Silent Nights ..

One of my Favorite Christmas Carols .
Enjoy ..
Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas !

ILLUSION???

Once
On a evening
Indolence hold my hand
And took me
To a dark land….
It asked me to believe;
And I saw
Flowers in a dozen…
In my mind
All of a sudden…

And
I started my journey…
Leaving my root…
Behind…
So free
From mind…
But not blind…
With trust
In my heart…
With chances
Of getting hurt…

I……
Saw a spin on path
Lights gone…
Lighter…
Closed my eyes…
No roses were there
Only another twist
On the path…
I……
Left my desires
Only dreams came
With me…
On desert…
On lonely path…
In search of light……

The search did seem
Meaningless…
Suddenly…
With a fragrance
I found a pathway
With a new beam of ray…

You….
Were standing there
With stretched arms
Full of warmth…
As if you crave
All my pain
On you like rain…

That moment…
Mesmerized my thought…
When I felt no hurt…
And found my head
Resting…
On your shoulder…
So happy
Felt like dying
I couldn’t…
But crying…

City of Angels !

Host is a ghost

Ok guys, I'm not telling a Horror story...but this thing that I'm going to tell you is ultimately lead ro a Horror story and I know that very well.

Well we the 3rd year Psychology hons student of Gokhale college are going to do a seminar on the"Methods of Abnormal Psychology" and my dear friends wanted me to have a taste of the "bamboo" and they have chosen me as the host for the whole thing.Now my friends those of you who know me very well knows that , I've got a very bad habit of laughing all the time,as I'm in any "Great Indian laughter Challenge" ,with the most awkward bodylanguage one can have!And of all the people me being chosen as the Host is nothing but a sign that the show is either going to turn into a circus or a Laughing club!

I requested my friends so very much but they are such a "dhabba"in the name of friendship that they are unwilling!So there's not much option for the Host,but to turn into a Ghost on that day!Aye!If I find anyone just smiling at me,do you know what will happen?I would burst into a bout of laughter madness and everything would be worse than the messes made by Uncle Podger!

Oh I do hope that Mamata di saves me on that day and call for another Bandh or else .............My last rite is all that will be left!Oh do pray for me!

Salaam e Ishq ~!

Lovely song with lovely pictures !
Salaam e Ishq o Meri jaan !

Surrogate Mother

Come dusk,

I slither out, bloody and new,

From ruptured umbilical cords,

Thrust out of vaginal walls.

By chance,

My infantile senses

Are intact and enthused.

Naked, I am fed

With shapes, smells, sounds, swarms and sensations

From the juvenile night’s bosom.

And every sense grows

Into a child’s sense.

Prowling into the night,

My meandering feet and childish fingers

Feel the bodies

Of fellow creatures of the night;

Other moonlit children.

I search each eye,

Each body

For a similar mark.

Flaccid, I stumbled into loneliness.

Shards of pain appear in my pubis

Curled, blackened and clustered.

Char my face, in pencil mats

Muffle my voice, low as night’s humdrums.

My masculine senses

Heave windows open.

Naked bodies sway

To the song of the night,

Emanating new shapes, new smells,

New sounds, new swarms and new sensations,

A strange new dusk spawns

Inside a warm bowl.

The possibilities in a strange new dusk

Smiled on my naked body,

And upon my genitals.

Ungarbed, I quivered in the cold.

I need a bosom

And a shield of hair.

Sexually excited, I masturbate

Into a stranger’s bowl.

I masturbate.

As I unfold myself,

I shrink.

Every span of skin

Forbears growth.

Every breath coalesces.

Every tress of hair

Sprawls a tiny sheath.

I coagulate into a new, cold sperm.

Quivering in the cold,

I swim up

To a stranger’s egg

Waiting to divest myself off my senses.

By midnight,

I ripple into a stranger’s womb.

In the day,

I float in saps,

Inchoate and unmade.

My body sprawls itself

Into an unrestricted expanse

And I grow without a center.

My fetal heart feeds

On strangers’ day dreams.

I collect the waves of myself

And prime them into an infant

With new skin.

Bringshu ihare koy...

Chobi dekhe bojha jaye je pete pete eto soytaani??!!

 

I drew this...it was hung in the school exhibition

 

 

Walking on the dark Side of moon

"Breathe ..
Breathe in the air"


The air is thin in my moon
Its hard to breathe..

A long day of lost paradise
I live amongst you

I die in the absence of moon.
So , I keep walking on the dark side of moon..

There is more to me than you see
A eclipse of thoughts echoes through dusk

Anonymous glow beneath my eyes
A surprise gone wrong

May be , there was more to it
Than you and me walking ..

There was more to it ..
The noon may not speak anymore

But the midnight will surely do its part
Midnight moon shines on you ..

"Shine on you crazy Diamonds
Now there's a look in your eyes , like black holes in the sky"

~BACK TO MOON~

Clouds
In the sky…
Floating
Mind…
A river
Flowing…
Or,
Flying high!!!

Unworthy
Oh you!
Says brain,

See life…
Stop
Taking pain…

Heart laughs,
“I……
Have seen pain…
Still
I laugh…
I get wet…
In rain…”

Brain laughs,
“You…
Are here
To live…
Not to shed
Bloody tear…”

Clouds
Black…
Hides sun…
It says,
“Don’t cry…
I will
Come back…”

Life
Mortal…
Possessions
Material…
What we feel
So unreal…
It is real

It’s night…
When
We dream…
We desire…
We…
Close eyes
Pain dies???

We search
Eldorado…
A journey
Never ending…
Destination
Seems pseudo…

World
A stage…
Clowns
Are we…
So free
But
Inside a cage

Distorted…
Colorless…
It’s death?
Oh you
Don’t die…
Close
Your eyes…
Fly…
There is
A sky…

Afternoon Sun…
On it’s high…
Look at it
And
Close your eye
Inside you…
See the moon
Even
In afternoon…

Duality - A reality!!!

It's easy to forget failure but not hurt
and between happiness and pain, does life oscillate

i's shot when i was at my sincere best
when i wanted the freedom back i myself lost

i was wrong that i did expect
as i wanted to rediscover my space, at the most

naive was i, i have to admit
then the warmth i had felt was an illusion but

Thank god!!it's not bout hate but hurt
and the prayers and secret promises guarded a lot

else everything the blazing fire would have burnt
reducing me into ashes and everything that's a part

Luckily what does not change is past,a cold dry fact
but the river full of iife,it could not obstruct

Now that everything i have blurted out
i ve to complete it else ll be called an opportunist

never had i ever thought
hurt can also lead to fulfilment

for what lovely is a heart without any hurt
and what beautiful is a moon without the blackspot

if this little hurt can make my dead words live
and make me more compassionate and live

i would undergo many like this
and more eagerly thinking of this as bliss

but it's easy to forget failure but not hurt
and between happiness and pain, does life oscillate

Wine

Pain can be incestuous; the familiarity it breeds and spouses excruciates instances of impotence. As I write this, I try and lurk in words surreally linked with penned pills. I lie prostrate on wet grass and muddy pools of water, anaesthetized; my stomach on the ground and my right temple playing drudge to a grimy piece of stone. Loud imaginings flit up the sky, like birds which wake up from sleep and gallivant to instinct, expelling dreams inadvertently, before taking to the other branches. And I pen them up; these light, floating thoughts. Heavy, deeper ones agglomerate into a murky sludge – perhaps the heaving in my stomach and the rush in my temples. The feeling dawdles. The sieved residue, black and grey, are out of the rational, and in some irrational way, they silhouette my silence and eloquently border my solitude.

