Echo

It is not easy to let go, to take it all in and not even flinch. When I say it doesn’t matter, it matters all the more and how I wish you knew. That you understood that this silent uneasiness screams into me and I know into you as well.

It is not easy to let go when you’ve made promises. It hurts when you are cold. When you just don’t realize that all I need is a little bit of your warmth. It hurts when you walk away. From yourself. From me.

It is not easy to wait, when I know I can’t have you back. I never shall. It’s funny how every time this irresolute realm stretches to the wideness which neither you nor I can encompass. Taking it in is an intricate concept now.

It is not easy to be not scared. To not step back and turn away. It seems an irrational thing now of what was and what is. Yes, I’m afraid of losing you. Unsuspecting if I’ve already lost you. I could have.

It is not easy to feel good and not think about you. It is not easy to move ahead and not want to have you by my side. It feels empty. It feels ruthless and unfair. It feels like a battle fought without purpose. It feels like coming back to an empty house and never having back that little home.

It is not easy to believe that you are happy without me. That when you say life goes on you really don’t cringe within. To believe that you have indeed grown up and I haven’t. That I still find my little goldfish in a bowl fascinating.

It is not easy to sit back and put all those strewn pieces together again. For some pieces though wearyingly aligned, cannot put back the picture together again ‘cause some pieces still remain crumpled up in your tightened fist. And I know I shall never have them back.

No Rides For Free...

There are no rides for free
We flock to the one
Who’s known for the best deal.
One day we have the sun
Most days we don’t…
We whine we whimper
We dance to the faintest of tunes
Oblivious to the distant storm.

We dream a dream
Of what seems real
And what it is not…
We sing of yellow flowers
Of lovely maidens
Living in a far away land…
We weave our story
Around what exists not.

We thrive. We breathe.
We live: for that’s what
We're here for.
We hum. We plead.
We praise our savior
In our times of need.
This is our paradise.
Or is this our life?

We care not if it’s indigo
Or the mushy lilac hue.
We care not if its day
Or a dark magical mystic night.
We ho-hum all the way
Not halt for a moment to ask
Is that where we’re headed to…
Or is this where we belong?

Because of You...

Darling look high above
The sky glows for you
The night sings to you
It’s all because of you…

Touch a star
And see it shine
It’s your dream
And it all shall be true…

Look inside
You’ll feel it grow
That faith of mine
Holding on to you…

The night whispers
Look how it smiles to you
It wants to be with you
Darling it’s all because of you…

(Written for a special someone when I was 17)

My falling star did not grant me my wish
It crashed so bad...

I had only wished it just saved itself...

Of Knots and More...

You must remember that if you have been forgotten you haven’t really been erased completely. In a dynamic context, you have just been kept aside to may be, yes may be, be brought up if and when the need arises. Inanimate though it may sound but such are the ways of people and there is very little that you can do about it.

You might yourself have forgotten people but this does not mean that you wouldn’t be happy to have them back. Therefore you haven’t really written them off your life. You see the difference. It’s just a temporary trend.

Take a piece of string. Coil it round your fingers and then tie a knot. Try pulling your fingers; you only end up tightening the knot. No matter how much you pull, no matter how hard you pull, the knot only tightens and if you try pulling back more strongly, the string snaps. The only way to put the string together again is by making another knot.

And knots indicate instability. They hint at struggle. At conflicts. They tell you that an attempt has been made here to undo things gone awry. That things have not really been very fine here. So do not try pulling at fragile continuities. The knot once formed remains. And worse still, they end up multiplying if bothered any further.

Being forgotten tends towards those knots. Having been erased is the knot formed.

You need not analyze your life based upon your knot counts. That would be naïve. For their formation is obligatory. The knots tell you of how life has been and how it should be ahead. They urge you to strive towards perfection.

The road towards perfection itself can never be just perfect. There will be deviations, severe differences within and with all, at times there will be obvious departures from the path chosen for not so obvious reasons-all of them misleading you and you drift away. And as you do so you know something is amiss. You know you need to get back. To what you were supposed to do. To what you’ve always wanted to do. To your chosen path to perfection .Without these trends perfection cannot be attained. Goals cannot be achieved. Aspirations cannot be justified. Opportunities cannot be optimized. Hopes cannot be tangibly assured.

So the knots formed on your road to perfection are crucial. And as mentioned earlier this clearly indicates that you’ve struggled-you’ve fought your way to perfection. So if knots are unnecessary when it comes to our emotional realm, their vitality is manifested in other spheres of our lives. And this sphere of influence can in no way be undervalued. One thing that needs to be understood is how hard you pull your string. For strings snap. Sometimes very easily.

So pull your string accordingly. Form your knots where and when the need arises. Undo them. Form the knots again. Only then is the loop completed. However, it isn’t all about knots after all. There always is more to it…

On your Birthday.

My flower of the day dropped its petals forgotten.
In the evening it ripens into a golden fruit of memory.

-Tagore
Stray Birds.

I am but only a reader reading your poems years after they first breathed. And yet I can feel that living joy and the glad voice which once must have echoed somewhere within you.

8th May.

