Amnesia

In a world where Amnesia is
the commonest disease,
I am vulnerable too.

I might forget your name,
I might detach myself
from your memories.
But I know, howsoever,
badly I contract the disease,
you shall linger in my mind
like mist.

Blurred,disarrayed and vague
but still there...

Mist that shall never fleet.

Feed me your venom

Serve me a saucerful of secrets,
a platter of venomous lies...
But, serve it with your hands,
I promise, I shall eat with élan....

Distances that grow

Some distances not only grow wide,

they deepen too,

forming gorges…

steep and impenetrable

Damned insects...

You know why, insects gather around a little source of light?
It is because, a ray of hope, they want to stick to, in their otherwise dark lives.

Hurt me, if you will . I know, I shall be alright

Do you derive a sadistic pleasure
when you try to
excruciate me with your
harshest words?

Have you forgotten that
pelting stones at water
does not make any difference
even if you hurl those stones
with all your might?

A ripple , they create...
a little transient ripple
and then the stone
sinks, vanishes
in the Water's bosom...

"The Wall"... Roger Waters , I owe this title to you

The wind that Bob Dylan talked about in his song was rather fictitious... His wind blew with answers to all questions possible...
The wind that blows in my little space is rather irksome...It only asks disturbing questions let alone answering them...

Every morning when I read the newspaper, I wonder "Is it the same world that I am supposed to be a part of? If yes, then how is it possible that the world that revolves around me is utterly banal while the one that the newspaper portrays is ever changing and ever new?"

I feel as if I have been shunned from "activity", from "motion". I am exiled. The world believes I have a communicable disease and it has sent me in a  quarantine thus abandoning me to deal with my ailments alone. I am sequestered by an invisible wall, in a tunnel and I have a territory to tro-fro about... A very small territory. 
The territory resembles the world that I was born in but its artificial. Artificial things are never real, no?
There are stark differences. Like for example, the trees that grow in my territory. The poor ones are green with envy. They envy their likes that grow on the other side of the wall. They are dismayed. They cry their hearts out and have confided in me that given a chance they would uproot themselves, grow limbs and run away from the sinister soil,that  they are rooted to... I pity their wishes. They can never be granted.

The sky overhead... Oh, its relentlessly blazing... burning the "spirit" to live.. Its blue like the sky on the other side of the wall but its inhuman... Its engulfed in a torpor.

I never hear the birds chirping. Yes, I have heard the deafening honking of the vehicles that rattle all over like snakes. Unlike the world on the other side of the wall where dogs bark, here people yap like rabid dogs...the dogs are mute with that helpless look in their eyes. Poor pups!

Everything is caged, motionless and banal. I was healthy in the beginning and now that I have been forced to live like this, I have contracted the disease. I tried to fight it but the disease was too smart to find that one chink in my immune system. It settled on me, firmed its grip and took the mind under its control...

Shall I be ever acquitted from this sentence? Or is it a Life sentence? Please vindicate me, I am innocent...

Stay dormant for a while , Painter!

Don’t picture me any more
in your poesies.

I see a general sense of
monotony creeping in
your writes.
The same visage
drawn over and over again,
to an extent that now my face
looks lackluster.

How you beautify me with the
embellishments of your words!
Where is the soul that I had
fallen in love with?
Its just flesh and bones.

The more you draw me,
the more haggard I become,
the more arid does your painting
turn into...
Dull and bland!

Why are the colors subdued,
where is your artistic panache,
those careless yet perfect
brush strokes?

Why do you have to wring out
colors from your paint brush?
Trust your instincts,
they shall flow on their own.

Dip the brush in
the untainted color
of your pure love.
Shades shall drip like honey,
and you shall breathe life
into me.

I recede

While the world advances
on its temporal track
and looks for new ways
to begin,
I recede .

I retract my steps back
to bolt myself in
the dungeon of
his memories.

I abhor newness.
Call me archaic,
if you will .
But the fact is,
I am still his.

I shrink

Now that a somber evening

settles on me,

my thoughts move

backwards,

to the past.

As if a force drives them back

as if a vacuum within

sucks my thoughts in

and I shrink

I shrink so much that

I become dimensionless,

and weightless…

And then within no time,

I become a complete “Nothing”  

Nothingness in Profusion

This was a benumbing thoughtless day... I didn't have anything on my mind... Except a few mundane things that I do everyday, I did nothing worth remembering...
I feel nothing... no frustration, no discomfort, no comfort either, no anger, no happiness, no sadness, no nothing... Sometimes, the mind wants to resort to nothingness... Nothingness is a state so absolute... You either have everything or you have nothing... There is nothing in between the two... Yes, I believe in extremes...

