Monday, July 30, 2007
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Feeling In The Dark
If.....
If you had half a day to live, would you see the sunrise or the sunset?
If your favourite song was playing on the radio, would you sing along or just drown in it?
If you looked into the most beautiful eyes in the world, would you see zest or peace?
If you've lived life to the fullest, would your heart be full and your mind empty or the other way round?
If you are walking on the horizon at night, which side would you like to drown?
If you had to paint out your life, how much of it would be in shades of grey?
If you've loved to the brink of madness, would letting it all go drive you crazy or make you sane?
If silence was the language of the soul, would you be able to understand it?
If you had to walk the wire, would you close your eyes to do it?
If you had to do it, could you trust your life with your heart?
If you had to cry, would tears flow or words?
If you were to lie, would your eyes or would your heart call the bluff?
If you had a moment of life, would you live without regrets or love without regrets?
If life was a dream, would you die when you wake up?
If you had half a day to live, would you see the sunrise or the sunset?
If your favourite song was playing on the radio, would you sing along or just drown in it?
If you looked into the most beautiful eyes in the world, would you see zest or peace?
If you've lived life to the fullest, would your heart be full and your mind empty or the other way round?
If you are walking on the horizon at night, which side would you like to drown?
If you had to paint out your life, how much of it would be in shades of grey?
If you've loved to the brink of madness, would letting it all go drive you crazy or make you sane?
If silence was the language of the soul, would you be able to understand it?
If you had to walk the wire, would you close your eyes to do it?
If you had to do it, could you trust your life with your heart?
If you had to cry, would tears flow or words?
If you were to lie, would your eyes or would your heart call the bluff?
If you had a moment of life, would you live without regrets or love without regrets?
If life was a dream, would you die when you wake up?
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Oysters
Closed fists reveal no lines,
dark clouds don't cry,
sunsets hide the dawn,
No, it's not just me.
Open up, people say,
go out and explore,
breathe out, not just in,
But i still remain the flower, yet to bloom.
In my little corner,
listening to the rain,
watching the world dance,
through the blinds of my heart.
You push me out of my shell,
My wings don't unfurl,
I float, but can't fly,
Not every bubble can burst.
My heart does beat,
maybe a bit quietly,
but someday you'll see,
There's a whole new universe beneath these eyes.
dark clouds don't cry,
sunsets hide the dawn,
No, it's not just me.
Open up, people say,
go out and explore,
breathe out, not just in,
But i still remain the flower, yet to bloom.
In my little corner,
listening to the rain,
watching the world dance,
through the blinds of my heart.
You push me out of my shell,
My wings don't unfurl,
I float, but can't fly,
Not every bubble can burst.
My heart does beat,
maybe a bit quietly,
but someday you'll see,
There's a whole new universe beneath these eyes.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Darkness descends
I remember the first time i opened my eyes. It was in a dark, dingy room replete with the smell of expired medicines. That was the first time i saw my mother and those eyes. Those beautiful almond shaped eyes. She clutched me close to her heart, tears pouring down her cheeks. I saw several other women there, all bubbling with glee at the new arrival. That was my first moment in this world.
I lived along with my mother in a little shanty just off a road beside National Highway 7. I never knew who my father was. My mom mentioned it just once, in a fit of rage, that he was the same truck driver who had infected her with the deadly virus. It was in those early days of my life that i began to understand the necessity of love, the glory of friendship and the gift of life. I would often wonder why i had to spent every night with the numerous women, whom i had adopted as my aunts, whereas my mother would walk away towards the old, dilapidated large shanty in the middle of the slum. I would cry and long for her in my desolation, night after night and at the first light of dawn, would scramble towards my home. I would always find her there, dreary and broken, but her face would light up with a bright smile the moment she would spot me and she would take me in her loving embrace, as the world would dissolve around us in mellow celebration. My mother showered her love over me just as my neighbours gifted affection. She tried her best to pull me away from the misery and the heinousness in her life. She would place me in her lap as she fed me and told me wonderful stories about fairies and dragons. She would tell me about people and honour, the good and the evil that this world is made of, and most of all she would tell me about the beauty of dreams, for that is all that the hopeful can hold on to.
But life had its own stories to tell.
Soon, word spread about her fatal infection and the malefic disease that she was carrying. Then came the isolation and the silent taunting. In the hope of a better life, my mother left that place and brought me to Mumbai.