Love or no love, my wedding with words is falling apart. And I fear that I have no courage to envisage such bereavement. But it is not as I wish. Eloquence takes its toll and pain drones on stinging me; it pains to salvage the cost I must pay. I’m merely afraid, afraid that my eloquence will dissolve. Perhaps I am not even maimed. I have never been beaten up. And as I write, I constantly reassure myself that there is nothing to be proved, no judgement to be respected.

I took to a long drive. Photography. Music. Arts. Women. Coffee. Cynicism. Emptiness. Blood. The fear still swivels around the winding annals of my mind. Nothing, nothing in 19 years has swiveled away that fear which grips my mind. I used to measure men with eloquence, and now as I indulge in this orgy of repetition of cumbersome spoonfuls of language, I wonder if I can stop this unlearning, this gradual evaporation, and take to a pseudo intellectual status. I wanted life anew, knowledge slit open and rendered impotent, in a rage for orgasmic freshness. And now I can no longer bear to stay adrift from my haven of words. With seared skin, empty eyes, a loveless beard and bone dry hair, I crave for a revitalizer.

How could I not be in love, now that I have fallen in love with the need to be in love? How could I unlearn words and measure familiar terrains with coffee heaps which I swore never to use?

A I read this piece to myself, I savour less and less of the emanating pain, less of the depth and the eloquence in those vials of chided volatility. I even smile at some lines. None of the exquisiteness and beauty seems to matter. Words aren’t life.

Through curtained windows, I see the child I love engrossed in play. There are days I wake up to see his face. And now, as he wipes sweat away, I laugh a happy laugh. A happy laugh of abandon. I move down to the playground, to watch him from proximity. He waves at me and I smile a smile of love. I pretend to be entangled in a book, a book that I said I love and wouldn’t mind rereading, throwing smiles, parts of which will be visible well outside the book’s geometrical life. Antithetically, I hope to ensnare; I came enchanted. Oh, how I laugh! I haven’t yet learned to love in the open. Watch the child who silhouettes my own childhood in a way not very far from how it should be done. I seem to be certain about many things when I’m around with the child. I seem to know the one way in which my childhood could be silhouetted. The one child I could ever love. A woman who claims to love me calls and I don’t attend the call. I can not slit open this moment of trance. She calls up over and over again. I switch off my mobile phone. I seem to be certain about love. Certain that she doesn’t love me, for I could certainly not love her. I must prepare an excuse to give her, for I lust her. And I don’t wish to go hunting. She fell into my cave, charmed by the little eloquence that I could conjure, and from the very beginning, I have been honest. At least in patches which matter.

The child comes to me, hardly exhausted, and asks me about my day. I do not realize if I’m saying the correct things. The child lacerates all signs of realism from in me. I hum while we walk away to our homes. There were times we’ve had brilliant conversations in the times before, but today I chose to walk silently. Even behind him. He doesn’t demur. His mind wanders too, perhaps. But now and then, he turns behind and I am enamored. I watch him as I would stay sentry to the night’s passing. Gaze up and think my own thoughts. The child connects me to fundamentally introverted parts of me which I would lose otherwise. He never asks me why I have befriended him. Why him of all people. Why this child. He never asks. He asks of trivialities which I remember as if they were facts of significance. But I have asked myself why I do love him. His rationalism, his indulgence, his bohemian self, his brilliance, his way with people, his eloquence at things which I could never quite be eloquent about, his reflection of what I must, perhaps, be, and most of all the spectacle of him talking to people, loving them with love in his eyes. I could never love people. I could never love good things and bad things alike, with whatever certainty I attach to each definition.

Or perhaps it is just that I am more eloquent than he is, generally, or with the passing of those few years that would take him to my own horizons. “Child” I call him. Perhaps it is just those few years in vacuum that I love. Those few years, which will now elapse, along with my own years. Side by side. I will live two lives.

I take him to the nearby restaurant and he doesn’t demur. I sit far away from him, asking him to make the orders, sending him of to the waiter and everything else that would create a crevice of distance. A proximal distance, from which I can watch him and live him. Once I took him to a beach and I scribbled on the sands, quite legibly, to the lady I love and the one who claims that she could never love me, one and the same, “Wish you were here”. She loves Floyd. I had him take a photo of it so I could email her that. He probably suppressed surprise and asked me for who the photo was written. I told him what I thought, without channeling my thoughts to the maze of roads my mind is. Mindlessly, I said what I thought. Perhaps it was what I felt about the woman.

Now, in solitude, I realize that this eloquence that I employ fades by the day; my marriage is falling apart and rarely do I indulge in epiphanies of this sort any longer. I would no longer be able to tell the child what I think. A kind of senility will befall me and I would stay stuck for words. Lost as I have lost so many of my material possessions. Lost from myself. But, perhaps, more importantly, I must break the child while I can. Let him discover that he will, too, lose his eloquence and his grip. Let the fear in me plague the child’s mind, hover around him and grip him, like it does in me. I must force him to unlearn, stop loving and turn placid grey. Sometimes I think this is all I do. Break people. Break children. Because they may break in a more traumatic manner, hurt physically, rendered disable and in conditions which I myself fear; fear more than anything else. Perhaps this is love. Its side effects are a cyst and resistance. End results are fleeting moments of much pulchritude or perhaps, even orgasm. Or may be my priorities are skewed; side effects end results and end results side effects. My impotent self can do nothing to slow down my divorce. I stay sentry to my own heart’s sinking, waiting to pick up the pieces and then do as impulse will tell me to.

Assistant of Abu Salim 

Apna sapna is NOT Money Money!!! 

Smile


The lost threads of time asked me to wait
Amidst all the lights there was darkness around
The orchestra played the divine tune
I sat in a corner

Morning sickness had struck me
The surge of insomnia was catching up
Mystifying arena spoke nothing
Don't ask me any questions

A wry smile was stitched across my face
The devastating reality was something I hadn't expected
Give me some more time
I shall keep my promise
A promise to love you
A promise to take you in my journey

In a green forest I saw my dreams realize
The road went through them
Crush my soul , kill my soul

I lost control the moment of truth
In a numb moment I realized
I cried , I wanted to kill
But time heals every wound

The fantasy of dreams
Stoned mortals try to stand still
Trying to Remain high on hope
.... and high on dope !

