Tuesday, June 18, 2019

Insane Me!

pic crtsy : https://weheartit.com/entry/281134041
When there are thousand things to do, I chose to write and
When there are thousand things to deal with I deal with my pen.

In the race of impressing others,
I impress on my notebook.

In the world of sugar-coated poison,
I show is scorched love.

Though I know I could shatter this world into bits and pieces,
I pray for gits and peace!

In the world full of scorns and hurts,
I eschew blades and guns.

When many here are searching for plots to buy,
I am here sitting and searching for plots to write.

When everybody raises their voice in anger,
I go silent when I lose my patience.

When everybody thinks they have discovered this world,
I wonder where it was before they discover!

While many around thinks everybody around were fools and nomads,
Here I am baffled why I am so dumb and stupid!

God save you all!!

Monday, June 3, 2019

Not for Mortals

Image courtesy: thegraphicsfairy.com

It’s just that first word takes time and rest of it were tied to the one another; flows like the rain from the cloud burst. Are there many more like me, insane and stupid to think the world we see is just the shadow and the real world is filled with fairies and angels? The utopia is the real world where people don't care about Gods and Goddesses but godliness.  In the place where people sell their flesh and eat others flesh for money, am I the only one see this as a mirage of hell which will soon disappear?

I heard people say that there is a life after death.  Am I the only one who realized there is no death for life, only when death knocks the real doors of life opens? In colors of lights and we were blinded to see the colors of rainbow. Oh no wait, it hurts to talk too much about the truth of this life.  To think about the right words and rethink about the grammar of writing the heart out actually brings head ache; that is why it is all about giving once self to the writing and allow the words to come and vent through the fingers.

It is fascinating to write about the guardian angels that fly over our shoulders and whisper secrets or what we call intuition.  It is sad that we thinking it as fantasy and still those fairies fly over our shoulders and protecting us. I heard many times those fairies say not to trust, not to be silent, not to waste energy. I have heeded not until those guardian angels lost patience to camouflage themselves as human and shout at my ears with a slap on my cheeks to wake up from the spell of the monsters.  I know not every time they do it but sometimes they pity us too much.  There are some that we hire from our mothers that pampers us like a just born and sad that we don't listen to them like a stillborn.

Friday, May 31, 2019

Stabbed


stabbed…it was not a dagger, not a sword, not a sharp knife but a sharp little needle. I named that needle as memory and attached it to my chest.  When I close my eyes, when the memories flood and the past burns the brain, the needle takes its toll.  It enters through the chest slowly and touches the heart.  It was not painful when the needle touched the wall of the beating heart.  It slowly breached the hearts’ wall and entered in slowly causing the whole body to shiver and the heart to twitch like an organ cut off from the body. Every twitch the image flashed before me and the pain killed me like the acid entering my blood vessels.  What wrong did I do other than believing in unconditional love! When I was pouring all the best things I have I thought I was pouring into the pond of elixir but the time has proved me that I was pouring into abyss.

Foolishly, I believed that the world works by the laws of love but then the love showed me that the world revolves around money.  There are thousand ways to teach me the reality but life has chosen love to teach me the brutality of this world.  I waved my future with the string of compassion, tied my dreams with the flowers of trust but when the string started cutting my hand and the flowers poisoned my blood, I realized even the courtesy needs to be bought with money in this world.  In the distant land I saw a pool of water when I was dying in thirst; I was running for a long time without noticing the blood oozing out from my legs that has forgot the thorns and stones in the path. One point of time I was tired loosing all the blood, I turned to see the path I was running; it was all blood stained.  I still tried hard to run in the trust that I will get to drink the distant water but only when the sun started to set I realized I was running only towards a mirage.
I felt ashamed of running like an insane towards something that doesn’t even exist, a fake form of happiness.  Do I have to blame the mirage that made me shed blood! No, it was my fault not to realize the reality in the half way, my fault to fall in love with the fake water.  It was not just the legs that was bleeding but my entire body.  I could feel the pain in every cell of my body, my sun scorched skin turned red as blood was oozing out of every pore of the skin.  As the sun rested and the moon rise it started raining.  Dear God, you have thought the rain could wash away all the blood stain in the path or from by body!  Every drop of rain burned my bleeding skin like an acid drops from the sky.
With the bleeding in the soul and needle stuck heart it feels like the moment I pluck the needle out I will die.

