fake plastic trees....

if life had been just the same.... trees that don't really fall. windows that aren't really broken. leaves that are no longer blown. magic that never gets lost..... the blood was ligther i guess. n’ i never really knew how the density increased eventually when my reports said my haemoglobin was sinkin’ below normal. but that’s not the point. the point is.... what made it feel so heavy. for then i started to feel all so very strongly that everythin’ else was pilin’ up inside me. i was partially scared to cut myself the other day. i didn’t want to. probably an ode to my “logical” side. i found it funny though i thought about it. i wanted to let it out.

the worst part of forgettin’ things isn’t really the forgettin’ part but not at all realizin’ what is forgotten. i mean just a thought. probably things would have been atleast somewhat better if not perfectly figured out. when you knew exactly what you forgot. but it doesn’t happen. but the worst part of rememberin’ is that you remember it all the time till you forget it. n’ you possibly remember nothin’ more.

n’ when i tried to get hold of what had happened.... i just couldn’t remember what did i forget. but all i got were snapshots of 400 days as if that was the only part n’ everythin’ else was not even vague but complete blank. i could only remember the torn out pieces of the thermocol which comes out in small spheres. those were probably my dolls. paper rings which break up so easily starts flyin’ in the night sky.... n’ i went on growin’ those fake plastic trees hopin’ for a bud not only to show up but also to blossom. i wonder how did i do it... but i did.

with just a hopeless hope for 1 day which bears the power of makin’ me forget all those 400 days.... forgettin’ in the way that you don’t even remember what you forgot. do fake plastic trees even grow.... let alone bloomin’ flowers! are paper rings worn on the fingers?

       

it’s not how much more i’ve paid for all i forgot or remembered than the other.... but it’s the temporary phase in which i remain has made me immensely poor for what i remember i forget sometime later n’ what i forget i remember again. it’s the price of my poetic memory i’ve paid more than often which has mainly succeeded in renderin’ me into a man of timeless debts.

       

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i wonder why....

       

sometimes i feel it’s incredibly easy to be happy when i know it isn’t so easy at all... but still. sometimes i feel it’s even easier to make someone happy n’ i do sometimes. n’ i also know what i wrote just now is actually the truth n’ i’m not tryin’ to write poetry here. n’ i wonder... why do they still spend most of their times not bein’ happy. i wonder... why do they take so much of time n’ complications to make someone unhappy when makin’ someone happy is so simple n’ doesn’t even take much of our time. i wonder why....

       

he didn’t....

he was smaller then. i do remember. it was an early mornin’. those were exam days. n’ he was swearin’ hard. still in bed.... makin’ weird sounds as if he was havin’ some nightmares. he wanted his mother to hold him but couldn’t dare to tell her why he was all so scared. he knew the reason was stupid. but a stupid reason was still a reason. he was scared n’ almost cryin’. he wasn’t prepared for the exam. that was the final term. n’ was in half way of some deal with god that if he gets through this time.... he’d be regular in his routine the next time. he was so scared. gets up n’ manages to look through the book. it always looked so big.

he was a bad boy..... really bad. n’ strangely when i recall stories about him.... i don’t think he’ve changed. infact he didn’t. he’s still almost the same. he didn’t change.

can’t remember.....

it’s only on those rare occasions when i see a dream just like i want to. events not really happenin’ but a mere reflection of my will. if only someone didn’t wake me up.... but i was forcefully brought into the real world. n’ still durin’ the alteration of my orientation.... i completely lost my grip on my consciousness which i wanted to have on my lucidity. i tried hard but as if it was just not recorded. i was left deserted with this solitary feelin’ that i was havin’ somethin’ pleasant which was also under my control... but i just can’t recall it back.

n’ i can’t even blame the one who woke me up for only then i could atleast pick up those residues of my dream that reminded me the taste of it..... or else i’d have remained completely ignorant.

       

n’ it makes me wonder..... maybe how many dreams such as these i’ve already had. maybe i’m just not aware of them.

       

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stop whisperin’

i say hurry up. for you may never know when it’s already just too late... n’ think afterwards..... maybe even after long years that “why couldn’t i figure out the difference between a goodnight n’ a goodbye.... n’ they went away with their suitcases packed.”... which also contained your laughter n’ tears.

so don’t wait no more. remove that dry leaf from her shoulder if you really want to before the wind volunteers n’ take it away........ n’ she may never know what really happened between you n’ the wind. alright you can have one complaint but he may have two. so what’s the use of keepin’ scores if it can only make you lose in the end.

stop just rememberin’ someone for so long that someone starts forgettin’ you. someone may not agree. but someone may. so stop whisperin’.... for those whispers may get lost. for they maybe surrounded by people who talk a lot. n’ most of them forget when they talk that they always had an option of keepin’ quiet. an option which you may have taken so often.

stop whisperin’. start shoutin’..... till you make those echoes whisper what you wanted to say. reach for the hand before it slips away forever. or else.... even when you’ll find it back.... maybe there won’t be no blood still runnin’ inside it which makes it really warm.

maybe you mean what you mean. but it’d mean nothin’ at all till you mean it. n’ no matter how much you pay the stevedores to carry your emotions back to your heart..... some cargo will always fall in the way.... n’ they’ll be seen in your eyes what your lips just couldn’t say. but maybe then.... there won’t be no one to look straight into your eyes.

you don’t have to wait for someone to fall to hold them but you can do that right now. you don’t have to be in a crowded place to start shoutin’ but you can shout in perfect silence too. stop whisperin’. i say... stop whisperin’.



