Given and denied

We oscillate between the two extremes with an objective to attain equilibrium... Much like the pendulum, that to-froes to attain the mid point between the two extremes.

At times, we attain the equilibrium... But, the mind , while attempting to do so, becomes so much used to the "to-froing" that it doesn't recognize the stable point... It's so flustered that it continues to oscillate, again with an objective to attain the mid point. Funny

At times, our wishes are secretly fulfilled and we don't realize it...
The gift is secretly bestowed upon us and we unceremoniously deny it...

Eff.You.See.Kay

And one day, I shall prick
your inflated ego
with my silence.
You shall burst like
an oversized bubble.
Till then, stay in your delusions
and scavenge on your rotten self!

Scoundrels everywhere!

They say "people change" with such crestfallen and awful faces, heaving a dismal sigh of disappointment as if "people" were deemed to stay the same way... And then, they pompously say "Change is the only constant" with an air of intellect, pragmatism and other such embellishments... Volte face, that is :-/

Wow! What a pity man is... He hardly knows what he says... Dostoevsky had rightly pointed out that "Man is a scoundrel"... Though he had inferred this on a different context, but man remains a scoundrel nonetheless... And , you know , who he acts a scoundrel to?

Himself!

A queer blurt

Quite often, I count my breaths and feel the beat of my heart. I stare at my green veins running right under my skin and I place my fingers on them…precisely on the radial artery to feel my pulse. This is how Life manifests itself…in a pulse, in a breath, in a heart’s beat, in the flutter of eyelids etc.  Such insignificant processes chain to form one Life. And , then comes that one moment when all the processing ends, life comes to a halt. Wonder, how that moment is… Is it painful or does the pain cease to exist? Is it scary? Or is it blissful? That one moment is undefined… Nobody shall ever be able to pen that down… Some things are truly beyond the human capability.. They are impossible and some things should better  not be deciphered. May be , we live a lifetime to witness that one moment’s feeling… Let it stay mysterious and mystic. We shall all unravel it one day but we won’t be able to express it ever.  

The funambulist

I tried to funambulate
not on a rope
but on a mere string
that joined our two
lonesome hearts.
The string weakened,
I stood right in the middle.
It couldn't bear the weight
of my sorrows...
Alas, it broke off!

The whispering conscience

And how is it
that conscience
becomes a low murmur,

when on the contrary,

it should have been stentorian?

How is it
that it
all of a sudden
becomes mute,
slavishly agreeing
with the disordered world
and lying abandoned in a
drunken stupor?

A dark beauty

The sullen abyss

has a confounding charm

subtle  yet conspicuous.

It pulls you towards itself.

You unknowingly succumb

to its charm,

dive to reach its bottom

and unintentionally

cause yourself an irrevocable harm.

Why I write?

I write simply for the joy of writing…. The precious pleasure that it renders… I write to keep my thought processes working, to refrain them from putting on weight. Yeah, thoughts put up weight in the form of stubbornness , a disobedience that they show  while expressing themselves.

I write to keep that stubbornness away. “Being read” seldom comes in my mind. When it comes, I witness a strange consciousness within as if I am being thoroughly inspected by my readers. I don’t want to be autopsied. I write simply for the sheer joy of writing.

My language may be raw, may be loose but my ideas are firm and I am glad to have firm, well shaped ideas… Words are a medium of expression. They don’t make sense unless they have an idea to back them up. Words are secondary and ideas elementary.

I write for ME to judge the growth of my ideas, to graph their firmness. I can forego words for ideas and I sincerely hope that the latter never diminishes.

A missing constellation

The moon loomed over our heads

like a searchlight

anxious to expose

our clandestine tryst .

While searching my reflection

in your dark smoldering eyes,

a meteor stealthily passed by us

and you diverted my attention

 from your eyes to the sky above.

All of a sudden you exclaimed-

“Look at that!”

My vision was lost amid

countless stars.

I wondered what you asked me

to look at.

Following your index finger,

I caught sight of

a geometrical design.

And, you gaily said

“That’s the Apus constellation.”

I quizzically looked at you and sighed.

I thought how unromantic you were.

You sensed my dissatisfaction

and lovingly said

“I gift you the Apus

as a token of my eternal love”

Today, I went

for a lonesome stroll

under a starlit sky

But, could not relocate

the Apus  .

Your astral gift was lost in the galaxy

since there was no index finger

to guide my way through.

Yes, I am a dreamer

The star studded sky,
stirs the dreamer in me.
As I ambulate beneath the boundless sky,
I feel I am walking along the milky way.
Every little star sings a beautiful song
and I hear the silent symphony.
Hush, my darling! Don’t speak a word.
Hear the silence of the infinite.