My Soul is Tearing Apart....

When I was going through the dark phase
You assumed I was fine
Cause I never showed you my tears
And how much my heart was aching inside

We knew things were not right
But we couldn’t help it solve
Now you hold me responsible for everything
Even though deep inside you know
But if u don’t want to acknowledge it
I cant say further… no more…

(My Soul cant Take It Anymore....There is a calmness on my face but deep within...my soul is tearing apart....)

The End

There was a time
when i took interest
in loving-
in giving my everything
for that cause;
to live life at the edge of the roof...
on one hand
you can scream :
"woohoo! i'm at the top of the world!"
and on the other,
when you look down
from the sheer height,
you tremble, you fear
of falling down...
of being broken into a thousand pieces.

but now,
the world fleets by
like a movie on the silver-screen
and i
remain untouched by the subtle emotions
that used to make me
shiver, twitch, or
dance to its tunes.

sentiments make a man,
they say.
but i say...
strength makes a man
ambition makes a man
character makes a man.
it's not that i'm that man...
but i know the way
out of the miseries
is to see The End.

One who sees The End
makes his decisions more justfully.
he does not
waste his time
in the lanes that has no future
no Hope, no outcome.
he sees the Light
and goes for it...
the Light of Immortality
of Permanence.

But it is also true...
that
it is not important What one becomes in Life
but it is important How he becomes it...
some people may differ with me,
but i Believe
that no matter what you become at the end of the Day
if you do not go through the Hard Way,
you never realise its true value,
the true essence remains obscured
from your eyes.
as a result,
with the riches of a hundred kings,
you still remain unhappy, unsatisfied, unfulfilled.

in this huge world
there are very few people
who'd place their hands on their hearts
and say "I'm Happy."
everyone has a life
and also has a freedom to live it
in their own chosen way.
but when the things go wrong...
they only have their Ego to console them
of their decisions.
but in the core of their heart
they know
they're nothing but Losers.

Living life for the moment
maybe a key mantra of today's people
and most surprisingly,
they're right in the mantra
but wrong in its execution!
here is the explanation :

live life for the moment
but such
that you always know
that it goes on...
there's no use clinging to a belonging
because
nothing belongs to you,
they never did...
they just change hands,
sometimes the trump card lies in your hands
sometimes to another;
Life is not the trump card
Life is the table of the play
Life is the characters of the drama
Life is the stage where it happens.

take life as it comes to you,
without expectations, without attachments
without desires, without passions!

yes, without passions!
if you reflect properly,
you will see
that it is these passions
that drive us
from one corner to the other
like a rat in a closed room
screaming their lungs out
and sweating like a pig...
the passions elude us into the false hopes
that the earth would be our dreamland!
but the truth is
all lies in the word 'Dream'...
it is you who will have to Dream
it is you who will have to change
it is you who will attain peace
nothing will change for you
no matter how hard you try
and if you still go on
you'll end up in the lanes of despair,
of utter misery.

Rise.
The solution is in your hands.
Kill the passions!

You may argue
that it is those passions
that make us human.
i say:
i give a damn shit to being a human
if it means utter misery and pain
instead it's better to be inhumane
if it brings peace
if it brings stability
if it brings permanence.

my dear friends
you stand in a juncture of two roads...
one leads through a village-
a simple poor 'ambition-less' yet peaceful life
and the other through a metropolitan city-
a gorgeous flamboynt complex and uncertain life...
now that I've let you know The End
it is time,
you choose your destiny.

I wish you luck!

.

roj rater protarona jobab debo aaj
Tor jonne modhye ratrir modopaan
Hajar Hasir ektai uttor
Tor choker udashintoi hariye jao

Chander chadni te amar bhutni
Preyoshi tar birjota
Amar shunyo akashe ekta tara
Gopon kothar amod toke ghire

Aaj bhuter rajje dui nayikar sopno
Amar bedonai shongi tui
Abar beshe aasha gondher roktokhorron

Amar ar tor mostiker odhine
Kotha r bhanje ekta heyali
Nirobotar uttor kothai ?
Ami toh chai ni aar kichu .

~BLACK~

Evening sky
Depressed sun
Going down
Emerged
Into dark…

Sky is not black
It’s crimson
Colour of blood
Or, just sky?
Unsolved mystery
I cry……

Life
Blossoms at night
When
There is no light
Only
Passion is bright…

Night is rainbow
Of heaven
Or, hell?
Of passion
Or, pain?

Dark lanes
On earth…
On mind…
Earth suffocates
So am I…
Are you blind?

Your touch
Warm breath
You…
Oh hell!!!
You said,
“It’s heaven”!!!

“You are lost”
Says my brain

Creation
Or, destruction?
Pain
Or, passion?
Life
Goes on……

Night ends
Streetlamps went out
So as my shout…

I stop
My soul gets lost
Once again…
To my brain
Or, to pain?

It’s a new day
With nothing new
With another evening…
With another night…
Another fight…
Between my soul
And my mind…

I cry……

I cry
For my night…
My soul says
“Oh, save me”
I……….
Close my eyes
“Forgive me”

Photographs !

From Diwali along ...

From Diwali along ...

From Diwali along ...

From Diwali along ...

From Diwali along ...

From Diwali along ...

From Diwali along ...

From Diwali along ...

Went for a small break in Varanasi during the holidays
Here are some pictures taken by me.
Feel Free to comment.

A couple of lines :

"Alokito Sopne er majhe amar du muto shobbota
Shomay er duronto parabar e boshe abar bhabi
Jibon amar pashe jai boye
Abar hobe dekha ... dustrino parabar er sesh e "

Hidden Roses

[Confessions: I am sorry. This is terribly long. And it's not worth the effort to be read. So please overlook it! Thank you.]

"Yes? So, what is it?", I swept my eyes over the items in the menucard. We had a table at a corner. The restaurat saw less people that day.
The room was dimly lit. It was the mellow yellow light that had spinned its own magical web across the air.
"I don't want to waste time", Jia's voice was firm, as if with a forced overtone, "I am saying this to you because you are his friend. You are going to tell him this."
"What?", I went anxious.
"That I am already married."

I was wonderstruck. We spent the next half hour silently eating that evening. She avoided an eye-contact.

When we had finished and she took out her purse to pay the bill, I said softly "Can I ask you something?"
She was quiet.
"Why did you do this?"
"I don't know", she hurried through her words, as if deliberately trying to project each of them on an emotionless plane, "You may think whatever you wish to. I loved to spend time with him. My husband was out of town. Now he'll be back soon. If he knows, I'll be in deep trouble. Can you ask Ronir not to disclose anything?", she looked away, "That'll be quite a favour".

She looked to get up and leave. The waiter had left with the tip.
I looked at her eyes. They were as expressionless and still as frozen water. Shamelessly outspoken.

"Jia", I almost made her stop. She was walking away. "Did you love him?"
"No", she said firmly, "Ask him to forget me. Tell him that I am sorry. Our relationship never had a future."

