb, but at least the daily college hours coupled up with assignments don't exactly allow me to. But I'm not really doing this on my own will. I WANT to be numb. I WANT to exist and not live. It's inertia.

Yet, I try pushing myself at times. But the temptation of falling back right into the muddy and murky dark voids is high. Quite high enough for me to get hysteric at times and yearn to cross over.

I wait for a reply. I don't get it. Seven days and I'm on the edge of oblivion.

I don't like the hostel life. But, like it goes with food- health food is almost always never the delicious one on the table.

Direct Apostrophe

No, I don't want you to know all this. I don't want you to read all this. Please. I don't want to remind you of it. I don't want you to spend time on this at all. Just don't.

It's true most of these posts are meant for you, but I don't want you to know.

Not just because here's me, the open book, the vulnerable being, wound up and displaying my scars and I want to show it to all but you; but because I'm not sure how all this would affect you. I don't want it to bother you at all. I don't want it to have even the faintest of possibilities of hurting you.

I'm not ready. Not yet. And perhaps, I never would be.

I just wanted to know.

The Virtual

Sometimes in life, it doesn’t really matter whether what you’re doing is right or wrong. What matters is you’re satisfied with it.

So what if indulge in memories and they almost always make me cry? I’m satisfied with my crying, quite. It really does give me a strange sort of satisfaction; happiness in being sad, as they would call it.

Yes, I’m happy being sad. I’m happy being hopelessly hopeful. I’m happy thinking and yearning for something that might never be mine again. But, hold. Isn’t it mine? It is. And I’m its.

So now what? Don’t I have it all? Perhaps I do. Perhaps I don’t. It’s a mixture of both. I have it all virtually. But, ‘technically, we’re in a position’ where having it all VIRTUALLY doesn’t make much difference. But, I know, somewhere, deep down within the seemingly extinct US, it makes a difference. It makes all the difference. It keeps us holding on. It cheers us on and on… and on.

What if I lose contact with reality? It keeps haunting me. What if I begin living solely in the dream world, in the ‘virtual’ world where I have it all? I know you’ll be highly disturbed by it. And you’ll try to hide it. Just as you try to hide everything else. Just as you try to hide yourself from me; yourself from you; yourself from US. WHY? “I think you know why”, I guess I do. But it wouldn’t hurt if you were selfish once in a while; or would it? “It would.” I guess I know you quite well.

Is this the 3rd/4th/5th…UMPTEENTH address to you? An address that was never received, never heard? But it IS heard. In the virtual world; for me; for US.






I wish you were here. I wish I could see you, even if it was just for a fleeting second, where our eyes would meet and a million unsaid words would be exchanged.

The Mind Game

In this mind game
I play against the same colour
The pawns, the knights, the bishops
All I have isn't even mine to take over.

I battle against my friends
I battle against my foes
This battle is a babel
A confusion I cannot hold.

In shambles, I murmur
I cry in despair
I search in vain for myself
I find I'm nothing without you there.

The monster within takes over
Feeds on my fears
'Tis not a silent battle
It ends in tears.

But, have I lost? Have I lost it all?
I don't even know when the knell tolled.

Am I alive? Am I dead? I still exist, Oh Lord!
Why this punishment? Finish me once and for all!

To Infinity and Beyond....

The dust had risen but now settles back down
Upon the paths to Infinity and Beyond
The footprints so clear had been
Now lie stranded mid-stream.

The fallen leaves cry in despair
"Come, lay your bare feet upon us"
The golden sands have lost their shine already
Drowning in their own tears.

The lonely rose is surrounded by thorns
With dust upon it swarmed
The blue sky has drooped its shoulders
It used to kiss peaks, now it rests on boulders.

Everything changed, as I stopped, for me.
Now I can't see Beyond, nor can I see Infinity.

I still feel quite the same way
The way I felt when you left me
The way I felt when we'd first met
The way I felt looking back helplessly.

That's the way life is
They say
But why should things happen
The same way?

Shouldn't there be exceptions?
Shouldn't there be the odds
Couldn't spring, for once,
With autumn leaves fall?

You seem indifferent
And that disturbs me
At times you are the person I despise
At times you're a beloved memory.

Maybe you moved on
Maybe you just pretend
But these veils keep flying apart
And somethings can never end.

I get frustrated
Fury engulfs me
I lose patience
Impulse gets me.
Why should this happen?
Why can't it be something other than this?
Why should I be happy
When all I'm doing is pretending to live?