Today, I have "nothingness" in abundance... Today, I am absolute...

A hungry heart...

I thrived on your promises,

reveled in them.

Celebrated a life so complete .

Now that you’re gone and

your promises have broken,

their million shards scattered

on the floor,

I still savor their aroma.

Out of hunger, I consume

the tidbits ,

the little morsels of your promises.

But, my famished  heart , in its revolting

hunger still starves….

Blow the candle off

The candle burns
and melts with me,
diminishes as it fights
the darkness...

If ever you come to me,
and while you medicate my
burns with your healing touch,
don't forget to blow
the candle off!

Fragrance in oblivion

And how do you feel
when you see the lone
sepulcher there
with a withered flower
upon it?

The body is still fortunate,
it has a coffin to lay in.
How about the withered flower
that lies bare and dead?

Shall you take care of it?

Pablo Neruda taught me this...

Now that I see the sun kissing the horizon,

dissolving its crimson red , in the sea;

bidding the day, a loving farewell,

I peep out of my shell…

Now, that the worldly clamor

is subdued ,

I come out of my shell relieved.

I hear the waves,

dashing against the rocks ashore.

A euphonic percussion in the making.

Barefooted , I stroll along the shore,

feeling the sea kiss my feet.

A carnal desire,  forming.

As the night takes over,

I drench myself in

the lunar light.

I see the surging tides,

drenched in

their desire sublime.

Two desires tide high,

Mine and the sea’s…

2 different physical forms …

one solid and the other water,

tied by one common desire

to unite with one another.

The Lucifer

The Satan impregnated
a Lucifer in my womb.
Like a fetus , it grows,
and attains an abominable size.
Is it a Fetus or a Tumor,
I often wonder!

I breathe in,
but it is the one that
benefits from my inhalations…

It feasts on my soul,
leaving a hollowness within…
Decaying muscles and impure blood…
No soul…

When shall the Gestation period end?
Has it decided never to come out?
It gives my conscience
killing labor pains…

Once , I heard it saying ,
“Ma, I shall stay in your mind’s womb
and follow you till your tomb”..
I shuddered.
A diabolic laughter ensued…

A picture inspired this and I blurted it out

Now, as I grow old,

my body revolts.

See, how my skin

has hardened.

I wonder , if it shall

fall off like flakes.

How, I wish,

I were a snake..

I could have grown

a new skin then,

discarding off the old one.

Pity, it is… I have to live

with this bloodless,

wrinkled skin,

that emits  a stench of

dullness and  deathly pallor.

This was the same skin,

that I had once flaunted off

with flair,

people envied my white membrane.

Now, it is more like a rotten peel.

Look at my hair,

now a handful of

whitish strands

appearing like

an untidy cottony fluff.

It was once thick, rich and flaxen.

My eyes, have now lost their glimmer,

the bold glimmer of self belief.

Now, they  speak of my haggardness,

my regrets and my enduring failures.

Youth is diminutive,

it’s a phase that fleets

within years.

Senility takes over

leaving ghost memories of the youth

hovering around.

Here, I have this  

bowl of Elixir

that shall guarantee me

an evergreen afterlife.

I know, this poisonous concoction,

however, distasteful , it might be now,

shall grant me the boon of “timeless youth”

for I know that the soul never dies, nor it wears off…

Thus, it has no chance to grow old…

I added...

With time, I added years to my age,

grew some silvery strands of hair,

some wrinkles around the socket of my eyes,

a receding hair line.

Oh yes, I grew a skeptic mind,

a jealous heart,

an unshakable ego too

and a groundless conceit.

Yes, I did bring up, two children;

 untamed and maverick.

I added everything

except wisdom.

Like an Ostrich

A shelter , I seek,

in this sweltering

summery noon.

A shelter in your arms.

Like an Ostrich that digs its head

deep in the ground

at the slightest hint of danger,

I shall dig mine in your arms.

I seek a haven in you,

I shall drench you in my tears few.

Little incidents, hefty realizations...

You are given a  body with a spirit within. The primary purpose of your existence is to keep that spirit burning… For that, one needs to keep his body healthy… and when you are given a body, these pesky mortal ailments come as freebies.. You need to take care of those too…

These ailments are big time impediments, you gotta fight them any how…

Today, I have had too many realizations… too many, for my mind, to deal with… Its easy to rant philosophy…you go on bla-blaing but the real understanding happens when you are in a REAL situation…

Today, I have a fever… I feel a slight tremble in my body…I witness fleeting shivers, infrequently though.  I have been coughing and sneezing maniacally… I feel a very cumbersome load on my head.