It was in this glittering city that i first understood how encompassing the world truly is. It was here that i came to know what a school is. It was here that i began to wear my blue and white uniform and hop off to the place where i learnt the magic of education. And soon we settled into the monotony of life, save for one thing, my mother's failing health. Day by day, my beloved mother, she with those almond eyes, slid deeper and deeper into the dark chasm of death. And then one day, as i returned from school jumping in the little puddles of water, my water bottle hanging from my neck, i came across a half cooked meal of my favourite lime rice.
And nothing else.
With no one to support me and no one to spare me the rod, i fell on to the dismal and bleak streets of Mumbai. Now, here I am, seven years of wretched misery, lonely and forsaken.
As people came to know that i was infected with the same baneful virus that had claimed my mother, i learnt the meaning of loneliness. Now, every where i walk, people shy away, grasp their babies closer to their chests, as if i am devil's messenger. Then, there are the eyes. Everywhere i turn, all i see are those hideous stares, those looks of utter contempt and malicious scorn. Sometimes, i wish that some bird strike me blind with its talons. Atleast, it would stop the stares.
Sometimes, all i wish for are those almond eyes.
Eventually, i found myself on the roads, begging for a living. But when the beggars came to know my illness, they hounded me, threatening me, cleansing me with wooden sticks, lest they lay their hands upon my foul skin.
Now, all i do, is wait behind the stone chair beside the dustbin, unmindful of the stench, waiting for some grateful soul to discard a half eaten apple or a rotten banana. Sometimes, i go back to my slum, when some poor dweller there is celebrating his daughter's wedding with a little fanfare. I sit there, watching the people fill their plates with desserts and sweets. I sit there, alone and forlorn, swallowing my saliva over and over and over again.
Once, a fellow beggar, stole a rupee from my torn trouser pocket. I ran after him, not because i wanted my money back, but because i had finally found someone to talk to. But the moment the boy saw my emaciated body and the discoloured and blemished skin stretched across my gaunt face, he dropped the coin and ran away. I kept running behind him, languishing and wailing but i lost him. I lost the only friend i could have made. That night, clasping that one rupee coin in my palm, under the relentlessly pouring sky, swallowing my bitter tears, i cried myself to sleep.
Why? Why? Am i so ugly? Am i so vile that the air around me turns to lead? Am i so disgusting that water doesn't trickle down your throats?
Am i so repulsive that your eyes burn when you cast them upon me? Am i devil's reflection?
Am i cursed?
One night, as i slept on the dirty pavement, i slowly slipped into numbness. But, it was different this time, not the one i was used to, not the one i was comfortable with. Something scary. As if an icy, black claw was dragging my seven year old body into hell.
And i find myself grateful for its embrace. I find myself giving in.
Maybe death will grant me something which my life never could.
My name.
Anand.
I lived along with my mother in a little shanty just off a road beside National Highway 7. I never knew who my father was. My mom mentioned it just once, in a fit of rage, that he was the same truck driver who had infected her with the deadly virus. It was in those early days of my life that i began to understand the necessity of love, the glory of friendship and the gift of life. I would often wonder why i had to spent every night with the numerous women, whom i had adopted as my aunts, whereas my mother would walk away towards the old, dilapidated large shanty in the middle of the slum. I would cry and long for her in my desolation, night after night and at the first light of dawn, would scramble towards my home. I would always find her there, dreary and broken, but her face would light up with a bright smile the moment she would spot me and she would take me in her loving embrace, as the world would dissolve around us in mellow celebration. My mother showered her love over me just as my neighbours gifted affection. She tried her best to pull me away from the misery and the heinousness in her life. She would place me in her lap as she fed me and told me wonderful stories about fairies and dragons. She would tell me about people and honour, the good and the evil that this world is made of, and most of all she would tell me about the beauty of dreams, for that is all that the hopeful can hold on to.
But life had its own stories to tell.
Soon, word spread about her fatal infection and the malefic disease that she was carrying. Then came the isolation and the silent taunting. In the hope of a better life, my mother left that place and brought me to Mumbai.
It was in this glittering city that i first understood how encompassing the world truly is. It was here that i came to know what a school is. It was here that i began to wear my blue and white uniform and hop off to the place where i learnt the magic of education. And soon we settled into the monotony of life, save for one thing, my mother's failing health. Day by day, my beloved mother, she with those almond eyes, slid deeper and deeper into the dark chasm of death. And then one day, as i returned from school jumping in the little puddles of water, my water bottle hanging from my neck, i came across a half cooked meal of my favourite lime rice.
And nothing else.