She left.

I walked my way home that night. Ronir was my childhood buddy. And more, he was a child at his heart. I went numb to imagine how would he react to all this.
I remebered the moments when he first showed to me Jia's photograph, three months back, trying so naively to express exactly how much he loved her! He was so overjoyed to have finally found someone so special in his life. He told me stories. We had so many glasses of beer over them.

Ronir had never asked about Jia's past. Or, who she was once; ..what she did. He knew that she lived with her parents at an apartment near Juhu and had just completed her Masters'. That was enough for him. He believed her!


I told Ronir everything. He cried his heart out. I had never seen him cry so much before. His voice chocked. He wanted to phone her once. He had some questions. But, he feared. He was in awe that his tender feelings could well be dehydrated under the merciless fire of the girl's outspoken betrayal. He was such a soft guy!

"What are you going to do now?", I asked.
"Don't know, maybe, ..leave this place". He went silent for a while. His eyes were still liquid. "Every lane of this city is going to remind me of her, ..of the moments that we had spend together. We gelled so well! We went to the movies. We went to restaurants. I had planned a large gift for her. Next month had her birthday. But it's useless now".

I held his shoulder. He had gone so weak inside. "I think, you should look to forget her", I said.
"I hope I do that someday", he said, "But you know what, I would never be able to manage that I feel. She came and touched such stupid corners of my heart that I once kept so very only for myself! They have gone lonely now. Tell me Akaash, ..if she had to go away someday, why did she at all come?"
"Don't feel pain, brother", I insisted, "The whore cheated you. She was someone else' wife already. She never was yours. Why waste your emotions over something that never was, Ronir?"

Ronir left that day. He told me that he would meet me after a few weeks. He was leaving town. He said that he needed time to think the matter over.


And it was then when I suddenly got to contact Shenaz over an online chat at somenight.

Shenaz hapenned to know Jia.

"How's Ronir?", she asked.
"Your friend didn't do something very correct", I typed to her, "Ronir would take months to heal his wound. Girls are girls. I hate them."
"I don't get you", she answered, "What do you mean?"

I told her everything.
And then to my astonishment, she answered "My God! This is not true. The story is something else! Jia did something very naughty, then."
"She never told me that she said all that to you and Ronir", Shenaz typed, "Though I knew that she would say something. Do you know, she wets her pillow even today, every night, thinking of him and the hurt she has caused him. What she only wants now is, if Ronir could remember her, at least for the rest of his life. Though she believes mightily that it's never going to happen. She could do nothing about it. But I never knew that she degraded her image in your eyes! She doesn't deserve that. Here, read this."

She forwarded me an e-mail.
Jia hapenned to write it to Shenaz.

It said,
"You know how much we love each other. But the situation is getting worse day by day over the last one month. Baba wants me to marry somebody out of his own choice. You know how conservative my family is! I cajoled. I cried. I threatened to commit a suicide. But Baba has stayed fixed. My mom said nothing. Lucky me, that I had suspected all this before. I never told Ronir my own details. He never asked.
You know, I so very much want him to start his life afresh. He is such a good boy! He should be forgetting me. But he loves me so much, I don't know how am I going to make him do that.
I know Akaash. He's his friend. I think I should let him know everything. But I fear that if I tell him the truth, Ronir would be crushed. More so, because he'll feel my pain. He may also rush in and create a scene. I had always kept his existence a secret to my family. He's so impulsive, you know!
I want him to rejuvinate, Shenaz. To a new life. With new dreams. He should look ahead. I don't want him to hold on to a lost past. I want to see that boyish smile of his again. It was so very filled with an innocence! I fear that I have taken it away from him, forever."

I went dead silent after I completed reading this. Jia hapenned to know Ronir better than what I knew him to be! Perhaps, that was meant to happen in love.
Shenaz asked for my thoughts on the issue. She 'buzz'ed me five times on Yahoo Messenger, that night.
I logged out instead.


I met Ronir six months later. He contacted me and asked me to come to a party at his house. He was back at his uniquely jovial and simple mannerisms.
He beamed a smile at me and said, "Hey buddy, had to tell you something. I had met this pretty thing one month back", he showed to me another photograph. "I had told her everything. She asked me to forget the bitch. You know, she said exactly what you said that afternoon -- why fret over something that never was ? These things happen in life! Not that everybody you meet in your life comes out to be all good!"
He waited eagerly for my reaction then.

I saw love in him, that evening. As if it had returned by some magical ways.
But, I thought I also saw some unerasable stains of pain, insult and regret that he so desparately tried to hide behind his cloak of superficial satisfaction; -- a secret buried too carefully, perhaps only to be identified and understood by another man!

Ronir threw Jia away. But, I thought, he failed to throw away her love. It remained in him and it was all the same. Only that this time it taught Ronir how to hate!
"Just think what happens, if the right-one comes in my life now", he reasoned, "After I had wrongly loved the wrong-one so very much?"


I looked at his eyes. I never found Jia there at her own respectable self! My eyes desparately hankered for a minimum vestige of the girl. As if, whether she found even a small space in the radiance of the man she so deeply loved.

But I never saw the roses.

Still, ..I felt that somehow they were there!
Perhaps, they preffered to stay behind the curtains. Perhaps, they were quite justified in doing so. Perhaps, selfish mortal eyes didn't deserve to see their beauty!

Jia lived on. In Ronir's hate. Ronir lived on in Jia's love.
Both of them remained! The sour memories of those sweet moments remained.

Their roses remained, hence! ...the roses that were uniquely theirs!

"Yes", I nodded, "You are right! What's this gal's name anyway?", I said.

The Welcome Itch !

Check this out !!

We humans love to err, actually…
Doing a mistake,
We try to fog it up with excuses-
Excuses, that doesn’t really make any sense,
But suffice to create a fog
Where we can can hide our shameful face!

We say,
“I’ve learnt a great lesson…”
Alas! On the second next
We do it again… and suffer
From the same writhing agony.

Agony, yes… Agony, Pain & Sorrow
Seem to be our best friends!
Because,
No matter how much we suffer,
Sticking to the pain
Seems to have grown a habit…
We fall for it
Again, and again and again.

There is a subtle and sadistic joy
Even in this pain…
After a while of suffering,
It makes us forget what it is actually
And becomes an integral part of our lives.
Most amusingly,
We even find peace, a feeling of completeness
Burning in this agony!

