Bliss!!!

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Calm down! Calm down! Calm down! - I said myself – the words are coming, the veils of dam that stopped the flow of words from the subconscious damn river were broken.  The shivering hands that seldom write a sentence will write a book in one swivel – I consoled by anxious, fast beating, palpitation-suffering heart.   I know this body, these hands and heart, these cells and muscles are not you – I read my own thoughts – this life has become a burden; a immaculate gigantic mountain over the weakening shoulders. The weight over the shoulders had started breaking the vertebra and making me a hunchback before the mortal humans. 

 

The fables that were taught – somewhere in the far distant high there is a God sitting and watching, the deeds and morals, dogmas and guidelines has become oil over the burning soul.  The preaching to look inside, the universal force that drives the lives, the result of big bang inside every atom has only added weight to the shoulders!  The realization that I was something else arrested inside this very body – I read my thoughts – has become painful.

 

I couldn’t advice but – there is a feel the flames up and down that I have to get out this house that hosted me – wait, who the hell is me if this body is not!

 

It feels like tearing my own body like caterpillar and fly out like a butterfly to taste the honey in every haven flowers – I feel the perplexity inside me – but what is that  that will get out of the caterpillar skin? Is it the life that blooms out of the soul that pops out! I wonder! Which is the animal? The one inside or outside? Which one should be euthanized; I know that that dangerous cold blooded animal was wounded seriously.

 

Or, should I wait for some hands to break open the shell and take the pearl out; Oh the pearl! The drop that came from up above and arrested inside and become precious with the years.  Is the pearl our atman? The Danjayan, that which could be captured not, smelled not, but was arrested inside somewhere in the head and leaves only after the life leaves the body; the resurrection!

 

This feel is heavy, heart crunching, muscle scorching, and skull breaking; Ignorance is Bliss!

 

 

Drug...!

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 It is the scent of sweat, mixed

with the fragrance of jasmine buds. 

And the secret ingredient: femininity!

Put in together along with the night,

kindles the olfactory to suppress the brain,

The venom spreads all over until it drains.

To the songs of love, cells dances in grace,

It is a hard core violence that leaves no trace.

Till the drug consumes the addict,

To fly in heaven is all you predict.

Once the grail is empty it feels fire in water,

But soon refilled though you repent, it doesn’t matter!

Sometimes in regret you freak, and

Historically it is the cup you break!

The Lost Walk

 

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“…my boy friend is not going to like this if he hears about it” she said. 

“Neither do my girl friend, but the difference… is… we are not talking anymore, so I don't worry” he replied.

And they walked down the hill slowly in the twilight.  It was not the hill what actually you think with thorns and bushes and trees.  It was once like that may be, but now it was turned into a concrete jungle with computers, internet, junk foods, food courts, car parking, white lights, air conditioning vents, jeans, short skirts, formal suites with tie and securities.  Basically it was an IT ‘park’, so it is called.

 

But still the hill had had its originality.  The roads were not straight but curvy; it cannot be plain and smooth but bumpy and sloppy.  They both knew each other lately but were buddies from earlier births.  He remembers standing still at the first day, very first moment when she saw her. 

She said “why are you sad…?” that was the very first thing she said as if continuing from the last conversation they had. 

“What is your name?” he replied and from then on the past life buddies became buddies again.

 

The road was in harmony with the nature, trees and breeze mend together along with the twilight.  They planned it for a short walk, treading till the bottom of the hill. And there were waters flowing down the hill at the sides of the road faster than their thoughts.

 

“I like this walk” he said

“…I too” she replied.

 

They didn’t know what life has for them when the road ends and when they go on in their own ways, but for now the walk was pleasant and present. 