With no one to support me and no one to spare me the rod, i fell on to the dismal and bleak streets of Mumbai. Now, here I am, seven years of wretched misery, lonely and forsaken.
As people came to know that i was infected with the same baneful virus that had claimed my mother, i learnt the meaning of loneliness. Now, every where i walk, people shy away, grasp their babies closer to their chests, as if i am devil's messenger. Then, there are the eyes. Everywhere i turn, all i see are those hideous stares, those looks of utter contempt and malicious scorn. Sometimes, i wish that some bird strike me blind with its talons. Atleast, it would stop the stares.
Sometimes, all i wish for are those almond eyes.
Eventually, i found myself on the roads, begging for a living. But when the beggars came to know my illness, they hounded me, threatening me, cleansing me with wooden sticks, lest they lay their hands upon my foul skin.
Now, all i do, is wait behind the stone chair beside the dustbin, unmindful of the stench, waiting for some grateful soul to discard a half eaten apple or a rotten banana. Sometimes, i go back to my slum, when some poor dweller there is celebrating his daughter's wedding with a little fanfare. I sit there, watching the people fill their plates with desserts and sweets. I sit there, alone and forlorn, swallowing my saliva over and over and over again.
Once, a fellow beggar, stole a rupee from my torn trouser pocket. I ran after him, not because i wanted my money back, but because i had finally found someone to talk to. But the moment the boy saw my emaciated body and the discoloured and blemished skin stretched across my gaunt face, he dropped the coin and ran away. I kept running behind him, languishing and wailing but i lost him. I lost the only friend i could have made. That night, clasping that one rupee coin in my palm, under the relentlessly pouring sky, swallowing my bitter tears, i cried myself to sleep.
Why? Why? Am i so ugly? Am i so vile that the air around me turns to lead? Am i so disgusting that water doesn't trickle down your throats?
Am i so repulsive that your eyes burn when you cast them upon me? Am i devil's reflection?
Am i cursed?
One night, as i slept on the dirty pavement, i slowly slipped into numbness. But, it was different this time, not the one i was used to, not the one i was comfortable with. Something scary. As if an icy, black claw was dragging my seven year old body into hell.
And i find myself grateful for its embrace. I find myself giving in.
Maybe death will grant me something which my life never could.
My name.
Anand.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
To the gallows, my soul
Ever walked down a road feeling you've crossed it before?
Life's something like that.
We're all living our lives right now, cribbing about our future, worrying about our past and just plain pissed about our present.
But have you ever wondered how your life's eventually gonna turn out? No? Well, good; because you can't. Think about it. You're 85 for a moment, sitting on a lazychair and looking out at the setting sun.
Would you remember that you almost cried when you flunked an internal assignment paper?
Would you know that the class loner whom you labeled to be a weirdo committed suicide 'cause he couldn't find a way to publish his beautiful paintings.
Would you know that the street urchin you taught a few words in English out of plain sympathy is the head of an BPO corp. today?
Would you ever realize that the teacher who inspired you the most to be the man that you are today, died wretched and lonely in an old age home, writhing on a bed for she couldn't pay for her treatment?
Would you know that the pretty girl you offered a lift on that rainy evening would be the one beside whom you'd spend the rest of your life?
Would you know that the surgeon who saved your mother's life is the daughter of the man you'd refused an educational loan?
Would you know that the only friend you've ever had spent the entire last night waiting for you to call?
Would you know that the old watchman you'd befriended on a long wait for your parents was the one who'd pay the fine when you first jumped a signal?
Would you believe that some young girl somewhere still hums the song you penned for your college band?
Would you wonder as to how you ended up being an investment banker when all you ever wanted to be was an astrophysicist?
Would you still get an overwhelming high every time your eyes turned towards the stars?
Would you remember that you almost killed someone on your first after-binge drive?
Would you believe that your poems can warm a million hearts everyday?
Would you know that you've lived out your entire life busy making other plans?
You can't plan your life. Nor can you decipher it. Or understand it.
There's just one thing that you can do with your life.
Live it.
Life's something like that.
We're all living our lives right now, cribbing about our future, worrying about our past and just plain pissed about our present.
But have you ever wondered how your life's eventually gonna turn out? No? Well, good; because you can't. Think about it. You're 85 for a moment, sitting on a lazychair and looking out at the setting sun.
Would you remember that you almost cried when you flunked an internal assignment paper?
Would you know that the class loner whom you labeled to be a weirdo committed suicide 'cause he couldn't find a way to publish his beautiful paintings.
Would you know that the street urchin you taught a few words in English out of plain sympathy is the head of an BPO corp. today?