The more it itches,
The more we scratch…
And, the more wounded
The poor bloody soul becomes;
Ironically, the more pleased we feel!
Again, it keeps up growing manifold,
Nourished by our encouragement…
Here goes the Cycle…
Until we find-
The Life is Spent,
Scratching the Itch…

A night- A Ghost- &, A Girl

Blue night
Dreams come…
Dreams gone…
A dark room,
And
A small red light…

A girl…
Sleeping……
Unconscious…
Dreaming deeply…
Smiling…
For
Someone special…

Innocence…
On her face,
Her dream
Makes her smile,
She doesn’t know
It’s fragile…

She was crying
Before sleeping
Then
She slept…
Frustration
Was on her face…

Night is ending
I touched her…
Wanted
To take her
To heaven…
But…
Her soul denies…

But,
It’s crying…
For refusing…

Poor girl
Come with me…
Avoid pain…
It’s insane…

She says…

“Happiness in pain…
Hope in pain…
Laughter in pain…
These are what
She seeks…

And

She knows…
She is insane…”

She says..

“Heaven doesn’t need her
So,
She chooses hell…
It’s her journey…
She wants to go
Alone…

In the light…
In the dark…
In hells sin…

Or,
In heavens spark…”

Oh!
I’ve to go…
It’s morning…
My destiny is calling…

She wakes up…
Saw the sky
The sun is bright…
She moves out of sight…

I pray…
I pray for her…
It’s a new day…
Hope she’ll find…
A new ray…
Which won’t
Make her blind…

Secret

Night.
Sounds silhouette silence.
Signs of clockwork,
Lanterns,
Cries,
Wrath,
Shackles.
All signs dissolved.
Into a bone cloaking froth.
Skin begins to sear.
Feet meander on winding roads
Craving for the mirror muffled
By a sense of emptiness.

Children sleep.
They must, or I will talk to them.
Sleep.
Wonderful sleep.
Dust ridden, sweaty sleep.
Under layers kept trim.
Fragments neatly swept under
The below.
An oblivion.

Words undulate,
Die, before they are strung together.
The gallows advanced.
Iron sooner, earth sooner.Fragments sooner.
Money sooner.
Neat, bloodless death.
Embryonic.
In the head.
Near eyes unreliable,
Hair useless,
Ears numb with silhouettes,
Bones bald, overwhelmed,
Limbs migrating.

Above, a sack of fragments
Asleep.
Above.
Passions injected,
Skin felt by skin,
Language washed out,
Eyes devouring,
Hands running over crevices,
Mouths sucking into emptiness.
Celebrating.
Bones clumped.
Blood flows.
Orderly, directed flow
And primitive rhythm.
Like children wallowing
In fresh bodies
With no memory, nor love.
Dust smiting them slowly.
Slow, like serendipity unnoticed.
Rain drenching them to the bone,
Skin yielding to the silvery percolation.
Greys intriguing.
Greys denied, loved for assumed absence.
Scars mild, camouflaged.
Wallowing in a psychedelic dream,
Almost sensual. Carnal, to the mind and body.

Lacerate my skin.
Shred my threads of order, flow and purpose.
Burn the numbness.
Singe the cysts.
Break me into a million pieces.

Litres of blood to resurrection,
Before the wake of the other psychedelic dream
Fresh psychedelic dream.

When You Divorce Me, Carry Me Out in Your Arms

THIS IS ONE OF THE MOST TOUCHING MAILS I HAVE READ....
HENCE I WANTED TO SHARE IT WITH YOU ALL
I KNOW ITS A LIL LONG BUT I AM SURE ITS WORTH READING....

HAS BEEN WRITTEN BY A HUSBAND
On my wedding day, I carried my wife in my arms. The bridal car stopped in front of our one-room flat. My buddies insisted that I carry her out of the car in my arms. So I carried her into our home. She was then plump and shy. I was a strong and happy bridegroom.

This was the scene ten years ago.

The following days were as simple as a cup of pure water: we had a kid; I went into business and tried to make more money. When the assets were steadily increasing, the affection between us seemed to ebb. She was a civil servant. Every morning we left home together and got home almost at the same time. Our kid was studying in a boarding school.
Our marriage life seemed to be enviably happy. But the calm life was more likely to be affected by unpredictable changes.

Dew came into my life.

It was a sunny day. I stood on a spacious balcony. Dew hugged me from behind. My heart once again was immersed in her stream of love. This was the apartment I bought for her.Dew said, you are the kind of man who best draws girls' eyeballs. Her words suddenly reminded me of my wife. When we were just married, my wife said, Men like you, once successful, will be very attractive to girls.Thinking of this, I became somewhat hesitant. I knew I had betrayed my wife. But I couldn't help doing so. I moved Dew's hands aside and said you go to select some furniture, O.K.? I've got something to do in the company. Obviously she was unhappy, because I had promised to do it together with her.
At the moment, the idea of divorce became clearer in my mind although it used to be something impossible to me.However, I found it rather difficult to tell my wife about it. No matter how mildly I mentioned it to her, she would be deeply hurt.Honestly, she was a good wife. Every evening she was busy preparing dinner. I was sitting in front of the TV. The dinner was ready soon. Then we watched TV together. Or, I was lounging before the computer, visualizing Dew's body. This was the means of my entertainment.

One day I said to her in a slightly joking way, suppose we divorce, what will you do? She stared at me for a few seconds without a word. Apparently she believed that divorce was something too far away from her. I couldn't imagine how she would react once she got to know I was serious.
When my wife went to my office, Dew had just stepped out. Almost all the staff looked at my wife with a sympathetic eye and tried to hide something while talking to her. She seemed to have got some hint. She gently smiled at my subordinates. But I read some hurt in her eyes.
Once again, Dew said to me, He Ning, divorce her, O.K.? Then we live together. I nodded. I knew I could not hesitate any more. When my wife served the last dish, I held her hand. I've got something to tell you, I said. She sat down and ate quietly. Again I observed the hurt in her eyes. Suddenly I didn't know how to open my mouth. But I had to let her know what I was thinking. I want a divorce. I raised the serious topic calmly.

She didn't seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly, why?
I'm serious. I avoided her question. This so-called answer made her angry.

She threw away the chopsticks and shouted at me, you are not a man!That night, we didn't talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage. But I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer, because my heart had gone to Dew.With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement, which stated that she could own our house, our car, and 30% stake of my company. She glanced at it and then tore it into pieces. I felt a pain in my heart.

The woman who had been living ten years with me would become a stranger one day. But I could not take back what I had said.Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer and clearer.Late that night, I came back home after entertaining my clients. I saw her writing something at the table. I fall asleep fast. When I woke up, I found she was still there. I turned over and was asleep again.

She brought up her divorce conditions: she didn't want anything from me, but I was supposed to give her one month s time before divorce, and in the month's time we must live as normal a life as possible. Her reason was simple: our son would finish his summer vacation a month later and she didn't want him to see our marriage was broken.

She passed me the agreement she drafted, and then asked me, He Ning, do you still remember how I entered our bridal room on the wedding day? This question suddenly brought back all those wonderful memories to me. I nodded and said, I remember.