The air of the room still remains oppressive. My roommates aren’t here… Mamma isn’t here… This is kinda my "first fever” where I am left to deal with everything alone… Interestingly, no one paid me a visit… none of my classmates came to my room… not even an "artificial" concern… Well, I didn’t expect anything of that sort,  either… But, I had expected something, a very little something from a girl named K… Surprisingly, she seemed unconcerned… That hurt me…just a little… Nothing more…

That was Realization number 1. “People , generally, are self conceited and there are people who outdo me in that front… I thought I was the most self conceited person on earth…but, no … I have some serious competitors there”

I usually, wash all my clothes on the very day itself.. I don’t pile them over…but this week, I had piled them over… Bed sheets, dresses et al…summed up to a dozen atleast... It was too hectic for me… Yet, I managed somehow…

I realized , “when I am decided to do something, I am at loggerheads…  I might complain, I might whine…but at the end of the day, I fight it…and I win..everytime!”

On account of weekends, most of the rooms in my lobby are locked… I am not friends with my neighbors but somehow, I smile when I see them every morning… We hardly ever exchange words… I missed passing that smile this morning…

Realization :- “We unknowingly get used to insignificant things”


Then there was a power cut at around 9 pm. It was unusual… I didn’t fret… I mechanically went out of my room..There wasn’t the minutest ray of light … I relied on my feet… I knew they would take me to the verandah… I went blindly following my feet and thankfully, I didn’t hit anything on the way… There is a cot in the verandah and I sat on it… The power was back in minutes…

Realization :- “ Darkness doesn't frighten me anymore.”

Then, I gulped down a few tablets… Tried to sleep…but couldn’t… *Background music:- Heal my wounds- Poets of the Fall”… I felt *unreasonable* tears in my eyes… Called Mamma and I was astonished to see myself,  bawling like a five year old… Mom was worried… She knew that I was unwell… I cried so much over phone that I was literally panting… My hands trembled… I couldn’t talk more… I kept the phone down and asked Mamma to call me in the morning… I tried to sleep.. I slept..

Then, all of a sudden,  slumber eluded me… I woke up… saw 4 SMSes in my inbox… I replied none… I attended one call… I saw myself smiling plastically throughout that 4 minute conversation…

And, now, I am drumming my fingers on the keyboard..Typing this shit!

Realization :-"There are things that you do without any clue. You do them mechanically."

My indulgence with a blank piece of paper

Tonight, I am engrossed in a blank piece of paper.
The nib of my pen longs to kiss its immaculate White
but the nib hesitates since
it doesn’t have a purpose to do so…
Yet, it sensually runs on the paper,
doodling some incoherent lines,
penning scattered words ;
some here , some there.
 The White of the paper has a secret untold,
my pen knows it...
It knows that the White of the paper
has a VIBGYOR concealed within.

The pen unearths the hidden colors
with its write.
Sometimes, it finds
a playful Violet,
sometimes an indignant Indigo
and then a flamboyant blue,
a peaceful green,
a bright sweltering Yellow,
a tangy Orange
At some times, it also renders it
a dark gory red,
a passionate red too.

At other times, the nib,
decrees all the colors
to stay in harmony
in a wholesome write…

Tear and Blood... Rip my heart apart!

Why do you differentiate between tears and blood?

They both ooze out of injuries….
One from injuries superficial
and the other from injuries within…
Apparent wounds shall heal,
the wounds “within” often go undiagnosed.
They are serious and fatal for the soul,
fatal for the very purpose of existence.

Tear is blood-- devoid of color.
Fundamentally, both are one
and the same!
Nomenclature doesn’t change
the nature.

Water, stay formless!

Water, you flow, frisk
and frolic about…
You relentlessly keep flowing
shapeless and formless…
That’s what you’re happy in.

But, once poured in a Vessel,
you submit yourself
slavishly to it’s command,
assuming it’s shape,
and strangulating your own desires.

Why do you compromise?
What stops you from breaking free,
I often wonder!

Let me put you on fire,
I shall set you free…
Evaporate like ether
and unite with air…

An illiterate heart

While you play with metaphors
to envisage me articulately on the
canvas of poetry,
I watch you intently
to color you with my
inarticulate love
through my eyes.

While you tie your love
to a meter and make it
dance to a poetic rhythm,
I dance tuneless and rhythm less
in my unfettered  love for you.