Would you ever realize that the teacher who inspired you the most to be the man that you are today, died wretched and lonely in an old age home, writhing on a bed for she couldn't pay for her treatment?
Would you know that the pretty girl you offered a lift on that rainy evening would be the one beside whom you'd spend the rest of your life?
Would you know that the surgeon who saved your mother's life is the daughter of the man you'd refused an educational loan?
Would you know that the only friend you've ever had spent the entire last night waiting for you to call?
Would you know that the old watchman you'd befriended on a long wait for your parents was the one who'd pay the fine when you first jumped a signal?
Would you believe that some young girl somewhere still hums the song you penned for your college band?
Would you wonder as to how you ended up being an investment banker when all you ever wanted to be was an astrophysicist?
Would you still get an overwhelming high every time your eyes turned towards the stars?
Would you remember that you almost killed someone on your first after-binge drive?
Would you believe that your poems can warm a million hearts everyday?
Would you know that you've lived out your entire life busy making other plans?
You can't plan your life. Nor can you decipher it. Or understand it.
There's just one thing that you can do with your life.
Live it.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Life, is it?
" Sometimes you have to bleed just to know that you're alive.... "
-The Goo Goo Dolls [Iris]
-The Goo Goo Dolls [Iris]
Sunday, July 8, 2007
Midnight's Child
I dipped my toe into the black ocean above
and drowned in the sky
drank the wind
tasted sweet moonlight
And serenaded the black heaven....
I walked on the clouds
as the stars pricked my feet
And slept in the seducing moon's lap,
while the whistling breeze draped my soul...
Licking dew drops off the leaves,
I glanced down upon you;
daylight's petty slaves
and wondered
"Can you dream of something better? "
and drowned in the sky
drank the wind
tasted sweet moonlight
And serenaded the black heaven....
I walked on the clouds
as the stars pricked my feet
And slept in the seducing moon's lap,
while the whistling breeze draped my soul...
Licking dew drops off the leaves,
I glanced down upon you;
daylight's petty slaves
and wondered
"Can you dream of something better? "
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Close to hell, nearer to heaven...
Here i am, standing at the edge of the cliff, looking down into the abyss below, morbid thoughts running through my head. It's quite a long way down, i think. The deeper the better. Atleast it won't be painful. Just a momentary gush of wind through your hair and quick death will welcome you into its frightening silence. I look across the deep ravine below below me. Funny, seems exactly where my heart is hiding. In that dark cavern of lies, regret and failure where the bats of guilt reside. All they need is flash of light to unfurl their wings and break through the cave of restraint.
And that final roll of dice has been cast.
I'm here to end it all. The betrayal, the regret, the failure that has perennially plagued my life. The disappointment, the humiliation and the suffering that everyone dear to me had to endure. The man i am and the man i never could be.
Remember the time in your life when nothing seems to be going right. When everything you do leads to nothing at all. When you have no clue where your life is heading towards but you know that it's the wrong destination. When you can no longer recognize yourself in the mirror. When your voice escapes from your lips and not from your heart. When your thoughts are your worst nightmares. When your own soul begs for freedom. I've gone through that feeling all my life. Believe me, i'm no coward.
I think about all the times in my life when i had laughed heartily and the innumerable times when i'd shed and swallowed my own bitter tears. Times when my own heart wouldn't accept them. All i could think of was those terrible thoughts, those hideously morose thoughts that grip you and never let you go. I couldn't take it anymore. My soul was trapped in my own body, screaming to end the tormenting assault of endless desolation wreaked upon my fragile mind.
I take one last look across the dark chasm that lay in front of me. I'm already dreaming about the last rush of life i'd be feeling as i would descend into the black valley of death. The last thoughts i'd have to endure. The last emotion that would run through my mind as i would enter earth's loving embrace.
Looking down in the dark hell below, i begin to take little steps towards the edge. I close my eyes and am about to take the last few steps when i hear a voice behind me. I turn around to find an old man, his eyes brimming with hope and expectation, hobbling towards me. He walks towards me, a smile as bright and mellow as the morning sun on his lips. He staggers near me, eying the view behind me and asks,
"Sir, would you like to buy a couple of wings ?"
And that final roll of dice has been cast.
I'm here to end it all. The betrayal, the regret, the failure that has perennially plagued my life. The disappointment, the humiliation and the suffering that everyone dear to me had to endure. The man i am and the man i never could be.