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why should you care if i’m not even there....

sometimes i feel we meet just too many people in our lives.... the people who know us. n’ we mark a few of them as important ones. n’ they may not even know about it. there’re other few whom we haven’t even met but only hope that we shall meet.... n’ still consider them as important n’ they take a relevant part of our attention. n’ there’re those precious few whom we still haven’t met n’ we also know that chances are that we may never meet. but that doesn’t stop us from thinkin’ about them.... from missin’ them. n’ all those people so form my life which is why i don’t really mind to be really me after all.

but i just want to focus on that lot that come into our lives. n’ they move. they lose touch with us n’ they slowly disappear into the bigger crowd of this world. n’ i wonder the places we once have taken in their lives.... what happens to those places later? are they completely gone or we still come back sometimes in form of ugly ghosts. do people remember me just like i remember them? i know i could think of a lot of things other than just a mere possiblity.... but maybe for a while i should allow myself to do so.

       

have you been thinkin’ about me
like no one else.
couldn’t sleep in the nights
n’ want somethin’ for me
n’ you play with yourself
with a smile that won’t fade
have you been thinkin’ about me

do you feel like it’s me
in the clock of your wall
do you feel that i stare
when you go for a shower
n’ you talk to yourself
when they’re people around
have you been thinkin’ about me

no cigarettes to smoke
no whiskey to drink
do you still feel so high
that you think you can cry
n’ do you feel if you won’t
it’s only me you’ve to hold
have you been thinkin’ about me

do you notice me
when i’m not around
do you think how can i sleep
when it’s me you dream about
do you feel you’ve heard a whisper
when all the echoes hit the wall
do you feel like a song
when everything’s all wrong
do you still love me
n’ see my face
n’ while you’re in bed
you don’t feel what you need
have you been thinkin’ about me

       

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a tribute to a writer....

how often do you forget somethin’ even before you get to remember it... how often do you feel like givin’ somethin’ when you don’t feel like takin’ anythin’ at all.. how often do you feel you’ve lost someone even when they’ve not really lost you.... how often do you feel lightness to be a bigger burden than the heavy. how often do you have to see it all go away even when you get a chance to keep it..... how often do you pay more for freedom you’ve always longed for than the bondage you never liked. how often do you regret more for all the lies that you’ve not told than the the truths that you did. how often do you intend to live forever n’ end up dyin’ probably more than once.... how often people identify you as someone like john doe. how often do you love someone with the only hope of not bein’ loved back.

n’ how often do you find a writer who just can’t afford to show what’s bein’ written. down below are only two pieces out of probably many who won’t just never come out. this is only my way of sayin’ that i liked these writings just like i liked so many others written by you.

       

ALIVE

It was all so still
Even the air
Like a cemetery
It was all bare

I was all dead
Devoid of life
Cold, barren, empty
Without light

Then time stopped
To set me free
The day it rained
You came for me

Soaking my wounds
Until they bled
Breathing life
Among the dead

For the first time
I felt. I felt.
The ice around me
Had melt.

Breaking all barriers
I took the dive
And when you held my hand
I knew I was alive.

       

       

Killing me softly...

Mesmerized, by your presence
Alive, by your touch
Lost, in your words
And you aren't even there…

Hallucinations crowd my mind
Passion fills my soul
Insanity sways my thoughts
And you aren't even there…

Wiping at my heart's cobwebs
Lighting up my sinister life
Setting my soul on fire
And you aren't even there…

Killing me softly...
and you're not even there

       

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still lookin’ for...

n’ there’re times like these when i wonder.... i mean seriously. there’re supposed to be a lot of people everywhere. lot of families too. n’ i think... if there’re families identical to mine. just like physical identicals. the reason for me to think like this is mainly because all the friends n’ people i know don’t have an identical family like mine. i won’t say ours is one of its kind..... n’ shouldn’t even be a rarity. but still i’ve not found another one yet. strange.

my mother always tend to shout at me... i won’t say most of the times. but seriously... i’ve not kept any score. but still i feel she never shouted at me in the more common matters. never ever told me to study when i was a kid when i’ve seen all my friends.. they need to sit on the study table as they were forced upon. i was never shouted at for takin’ a bath...oh that was supposed to be not takin’ a bath. it’s becomin’ confusin’. all i wanted to say that my mother never shouted at me on any bathin’ issue whatsoever.

everyone wakes up not so early. almost late. i wake up the latest. my mom the second latest. which quite obviously means late breakfast n’ late lunch. everyone can dominate most others but there’re a few exceptions or rather protocols. me n’ my brother... well i don’t remember we takin’ opposite sides. i don’t even remember if we took the same side. we were just so cool about one another! my mother seldom takes my side. that’s because i somehow go to the opposite side. i like doin’ that. that keeps her mostly at her feet. no one dares to declare a war against my father. but obviously i’m not included in that no one list. but seriously no one besides me.

i sleep late. i mean late from “homes” point of view. that will be not before 2 in the night. but again that is only an eventuality. resultin’ from a late dinner which is mostly taken after 11 in the night. n’ no. i don’t take it alone. i obviously take it with my family.

n’ ok. i’m quite old. i’m old enough. but i still sleep with my parents. i don’t like sleepin’ in a different room. infact i never did that before i had to move out for those graduation years. n’ irony it is. i was the guy who used to sleep with his mother n’ father till 18 i guess. n’ for the last 1 year... maybe more. i’ve not seen the face of my home. i wonder why.

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couldn’t have....

       

if the stars above me fell down sometimes
i couldn’t have felt that i was the only fallen one.
if the world around me wasn’t so big enough
i couldn’t have felt so small again.
if the heavens they didn’t stand so high
i couldn’t have felt so low like this.
if my only friend wasn’t the sun after all
i couldn’t have regretted to be an ice cube that much.
if there were no holes in the soles of my shoes
i couldn’t have felt so cold as i walked.
if i didn’t know what i was
i couldn’t have felt what have i become.
if my love for you wasn’t so strong
i couldn’t have felt the weakness in yours.
if i could have taken somethin’ from you
i couldn’t have given you anythin’ more.