In Memorabilia

Someone, who had once been very close to me had said, in exactly the words-

"What matters, are memories."

I'd asked "And why do they matter?"

"Because, My Love, nothing else matters."

My query was- "I wonder what matters at the end of it all (at the end of life, or maybe a lifetime)."

At that particular time of definition, I hadn't completely understood that. Memories? What's the big deal with them? How do they exactly come in picture at the end of it all?

And then, Realization dawned.

It's not as if I'm on the edge of my lifetime on this planet. Although it could be the edge of a phase of my life. That phase, that little phase, known as Commitment, Happiness and Fulfillment. Was it too good to be true?

And now I realize how memories matter. They're indulgence now. They're the only best parts of my life at the moment and I wish never to part with them.

They hold those Golden Precious moments that might never happen again. Maybe THAT'S their unique property- Memories hold moments in suspension. Moments that might never happen again. They might be irreplaceable. They, undoubtedly, are irreversible.

And, at the end of it all, What matters are memories. We have memories of good times spent with dear ones and we may shut our eyes with a grateful smile.

What if we have memories that are too vague to be categorized? Would it result in a confused death, after a confused lifetime? Imagine dead bodies bearing a confused expression on visage. (And imagine yourself in that position). THAT would be a painful way of bidding farewell.

Applying memories in our daily lives after their description during the end of it all,
(I'm trying to show mathematical logic)

What if we live in memories? Like living in fantasy. Like living in our own world. Like living in the past.

Would it really be harmful if it gives us happiness?

Voids.

It's not as if this is the first time the voids are being formed. There had always been space. Empty space. In fact, voids were, in my opinion, the first to come. Only voids that were no longer empty could be known as something else. Well, seeing things upside down- The absence of presence is a void. The absence of coldness is heat. Now why couldn't these be measurable amounts had the world looked at them from upside down?


Right now, though, my focus is on the Void. The Emotional Void. Everyone has one. No one is happy with one.

It's emptiness. You can't say this area has gone black or this area has gone yellow(As in, sad or happy). You can't even point out EXACTLY what that void had once contained. You know it's the absence of the presence of a certain something or someone. The Emotional Presence. Now, can the Void be filled?

Not always. Might I say, rarely.

Why?

If you could empty half a filled glass and exclaim,
"Look! The glass is half-empty!",
Couldn't you just fill half an empty glass and exclaim,
"Look, the glass is half-full!" ?

So...It's based on relativity. And then arrives a glass who's depth cannot be measured and it would be impossible to say how much or how less of something it could hold. Or, it HAD held.

That is somewhat the same sort as the Emotional Void. You just can't say how much or how less it had held. And so, you aren't sure how much or how less would be needed to fill it up. Even, WHAT would be needed to fill up an Emotional Void?

Another point- Do empty spaces always tend to be extremely cold?

Well, outer-space isn't exactly warm. So why should "inner-space" be?

'Students with doubts raise your hands'.

I just had my birthday the day before yesterday. And it is as if Blogger itself was proud when it updated my age. Now it reads- AA, 17, Female. And yeah, the other little details tag along, too.

So, I've lived yet another long year of my life on this planet that the Earthlings call the 'Earth'. Reminds me of the idea of numerous lifetimes in different forms and different areas of the universe. The idea of not fearing death because there are, anyways, more life forms to be lived, which might, in turn, also provide some sort of connection between other significant souls and there goes- The Journey Of The Souls Through Lifetimes.

Believeable? Or too far-fetched?

Well, what if all this was believed withut a question and accepted? Wouldn't humans begin taking life itself for granted? And what if, they actually did begin to take life as granted?

I bet you there wouldn't have been much of a population problem in that case.

Well, jokes apart, what if there really was something called 'Reincarnation'? 'Karmas'? 'Moksha'?

The point is, if all of us are students in the school of the Almighty, learning the lessons of life, being detained if you failed in a particular subject and promoted if you did well, what exatcly are we being trained for?

These zephyrs blow over the barren land
Once a sea-shore with seagulls soaring
These sunsets are only full of longing
Once with meeting anticipations hovering.

The falling leaves remind me
Of your gentle, caring touch
Those moments of confusion come up
With the clouds of dust

Clouds of dust rising below
Our feet that once in unison were
Separated, yet connected
Through memories- clothed and bare.