Backdrop

The skies were a detached grey. The winds whispered secrets into the air and the trees intimately drew close to each other in order to listen to things that concerned them not. A sullen grumbling cloud wanted to tear itself open and finally let go. It towed along anyways. Hopeful. Some more fluffy grey fellows dragged behind.

It wasn’t really an impregnated state. There was motion. You could feel it flow. Within you and outside. But the horizons pulled back, moving away…expanding nothingness.

The winds tried to flirt with careless locks and the locks played along. Constantly being tucked behind by a conformist, they fought for their free space. The eyes tried avoiding confrontation, they were too hallowed to vandalize.

And in the midst of unplanned chaos the lover sang his song. A song of acute longing, of loss and of a yearning that could contract the being within. A song which beseeched the sun to shine and which implored time to rewind. A song which longed for tranquility.

As night stepped in stealthily, the obviousness of it was silently drawn in. The winds ceased and a lifeless calmness took over. A dead and unfinished picture finally captured. The clouds moved away for the stars to flicker. And a shy moon snuggled high up above. Breathing silently. While its loneliness hid behind a shield of never ending distance.

In control

I’ve always liked to believe that I’m totally capable of living my life on my own terms. I’ve always lived with this idea that irrespective of people, situations, emotions or chance it is me and only me who can make things happen in my life. Or simply put who can rework things in my life. This rigidity has lived so long with me now that even if I were to revise my belief I’d end up coming back to where I’d begun.

I do not know about the absolute accuracy of this idea of mine and fortunately or unfortunately I see no way in which I can get hold of any explicit verification measures. Of the little I’ve seen and been through I see no reason why I should make myself think otherwise.

True, we meet people; go through situations – both pleasant and unpleasant; face oppositions; live in doubt and fear; hold onto things that are constantly slipping away; experience insecurities and so much more. Yes, we do get affected in due course but if scrutinized to the micro level I’m sure even you’d agree that we actually let all this happen to us. More importantly we all know that at some point life had surely given us a chance where we could just halt, stand firmly and tell ourselves that we don’t need any of this clutter and save ourselves then and there. We always are given that one chance. However, the beings that we are and the love that we hold for over-rating life and its events, we fail to look at the simplified part of the entire process.

Thus, being miserable, discontented and scared. When all that we needed was a moment of firmness. I do not know if things are that simple or not but I’m sure that things ain`t that complicated either. We always have the freedom to live our lives our way. And that is how it should be.

I advocate for a complete individual control over one’s life. Irrespective of any thing what so ever. The decision to take the next step should be a personal one. Sound advices should be incorporated along the way but the power to control should reside with no one but me.

I wish...

I think I want to own a house in the mountains. A small cottage maybe. Get myself a German shepherd. Convince The Guy to come along somehow. Listen to some good music. Become a great cook. Read all the books I’ve always wanted to.

I still can’t decide if I’m addicted to tea or coffee. So by this year end, I need to get one thing straight - a clear demarcation between tea and coffee. Yes. Yes. Yes.

I wish I was an Arabian princess like Jasmine maybe. And I wish my guy owned a flying carpet, a blue genie and…that would suffice I guess.
Life would be fun. So much fun. We would roam the deserts, hunt for emeralds and rubies, fight the bad guys and yes occasionally save the kingdom too. Me in that pretty blue dress please. Hehe…

I don’t think I like this concept of exams anymore. Not that I ever did. But how I wish I could walk up to the King of my land and ask him to do away with exams. But I’m sure even he would look at me as unbelievably as my dad did when I told him about comparative literature. Now that’s a different story altogether folks! (Later, maybe.)

Remember those coloring books from kindergarten. The ones where we were asked to rub crayons on some round figures. Apples. Oranges. Round faces. Usually on lazy afternoons. After lunch. What fun boy what fun!!! I want to do that again. Oh how I want to do that again.

I wish I could blow up my college. BOOM !!!
With the professors, dope-heads, the stupid clerk who refuses to accept fines and the Aquaguard machine which never works.
Oh how I wish…

And I really don’t have a reason for scribbling all this. DUH !!!!

Please papa...

“I don’t like it here papa…I just don’t”

“There are very few places in this world darling that can actually proclaim your acceptance and likeness…”

“World is a big word you know, papa…”

“And you have seen none of it…not yet…”

“Will you ever let me papa…will you ever let me leave your hand and walk on my own? Will you ever let me stumble and get up to walk again…on my own?”

“People yearn for protection do you know that…it’s not wise to project your ignorance. Only a fool can ask for a fall when people around are willing to raise him…to a pedestal even he hasn’t imagined for himself.”

“Then why push him beyond his imaginations…why not let him dream for himself…why not, papa?”

“Not every one is capable of dreaming big.”

“And who decides the limits papa…who?”

“Dreams have no limits…they are not measured…”

“Well…if they don’t, then how can my dream be smaller than yours…why compare them if they are not measurable…?”

“No one’s comparing them dear…we are just helping you…protecting you. That is all.”

“Your help chokes me papa…your protection holds me back…it grasps me so tight…I can’t break free papa…I don’t like it here…”

“You understand nothing dear…someday you shall…”

“Yes papa…I don’t understand. And how I wish I had never tried understanding.”