       

life is mostly amazin’.....

yeah i’m sayin’ this on behalf of my neighbors. for me..... life has mostly been just life. nothin’ more. it has more often acted like an adjective. my friend, a good one, says that i’ve seen it a lot. n’ i immediately believe him when he says somethin’ like that. i don’t know why. but it’s rather strange that life always shows somethin’ more than just that. as if there’s always some trail of film which is leftover after the “the end” board. the element of surprise is becomin’ more n’ more, less surprisin’. but i still end up bein’ suprised.

love was just like the one legged man in the kick boxin' competition. it just didn't have enough time for me. it was always in some sort of a hurry n’ fell off anytime without much of a warning. it had a fate of someone like an undercover agent who was just not sure when his cover would blow up. but i still feel capable enough to give somethin’ more but i just couldn’t dare to ask no one nothin’..... no matter how much i want.

if dreams were like movies then memories were films about ghosts. some looked good.... only on the first watch..... others looked better when i saw them repeatedly.... sometimes even in slow motion. but like every other movie.... it had an endin’... mostly happy endings for i really liked happy endings. but i still couldn’t ignore the fact that it always ended.... n’ there was no point in keepin’ the tape still inside the player. i had to replace it with another one which soon was to be replaced by another one.

n’ no i’m not tryin’ to give any sort of respect to my life or writin’ any sort of tribute-essay. i’m not even raisin’ a toast as a mark of exclamation. for guys like me never fit in much into raising-the-toast kinda category. n’ thank god they don’t. otherwise it’d be somethin’ really borin’.... somethin’ like changin’ a fused bulb. but somehow i’ve always seen characters like holden caulfield, timothy conroy..... even florentino ariza(i don’t know why) growin’ up with me. i wouldn’t say i had compared myself with them or i had some sort of competition... or i had started becomin’ like them.... but as i quote now... “it’s like livin’ them!”. n’ that was obviously not my line. i liked them for they were really very funny. but somehow.... life was always funnier than them or for that matter anyone else. i just wanted to say however practical it went somewhere.... that humor was still supposed to be funny. n’ i’m beginnin’ to like it i guess or i’m atleast beginnin’ to write that i like it.

n’ it’s rather sad that on such an important day of my life when i actually want to talk about me n’ my life.... i couldn’t think of a single soul who’ll be least interested in listenin’.... let alone understandin’ that why i’m tryin’ to tell it after all.... rather than understandin’ what i’m tryin’ to say. but i’ve to write it down on a lousy blog page talkin’ to some anonymous server which is fully automated n’ i don’t even know where it’s located. but i still felt it was better than just constructin’ some meaningful sentences that took more than just years to build up in the still-present-sensitive part of my brain n’ forgettin’ them almost instantaneously.... because only today i got to realize that although i’ve brilliant rememberin’ capabilities... i’ve a far too accurate forgettin’ key knowledge that i could never include in my resume.

it’s definitely hasn’t been so good so far... but the good thing still to live with.... it hasn’t been the worst either. n’ these are only my last joules of energy still left within me after which probably there’ll be a complete blackout. well i’m definitely exaggeratin’ here but that’s what you do while bloggin’.

       

well... when men rush in... it’s pretty obvious that the lilies would get crushed on their way. but it’d be foolish not to expect those lilies growin’ back.... just like it’d be foolish as well to expect those men not to rush in again. n’ after all these years.... i won’t say i’ve lost my faith or i’ve kept it when i’ve stopped complainin’. for then i had already realized that i never belonged to this planet n’ accepted that things couldn’t just be happenin’.

n’ i fell down just now. don’t worry. it was on my bed.... but still don’t neglect the fall though. i didn’t much like dyin’ for it was all too serious n’ borin’. but i always felt sleepin’ as fun not because it was fun as such... but it was more fun than keepin’ awake. i just want to go to sleep. no. not just a sleep. a d16 super cryogenic sleep. yeah. that sounded much better even though i don’t know what it’d mean when translated to english..... so that i could sleep forever hopin’ never to wake up again.

       

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if good were better....

it’s rather strange. we never tend to realize how much we love someone. we never tend to realize the degrees beyond which we can bend our lives for the ones we love. probably i don’t even tend to realize if i still love a person n’ i surprise myself so often rather than anyone else when i come to know about it durin’ certain times.... n’ then, i’m never more sure of it than anythin’ else.

n’ it was a strange night. definitely not the longest one for i still remember the one which already happened. n’ i desperately hope that i don’t have to re-live it once again. but i can’t really explain the uniqueness of this particular last night. probably it was more or less a same one technically speakin’. but i liked the night probably because the breakin’ dawn saw me waitin’ for it. n’ i really did wait for it. when i still kept on lookin’ at the moon as it was fast disappearin’. it was probably pre-daybreak. the sun wasn’t bright enough n’ i could still boast my left over courage by starin’ into it.

i was sittin’ on the park bench for quite a while then. the joggers were late this time. n’ i was thinkin’ that i must be lookin’ incredibly smart or incredibly stupid as almost everyone was givin’ strange looks to me. probably the reason was my sittin’ on the park bench. but what so odd about it anyway. i mean florentino ariza did that a few years ago. n’ moreover i was doin’ somethin’ which was meant to be done on a park bench.... was harmlessly sittin’ on it imposin’ no threat whatsoever neither to the society.... nor to the planet.

n’ so i started walkin’ although i didn’t want to. n’ i saw few young girls with exceedingly tight pants. i thought that might be one of the reasons of the parks in the field of health contribution. girls in tight pants can easily improve anybody’s health. atleast it can improve mine. n’ i saw a dog starin’ at her ass. n’ i thought i saw somethin’ else. i felt the dog was starin’ at her ass just the same way i did. n’ somehow i felt he must have felt exactly the same kind of emotions as i did. n’ that depressed me a bit. it was somethin’ like as if i was writin’ a book about me.... n’ in one chapter.... the beginnin’ lines were. “n’ there was this one dawn in my life which was different than the rest when i realized for the first time after 24 years of livin’ that i was more or less a dog”. that didn’t make me feel much good. so i began to think of somethin’ else. i don’t quite remember what i thought.... but i definitely did think of somethin’ else.

