Better to Live.

How do you know?
How do I hide?
In a world full of splinters,
It seems better to die.

And yet, here I stand,
Trying to be 'the hero in the strife'.
No, I need no support,
Nor anyone by my side.

And yet, here I stand,
Trying to be 'the icon of solitude',
And, I shall, and I will,
It seems better to live, live and let others try. :)

Words and Vent.

Words.
In anger, in hurt.
Humour, at the wrong time.
Orders and requests.
Genuine and fake.


Somehow, they make a LOT of difference, to me.

Even when an apparently common phrase comes up from someone least expected, they trigger memories.


They never realize, and how could they, even;
I never confess, I shouldn't.






Then there are words that don't trigger 'memories',
Yet, leave scars behind.
Scars, that don't really heal with time.


I try, not holding on to the words that hurt,
But, the words that smile.
Yet, I find, there's nowhere to vent,
Nowhere to hide those tears by looking up at the sky.







That sky, with a million stars in it, studded,
Who knows? They may be looking down on us.
Would we want them to be affected
Whispering to them, of our tears?


Tears, they roll down when they can,
Gives us a lightness.
But, what of them, those drops of pearl,
They might have a feeling of being abandoned.



And the words resonate-

"You cannot please everyone every time."





I'm lost.

For words.

At the moment.

Poet and Protagonist.

The early sun and the setting,
The chilling breeze and the occasional warmth,
In the April rain, the lone stallion-
Galloping in the wilderness,
Longs in the memories
Of the one that gave him pride and honour,
along with his knighthood.

That knight,
Who fought with valour and loved fiercely,
May the vastness of Eternity remember them....

(Composed on February 10, 2012).

First Stitches Ever. =/

I've always had a sort of phobia of needles and knives on the skin. Like, surgery, injections...you get the drift.

And, had always hoped I wouldn't have to face it, EVER.

But, well, there's a first time for everything. (In this case, hopefully, 'the first and the last time').

It so happened-

Morning, around 09:15hrs of the 6th of February, 2012. Had just got up, and was mildly sleepy, disoriented. (What d'you expect after having sleep for just a span of four hours, anyway?! It was NOT my fault. The sleepiness, I mean).

My room-mate asked me to go keep the dustbins down. I nodded in agreement. There was one pink dustbin and two plastic bags (all the three full). The garbage truck was evidently in a hurry (I didn't see it, the others were screaming about it, and considering, it missed the dustbins, anyway), so, I picked up all the three, and started descending the steps.

My habit dictates a comparatively fast descent, and, on the third last step, I slipped. BUT, I regained my balance, and reached the last step. THEN, there was a sudden imbalance and disorientation, and the next thing I know, the pink dustbin was lying to my left, in a similar stance.

Still, for the sake of responsibility, I didn't bother checking what hurt, and 'safely' placed the three things near the gate. Coming back, was feeling dizzy, so sat down on the very same staircase. A little blotch of rust colour, that smelled like blood, on the track-pant on my right knee, made me even dizzier. I wasn't feeling any physical pain, anyway, just the dizziness.

Enter the room-mate who'd given me the job.

"What's wrong? Why're you sitting here like this? And what was that sound? Did you fall off the stairs? Or, did you drop the bin?"

"Fell, yeah..."

"What?! Are you hurt? I've TOLD you millions over, not to speed down the staircase like that! But, you NEVER listen, do you!"

"My knees, probably scratches..."

"Show me!"

Then, there was a collective gasp and horror-struck faces surrounding me. I didn't even look at the source of it all.

"It's almost half an inch deep!"

"Why isn't there any blood?!"

"If it would have happened to me, I'd be howling in pain!"

The next thing, there were paper tapes on the wound, and I was being rushed to a near-by general hospital.

"Will need stitches" - The doctor.

NOW I was completely aware. 'Stitches'? Did he just say 'Stitches'? That meant needles, and injections, and....NO!!!



Step one-
Clean up. Didn't hurt a bit. Just a little burning sensation.

Step two-

The most painful in the whole procedure. Anaesthesia injection!!

"Is it over yet?" I asked.
"
"Err, no, just a few more minutes."

Step three-

The stitches. Not a feeling.

Step four-

Tetanus injection. That hurt.




Anyway, in all the above steps, except the fourth one, my friends remained by my side, distracting me, making me laugh. Touche. :)

A few comments by the Doc-

"People 'cry' (not literally) in such cases, and you're laughing (literally)".

"Thank YOU," when I'd thanked him while leaving. :P




Observations-

During the 'stitching' procedure, a needle got bent.

My skin is hard, apparently.

Just THREE stitches. =/ Disappointing, in a way.



Conclusions-

Helped facing my fear.

Helped me realize the value of friends. (Special mention to all present- Rucha Nair, Komal Patil, Kritina Ramteke, Rohan Shinde, Sohan Shinde, Chandrashekhar Thakur, Sonnal Tambe, Prachi Warade). Expression of genuine gratitude. :)




Aftermath-

'Joblessness is the mother of all invention'.





Future-

Eight days trying to keep that knee from bending much.




Overview-

What an experience, sir ji! :D

The Solitaire Diamond.

The coffee spilled over the wooden floor,
One - two, one - three drops at a time.
The wrist watch was heard ticking,
And the solitaire diamond cast speckles all over.

The bustling street was bustling with silence,
The glass walls unbreakable.
The cold shared itself with the warmth of the sun,
A few scarlet petals lay scattered.

They had once seen balloons across that street,
Different shapes, different colours.
There had once been an old lady at the florists',
Smiling every time she saw a yellow rose.

Now, he saw, the brown drops dried up on the wooden floor,
And she sees the solitaire diamond casting speckles all over.