Remember the time in your life when nothing seems to be going right. When everything you do leads to nothing at all. When you have no clue where your life is heading towards but you know that it's the wrong destination. When you can no longer recognize yourself in the mirror. When your voice escapes from your lips and not from your heart. When your thoughts are your worst nightmares. When your own soul begs for freedom. I've gone through that feeling all my life. Believe me, i'm no coward.
I think about all the times in my life when i had laughed heartily and the innumerable times when i'd shed and swallowed my own bitter tears. Times when my own heart wouldn't accept them. All i could think of was those terrible thoughts, those hideously morose thoughts that grip you and never let you go. I couldn't take it anymore. My soul was trapped in my own body, screaming to end the tormenting assault of endless desolation wreaked upon my fragile mind.
I take one last look across the dark chasm that lay in front of me. I'm already dreaming about the last rush of life i'd be feeling as i would descend into the black valley of death. The last thoughts i'd have to endure. The last emotion that would run through my mind as i would enter earth's loving embrace.
Looking down in the dark hell below, i begin to take little steps towards the edge. I close my eyes and am about to take the last few steps when i hear a voice behind me. I turn around to find an old man, his eyes brimming with hope and expectation, hobbling towards me. He walks towards me, a smile as bright and mellow as the morning sun on his lips. He staggers near me, eying the view behind me and asks,
"Sir, would you like to buy a couple of wings ?"
Sunday, July 1, 2007
Serenity
I'm sitting here in the comfort of my favourite corner, blowing little bubbles into the air.
I watch them float up towards the ceiling , then try to touch them teasingly with my fingers and let them softly fall on my open palm where they hover for a moment before they disappear forming little puddles of water on my skin, like puppies licking my palm. While i sit there, i watch them being born as tiny drops of joy, rising with the eagerness of new birth, floating into space to reach for the stars but then slowly lowering themselves onto the ground with the kind of sadness you see in a defeated child's eyes. Then they gently kiss the earth, hoping that that little act of affection will grant them a few more moments of existence.
As i watch their wonderful dance of life, i wonder: isn't falling in love a lot like the life of bubbles??
We all fall deeply in love, hiding it in little gardens of our heart, hoping for it to bloom.
And then, finally, it does.
Blooms into a rush of ecstasy. Blooms like a flower that freshens with every passing moment. You fall headfirst into that abyss of romance, searching for your little halos. Then, ironically but pleasantly, your heart flies, reaching for the stars that glitter like your loved one's eyes. But gradually, that tender craziness that used to light up your day, turns to obsession, differences and eventually neglect. Then it all softly fades away just like a withered leaf off a dead tree.
Yet, we hold on, refusing to let go. Just like those bubbles, we cling on to memories, that smile, those eyes; grasping onto anything that might offer us a glimmer of happiness, anything that could resurrect our fallen soul. I guess every relationship leaves behind a candle that has been put off just to help us appreciate the darkness we'd been unaware of.
And I guess we all fall in love for the same reason as we blow those lovely bubbles.
'Cause it just make our lives a little more beautiful.
I watch them float up towards the ceiling , then try to touch them teasingly with my fingers and let them softly fall on my open palm where they hover for a moment before they disappear forming little puddles of water on my skin, like puppies licking my palm. While i sit there, i watch them being born as tiny drops of joy, rising with the eagerness of new birth, floating into space to reach for the stars but then slowly lowering themselves onto the ground with the kind of sadness you see in a defeated child's eyes. Then they gently kiss the earth, hoping that that little act of affection will grant them a few more moments of existence.
As i watch their wonderful dance of life, i wonder: isn't falling in love a lot like the life of bubbles??
We all fall deeply in love, hiding it in little gardens of our heart, hoping for it to bloom.
And then, finally, it does.
Blooms into a rush of ecstasy. Blooms like a flower that freshens with every passing moment. You fall headfirst into that abyss of romance, searching for your little halos. Then, ironically but pleasantly, your heart flies, reaching for the stars that glitter like your loved one's eyes. But gradually, that tender craziness that used to light up your day, turns to obsession, differences and eventually neglect. Then it all softly fades away just like a withered leaf off a dead tree.
Yet, we hold on, refusing to let go. Just like those bubbles, we cling on to memories, that smile, those eyes; grasping onto anything that might offer us a glimmer of happiness, anything that could resurrect our fallen soul. I guess every relationship leaves behind a candle that has been put off just to help us appreciate the darkness we'd been unaware of.
And I guess we all fall in love for the same reason as we blow those lovely bubbles.
'Cause it just make our lives a little more beautiful.
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