Recent Favourites.

I don't know why, and I don't even understand a few words in this song, but it strangely feels very close to me. And, so does the video.

A particular permutation of words that touch a cord-

"Phir jee mein hai ke dar pe

Kisi ke pade rahein..."

This one is another recent favourite. The lyrics of the entire song are beautiful.

Midnight Dreams in Insomnia.

Take me further down, deeper into the steady stream of your hidden tears.

For, the white orb of the moon reflected in your welling eyes has never been more complete.

Let me travel this night with you in the dreamy swoon,

The very dreams that make your life a fantasy.

Let me, for once, after all these sleepless nights,

Feel the only thing that has ever made you smile,

that has ever made you cry,

that has ever managed to change the course of your life.

Take me deeper down the memory lanes,

And never let me know it is all just an illusion.

P.S. I do mean the words I use.

Of Preferences.

Contrary to what they say or mean, when I say, "Leave me alone," I actually DO mean that.

No company, not any type or sort, is welcomed.

(For, the only few companies that would be welcomed, as I know, would never show up).

I truly DO NOT like to cry in public. I hate to shed my tears in front of anyone. Be it the closest member of my family or friend circle. And that time (when I cry), is one of those "Leave me alone" moments. I don't like people asking "What's wrong?", "What happened?", "Why are you crying?".

For heaven's sake, can't they understand that if I did want to share it, I wouldn't have chosen to cry there all alone?

Nor do I like sharing my problems with people. For, as far as I have seen, no one ever understands the exceptions. I mean, sure, many would have the same issues as I do, but not many are upset about exactly the SAME nuances about the issue.

And when I do share my problems, it is never direct. It is always vague. Abstract.

I prefer talking Philosophy when I feel low, and highly appreciate it when the other person realizes that, and responds in a similar manner.

That's it. Too much information has been put out for one post. =/

The Last Dance.

Silent tears,
Stifled muffles.

Eternal longings.
Insomnia.

Purple pouches under the eyes.
Sore voice.

And once again, the heart beats.
And once again, within itself, it keeps.

Not love, at least not the romance.
It's the companionship, the platonic love, the last dance.

Caring words, or no words at all.
Just a feeling, a connection beyond earthy materials.

Wavelengths converging.
Reciting poetry in the late afternoon sun by the porch.

Warm mugs of black coffee.
Looking at the setting sun.

Arguing over the new moon and full moon.
Modifying rhyming lines.

Holding hands in the moonlight in the midst of long grasses.
Looking out together at that lone torch of light flickering in the distance.

Those are the dreams. Words are romance.
It's the companionship, the platonic love, the last dance.

pH Scale Reading: 14.999

The morning of November 3, 2011. This was the day.

Flashback:

A few days before the 3rd of November, I suppose, the 31st of October and the days that followed.

31st October:

Afternoon.

14:15 hrs. There was a screening of the film, The Exorcist. I'd always wanted to watch it, but never really got a chance. I'd read the novel, too.

I did watch it. And I liked it. Just as I'd liked the novel.

Note: I did not find it scary. I found it depressing. The same as in the case of the novel.

Later that night.


I finally read The Memory Maker by Cecelia Ahern. Just 40 pages.

I'd always known the title was appealing. So was the story.

Note: Made me cry. But, more than that, evoked memories, certain memories.

The following days:

Everything was the usual. Except, me. I wasn't talking to my mom. I wasn't willing to. I wasn't going out. I wasn't willing to. I wasn't reading anything. I wasn't willing to.

Note: This wasn't solely because of those two instances. But, they did trigger it.

2nd November, 2011:


Mom couldn't take it anymore.

"What happened? Why aren't you talking? Did The Exorcist hurt you that much?"

I just nodded my head.

Note: Sometimes, just sometimes, Pretension is better than cure.

3rd November, 2011:


I finally opened up. Not completely, but at least, quite much. To her.

And she heard me. She advised me. She enlightened me.

Yes, it is true that I'd always known it, deep down. I just needed someone (even me), to remind me of it.

My friends asked me that day, "How are you?"

And I replied, "Phenomenal!" (Actually meaning it).