 

“I need a small house, built only for me.  I probably won’t allow anybody.  I will paint the walls in pink, the doors, the floors, the window, the utensils, my wardrobe and what not! Everything I want it in pink.  I will wear pink silk dresses and like a pinkish happy life alone” she said

 

He was silent as she recited her wish he was taken in to her imagination.  A man’s imagination of a woman will always be little different.  He had put her in a pink castle where in the flames at the night glows in pink.  There was a throne or a high seat decorated with white and pink flowers.  (Wait! Where does the white come from! But you see plain pink won’t look good).  She walked the aisle in her silky soft pink queen’s wardrobe and white gloves (it is okay, gloves in pink doesn’t match the pink dresses) followed by guards wearing pink suites (they where wearing black shoes, not white this time nor pink).  She resigned to her bed where in the walls were pink and the bed and pillows were pink and shiny.  She changed to her pink night dress allowing her long black hair to spread over the shiny pink bed.  It looked like a portrait from the top angle.  The curtains on the sides of the bed fell which was white blending with pink.

 

“Are you with me?” she asked. 

“Oh, yes” he replied. 

– Man destroys the reality any woman wants with his own virtual reality – he thought

They continued to walk.  When they reached the bottom of the hill it was dark. 

“Shall we walk for little while more…?” He said.

She didn’t reply but walked with him.  The walk seemed to be a continuation of the one they went together some centuries back, may be, in the same place with the same friendship.

 

He knew, she cannot be saved from the life and she knew he cannot be consoled and comforted.  They both know they have to walk forward holding their hearts together.  They know life will bring them together whenever they are stroked down so that their friendship is renewed.

 

The reached the cross roads and parted with smile only to meet again another day to say that - that walk was great and never had one such after because life throws relationships in our way but less friendship.

Lust

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Did you hear that song, playing in the background!  It is going to rain when you read this if not read when it rains. Did you hear the sound of those raindrops hitting your windowsill knocking to open the door? That is when in someplace somewhere he stood in the rain with an umbrella waiting for her. 

Did she come? It was already late in the evening, lights were dimming, and twilight was masked by the drizzles.  It was the same time and the same umbrella and of course the same heart she refused to enter in. Rain has stopped, leaving all around wet and no place to sit. Trees bathed, flowers were tired of getting drenched in the water hanging on to the branches with no heart to leave the tree.  

Did you hear her footsteps? No you cannot it is one among many for you but he could as it is the only one his ears respond to.  She walked with a backpack hanging one side in her white attire matching the climate and the rain.  Drizzles fell on her forehead when she lifted her head to the sky.  And the sky smiled looking at her, it started raining.  She ran towards him, under the tree he stood drenched by the blowing wind acting as an agent of rain.

Did she walk into the umbrella?  She stood a stop away from him; she knew it was the same umbrella to the one she said ‘no’ sometimes back.  Not to the umbrella but to the one carrying.  He signed to come near.  Like a mirage that turned to water she walked into the umbrella and held his hands holding the handle.  Why is it always the rain most romantic thing? Can the rain and the earth is the right mixture for pheromone!

He knelt before her on the wet earth on his both knees - a complete surrender.  She has put her finger in his wet hair putting him in trance.  He closed his eyes hypnotised with the softness of her finger tips. Touching her thighs with his wet and shivering hands, his forehead fell on her tiny belly.  A strong wind crossed them making the tree shiver and shed the mixture of flowers and rain drops over them.  She lifted his head, knelt down in one knee lifting him up, wiping the water over his face like a child. 

Looking into his eyes and her palms holding his cheeks he kissed her palms.  She nodded her head so that they could leave the place.  They walked hand in hand looking at each other’s eyes once in a while with a smile on their face and love in their heart.  A bunch of flowers fell on the place where they stood and a branch watered with the falling drops over the flowers.

This nature is lustful; the only thing is the meaning is different. 

This or That!

Like the mouth, why water does goes in not,

Instead jumps out from the eyes!

Alas, difference do exist between the parts,

From where comes the water that decides!

Difference when thy hand pours the water into

And when thy heart pours it out to!

Who decides what goes and what comes out,

Of course the complexity of the perplex situation.

Like a sword in the hand and your self behind,

You can stab yourself or fence yourself.

Pray for that you lost and quench your heart,

Cry for what you lost or pray for the loss.

The lose of words to write is not

But the fog of words stops a writer.

The love that he left is naught

But the love that stays in heart hurts.

Storm or monsoon brings rain a lot!

The intense of love or loss makes the difference.

Who cares! Who reads! So here I stop,

Listen to your beats, it’s too is my heart.

                                                            SK