       

i might have walked away if only i could have relied on the good. but i guess i’ll hang around till good becomes better. n’ who knows... maybe more?

       

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come on....

n’ it was quite likely that someday.... as i’d grow up..... i’d be hatin’ myself. somebody told me this i don’t remember who. but whoever he was.... he did have some vision. that day must not be too far if only it didn’t come already.

my mother always used to “shout” at me in the mornings. well i never took that in a wrong way. that was her way of sayin’ goodmornin’ to me. i can’t blame her if it was different from mine. although i found it a little strange when i thought about.... why wakin’ up late was considered as a “sin” by my mother. my curiosity increased beyond dimensions when i found out that it was considered so by most mothers. but still i never considered myself lazy. n’ i had reasons too. i never was a blind believer. not even of myself. i had always found someone better than me who could do the work given to me in a better way. i always believed in performance.... rather than givin’ importance to negligible issues like who actually did the work. well my mother did insist on my learnin’ of a musical instrument... which i didn’t.... for which i regret now.... but i didn’t regret then. i still had my reasons. i always thought if there was a better band who could play most of the musical instruments in a better way.... n’ the records are mostly available..... why do i need to learn it myself. as if there’s no other way to get music.

but lately i feel i’ve become a bit lazy. n’ strangely enough.... i’ve started hatin’ myself as i feel so. not that my laziness has affected me or anyone else in anyway. but i feel my behavior is becomin’ a bit different. n’ that “different” thing is actually botherin’ me. although it’s strange i admit. as if i’ve achieved perfection in me that i don’t like to change. well maybe i’vent. but i still believe even if someday i do reach perfection.... changin’ myself won’t help much in that cause.

but still.... things have become a little out of control now. yesterday i went out to have my lunch. but i decided to skip it. just didn’t feel like crossin’ the road. suddenly i felt crossin’ roads is particularly difficult. i don’t know how people do it. i did it a couple of times myself. but i don’t remember how did i do it. well standin’ on the crossroads... i can do.... but crossin’ roads. a bit tough.

yesterday... i also bought some clothes. almost an entire “wardrobe”. although shoppin’ has always provided me heavenly bliss. but this time... it was different. i did my shoppin’ because all my clothes were dirty.... when i didn’t have to wash it myself. i only need to hand it to the person that comes to my room. damn it! things are not headin’ somewhere great. probably i’m still alive only because home is a far far place from here.

n’ probably it’s extremely pleasant to sit just bein’ idle.... on a sunday afternoon.... when there’s no cable. i just can bear it when i’ve to kill my televised timings. n’ i was mostly thinkin’ of voices. voices in general n’ how they’ve a deep impact on my life. i just can’t believe i’m so vulnerable to voices. i become an addict to certain voices n’ i don’t even realize. n’ like everythin’ else... it has a darker side as well. i can so easily hate someone when i don’t like their voice. i know it’s crazy but i just can’t help it. there’s this girl i “occasionally” talk strictly over the phone. well there’s nothin’ much to be described about her voice. i hate that voice. if she ever falls into a situation when she’s on the verge of drownin’.... n’ she’s cryin’ for help n’ i’m just standin’ on the shore.... my first reaction will be.... “oh shut up!”.

       

it was only yesterday i got to know that someone hated someone n’ that actually made me real happy. not because i hated that same person or i’m generally a sadist kind of person.... but i realized that “hating” is a very essential human trait. i feel everyone should hate atleast someone if not everyone else!

       

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had there been no nights....

most of the nights of my life had passed barely noticed. i was always occupied. mostly fear. sometimes monday mornin’ category. unfortunately in my case all the five days of the week fitted into the same category...... it need not be assumingly a monday. n’ my hands looked black...... smeared with grease like someone workin’ in a garage. n’ i never gazed at the starry sky. but when i look back sometimes..... i still see a few dreams nestlin’ in the chromium branches of my yesterdays. i don’t know who’s gonna take care of them.

my mother don’t want to grow fat. i always felt growin’ to be more depressin’ than growin’ fat. infact i used to tell her bein’ fat is good..... “don’t you feel all the fat people occupyin’ an appreciable size in our memories.” i mean physical attributes must be atleast contributin’ a bit to build those mental images. n’ it must be good when someone remembers you more than the others.

n’ the times you remember are mostly not supposed to be remembered. but we’ve our own free will. everyone remembers or wants or tries to remember all the first things in their lives. as if all the events in their lives were standin’ in some queue to their memory banks. n’ there was only one ticket for the show.

life is mostly funny. it is divided into patches n’ further into four grey weeks. i never went so much deeper into science n’ i’m glad i didn’t. but someone probably did. n’ he found out that it took exactly 365 days for the earth to make one round trip. n’ he did a good job. if that task were given to me.... i’d have never figured it out. for i always felt i was more or less standin’ in the same place. but what led him to divide those days by a factor of 12. any elementary knowledgeable person could say 5 would have been a better divisor which would have given us 73 days in a month.

i felt life would have been a lot simpler that way. we wouldn’t have to adjust our wrist watches that showed dates as well in the end of every month..... we wouldn’t have to think twice before fixin’ a date if it were the last day of the month n’ check our knuckles everytime if such a day actually existed.

the funniest is undoubtedly february n’ makes no sense at all. the poor month alone falls a victim of the leap years..... probably someone got too tired of waitin’ for the spring n’ pulled the ribbon before the bell even rang. probably someone wanted to keep us busy n’ created such a big confusion. probably a different title to this post would have made a lot more sense.... probably it still makes a hell of a sense to me.