"You carried me in your arms, she continued, so, I have a requirement, that is, you carry me out in your arms on the day when we divorce. From now to the end of this month, you must carry me out from the bedroom to the door every morning".
I accepted with a smile. I knew she missed those sweet days and wished to end her marriage romantically. I told Dew about my wife s divorce conditions. She laughed loudly and thought it was absurd. No matter what tricks she does, she has to face the result of divorce, she said scornfully. Her words more or less made me feel uncomfortable.My wife and I hadn't had any body contact since my divorce intention was explicitly expressed. We even treated each other as a stranger.

So when I carried her out on the first day, we both appeared clumsy. Our son clapped behind us, daddy is holding mummy in his arms. His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the sitting room, then to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms. She closed her eyes and said softly, Let us start from today, don't tell our son. I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside the door. She went to wait for a bus, I drove to the office.

On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my chest. We were so close that I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realized that I hadn't looked at this intimate woman carefully for a long time. I found she was not young any more. There were some fine wrinkles on her face.

On the third day, she whispered to me, the outside garden is being demolished. Be careful when you pass there.

On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I seemed to feel that we were still an intimate couple and I was holding my sweetheart in my arms. The visualization of Dew became vague.

On the fifth and sixth day, she kept reminding me something, such as, where she put the ironed shirts, I should be careful while cooking, etc. I nodded. The sense of intimacy was even stronger. I didn't tell Dew about this.I felt it was easier to carry her. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger. I said to her, It seems not difficult to carry you now. She was picking her dresses. I was waiting to carry her out. She tried quite a few but could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed, all my dresses have grown bigger. I smiled. But I suddenly realized that it was because she was thinner that I could carry her more easily, not because I was stronger. I knew she had buried all the bitterness in her heart.
Again, I felt a sense of pain. Subconsciously I reached out a hand to touch her head.Our son came in at the moment. Dad, it's time to carry mum out. He said. To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had been an essential part of his life. She gestured our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned my face because I was afraid I would change my mind at he last minute.

I held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly, as if we came back to our wedding day. But her much lighter weight made me sad.

On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. She said, actually I hope you will hold me in your arms until we are old.I held her tightly and said, both you and I didn't notice that our life lacked intimacy.

I jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my decision. I walked upstairs. Dew opened the door. I said to her, Sorry, Dew, I won't divorce. I'm serious.She looked at me, astonished. The she touched my forehead. You got no fever. She said. I moved her hand off my head. Sorry, Dew, I said, I can only say sorry to you, I won't divorce. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn't value the details of life, not because we didn't love each other any more. Now I understand that since I carried her into the home, she gave birth to our child, I am supposed to hold her until I am old. So I have to say sorry to you.Dew seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears.

I walked downstairs and drove to the office.When I passed the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet for my wife which was her favorite. The salesgirl asked me what to write on the card.
I smiled and wrote,""" I'll carry you out every morning until we are old."'"""

Once upon a time there lived a chicken called Pox. her body was dotted with red spots and she looked quite pretty in them. Her parents were surprised when she was born as none in her family had a dotted body. The mother thought, "Wow!! our Pox is so beautiful! She must go for the Most Adorable Chicken Prize!" Her father exclaimed, "She broke our family tradition!" Her brothers and sisters kept staring at her, now and then said, "Weirdo!"
Then one day a group of farmers saw it and thought tht the chicken must be suffering from some disease and parted it from other chickens. Pox was really very sad. She cried tht it wasnt her fault! it wasnt really...but human beings doesnt ever accept anything new as good.

A few decades later, people suffered from low grade fever with mid headache and weakness. it was very infectious as many people got the symptoms simulyaneously...Suddenly they discovered tht their whole bodies are covered with red itchy lumps! How horrible they looked! An old man who was one among the group of farmers who saw Pox, announced tht he saw a chicken once with red spots all over her body and her name was Pox. this must be the same disease. SO from then onwards the disease came to be known as CHICKEN POX!

.

In darkness
A voice speaks out
The bleak image runs wild
A moment of sudden madness

To be or not to be, that is the question —
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,

Troubled arena claps at your arrival
Time wanted to fold itself
Around your arms

Treacherous veins flow in impure emotions
The colour is fading
Charm of piper haunts

Rattled stone hits the roof
In a tin can , I kept my treasure
Behind closed eyes

Locked in Mesmerz

Locked In Mesmerz


Waking up locked within dreams;
The Incandescent irony of truth and reality
The flawless cravings of an ideal tomorrow -
Built upon the faux hope of living through death.

In the blazing fire of the monster temple -
Forced from the third floor and on to the green bed.
Waking up in the hospital from a torrential earthquake
And still wondering about the fire stealth.

Menstruating ones thoughts of recurring desires,
Of pain and trauma of overwhelming happiness.
Lost among the innumerable strands of illusions
Caressing and cursing ones own existence

Read the rest of the poem at:
http://shamasis.blogspot.com/2006/10/locked-in-mesmerz.html

...

It's Raining

It’s green
It’s dark
It’s raining

Silence
Everywhere…

In mind???

One, two
Drops…
Of rain…
Of tear…

Night…
Music…
Of mystery…
Of life…
Of death…
Of dark…
Of light???

Rebirth
Or
Another journey?
Towards death…
Death of life…
Death of image…
Death of faith…

Images…
Fades away…
People…
Grew up…
Loneliness…
Becomes friend…
A new ray…
Towards life…
Towards heart…
Oh hell!!!
These hurt…

Sky
Crying…
Stupid
It’s raining…

October - Month of Celebrations....

PS - Posting in suggestion given by Euphoric Dreamz..:-)))

.

AwAy FrOm SuRLy BoNdS oF EaRtH....

Away from surly Bonds of earth
Hoping to get new Life after death
To see the World up next
To see the space crafts moving away from Earth
Connecting places far from the Earth

But the saddest thing for me will be I wont Exist
Hoping for New life after death

To see the inventions made by the scientists
But the saddest thing for me will be I wont exist
From Ash to Ash
and there I will remain,
Only sweet memories
That will retain,
For me I wont be able to see the whole new world
As the saddest thing for me will be I wont exist
Hence hoping for new life after death

Away from this worldly stage
Leading my role and passing away
For death will lay its icy hands on me
Away from surly bonds of earth
Hoping to get new life after death.

Whisper of a Dead Soul

The night
The moon
And you…

You…
Walking slowly…
Empty mind,

Alone…

So near
Yet
So far…

Don’t cry…
Stay here
To see
Worlds’ cry!!!

Crying……
Can they???
It’s death…

Itz dark,
Itz black,
Blackhole?

Itz life
Living death…
Hell?
Or just,
Not heaven…

Come here
Sit once…
Can you?

Tell me
Can you?
Only you?

I wish…
You can,
You wish
You can…
Time wishes
You can’t

Cold night…
Cold touch…
Your touch…
So cold!!!

Dreams…
Broken…

My graveyard…
White flowers…
Tears…

But you
Come here
Feel me…

Can you???

Blue night…
Winds blow…
Dry leaves…

It’s me…

Stretch
Your hands…
And…
Listen…

It says…
Something…

Listen…

It says...