I fall in love, I rise in love
I live in love, in love with you
I'm alive by the meagre interactions
On the leaf of memories, like a suspended dew.

I know I can't stay so forever
Without you around I feel numb
Every wish is a cry of despair
Many would gladly be replaced by some.

You, a constant part of my remembrance
The source of strength, the source of joy
There isn't any life I'd like to live
And yet I cannot even die.

I long to hear your voice
Long to see you smile
It hurts when others don't realize
The purity of my rhyme.

I've been yours at every stage, during these testing times
I 'm still yours at this stage, albeit these lines may be a crime.

What Now??

"Love can happen more than once."

It did. And it happened with the same person. Now what?

I remember, not very long ago, I used to exclaim that I would fall in love with Him on each new moment, each new day, again and again. And yet, the same continues. Every new moment. Maybe it shouldn't? But it does.

"The feel seems to never end".

The novelty remains even after...what? 5 months? Even after... even after it wasn't supposed to.

So what is to be done now? I can't go back. Or, rather, even if I go back, He can't come back.

Really? He can't? Or what if He actually can? Can He? Are there any possibilities?

Realizing this made me think and visualize a circle. A circle, yes.
As in, there are love- triangles, sometimes even love-quadrangles. I only recently discovered a love-circle. Or maybe, an admiration circle. The admirers are infinite points. Must feel quite loved, eh? But isn't He worth it?


And, so, I come back to the starting point. What is to be done, now?

The Sunset

Every sunset strikes as a metaphor to a sun setting on MY horizon.

The sun of memories. Of Golden Memories. Of memories containing beautiful times that might never happen again. Every sunset limits my horizon by the dread of those moments never happening again; with the struggle towards, as well as against accepting the past as the past and letting go. Every sunset encourages me only in the procedure for indulging in memories and hoping against hope for some sort of miracle. Some sort of veil uncovering itself showing a land where reality is interspersed with fantasy. Hoping for certain dreams to materialize, certain hopes to still be considered as 'hopes'.

The first glance at the dark-orange blob on a perfectly shaded canvas of the sky reminds me of words in a voice I have been yearning to hear, even in my dreams-

"The sunset or the sunrise? You expect me to CHOOSE from them? Are they even comparable?"

No, They aren't. Of course, they aren't. Both of them have their own unique beauties. Their own unique charm. The former has its beauty of instilling new hopes and oozing freshness. The latter has its beauty in the revival and reliving of memories.

I wonder if MY description of the sunset is any bit general.

Undoing things or Letting them be?

I'm apprehensive...I'm scared.

I want to do things and after almost doing it, I undo it. Why? Merely because I'm not certain about how those things would be taken by the other side. A single word can act as a piece of blade and break apart already fragile strands of a bond. On the other hand, a single word can also act as a tonic and strengthen the bond. But what I keep getting confused about is, when are those words tonic and when are they pieces of blade when they come from me.

And then, should I be impulsive and spontaneous or should I think twice before doing things? Which is better? Which is my priority? Which would suit which situation?

Almost everything depends on the situation. I repeat, almost everything. So how do you identify the manner of reaction for these changing situations?

Experience is the best teacher, they say. How much experience is enough experience? How much experience would suffice to answer these queries?

I am yet to be acquainted to the right times of acting in the right manner. Yet to teach myself to classify the wrong time, right things and the right time, wrong things.

Even yet to understand my perception of the changing situations along with the perceptions of the same situations on the other side.

The Aftermath

(0010hrs, Feb 15)

So the much awaited or dreaded day finally landed and departed just a few minutes ago. How was it? 'Not Bad'. Nothing out of the ordinary ever took place. Or maybe many things out of the ordinary DID take place, but they were very well hidden behind struggling-to-be-opaque veils. But the veils are translucent.

A particular permutation of words of the most common greeting. Although it was obvious it wasn't at all just a casual greeting. It was genuine. Used in lieu of a million other words wanting to be said, a million other words wanting to be heard. But these millions are cleverly and involuntarily and forcibly tucked behind those struggling-to-be-opaque translucent veils.

Well aware of the translucence are two pairs of eyes, but ONE COMPLETE SOUL. One Complete Soul tucked behind the translucent veils it's well aware of. One Complete Soul that has all the potential of being Eternal. Immortal.