       

n’ i don’t know how they make the wind wind blow over the frozen lake with the sole intention to peel the skin off. n’ even if you somehow manage to stand long enough..... you’d soon fail to notice any difference between the old withered leaves n’ your hands. life would have been a lot more fun had it been just a few blank pages.... in which you could have written somethin’ you really liked..... rather than like readin’ a book with a few pages you never wanted to read. i’d have surely done somethin’ better than this if only i had a few more choices. n’ so.... i rely on the waters in the woods to carry me somewhere good.

       

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everythin’ is just a comparison....

n’ when they told me i was good.... what did they really mean? i thought i was good. probably that’s what i meant when i told recently that i’ve been takin’ life a bit too seriously. n’ now i’m havin’ serious second thoughts. truth is always hard to be found. but once i found it.... i tried hard to escape it. wish i could.

n’ everythin’ was just a comparison with someone or somethin’. i wasn’t good. i was only better than someone else. n’ like every comparison.... that was only temporary. nobody missed me as i thought they did. but probably they were just lonely then n’ got no one else to tell that. my once better friend calls me very late. n’ i try hard not to see what he’s showin’ already. i try hard only to hear the words when he tells me he misses me. but once the truth i touched. i could feel nothin’ else but the truth. “yes i believe you n’ you do miss me. but don’t worry. you’d miss someone else soon.” do we just climb the stairs of a never endin’ list? a list that everyone owns.

       

a rose is not beautiful. it’s more beautiful now than the dried one. n’ it’s beautiful just for a while.

       

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too good....

it’s true. it’s all very beautiful. n’ it’s too good. n’ now i know where lies the difference. it’s me. not them. n’ it feels so weird after wakin’ up from a lifetime of slumber. the pupils are still learning to contract. light is my cortez. n’ i’m made to see everythin’ that i didn’t want to see. n’ they were right. i wasn't. they were good. i wasn’t.

but i’ve got somethin’ for me. i don’t remember how did it start. probably i started doin’ it without knowin’ what i was doin’. probably two months back when one day i peeled off the skin from my right nipple. the feelin’ was exclusive n’ it bled. not really. the blood was still flowin’ like it was but without a cover. n’ then i got a wound. a bruise. every night before bedtime i used to scratch it to tear it open. still didn’t know what i was doin’. why i was doin’. but i just couldn’t resist the temptation whenever i saw my right nipple.

i couldn’t take off my shirt no more if there was someone around. i got embarrassed. it looked horrible. awful. my nails failed to satisfy me no more. it was a bit too superficial. i wanted to go deeper. n’ so i tried. old used shavin’ blades. n’ i got what i wanted. nothin’ was more pleasant than the sight of my old dry peeled off skin fallin’ down at my feet. the flight was elusive. perhaps cuttin’ the skin right from the tip of my right nipple was even better. n’ just for a while. maybe just for the night. my right nipple looks brand new with all the fresh cells unveiled. it was as good as anyone’s.

but i still wondered. was it just a habit? an addiction? that’s it? no. it’s my identification. yes it is. now it helps me to identify myself. it gives me a place. it gives me a ground where i can see myself standin’. n’ it amazes me to a great extent when i see my right nipple makin’ such a huge contribution for my establishment n’ my left nipple just doin’ absolutely nothin’ to help the cause. so not fair.

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n’ look what happened....

it changed. yes it did. n’ it was all different then. well i hate to say that it was also better as it’ll reflect my oldness..... but i can’t restrain it no longer.

n’ those were days without no banners. no channels. no commercials. n’ we worked real hard to get one of those pieces. for there were no great stores as well. n’ the crowd was miniature n’ never in my life was i so proud of bein’ a minority.

n’ no there were no online aid providers..... forget about the search engines. but what existed then were just a few back benches n’ a few back pages. n’ all those gibberish lot relied on cross bordered smuggled magazines for the translation.

n’ we were not crazy about them. i doubt if we loved them either. for gods never received such emotions. those emotions were different. probably it was partial fear as well. yes, we might have feared them as well. n’ there no flash lights. no floors. no boxes either. n’ nothin’ was ever appended with it.... for that was all that we searched for.

n’ everythin’ was sacred. n’ we paid the price. our childhoods. our teens. but look what has happened. they feel they’re payin’ somethin’ when they peep into the showcases n’ in there remain the whores for sale. i never remembered if we ever talked about it. but we only consumed it..... probably even secretly. but now.... they talk n’ they talk a lot.

“yes we got your point. you’re veteran. you’re familiar. you’re provocative. n’ you’re rare as well. now can you pass the can please?”

n’ now i feel it’s better to stand without movin’ my lips rather than joinin’ the “un”needed chorus just to prove their touch with the field.

       

you can never ask me if i paid the price
for i stepped into the romance when i knew she had the Alzheimer's disease.
do all the best you can with your lip synchin’ exercises
but don’t just sing it when it reads
“don’t give your heart to a rock n’ roll band
for they might throw it away.”
they haven’t stopped wakin’ up late
but they’ve stopped to smile after wakin’ up.
they haven’t yet stopped leavin’
but they’ve stopped sayin’ “come with me”.
n’ you’ve to join them n’ be there
for life is just a fashion
it ain’t fun no more.