"What led to this?"

"A realization that I was capable of creating phenomena." :)

"Your answers are always vague."

Note:  Never judge a person by his past.



"Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
     Is our destined end or way;
 But to act, that each to-morrow
     Find us farther than to-day."

P.S. Found yet more scraps of memories. Others' memories.

A strip of negative film on the roadside. I picked it up. There were pictures of a child's birthday party.

A dried up rose (on the roadside, yet again. :) ). Picked it up, too.

Now that's Sadism. (Completely intended, of course).

Their families were in dispute
Love among enemy lines?
And they couldn't take any more
Especially, her.

One new moon night
Riding on a horse
He came wandering
For her.

And there she lay
Cold and still
A dark-glassed bottle
Lying beside her.

He couldn't take it
He decided, too
Grabbing the bottle,
Wanting to be with her.

And she awoke
A wild happiness in her eyes
"I exchanged the bottle!
I exchanged the bottle!"

Outside and Inside

The late evening sun
casts its rays through those iron bars
The marble of the window pane
Lights up in portions.

The occasional crunch
of the dry leaves
Under weary feet
startles the pensive cat.

Shimmers of gold
Light up the bare white ceiling
A reflection from the spilled water
On the mosaic-tiled floor.

Kids run out to play
while parents return home
everything is the usual
except, it's cold.

Gingered tea in the white porcelain cup
the windows are still wide open
the crescent of a moon
manifesting along with the setting sun.

A light, sudden breeze
flyaway leaves, gold
everything is the usual
except, it's cold.

The Lost Wing (A Ballad)

It was as if it was meant solely for me
To find that beautiful vestige of a beautiful creation
For, I am sure it had been there for a while
Waiting for salvation.

A clipped wing of a butterfly
Whole, yet incomplete
A sign of violent sadism
Or perhaps, just a disaster from destiny.

It marked sorrow and death, true
But the colours hadn't yet faded
I considered myself lucky
For I had found something priceless, something that couldn't be graded.

And so, like a fascinated kid
I handled it with care
And took it with me
Away from its past nightmares.

I truly believed it was no coincidence
And somehow, for me, a clipped wing gave hope
Perhaps, the universe wanted to lend a wing
To protect, to hold.

I considered pasting it to my diary
But, I shunned away the thought
For, although I wanted to preserve it
I didn't want my decisions to become a bondage.

Thus, I preserved it, the last page of my diary its home
I still felt so proud, so lucky
But, today, when I wanted a glimpse of hope
It turned out I was to face an empty page.

Lost was that wing, the hope from nature
Not even its print on the page
But, what is bittersweet, is
It finally was free, hopefully now, flying in solace.

The Lost wing.
The Lost hope.

The Free wing.
The Free hope.

Understanding Art.

"Would you like to take a pain killer?"

"Ahh. You do not understand. For, it is another pain that ails me much more, presently."

"Another pain?"

"Yes. A pain deep down in the recesses of the mind. Manifested only in supposed art."

"Then why don't you manifest it now?"

"Don't you see? My speech in itself is art."

Unanswered Questions.

Are you entitled to an apology?

Was whatever I confessed a mistake?

But, would an apology make any difference at all?

Since you no longer care that way?

A similar situation had brought you back

But those were different people, I guess.

What had I done to deserve this abandonment?

What had I done to deserve this regret?

And I don't even know what this regret is for

I don't even know what made you do things.

And you would never answer my questions

Never protect me with your wings.

Didn't you have even the slightest courtesy

To at least tell me what my mistake was?

Do I owe you an apology?

But would that apology make any difference at all?

Diwali and Longing.

Diwali.

The warm glow of friendship and relations, reflected in the flame of the diyas. The variety and emotions in life, reflected in the many colours of the rangoli. The sweetness of those memories, reflected in the delicacies. Diwali is the festival of lights and life, celebrate and cherish, the light of hope, the light of love, but most importantly, the very light in your eyes.


That's what I wrote for the world to see. 




Here's something I'm writing for you.












Ever since I was born, I suppose, Diwali has been my favourite Hindu festival. Why?