My love knows no bounds,
it gambols around,
like a child
in the wild.
It dances just
for the eternal joy of dancing,
taps its feet to the
inaudible cosmic rhythm.

While you sing a lyrical melody
in your poetry,
my heart hums a wordless tune
subtle and soft like a lullaby.

Over these years,
I could grow a literate mind.
But, I couldn’t grow a literate heart.
It still remains cold and indifferent to words,
but melts at the slightest gust
of a loving feel.

Words shall deplete with time.
Let your feelings talk,
for they are inexhaustible.

 

Better leave it untitled!

How does Time preserve a few vague memories, locks them safely in a cache and buries the cache deep in its bosom? Insignificant memories that should have been eroded out but on the contrary, they grow subliminally . When they grow big, they break open the cache and come out in an incoherent manner. They knock the doors of your “Recollection”. They come , when you expect them the least. In fact, such memories aren’t even least expected. They are never expected!

Time acts partial. Some events howsoever significant they may be, Time sends them to oblivion while some , it safeguards.

The kind of memories that I am talking about, are rather blunt. They are uneven for when they come in mind, they are scattered in bits and pieces. You need to assemble the pieces together and as the picture completes, you get a somewhat clearer yet blurred picture of the past event. The picture, usually, is distorted. Some pieces are wrongly put.

Time keeps them secretively in its bosom like its prized belongings.

Words that we once jabbered inanely.. laughs that we had over the pettiest of things.. glimpses that we fortuitously exchanged.. grudges that we unreasonably held..arguments that we unintentionally got in.. minor scuffles that we had.. tears that came out excitedly.. unreasonalbly and mushily.. insignificant places that we visited.. food that we ate gluttonously, sometimes half heartedly and sometimes neutrally .. songs that weren't particularly our favorites, yet we listened to them et al.

These aren’t the kind of events that would leave behind such prominent trails in the form of vivid and lingering memories. But, they leave their footprints, not in a continuous and in a very evident fashion though. They are rather surreptitious. They stealthily enter the mind with their noiseless steps.

All they want is our attention, our indulgence with them for some moments. For those few moments, the mind , like a conceding parent, listens to their request and grants their innocent wish.

The Road

I am a lone weary road,
less commuted on.
I have ditches in between,
ruts of wheels
and some indelible scars.

I drived my commuters to their destinations
but I lost mine... Irony, that is...
I kept going, winding on corners,
finding my way through
places impassable,
but I couldn't find the place where
I was meant to go...

I searched , I searched for long
but I ended up at the crossroads
where I saw roads like me,
finding their ways to their
lost destinations...

I am tired of journeying
sick of walking
and now its intolerable
to be trampled on.
My chest pains.
My skin is losing its sheen.
I am old... wrinkled
Now I need some rest,
a peaceful solitary rest.

Lost pearl, where are you ?

Some moments are so quick... They take time to settle in....Something similar happened with me today... I had been thinking about an apparently difficult concept... I had racked my brains over it but in vain... Then I gave up thinking about it....

But, you know the mind's subconscious is invincible...It hates defeat... It kept the thinking process on and as a result , all of a sudden, the concept looked too simple for me... It came in my mind with an unimaginable speed, electrified it and I felt an engulfing overwhelmness....

Mind was stirred...Internally, I was in a frantic, exhilarating motion but externally, I was , as immobile as a log of wood.... It was a momentary manifestation... An epiphany...

But, in no time, it went off like a bulb that glows at its brightest for a moment or two and then fuses out... I can't quite explain what happened... I felt I lost the momentary comprehension.. I tried hard to recall it but I guess , the ecstasy of a sudden realization dropped it down somewhere...

I felt like a diver who finds the most precious pearl deep in the ocean, holds it in his hands, admires its beauty and then accidently drops it down again into some deep oceanic crevice .

Here again, I start my search right from the scratch... The search of a lost pearl of wisdom!

Invincible

And what is more nomadic
than you, wanderlust Wind?

All I needed was a gust
of your freshness.
You blew past my face,
gently brushed your lips
against mine
and went away flowing,
jauntily basking in your
glory…


I wished to capture you
in one breath,
I wished to retain you
in me.
You entered me, though
and I felt , I won.
I felt I conquered you.

But in the very next moment,
you went out
with my one treacherous exhale…

I wistfully sighed:-
“Wind, you shall stay a rebel!”

"Watery eyes"

Pleading tears,
helplessly run amuck,
with a forlorn hope
to find a receptacle
in your heart.