Lullaby...


sleepingprincess
Stop the waves, dear sea, my love is sleeping,
No match to my love, in distress, the moon is weeping.

Sing the lullaby, mother night, and kiss her good night,
Dare to come out night owls for I am her knight.

Slow down the time, dear universe, let her sleep deep,
I would become the windows of her room to stop the stars’ peep.

Nurture and comfort her with softness, dear pillow, but
Don’t take pride; only for a short time you are in my place, poor fellow.

Don’t be so cool, dearest winter, she cannot withstand chillness,
I can burn the world to warm her up; of course that is my madness.

Don’t be silent, dear silence; she doesn’t likes the world to be silent,
Even when I die I will be her guardian angel and stay vigilant.

Like the softest of soft flowers tired and sleepy when it is dark,
My love has dozed off; still she glows like the fireworks spark.

Where are you Gene? Change me into that blanket and mattress,
I could keep her warm and safe for she is my goddess.

Dear Sun, wait for her to wake up for she is the light of my world,
Don’t compete with her brightness for you are no match even for her mold.

Dear dew drops, don’t worry for disappearing with her brightness,
She will make you fall in love with her for she is an enchantress.

Saturday, September 15, 2018

The Library...




I didn’t know what drove me here, but the place was quite mine; the place where I always dreamed to be.  Very less but welcoming people of my genre, people who stay silent as the place demands and people who talk to the books, authors and to themselves.  There is no difference of opinion for there is opinion in difference.  I saw people writing; a quite place away from noises of the phone, traffic and life.  I could see beautiful faces that reads, feels and emerges out of the emotion from the book. There were tons of books and very less people turned up to read.  The place was clean and tidy as I surfed through the Asia’s one of the largest library of eight floors there were thousands of books in all the genres. I want to pick as many as possible and read all at once which is highly impossible also I was afraid if I took few books to surf through and what if I could not find the right place to shelf it back.  So I took one book which was my favourite subject once – The Basic guide to Hypnotism.  I saw a girl reading Sigmund Freud’s Interpretation of Dreams so I have to stay a little away from her.  I choose a chair away from Freud and her and sat comfortably in cushion chair.   The guide to hypnotism hypnotised me to read; almost quarter of the book I finished before I felt asleep without my knowledge for a minute or two; because the place was so harmonious and pleasant and filled with books and air conditioned.  When I recouped from my nap I realized I almost finished quarter of the book and Freud and that girl were still there.  Disbelief I developed on Fraud and his reader after reading Osho’s talk on Fraud.  Sigmund Fraud was called as genius in the field of human psychology but when he came to India he was asked to meet Ramana Maharishi, a man who realized his self.  But Fraud refused to meet him for he is afraid of the man who could break all his disbelief.  And there was a statistic which says the suicide percentage was higher in the psychology doctors compared with others; interesting.  I realized it was time to move on just one floor of books is not enough for me.  I wanted to put the book back into it’s shelve but then I saw a poster saying don't try to shelve it back but just leave it on the table- cool.  I searched for the literature section and claimed to the next floor to see hell a lot of books on all literature Greek, Pali, French etc., I walked through each of the book in the neatly arranged.  Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, etc., It was pleasure watching their books which most of them I have it shelved in my home.  And then I saw Dante’s Divine Comedy which is an allegorical read termed as tough to understand and then I saw The war that killed Achilles in Greek literature and few more books I collected and searched for a place to sit.  Most of the tables were occupied and those that are free were reserved.  Finally I found a table with an empty chair but again I have asked the girl sitting in the opposite to make sure that it was not reserved for anybody.  She nodded and shook her head taking her head from the book. I didn’t understand what she said but then I sat taking it as the chair is free to occupy. The table was near the glass wall, the lawn below was visible and the day light was amicable.  I surfed through the Dante’s Divine Comedy and after few minutes I want to see what was new in the ‘The war that killed Achilles’ as I already know the good crap old story of Helen in Troy.  The writing was good but the story was the same. And then I found this book lying on the table crap shades for gray; who the hell kept this book in literature section, I threw the book.  The place was dumb quiet and the book made quite a noise of my anger.  A girl who was reading deep into her book lifted her face and saw me as if I have thrown a stone at her.  I said sorry and went back to my book.  Time slipped through without my knowing and I realized I was late, but then I want to see what people were reading so I picked the books what people have left in the table.  I was happy to see Shelley’s poetry, Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein; people are still alive in the world of literature I thought.  Though it was not enough for my brain and heart, my stomach wanted something to fill just as my heart, also it was late evening so I decided to get out of that lovely place and fuel my body.