Not the light, the darkness. Not the rangoli, the 'gheru' (the brown canvas like base). Not the jaggery and sugar, the coconut. 


And yes, the new moon.


The silence after the firecrackers. The dark of the windows when they switch off the lighting. The dust and bits of papers lying on the ground. The crumbling left-overs the dogs get a treat with. The faded colours of the rangoli. The extinguished lamps.


A lonely Diwali it has always been for me. 'The Eternal Longing'. 

But, I guess, that's why I consider it my favourite festival, after all.

Mindless, Hopeless Verbiage.

It hurts.
It pains.
It's a feeling I can't really explain.


Unpredictability showers.
Every once in a while,
You make me smile.


Unpredictability showers.
Every once in a while,
You also make me cry.


It's the authority I thrust.
It's probably my fault.
That's probably why I lost.


It stings.
It cuts.
There are anger outbursts.


It still doesn't apparently matter.
But there are people who care.
And, then, there are people who dare.


Pretension was something disliked.
It turned into what I now do.
I turned, slowly, into you.


Words always mattered.
That was all I truly had.
Never knew it could also hurt so bad.


This poetry isn't going anywhere.
Just the same as me, hopeless and unaware.

A Thousand Words....

A thousand words, waiting to be said, 

Waiting to be heard.

And a thousand miles, full of obstacles,

Between us.

It used to matter,

The distance.

But, no longer.

I can still listen.

That profound silence,

The heavy heart.

A few things you say,

Although words cannot.

That smile of yours,

The twinkling eyes.

I know you feel it, too.

Don't you lie.

It used to matter,

The separation.

No longer,

Our souls lie in unison.

Yet, a few tears we shed.

A thousand words,

Waiting to be said.

History Repeats Itself

I couldn't believe myself.

One moment, I was so dejected and hurt, and the next moment, I was enjoying the rains.

One moment, I had been so lachrymose and sensitive, and the next moment, I was cursing and shouting and giving threats (not in my mind, right on the face).

One moment, I was so needy, and the next moment, I just turned my back and walked away.



But, I couldn't believe myself further, when I thought I had fallen in love. Sure, they'd said love can happen more than once. But I didn't believe it back then.

Everytime, so far, I have always decided on love matters with my head. Even when I think I like someone, it has been a left-brain thought. Although, there was once an exception, where my heart and my head had been in unison.

But, for once, I had fallen for someone without even thinking. I had liked someone without even knowing. I had loved someone without even deciding (No, I'm pretty sure you won't understand this one).

But, well, where did it all take me? Nowhere. It turned into a triangle whose third angle was none other than my friend.

Although, she didn't harbour any feelings, he did.

And me? What could I do? I stepped aside (after a confrontation, of course :P).

But right now, I still cry. Not for him, but for me. No, not exactly in self pity. Let me try explaining.

I had found a really promising distraction from my past. When that was around, I was much more involved in it and I didn't think over matters that had once been. But then, it stepped out and now, although I know I can control it if I want to, I am reminded of it all.

And, everyone keeps threatening me of murder if I fall back into what I had been in. It has been three years. They are tired of trying to explain things to me. And why wouldn't they be?

But, can't they see I have changed? Can't they see I'm smiling and laughing and playing? Can't they see I've begun to actually live my life for myself? Can't they accept that shit happens, and it isn't always necessary that I'd fall back into the abyss after every trivial matter? Can't they see I'm on my way to achieving a grip on myself?

And I know I won't fall unless I WANT to.

And you know, I DON'T want to. And, I won't.




History may repeat itself. But I won't.

And that's a vow. To myself.










P.S: Positive enough?

Tired of Smiling.

Hadn't you seen me change,
From these past few days?
I had begun to live,
Getting out of my usual ways.

I had begun to notice beauty,
In nature as well as human
I had begun to smile,
That wasn't a sight common.

I had finally realized
I had finally understood.
The zeal had come back,
Although you no longer could.

So, I sufficed myself
And lo, I found all new distractions.
But of course, nothing lasts forever
For someone long abandoned.