My heart
Still beats…

For love…
For life…
For you…

The Nature's Rhythm...

Rhythm is a fundamental property of motion. You may sometimes refer to it as Periodicity and sometimes as Music! But overall it is the same... it is anything that repeats itself and has a particular personality of its own.

Yes, Personality is the word. This may sound weird, but it is this intricate difference that makes one rythm different from the other. Take as an example, the rhythm of the waves crashing onto the sea beaches.

For the one who has been staying for a while at the beach, it becomes as close to his heart and mind as the rhythm of his own heart and breath. There's a little gap of anticipation when gradually the water collects itself, then forms a huge hillock and then with a loud impulsive, yet extensive crash it smears the golden beaches with gurgling white water... just like warm milk spilled over a toasted bread... it engulfs the bread to such an extent that for a moment the milk and the bread become One.

The waters of the sea engulfs the vicinity with such a force that it's lust for the land becomes so evident, the unbreakable relation between them is stamped with authority in this action. But when the water recedes, there's another sound... like a sublime cry... an intense passion of pain of two lovers growing apart, both of them unable to unclasp their hands and in that effort they end up tearing them apart... tearing up their souls for the cause.

Can you hear it, can you feel it... are you not getting drenched in their tears, are you not blown away by their sighs which you always feel at the beaches... well, I can. My ears are still filled up by this dual music of the sea, a part of the Nature's Rhythm.

Another instance is that of the Rain.

The Rain's difference in the rhythm lies in its frequency. Wait, dont think its haphazard... on the otherhand Rain is not a simple guy... he has a multi-dimensional personality! So much so that there are hidden layers of music in its so called fast-paced rhythm.

Rain unfolds itself to you depending upon you mindset. It's like a friend who soothes you no matter how you feel. His voice seems fiiling your heart with joy, all the things it touches makes a sound of applausal, of celebration when you're happy. It seems like the whole town is dancing with you while the jostling and merry host is the rain itself. He arranges a surprise party for you, the most enjoyable and self-less one...

And, while you're in a doleful mode, the rain not only lends you a shoulder to cry into, but like an understanding friend hides your wails from the public with the sound of its consolation. And even, if you let the rain touch you then, it will wipe off the tears from your tender cheeks with the tears of its own! I wonder who else in this whole wide world will be such a friend who serves you expecting nothing for himself. Atleast to me, the Rain has been giving the greatest emotional support over the ages...

The Nature's Rhythm is intense. But you only need to have the ears to listen to it.

~~--------------~~

This was originally not meant to be written as a post. I was just writing a lazy email to one of my friends. But I thought, "Whoa! Long time I haven't posted anything in SFTH!" So I gave in again to my laziness and just copy-pasted it from that email. So guyz, please dont mind if this is kinda cheap in the garland of the beautiful flowers of posts that you've been quite successfully composing...

10 RULES FOR A BLESSED DAY

1. TODAY I WILL NOT STRIKE BACK . . .
If someone is rude, if someone is impatient, if someone is unkind, I
will not respond in a like manner.

2. TODAY I WILL ASK GOD TO BLESS MY 'ENEMY'
If I come across someone who treats me harshly or unfairly, I will
quietly ask God to bless that individual. I understand "enemy" could be
a family member, neighbor, co-worker or stranger.

3. TODAY I WILL BE CAREFUL ABOUT WHAT I SAY . . .
I will carefully choose and guard my words being certain that I do not
spread gossip.

4. TODAY I WILL GO THE EXTRA MILE . . .
I will find ways to help share the burden of another person.

5. TODAY I WILL FORGIVE . . .
I will forgive any hurts or injuries that come my way.

6. TODAY I WILL DO SOMETHING KIND FOR SOMEONE, (BUT I WILL DO IT IN
SECRET . . . )
I will reach out anonymously and bless the life of another.

7. TODAY I WILL TREAT OTHERS THE WAY I WISH TO BE TREATED . . .
I will practice the golden rule. "Do Unto others as I would have them do
unto me"- with EVERYONE I encounter.

8. TODAY I WILL RAISE THE SPIRITS OF SOMEONE WHO IS DISCOURAGED . . .
My smile, my words, my expression of support, can make the difference to
someone who is wrestling with life.

9. TODAY I WILL NURTURE MY BODY . . .
I will eat less . . . I will eat only healthy foods. I will thank God
for my body.

10. TODAY I WILL GROW SPIRITUALLY . . .
I will spend a little more time in prayer today. I will begin reading
something spiritual or inspirational; I will find a quiet place (at some
point during this day) and listen to God's voice.

Luke 10:27
He answered: " 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all
your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind'; and, 'Love
your neighbor as yourself.'"

Luke 10:27
We learn three principles about loving our neighbor: (1) lack of love is
often easy to justify, even though it is never right; (2) our neighbor
is anyone of any race, creed, or social background who is in need; and
(3) love means acting to meet the person's needs.
Wherever you live, there are needy people close by. There is no good
reason for refusing to help.

Remember, today is a gift from God so treat it preciously

( I was surfing net...suddenly saw this article.....thought to share this in sfth)

Add + to ur life

Positive thinking can help one very much. How? Let me explain. On the day of an examination(for e.g maths) the students are generally tensed very much. They think," oh! what would happen if i cannot answer a single question or i forget all tht i have learnt and practised! oh !!!!" well this is the way atleast my friends think beofre our maths exam. You can see how they think negative. they lose all confidence and count themselves as the worst of all. while giving the exam when they see a little tough question they get soo much frightened tht they go wrong even with the easy sums. they forget tht they have some brains too with the help of which they can ezily answer the question in the question paper. thus u see how they fail to achieve success.
The same happens in real life too. Most of us think tht we dont have any talent so we wont be able to do anything good or successful. We underestimate our abilities. We forget that Nature has given all of us the legs hands five senses and the power to think. even then only few of us are successful in our lives and are remembered for hundreds of years. Why? What's the mystery of their success? Noone is born wise, wisdom is made. then why only THEY have happiness, laughter in their lives?
one day i was reading a book of Shiv Khera and on the cover of book it was wriiten--
" Winners dont do different things, they do things differently."
This rang a bell in my head and i realized tht THIS IS THE ANSWER!!! Yes the successful see the lives in a different way. Thts why they are successful. Thts why they are different from the rest. THEY HAVE A POSITIVE ATTITUDE TOWARDS LIFE. they think they can be succesful and so they are. Our fault is tht we never think tht its us who are building our future not some unseen hands. WE are the one who choose how we would live. if we think tht i will be sad and wont be ever successful then the thoughts will prove to be true. but if we say tht YES I CAN then there is noone in this whole universe to stop us from being the WINNERS. once when we do make a mistake we think tht "see i cant do it. this is not for me. i cant do anything in life coz i have failed once and i fear tht i wont be successful again. " Hah! We are soo stupid!! Learn from ur mistakes and just go ahead. have the courage to face challenges. Dont lose the game before it even starts. Just keep one thing in mind ----

I WILL DO IT BECAUSE I CAN!