Wednesday, August 15, 2018

Things to count on...

Courtesy : google images / flicker



“What are you counting?” she said.  Her legs were on his laps and they were on the roof top. And it was a euphoric evening when it was drizzling.
“The rain drops that was falling from your nose tip” He replied.
“Crazy you…”
“Yes, of course.  You made me so” he said.

Tiny things, small moments, small conversations, little romance are like the tiny drizzles; they make bigger things slowly.

“Let us get down and take a stroll” he asked
“Only if you could lift me and scoop me in your hands…” she said
“Scoop you!! Let us sit here then…” he giggled
She gave a naught kick which he waited for and loved too.  She got her legs off his lap and he helped her getting holding her by waist so that he doesn’t slip away from his hands.

Only when there is purest of love along with all chemical emotions the touch feels like the breeze of the evening and if it is only chemical then it burns like a hot sun.

“You smell like a baby” He said
“Really…” she replied plainly
“I like the smell of your hair… when it is wet and you don't have time to dry…”
“Okay… enough.  Let us walk…” she said.
“Now it is wet and I feel the fragrance of a real woman in you… a woman as created by the divine hands”
“I don't understand a word you talk…” she giggled
“I know you understand every word of me… even when I don't talk… I know you are the only one to understand my silence…” he replied.

Not every time the words could explain the love, sometimes you need to read between the lines and sometimes it is the silence that conveys all the love you hold in your heart.

She looked straight into his eyes as if telling ‘I know you, you need not say everything’. It was drizzling.  He asked for her hands and she held it tightly and they walked.  The road was washed with the rain, it was plain and clean.  It was green the both sides and fresh.  The rain drops continued to wet them and she felt cold.  She wrapped her hands to his torso and he warmed her with his hands over her shoulders.  The walked till the end of the road. 

“Let us go back” she said.
“If you say…” he said and they walked back home. 

The room was ill lit only with two or three candles around.  She shined like gold in the Sun light.
“You glow…” He said.
She smiled.
He grabbed her by hands and embraced like a petal of a rose touching another.
“I could feel you… in my soul…” he said
“Hmmm mmmm…” she smiled as if telling ‘you are completely a pack of insanity’.
 “I know what you are thinking… Yes I am insane… It is your mistake… You have made me so…”
“I didn’t do anything… it is all that you imagine….” She replied.
“May be… let me live and die in the same imagination…” he said.
“What if I become old… if I have wrinkles…” she asked.
“That is better, I can kiss you in the road… people will not pass a bad comment instead appreciate me for the love I have for you… and wrinkles… that should be the beautiful wrinkles the world have every seen.” He replied.
“You selfish fellow… What if you change by time…?” she asked with little melancholy in voice.
“Definitely I will change… more matured, correct all my mistakes and love you more than today… and one day I might totally change that would be my last day on the earth” he said.
She tightened her hug; she replied.

Sunday, August 12, 2018

Magic!!


In the arms of each other, when the hand holds together, and the hearts push and pull one another bloom’s the magic of togetherness.  If you think it is just the thirst for fleshes do not touch each other; relationships are food for the souls and not for cannibals. When the skin’s caresses the souls should blend like the water and the soil if there is no love it is like mixing the water and the oil. What you cannot read in the words that come out of mouth can be read from the luminescent that comes from the eyes.  If the spark in the eyes has faded away, though the face and words can fake the love, the language of eyes will always open the eyes of the other.

When the love is pure there needs no filter to purify the heart and need no tears to dilute the hurt.  It just happens for no reason, no matter what season.  When the image of the other enters the eyes and if only matches the search of the soul then the magic is provoked.  When the hands hold and the lips talks to each other the two soul become part of one broken soul and merge like the clouds that was about to pour.

When the eyes meet each other then everything around should disappear and the moment of silence should be as divine like prayer.  In the acoustic of voice only the external is satiated.  In order to satiate the inner being the words should be eschewed and silence should take over the moment.  The pleasantness of the silence must be felt in the heart so that the channel for communication is clear between hearts.  This cannot be faked, though the words fake love the eyes will show up what is underneath.