Well, the day of mush-becoming-uber-cool and reds-of-love, greens-of-jealousy, greys-of-loneliness and ivories-of-hopeless-hopes has apparently annihilated itself in the seas of fantasy interspersed with reality. And a self-proclaimed Anonymous looks out of the silver bars of the window into the night brightened in sepia modes by the yellow-orange streetlamps. And wonders if the soul apparently in sync with her own soul would currently be having an Indulgence in Memories.

Hopelessly Hopeful

As if you have no more emotions left to be hysterical. No
sadness to slide down in the form of salty drops on your
cheeks. No anger to slap hard enough to break the frames of
your dear cousin brother's spectacles. No hurt to blurt out
sarcasm to people who only have YOU as their reason to
live. Only a deep flame residing deep down, with a vestige of
a mockery towards cynicism and atheism. Only an icy cold,
steel hand clutching hard at your breath, causing
suffocation; hurting.

Moments pass away like the falling partciles of sand in a
huge horglass with golden framework. You stare at the same
four words and a period, pondering over the grammatical
and punctuation error. Pondering over the insignificant
possibility of those four words and a period being an order or
a suggestion. A command or a request. A temporary phase
or a permanent one.

And all that you wnated to recite were two words filled with
concern and love. Two words that formed a genuine request.
Two words that might substitute the untold three magical
words.

But magic is science. An unexplainable chemical reaction.

Now your current frame of mind is Hopelessly Hopeful.

A Glimpse Of Eternity

Wonderment gets the better of me,
As I question myself-
What luck, what worth, what reward you were;
A divinity, an unearthly beauty.

An elusive rose, a scarlet carson
Blooming in my soul's garden
How could you, so perfect be
And yet reside in a humble me?

What do I consider myself if not lucky?
My luck was what shone so bright
When I knew you
When I felt you.

You defied my disbelief in luck so easily
You gave me a glimpse of eternity.

The Duchess

With a ray of moonlight in the moors
Reflected in a dark, deep pair of eyes;
She kneeled on bedewed foliage
Fingers crossed, throat sore with cries.

A vestige of a flame in her heart
Ignited by the power of Belief
Manifested itself thorugh
Illusioned transparency.

Making a tryst with destiny
She wished for wishes
As the evanescent moonlight
Abandoned the duchess.

The dawn of memories broke
On the reflections of her tears;
Reigniting the flame
Revising moments merrier.

Ceasing that moment she began living in the past
Missing the present, holding future's shaft.

Welcoming the New Heir

During the funeral of the mighty and now deceased year of 2008, all that is on the minds of millions of souls is the prospect of the New Year that would promptly jump onto the seat high up on the pedestals of expectations, grow older and wiser, maybe witness finer and even gruesome moments and then finally, just as every year does, fall down real hard right on the face and be bid a farewell even before it could utter anything remotely resembling to "Another Chance".

Yes. These 365 days would pass just as soon as you'd have finished reading the lifespan of the year.

Remembering the Theory of Relativity, 24hrs would pass as if it had decades in it while a year flashes by at the speed of lightening.

So...Is the whole procedure of burying a deceased year and pulling out its infant heir a bit too over-hyped?

If it is; Well, it has been so ever since the past, say, two decades (That's' approximately the time I'd begun seeing things through the eyes of apparently inherent beliefs and myths and facts).

And if it isn't; behold! Yet another rival of the cynics! Hail, Ye’ mighty eternal optimists!

As you’d already have figured out (it doesn’t exactly take a genius to do that), I’m one of the cynics, and quite proudly so.

“An optimist stays up until midnight to see the New Year in. A CYNIC stays up to make sure the old one leaves.”

All right. I might not be staying up all night merely to make sure an old, tattered 'old man' actually burns up completely. C'mon, is there nothing worthwhile to do? And whenever did I claim that I was the epitome of cynicism? And those quoted lines have been evidently manipulated with surely SOME hidden intention that shouldn't be disclosed.

Okay. 'Cynicism and Optimism's apart, lets get back to our discussion of the funeral-cum-birthday party of the years 2008 and 2009.

For 2008, I have just two words with every bit of intention to mean it-

'Au Revoir'.

For 2009, I have eight words forming a genuine and innocent request-

'Please leave me a piece of your cake'.

Wishing you a prosperous (I know it sounds ridiculous during such times of economic show-down and recessions, but Pardon me. I cannot change an age-old traditional idiom for the sake of a bunch of pessimists and cynics!) New Year.