Untitled

Unleashed bloodhounds
drool profusely
to pounce on her.
She unlocks the doors
to sacrifice her flesh.
...
The bloodhound thirst-
quenched.
She is abandoned
with a body- scarred,
nerves stirred.

With a reptilian briskness,
the night makes its way again.
She no more dreads,
readies her body
for a hungry devour again.

Inanimate as a rock,
she stands
devoid of fears
to sacrifice her body
in the lascivious pyre.

Mind or a malignant tumor?

You know, my mind , works so erratically at times, that I sincerely wish if the mind were an organ, a physical tangible organ (somewhat like the vestigial organs that we have) , I would have got it surgically removed.

I wonder where it engenders such unimaginably contorted thoughts from, thoughts that are sheer non sense , thoughts that creep in with such a cold, brazen impertinence.

The mind becomes a malignant tumor, that goes on spreading and goes on contaminating the entire self within. What do you do with a tumor ? You don’t store it within. You amputate it! Alas, such an operation is not possible for the mind….

A note to your inflated ego!

How unimportant you have become in my life,I often wonder! There was a time when everything in my life took a backseat...(it would be better if I say , I forced everything to take a backseat) and you were there....my only priority, my only indulgence.

Yes, now I realize, you were just an indulgence and I was morbidly addicted to you. You were a habit....a bad habit.... that I have now discontinued to practice. Though you reappear in my mind, once in a while , but I drive you away. You come like an ephemeral and wither off ....you're transient.

Now, I am indulged in me! I need you no more.

For your perverted happiness

I could feel the blistering heat of your enviousness,

the cold of your indifference

towards my tormented esteem.

My downfall filled you with unbridled joy .

To keep your mirth alive,

I kept condescending,

I kept burning in your rage

A dead life

If the stars that
you dreamily looked at,
could fall off like embers
and disappear like small burnt splinters.
Stars , that once twinkled,
now, jeer at my destituteness.

And, the sky shall once explode
under the weight of your

agonizing memories.

It shall fall down on the ground,

lay there supine.

With a sadistic pleasure,

I shall trample on it.

How can I spare the earth

on which you romped ,hopped

walked and crawled around ?

I shall dig it all over

even if I stand amidst

a mass of rotten corpses

and hollow caracasses.

May the sea shrink

to a mere droplet of water

The same philandering sea

that stealthily kissed your feet.

I enviously wish to destroy it.

Life mocks at me at every phase!
The rivers flow to jeer at my stagnancy.
And the wind, purposely blows
to air the fire that is swallowing me
inch by inch!
Is it a mandate for Life to move on?
Why can't it, for a change, come to
a permanent halt?

What if, I die?

What if , I die a silent death,

lying close to you…

precisely in your arms?

A slumberous death

with phantasmagoric images

of the other world.

 I want to know

how you would react

seeing my lifeless body

by your side.

Won’t you feel the cold

of my hands,

won’t you caress me again ?

Won’t you whisper my name

into my ears?

I want to feel

your tears rolling down

your cheeks,

making their way

through your lips

and tumbling down

on my face.

The one saline drop-

a replica of your totality.

A drop that encompasses

all of you.

I want to treasure that.

And how would you mourn

while they make me lay

in the coffin?

Would you make your agony explicit

or gulp it down

and burn within?

Would you look at my photographs

and yearn your beings with me?

Would you secretly kiss them

and place them in your chest pocket?

I want to hear

the silent echoing of my name

in your heart.

And when you shall visit my sepulcher ,

would you dust off the tomb stone

and run your fingers on it-

the same way you do

when you feel my body contour?

How will your touch, then feel like?

I want to explore it!

A blatant confession of love

She stood facing the wall and Vikram kissed the nape of her neck. She felt a chill run down her spine. A momentary fear overwhelmed her and she hobbled to the other corner of the room. Vikram turned her towards him. They faced each other, their faces hardly an inch or a two distant. They could feel the warmth of their sighs. Nisha was nervous. She couldn’t understand what the moment demanded of her. She felt she could never look into his eyes. Vikram, lifted her chin. Nisha was still looking down, her eyelids seemed to droop down for eternity and her lips pursed.

“Look into my eyes” , said Vikram passionately.

Nisha felt a weakness in her knees. She wished to dissolve with the walls. She felt frozen. Her hands were trembling when Vikram lifted her palms softly, taking them to his lips and unconsciously kissing them. He was now on his knees and Nisha’s palms were in his.


“Do I really have to do this?” , he said adding a forced nervous laughter.

Nisha could feel his laughter ringing in her ears and mustered the courage to smile.