Friends

TO LOVE : the journey continues...

Section 6. My Last Letter to Mayaa...

Projecting love wrongly.

A delinquency done.

I never knew how to love.

The Blue of the depth, we thought our love had

And the Green of longeveity,

Mayaa,

Are fast losing their colours...

And the moonbeam now wavers

Only as a figment of my naive imagination.

"What might be a joke for you might be an object of utmost seriousness..."

My heavy eyes

Drop a few silent tears on your breasts..

My tired head resting on your bosom;

..My heart dissected

With the scissors of logical categorisations..

Can you hear me, Mayaa? ..Tell me. ..Where do I go now?

Love was always a joke to us, wasn't it Mayaa?
We laughed together. We cried together. We rested in each others' cool shadows when Time halted for a few moments, in its fast journey, by mistake..


This series was not an insult towards Love. It was just a trial to crack down the devil scientifically.
May be, there are two ways to view this world. Emotionally and scientifically. With your warm heart. With your analizing mind.

The Heart tends to integrate. The Mind wants to disintegrate.

A photographer knows that when the angle of a shot is changed, it doesn't change the object itself...

And it's not that the person who cares to take a picture from an odd angle doesn't know how to take it straight...

Love.

Was always a joke to me, yes!

A Black Humour.

..Which has always taught me....

that, ..it's all a matter of coming and going in this world, and attaching so much unnecessary importance to the days in between.

We are all going to perish one day. Why try to 'explain' an 'emotion' then? And what harm is to try and 'explain' an 'emotion' then? Everything is so impermanent. And hence, so insignificant.

Impermanent are we.

And hence, imperfect.

The Orange morning sky makes to us a promise. Onto which we cling so dearly.

Till,

The imperfect soil

Makes us understand

That it's just another of a stupid life

We look to live...

What is love other than a few hormonal secretions? What else is the heart other than a stupid, monotonous machine that continues to pump blood in and out of our lives, without any valid reasons...

Love rendered insignificant? In our hearts, does the quest ever end?

And it's just this 'practical' part that I had tried to break and peep into...
Just may be to find, that can a scientific explanation help us reduce the infinite pain we get? ..May be, just on a trial to find some answers that the heart itself has always cared us not to give.

You know, the minds had always tried to insult. And more so when it's an emotion under their scanner. Only a few experiments it observes and draws a few conclusions -- which are never right!

Science is never right.

It only models.

And modelling is, perhaps, the only way to simplify..

And there are always new, subsequent theories coming up to 'explain' wherever the previous ones go inadequate.
Quantum mechanics came like that. Einstein's 'velocity correction' of Newton was nothing but that.
Century old theories, ..Classical mechanics, Newton's laws -- thought to be correct!

"The centre of my own Universe

Am I,

Creating enchanting dreamworlds..."

"To broaden my horizon

And to take others' views in...?"

Yes. That's how Images are transformed to Reality. The Magic Realism originating from our fallibility expands to form the Ultimate Vision...

But how could such heavenly light be created, if other fellow modellers do not join in?

Many will fail. I failed. And now I know "at least one way in which I cannot make a bulb."

And someday, someway

Wouldn't an Edison care to come up to mend my broken bulb?

Would ever Love's Logic and Emotion be confluenced to take the flow path of Philosophy?

Why not start now...? Why not let us try...? ..Because each one of us holds some unrevealed stories to tell.

"Can you tell what another person is thinking? You can only assume."
: ) : ) It's only this that quantifications are always tried to be made universal.

But I forget that I had ended up with a broken bulb!

I forget that even in today's world, poets refuse to be scientists! ..Even for just a while!

May be, it's too much of a wastage of energy that I had asked from them, Mayaa...

If only repititive art-pieces could save our Love... and on 'practical' grounds...!

And all this while, what I will be left with is a few shattered pieces of my brainchild, that will always care to remind me that I didn't know how to love...

If you only could forgive me, Mayaa..!

Dream of a Girl

Don’t come to me

Don’t look at me…

Why do you?

Am I going insane?

When the moon

Give rays

On earth,

On my memory lane…

The touch

I treasure…

Do I really?

Or it’s just pleasure?

Sometimes… sometimes… sometimes… we can’t control… or may be, we don’t want to control!!! Our brain and our heart both indulge in a war… a war of to be or not to be… but still everything happens… because it happens… because it is destined to happen…

The deep blue night

Two souls became one

Or, two half souls?

Is it true that when two persons love each other (as lover) they become one soul? But, the devilish truth behind this word is when two souls become one then the result is two half souls… pardon me… correct me… if you find it wrong…

Differences erased

By our brains…

And,

Our brains united…

Our souls didn’t.

I cried…

But

Then I couldn’t…

Lips locked

I’m locked inside you

My soul didn’t lock…

But your soul was screaming

“PLEASE DON’T GO!”

I sacrificed…

Everything I possess

“You are insane”

My heart says-

To my brain…

Prince Charming, Romeo, and loads…

A girl grow up… with a dream, that one day her Prince Charming will come riding a horse to take her with him…

The girl grows up… becomes a lady… a women… becomes successful… professionally very successful… but the dream is still young… as it was the 1^st day.. When she read “mills and boons”… or “love story” first time…

But … but… but…

One day she saw her dreams are smashed… she saw that her dreams are smashed… and she is sleeping with a man… a successful man… a loving boyfriend… partner… or husband… but not his Prince Charming!!!

The Slap of Reality!!!

(I apologize to everyone for this weird post... actually last night suddenly this post comes to my mind from some thing...please bother this post..or don't bother...)

.

The music was divine
The moment was spootless
But where were you ?
For heavens , give a twinkle
The heavy sound
Sounded sweet
I knew you would not say ..
Sweet sensations are between us
Why did it rain ?
Why did I cry ?
I could not answer you back
I could not measure life
A spotless mind looks good
But where is the beauty of rubbish
Mistakes always happen
We are all human
I love the rhythm in your smiles
They haunt me so often
You wait for sunshine
I weep for the sunset
If it was a game
why did we play it ?
No answers
Silence haunts me
You knew I was lost
you never cared to show me the way
A selfish soul never waited for you all this days
I am wide awake in my sleep
I am searching to memories to delete
I haven't slept for a while
Wide open are the doors
refusal to look inside
Do not speak
Do not spoil the divine moment
Can I kill you ?
Like all conspiring lovers !
I will , in due time
Like a dreaded dream
I run back to you
addiction to a smile of yours hurts me a lot
Broken glasses I said could not be repaired
But I melted them and re casted them
What next ?
I answer my questions
Why don't you answers your own tragedies

Closed chapter with misplaced pages
Progress is stalled in a quite corner
Blind sarcasms are no longer funny
Call me back to the attic
Push me down
I am fragile
I am bound to break in the impact
But I shall return with an answer
If you ask a question !