       

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just me n’ the glass....

i don’t want to talk about the heart n’ the glass for i don’t treat them the same. i don’t. but the divide fascinates me. n’ everythin’ seemed so real even when i knew it wasn’t. i was feelin’ the wind of the storm outside. even the sprinkle. it was more than a sprinkle. the glass divides it so well. but it looked real. but still the division was real too. n’ there wasn’t any half measure. a few young girls stared. i stared at a few. but the glass again divided it. when i was never so sure it’d have been all so different when there wouldn’t have been no glass. i was leanin’ on her. probably i was leanin’ on her bare shoulder. probably i was caressin’ her hair or maybe her back. she was leanin’ on me too. we were both leanin’ on each other. but neither of us felt it. neither the skin.... nor the vicinity. the division was more than apparent even when it was untraceable from a distance. n’ the glass divided everythin’ when the geography showed that we shared a co-ordinate but we were miles apart. even sensuality lost its credibility although it can still work from miles apart. but the glass made the difference. the touch was almost real but it wasn’t. the glass caused the vacuum. it sucked up the sensuality. n’ she looked clearer. i looked clearer. we both looked clearer. although we weren’t sure if we looked at each other.

       

i looked across. n’ i looked across it. n’ i felt as if i’m lookin’ at my wasted years. my indistinct faint reflection stood like a hologram in the world beyond it. i saw people walkin’ through me. i saw eyes lookin’ through me. although it was all transparent..... i could still feel i was invisible. n’ only when the storm outside did stop.... i felt it wasn’t real for the world here was still the same. it was the glass that separated the real from the unreal. but it was beautiful.

       

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foolishness is beautiful....

it’s a beautiful woven piece..... the events. the events that i’ve already done..... the ones that i’m still doin’. n’ a few that i intend to do. somekind of a tapestry. n’ it’s incredibly funny how often i draw a line... probably in some part of my future. n’ somehow i tend to believe that once i cross that line... all my past events would fail to cross it n’ i’ll go the distance. n’ probably it’s funnier that sometimes i even tend to run lookin’ for that line to cross.... forgettin’ that i can never reach that line if i run for it. but it’s only with time that i’m gonna find that line somewhere. n’ maybe i wouldn’t be knowin’ when i do find it.

n’ even now when i’m in the run..... n’ i look back still runnin’ hard. the image looks really different. n’ all the places that i’d already run across look different. n’ strangely everythin’ looks really foolish. every action..... every reaction. every word spoken n’ even the ones that i thought i’d but i didn’t. all my decisions n’ also my indecisions. few moments of surety n’ all my moments of enormous doubts. both the firmness n’ the weakness. all my losses n’ those rare victories. all my smiles n’ each single tear drop. every sneeze n’ every hiccup. every goose pimple n’ every freckle. everythin’ looks so foolish. but strangely...... they’re not a part of any shame. the foolishness residin’ everywhere in my vicinity. the foolishness that i’ve owned. the foolishness that i claim to be mine ain’t bringin’ me no shame. no. but it’s beautiful. it’s sweet. it’s mine. n’ it’s me.

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n’ a realization....

it’s a dream kind thing. the ones that you tend to forget. but forgettin’ ain’t the keyword here. i’m referrin’ to the little snapshots of the dream that comes back. n’ you tend to feel somethin’. i felt somethin’ last night. i don’t know.... probably it was the whole last year from May that was comin’ back to me or was it somethin’ else. wish i could have been sure sometimes.

but even in the realms of my “un”surety.... this realization has marked me with fear. n’ again i’m not even sure if i need to make a confession. but there’re no reasons to hide as well. my definitions n’ concepts of certain subjects are the root of this realization. n’ the central subject referred to here is love..... the love i thought i always possessed or possess for a special one. i mean if i make a objective approach although i know i must not be allowed to do so as i’m dealin’ with a real subjective issue. but for once i want to break this little rule.

point one. i always wanted to be sure if the other person loved me n’ once i get hold of that feelin’.... nothin’ much bothered me as in if she’s stayin’ with me or without me.

point two. never liked the idea of basin’ an entire relationship on sensitive subjects like trust which don’t quite imply that i’m offerin’ a permission to cheat on me. but i generally don’t like to know things that she wants to hide from me n’ still i neither feel insecure nor offended.

point three. seemed to be always in a hurry not knowin’ why. used to have this feelin’ that relationships don’t last forever like everythin’. so all the love must be shown n’ given now without any delays n’ breaks.

point four. never had a problem of backin’ off in “whatever” issues possibly related. could possibly let go someone if she wants to without even askin’ a single why.

point five. no matter how much i love or want to love.... in the end... it is somehow not good enough.

point six. the love i bore is possibly without any compassion. for the love i bore don’t seem to have any consequence but love itself. but it’s probably the only way i know where to walk.

n’ the sublimity of the relationship between these six points although amused me..... the conclusion disturbed me to quite an extent. as all these six points were pointin’ to somethin’.... n’ it took me a while to know what it was. n’ finally i found it. it was the male form a mistress..... where the male keeps objectionable relationship with a woman already committed. i mean this is where all these six points will exactly fit in. n’ although i was never uncomfortable with the idea of love that i had...... but the status of an adulterer? made me depressed....

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with no expressions....

it’s a remarkably strange feelin’ n’ it’s hard for me to explain. i wouldn’t have explained it to anyone even if i could. the apparent loss of the fear of losin’ tends to exhibit a strange kind of charm n’ relief. the sense of relief i often witnessed on the faces of either the wise men or the man with a sorrow. i still don’t know if both men pointed to one man. but still it’s surreal. it’s vague. but it’s understood. you don’t seem to be bothered. n’ the blind look that you give to everyone n’ everythin’. maybe it disturbs the surroundin’ but not you. probably i smile too. a blind n’ non-directin’ smile. i always thought smile to be a vector quantity but this feelin’ is makin’ it so scalar. n’ now the things i do possess... n’ the things i might have possessed..... i don’t want to hold on to them. i probably don’t even want to hold them.

       

i keep on walkin’ with one finger touchin’ the handrails on the subway..... loosenin’ my bracelet so that it had already crossed my thumb. the fate of the relationship between my bracelet n’ my hand lied completely on gravity..... i don’t seem to be bothered to held the bracelet uptight. i was more preoccupied with these thoughts in my mind n’ was afraid that they might slosh my face in form of an expression. i was still listlessly expressionless.