I don't like the blame game
So (as yet another change) I take charge.
Tempting as it is, going back there
I know it is all farce.

I have tried, and you have seen me at it
I have even overcome the difference
But these situations keep repeating
And history catches me mid-sentence.

But, this happens, right? With everyone.
Ups and downs, highs and lows
That's nothing new
With every mistake, you grow.

But, a hopelessly lost person
Can't find his way out
Even though he has once been there
He cannot say things aloud.

And I hide, I hide myself
Or, at least, I try my best to.
I am happy, genuinely
But, I need some rest, too.

This hasn't happened before!!

Yeah, the title sort of compels you to read this post, right? :P

Anyway. proceeding to the actual post.




The first thing I noticed were those interested eyes. (Or, that's what I thought). Then, the shirt. Then, the black, shiny, acoustic guitar.

What else would you want?



At first, I thought it was attraction. Then I got to know I was getting involved. And then, maybe, just MAYBE it could have been love at first sight. (With the guitar, of course! :P).



That's the thing that hasn't happened before. Love at first sight. (Sounds sort of...erm...cliched....for me, at least).


Part 2:

I've tried diverting my mind a lot of times. Even, acknowledging people who claim to like me (I don't do that normally, until I like them, too). But it has all been in vain. Was it because I hadn't tried my best or was it because I was going too fast (Nah, probably not) or perhaps 'Destiny'?

But, one thing had remained constant. All this while when I was trying to make space for others (who probably never deserved it), I felt as though I was cheating.

But this time, THIS particular time, I don't feel so. This particular time, I feel good. Dreamy, even. Happy. Yes, happy.


Part 3:

But, nostalgia strikes. And there's one thing I realized and one thing I decided.

You can be happy even in thinking of the past, provided you WANT to be happy.

From this day onward, I will never let anyone, ANY damn person or thing, or word, affect me as much as it did.








P.S: I'm not sure anyone would understand this post, but who cares? :P I'm writing for ME, right?

Helpless

It's past midnight and the doors
Of my vision I haven't bolted.
Still in deep thoughts, I'm unable to sleep.

I close my eyes and those
Images and words cluster around
the periphery of my subliminal vision.

Aeons have flashed by and days have crawled
That face, so bright, still veils itself
That voice is now no more than a vestige of my imagination.

Weeping has become a luxury
I'm beyond shedding tears over and over
Hidden dreams make space for hidden sorrow deep down.

I smile, and truly, too; but the night
entertains its regular visitors of salty water
And I drown, as deep as ever
And my own self can never save me.

The Chosen One

He was a poet in prose
A carnation among the rose.
His silence said a thousand words,
His tears beneath that unmoved veil never showed.

As bright as the Andromeda,
His eyes, they shone when we smiled together.
Today, a thousand miles apart,
We still remember those exact words regardless the weather.

He was The One,
Faraway Pluto's shining sun.
His conversations were a nightingale's symphony,
Touched with nature's harmony.

Oh yes, He is away today.
But these eyes still shine whenever He smiles.

The World Never Stops

Fade these dreams
The past is so clear
The world never stops
So why would these tears?

Moving on and getting over
Are always better said than done
Nothing seems easy
Life is one big run.

The rains pour relentlessly
The sun fears to shine
They say scars, they heal
Things mend with time.

But shattered glass and decaying carcass
Can they be mended from the grime?
Somethings, when they leave,
There are just memories they leave behind.

Wishes and desires, they never cease
Wants turn into basic needs
And never a soul slumbers in its last
With satisfaction of its life past.

And behold the vastness of Eternity
Is it even real?
The world never stops
So why would these tears?

Time

Spending time with loved ones
Has always been an elusive dream
Casting shadows in light
Time has been a vision in green.

But any moment I spend with you
I remember clearly even after aeons
Those cherished memories never fade
They are coloured with childhood's crayons.

The life I'm living is your gift
I musn't waste it so
Every moment alive may your presence
In my lonely life be imbued.

Mother, you are my guardian angel
You know I love you too
Prizes can be won and lost
But you are a brightness in the blues.

Mother, I promise, I will always be there for you.
Regardless of the limitations time sets on you.