They beat the doors
of your heart relentlessly
and pant for breath.
You open the door,
you give that wry smile
and slam it
right in front of their
watery eyes.

They wait...
The waiting continues
and they keep flowing
like an unbroken stream

And,then my burnt skin,
like the thristy sand
soaks them.
They vanish
but they flow
inside with the blood.

Living like a lie

Let me live like an
untold lie within you.
Keep me safe,
keep me concealed.
I might not be there
in front of your eyes
but the lie (I) shall stay
in your conscience…
Forever.

Celebrating desire

How does , all of a sudden,
a desire so raw
a desire so promiscuous
rise in my heart?

I die to touch you
with my eyes…
My sight shall stay fixated
to your countenance
like an eternal kiss sealed…

How I long to feel your
exhalation on my skin
like a parched paper
that dies to get soaked
in vibrant hues...!

And how I want to stay
in your arms forever
like two bodies inseparably entwined.
Come, Desire , I shall celebrate you tonight!

A filthy shadow

Shadow, how infidel you are!
You leave me in the dark
and you gluttonously devour
Light to pronounce your presence…
You promise to be with me throughout
but you are nothing but conceited.
You come for your own ulterior motives
and go when your objectives are served.

You are wretched, feeding on Light
like a parasite…
Light that could never enlighten you…
You remain dark, faceless and opaque…
Have you ever seen yourself,
how despicable you look?
Here I hold the mirror,
look into your self…
Oh , how deplorable…
The mirror doesn’t cast your image…

An infidel whim

Itinerant and wanderlust,
she was a vagabond.
Now here, now there…
Like a leaf, estranged from
its parent stem,
she flew from one pair of eyes
to the other…

She rested in his eyes
and unfurled her wings
on his mind,
she took him under control
of her vagrant passion,
of her malicious seduction
and he succumbed
to her charm…

His mind was no more his…
Soon, she left him after
her passionate sojourn
with him for her journey to
the next pair of eyes…
Their transient love affair
soon came to an end…

He knew what “reality” was…
She was a mere solitary whim… !

Trash

I am too inarticulate, a speaker… I can hardly strike on conversations and I find it pretty hard to sustain one… I barely have anything to put in… Either I agree with what they say by merely repeating their words in a somewhat modified manner, or I smile… I smile when I disagree… I gently nod my head and let it be whenever I find something too obnoxious to digest… I hate arguments and I feel correcting someone isn’t my business… However, when I am offended, I make it a point that I shall talk less and gesticulate more… The discomfort comes on my face on its own… My eyebrows knit , my nose wrinkles on their own… However hard I might try, I find it too hard to conceal my anger, at times… This happens when I accost a real disgusting situation or I confront someone who I can’t stand , at all, at any cost… Though such people are very less in number…but they are there…

I often wonder why my face betrays me and spills the beans… I find it next to impossible to straighten up my facial expressions when I am really very angry (happens seldom though)… I try to undo the knit of my eyebrows but they stay knitted… Similarly, the nose stays wrinkled… It takes an ample time to bring them back to normalcy…

Then besides these, I find it hard to “talk”… Not because of some inferiority complex or something…but because I find talking to be unnecessary… People, I find around, mostly talk about things that don’t come within the gamut of my “code of conduct”… Yeah, I have devised a code of conduct exclusively for me… I can feel how uncomfortable I make it for others… If I am reading or listening to music, I shall go on doing that for hours together and the person with me makes his disconcert evident.. Indirectly and non verbally though… He shall cough intermittently and purposely to drive my attention towards him… Its not that I simply don’t acknowledge such cues… I do… I swear I do but I fail to make any attempt… At times, the person simply walks away and I feel much relieved… not because the person has walked away and left me alone but because he has given my conscience a respite… a relief that I am no longer inflicting torture on him with my silence , that is usually taken as my disinterest or worse , as my  pride…

 These are not my whims but sheer facts… I have been told this a myriad number of times by people around… I have been berated, implored, earnestly requested to get rid of my idiosyncrasies… But why should I? I am adamant, I agree…

I don’t depend on people… I have very few friends with whom, I admit, I don’t share a very strong bond… I meet them, I laugh, I enjoy to the fullest and then I forget… I am a narcissist, I daresay and I don’t have qualms about it…

Memories don’t haunt me either… I am soaked in my thoughts so much so that there is hardly any space for a memory to nest in my mind… I enjoy my solitude… I don’t quite acknowledge what the world thinks of me… “Appreciation or criticism” both mean the same and I treat both similarly i.e.  I don’t acknowledge both..

Is this arrogance? May be… I don’t quite care…