       

n’ so you wiped the slate clean....

it’s kind of strange...... no. not strange. i need another word for it. it’s a difficult choice to write when you know you’re short of words.whenever you hear some bad news followed by a war.... that of an injured soldier who lost an arm..... he who’s your neighbor. your imagination inchoately fetches you the image of an empty sleeve n’ perhaps even the noise it makes when the wind hits the cloth piece...... somethin’ like you’ve misplaced some card of the suit n’ you can’t find it. then somewhere between the game.... you do expect the joker which tries to replace the missin’ card. n’ then when you happen to meet the soldier in the next mornin’ but you don’t see an empty sleeve. you play the card game.... you wait to see the joker so that you can complete your series but it never shows up. you tend to be surprised. no. not surprised. maybe disbelieve is a better word. as if while walkin’ by the street you saw an artist erasin’ a few lines from his sketch.... probably a face n’ when you return to find the artist dealin’ with the finishin’ touches..... you’re struck with disbelief that not even a hint of the erased lines showed upon the completed sketch. n’ you kind of stare at the artist. no. artist would be a wrong salutation. it has to be an acrobat possessin’ such great skills. all you do is stare at the acrobat n’ you’re not sure whether you’re askin’ him somethin’ or givin’ him some compliment..... “how could you be so neat?”

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Orphan Hill....

       

got a message on my doorstep
saw a scrawl i understood.

you’ll be touched
and you’ll be handed off
you’ll be bruised
and you’ll be pained.
you’ll go high to reach the heavens
but the fall will bring you shame
there’ll be fits and there’ll be starts too
you’ll be bound and you’ll be leaped.

i’m frightened but i’m waitin’
come find me if you can.
but you can’t i know you can’t
n’ that’s ok if you can’t.
it’s the dawn i’ve waited so long
it’s the dawn i can’t resist
you’re naked you can run away
you saw enough you can be blind.

there’re reasons both with and without
there’re no photos to be framed.
take the flesh and please don’t throw it
i need to sing my own requiem.

       

black was blacker...

it was a new day... but the afternoon was blacker than the nights. all dark... all black. the soot was blacker. the hands. the noise. the redness. the strike. the water. the horse. the horse shoe. everythin’. the old were still workin’ without any apparent purpose. the idea was to live. but the will don’t quite show up. the only energy left within the young was used to get angry. n’ emotions like a sneakin’ joke n’ a little submission to the lust still survived. still a mystery... well how did it survive? n’ those massive hands doin’ just one thing. day after day after day. probably spread upto an acre. black was blacker. it was all black.

       

it is pretty difficult to cross a busy street.

       

how often?

how often did you apologize to people you’re close with? no let me rephrase this leavin’ aside the closeness thing as it might give rise to other complications. how often did you apologize in general? both when you were actually the victimizer n’ when you were not. forget about all those incidents when you were some cause but remember the occasions when you just said “i’m sorry” just thinkin’ that might help. n’ how often did you say sorry to yourself? when we all know we more or less do the same mistakes for a quite a long time n’ when we stop..... it’s rarely a case of realization but we’re not allowed to do so. how often did you hurt yourself knowin’ there’re risk factors? n’ when finally everythin’ has been undone.... did you apologize to yourself. if not why? as if you don’t care about yourself?..... do you still believe you’re selfish when people accuse you so?

       

And the hardest part
Was letting go not taking part
Was the hardest part
And the strangest thing
Was waiting for that bell to ring
It was the strangest start

I can feel it go down
Bittersweet I could taste in my mouth
Silver lining the clouds
And I
I wish that I could work it out

       

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tring tring....

it’s strange.... people are gettin’ it back when they’ve tried to take it away from me...... some of them even did that. it’s even stranger that they’re still comin’ back to me knowin’ exactly what they took away from me. n’ not because of any hidden agenda or somethin’ divine.... but now..... once you see through it... you don’t stop seein’ through it. it’s only because.... right now... they’ve got no where else to go.... or probably they’ve got... but i’m the best kind of room available right now!...... funny isn’t it? they’re witnessin’ it so closely what they did to me.... when everythin’ is part of their lives now... lives .... once i thought i shared a part with..... but not anymore. i chose not to be. not as an action but as a reaction.

.
.
.
.
.
.
no no no. i may agree with you when you say i’m over reactin’ but let me remind you... an over reaction still happens to be a reaction.... n’ that’s my point. i’m not actin’ here.... i’m reactin’ here. n’ why? why the fear part huh? why? if everythin’ is just a joke for them.... why the fear part? jokes are meant to be funny... right? n’ now..... it’s my time to dictate those jokes. why can’t i be the creator of the jokes if i can be a part of it.

n’ what are you afraid of? n’ more important why? you think you can save a situation just by standin’ at the receivin’ end. just tell me how long have you been doin’ this? i’ve been seein’ you for the last 20 years... i know it’s more but i don’t remember the time earlier than that. but what did you get by savin’ all those situations. you’re sent as a normal human. you’re not sent as a savior. n’ what are you savin’? n’ for whom? for the ones who never think twice even what the situation is? n’ probably you can’t even remember the first situation that you saved.... but i remember somethin’ else. that it never stopped n’ you alone went on savin’ it. n’ you know what. i got that trend from you.... don’t know how. but it’s enough now. what you’re seein’ now is not me but just a consequence. actions will always reap reactions n’ no.... nobody escapes from those reactions. nobody.

i’ve always tried to forget whatever i lost. not because i actually wanted it but i was never given a choice. but i refuse to forget what was stolen from me n’ i shall not forget them. for i want to remember every showpiece when i see them now they keep in their drawin’ rooms..... which were once a part of my life.