Lighting up corners

They say I've begun talking cheerfully, smiling and participating.

Finally! I'd say.

But do I really want this? I wanted to remain as I was, wallowing in despair.

But, no, there's a world lighted up out there. And it's beautiful if you see its true beauty.

Yeah, I realized that of late. Thanks to a lot of people. And I guess, to me.

So, how does one cope up? How exactly does one come out of the shell? Out of the dark corner to see the window?

Out of curiosity, I'm asking these questions. And also to help myself.

Yes, finally, to help myself.

Now that I want to get out of what I was in, I'm reminded of a statement of a person who meant and means a lot to me. That he'd help me out, doing anything. Anything. I wish I had that help.

But now I guess I'll have to manage without that. Not an impossible thing to do.

But then again, 'it always helps if there's an angel watching over you'.

But I'll manage. I'll light up the corners. At least as a start.

Wish me luck. :) (I'm begging for comments :P)

The Bleeding Rose

A guitar with broken strings
Sings distant tunes of endless, unrequited love
Still dances to the beat
Of broken drums and dreams, uselessly shoved.


A rose in a thorny bush blooms
Caught in the thorns, it bleeds
The blue sky pours tears for it
But fails to wash away the bloody deeds.


A song half composed
Lies untouched by the poet for years
Yellowing pages and crumbling corners
Ink dissolves in tears.


Thoughts fade, memories are washed away.
But the heart still cries for the same sorrow everyday.


Bright sunlight appears like
Blinding stark darkness
The evanescent moonlight
Just lights up the corners.


Shoving away the tears
The heart continues to cry
Evaporating salt and water
The tears run dry.


Out of courtesy, a concerned mother
Places a hand on the drooping shoulder
The heart overwhelmes
And tears fall afresh onwards.


The scars will never recede.
The sorrow just increases.

Where We Belong

We don't belong to this hypocrite of a world.
We don't belong to these green grasses of envy.
We don't belong to the blue skies of sorrow.
We just don't belong to this world that's hollow.

People were born confusing
It's a pity they don't understand themselves
But what makes us different is neat-
I understand you and you understand me.

We were born for a world of our own
Where green is of the grass and blue not of sorrow

We belong to that other world

That's nothing more than my imagination of morrow.

Conversations with god

One moonlit night
God came to my window
And whispered
Something incomprehensible.

He showed me a
Moonless night
With no stars
And nothing sensible.

He claimed that was
My world
The way I looked at it
Most of the time.

I protested there was
No hope there
And not a single
Ray of light.

He said the moonless night
Was my perception
And the moonlit one
My reality.

I looked up at god
And wondered
Was this
True in all clarity?

Yes, replied he,
And advised me

Now combine the two visions
And see the true reason

I found the true reason-
My unwilling vision.

Enough.

The day slips by without leaving a
trace of your smile behind.
But, it's my everyday punishment.
My punishment for having loved you with blinds.

Yesterday I'd cried for you, but
today, I cry for my own misery.
We have left each other and
I'm your history.

Don't ever try to fix me, because
I'm broken beyond repair.
Just leave me alone, fending for myself
I'm much more comfortable there.

Just one thing disturbs me now.

I wish you would have loved me enough to care.

Of Changes.

Sometimes I feel
Isn't this world a beautiful place?
Then I see
It needs a lot of change.

Change on the land,
Change in the sea;
Change in you,
But most importantly, change in me.

I love the way you make me smile
The way you hurt is also fine.

I love your eyes and the way you talk
I'd probably even love the way you walk.

I love it when you say, 'I love you'
It drives away all the sorrows and the blues.

I love it when you laugh
It's like a million stars befall.

All the more, I love you for what you are
Not for what you could be, by far.

I just love you.

Hurt

Those words that you said
They hurt a lot
Albeit tears I didn't shed
Tears were all I'd got.

You were rude but you didn't know
It was all probably unintentional
Yet I love you so
Loving you for me is conventional.

Yes, even the way you hurt is beautiful
And all the tears I don't shed well up.
You will realize someday, I believe as a rule
Someday you will realize when I'd have given up.