“Nisha, you know, I am not romantic. But love brings romance even out of the hardest of hearts. I am not poetic… Too bad with metaphors, simile and other such complicated devices. So, if you wished this to be a poetic admission of love , then I will have to disappoint you. Unlike you, I can’t play with words, neither do I believe in such blatant nauseating love stories that you so ardently read about. I wonder how people need to twist and turn a simple thing into a horrible potpourri of philosophy, spirituality, psychology, sensuality etc”


Nisha chuckled. Such frank admissions of Vikram were not new to her. In fact, she was keen to know how he managed to keep everything terse, to the exact point.

“Vick, you and your frantic thoughts… Give me a break, can’t you be a bit romantic , even for a fraction of a second?”


“See, when I held your hands in mine, lifted your chin… wasn’t I being romantic? You started dreading as if I were a cannibal … and now you wish me to be romantic again? Woman, thou art the biggest conundrum!”


“Being romantic doesn’t mean showing physical affection. Its something expressed through words, feelings, gestures.”

Vikram gave a quizzed look and Nisha snapped, berating herself , “ Why am I even trying to get such concepts into your frozen head?”

Vikram retorted , “Cut it short and lets KISS!”

Nisha gaped at him. Her jaws dropped down and her eyes flashed.

“I mean lets keep it short and simple”

Neha heaved a sigh of relief and recovered her half smile. She was now quite sure that Vikram can’t be straightened up even if the whole world tries to do so.


“I want you because I love you. I want you mentally, physically, spiritually, emotionally. I want you in every possible way. I feel like a small kid when you pamper me. Though I may show that I hate being pampered, but it feels amazing when you run your fingers through my hair or when you give me an unsettling kiss on my lips. I feel profound when I look into your deep smoldering eyes. I burn with passion though I subdue it somehow.

Yes, you may call me a pervert but I lust you. I want to make love to you , to make you complete, to pronounce my ownership on you. I don’t believe in God or any kind of blind submission . But, I feel being servile to you, I want to worship you. I want you in the circle of my embrace now and forever. I urge to father our children and I am determined to look after you even when you become a skeptic downright hag.”


Vikram’s uncontrollable fervor left her blank. His wild admission, frenzied thoughts , his burning passion ripped her heart apart. His words devoured her like a raging storm.
She slumped on the ground with a thud and uttered “It took you five long years to babble all this ?”
Vikram nodded a yes. Nisha continued , “Lets kiss and now I mean it as verbatim.”

He was amazed to see Nisha putting up the demand for a kiss for the first time ever since they had been together.

“Nisha, I mean what I said and I have loved you ever since we are together!”

Before he could complete, Nisha intervened , hushed him up and planted a kiss on his forehead as if she engraved her signature on him to make him realize that he belonged to her.

A dizzying mind

I chased
God knows what
and rushed
after naught.
Running in vicious circles,
a dizzying mind
nauseates its rot
and licks it again.
It engenders
a fear unwarranted,
notions - baseless
feelings - corrupted.
The soul bears
a fatal hole,
twisted, contorted
crouching in a shell,
accumulates negativity
and promulgates the same.

Yearning

Your fragrance lingers

in the crumpled bed sheet.

I don’t iron it deliberately

to preserve your fragrance

in its folds.

Yes, it looks untidy.

Why don’t you come

and chide me?

The Guitar that now stands

desolated at one corner

longs to be strummed

by your fingers.

Come hold it

and make love to it.

Have you forgotten your mistress?

Your somewhat imperfect

unstructured strumming

always smelled fresh.

Those tunes implore you

to improvise them.

Why do you keep them

raw and unfinished?

And your diary

at one corner

of your book shelf

still preserves your virgin writes

in its yellowing pages.

The same diary that

you had asked me never to read.

I am still abiding by your command

When shall you permit me

to read it?

A flower vase without flowers

awaits your arrival.

The arrival that brought

with it a fresh bunch of red roses.

It longs to be adorned

exclusively by you.

Come fulfill its desire.

Remember, the harmonica

that I gifted you,

now craves to kiss your lips.

Come , breathe in it

your symphony.

And finally,

do you remember me

who has forgotten

her existence

ever since you

went for your eternal repose?

Come to make her alive!   

My true identity

Standing on

the highest cliff,

I feel I shall merge

with the sky azure.

I hear the whispers

of the heaven,

solemnly inviting me

in its kingdom so pure.

The ambience beseeches

me to unite with it.

I hear the eloquence

of silence,

in the realms

of my solitude,

away from

the lifeless crowd.

The living spirit in me

grows enormous,

unrestrained by the

physical territory of the body.

It enwraps the ambience around.

I find myself lingering everywhere.

I am eternal,  

as long as the mountains shall live,

and the sky doesn’t fall.

As long as the ocean is boundless,

and time doesn’t stop.

I shall be here, there and everywhere.

Perish me, if you will

and you shall find

me sprouting as a seedling

the very next moment

in your garden.

My body may decay

but my spirit shall stay.