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what happened?

it was all ok isn’t it..... n’ then somethin’ happened. you never figured out what. but you knew somethin’ did. somethin’ terribly wrong. n’ the only thing you began doin’ is lookin’ back although you got completely lost in directions. n’ you started usin’ your fingers just to help yourself count. but you counted what? numbers...... distances...... what?

did you change? maybe you did.... maybe you didn’t. n’ what about the rest. one word that comes to my mind is categorization. but it’s not the truth that i’m givin’ you right now. for there is no truth. but categories came in what gave birth to the confusions of the first order. categories........ one that look silently into the empty glass.... the other thinkin’ of grabbin’ that empty glass in some hurried motion n’ throwin’ it at the wall..... n’ the other actually doin’ it...... sub categories came into your observation then. the ones who felt bad after shatterin’ the glass....... n’ the other which didn’t. sub-subcategorizations....... the ones who felt bad got divided into the ones who didn’t feel bad after a while.......... n’ the other who never felt better again. further subdivisions...... subdivisions resemblin’ cell division...... each cell division creatin’ its own symbol...... symbols that isolated each one of us even further.

then few of us exchanged symbols...... creatin’ yet another elegant approach of usin’ the phenomenon called "convenience". few of them knew exactly what they were doin’. others..... not quite. the ones who were takin’ the lead didn’t necessarily know what they were doin’ but thought they did. the others who didn’t know what they were doin’ either got lost or followed the ones who had goals. so the ones without the goals followed the ones with the goals. n’ after a while...... they mistook someone else’s goals to be their own.

now where is it all goin’? but more important than when is it goin’ to end is when did it all start? where did it all start? why did it all start? but do you need to look everywhere to find this answer? are you still lookin’ at your finger but don’t know where to point at? are you still confused when all you need to do is find yourself a mirror. someone asked you to be afraid n’ you became afraid.... but for how long? n’ who told you to be afraid. no .... don’t look for a name who apparently did that.... but who? was it fear again in general..... the cosmic fear.... but what were you really afraid of? was it the darkness you were afraid of that hid everythin’ else...... or was it the light you were afraid of showin’ you everythin’ that you never wanted to see?

or was it loss of hope. but when did you actually start to hope? was it before you actually knew about the word or did you start doin’ it even before that. but more important question than when is where. where did this hope lead you to? well it led you to many places.... i can already make this assumption n’ also boast on it’s generality. but there’s one more generality that dwells around this subject. pain. hope more or less took you in the vicinity of pain if not completely to it. but it’s again the question of when. when did you first feel that you’ve been a victim of pain? was it only after you had that knowledge about pain but not bein’ a direct victim of it........ the time when you felt you’re no longer ignorant. are you still proud of your knowledge? no it’s not a question of yes or no..... but it’s only a question that seeks no answer. but there’re a few more questions. questions like what did knowledge give us. is it the truth? but are we able enough to claim that our knowledge has found us the truth when we’re never so sure about what truth is. but what did it give us then for sure? my primary answer to this will be the art of protestin’. our knowledge showed us exactly how to protest........ how not to accept anythin’........ whether it is acceptable or unacceptable. but what else did it give us? it gave us one more thing..... which can be rated as somethin’ really important. it taught us how to build the machines that brought our ideas into motion. no i’m not talkin’ only about the mechanical machines but the psychological ones as well. it was our knowledge which helped us to conceive our own ideas...... n’ it was still our own knowledge which helped us to conceive only our own ideas.

but the primary consequence of this behavior rendered us lonelier..... for everybody ignored everybody else’s ideas where there came a point when everybody started waitin’. but what were they waitin’ for? n’ more important than that....... were they still believin’ that their wait will end one day? or was there a sense of belief that was developin’ inside them that there’s nothin’ left to believe.

but still you were never short of believin’ institutions. you created a new one whenever you felt you’re short of it. you brought in more idols to worship.... more religions to follow...... n’ you made sure the idols represented the religions......... although you knew absolutely nothin’ about the souls residin’ inside those idols but you seemed to know almost everythin’ about those religions.

n’ what happened afterwards? you got involved in the art of critisizin’ .... probably for n’ against anyone comin’ by your side.... n’ by the end of the 20th century...... you were the supreme practitioner of this art..... which then gave you the authority of judgement. judgement not based on evidences but opinions. opinions that always varied. opinions that only took you farther n’ farther.

but where is it that it’s leadin’ us? n’ why is there a different destination point for each one of us? n’ if there’re so many ways that are gettin’ formed....... why don’t a few get twisted around n’ get mingled?

do you still believe in randomness........ or let me give you another word for it...... chaos. but let me give you one more piece of information..... chaos is not necessarily random but anythin’ that depicts randomness or when the relations connectin’ one another are still unknown to us is chaos. n’ the real definition seeks nothin’ from our knowledge. don’t you still feel that every road is windin’ to one destination...... every door reachin’ one room....... every elevator stoppin’ at one floor...... every line coincidin’ at one point. yes you’ve guessed it...... it’s chaos. that was exactly the plan whoever made the plan. from simpler to complex........ from balanced to unbalanced.... from order to chaos.

but chaos doesn’t demand fear........ it only demands attention. though it doesn’t state it...... but it’s tryin’ to grab it if you’re not payin’ it. i’m sayin’ it doesn’t require fear for it’s only a part of a plan. n’ plans have goals...... plans have consequences. plans have a dream. chaos is only a part of this plan which unfortunately we don’t seem to know..... but we never have to know it when we’re just asked to be spectators.

       

it’s not what you know....... n’ it’s not even what you want to find out..... but it’s what you don’t. no...... it’s not also the question of freedom. for freedom seeks price. more often bigger than you can pay. it’s only a time to stop. stop tryin’ to reveal the faces behind the masks. masks that have a purpose. they were made with a purpose n’ they were worn with a purpose as well. stop diggin’ for those truths..... for if they’re wearin’ a mask of lies....... it’s done with a purpose.

       

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