Black Dreams

About to fly with cynical curiosity,
Loads of hope and a broken wing,
Take those steps, I'm off to woo,
That heartless mistress called Engineering.

Cocoa Beans

13. Cricket. Badminton without nets. Lock and Key. Hide and Seek behind parked cars. Swat Kats. Harry Potter - Book 3. Newton's Laws. Scholastic Books. Hardy Boys. Nancy Drew. Backstreet Boys. Sibling rivalry. Comic strips. Bed time: 10 PM. Essay Writing. Fill in the blanks. Boys only. Girls only. Raksha Bandhan in school. Ice lollies. Orange tongues. Ruffles' Lay's. Tazos. WWE. Field trips. Water parks. Terminator 2. Arnold's biceps. School Day. Elocution. Bournvita Quiz Contest. Courtesy. Unusual emotions. First crush. Furtive glances. Helping hands. Kabir ke dohe. Shakespeare. Hanging out around school. Bio lectures. Age of Empires. NFS. First Whisper. Back benches. Passing notes. Link-ups. Pyjama parties. Last year. Captain. Career. Soccer. Half Life. Sexuality. The Lord Of The Rings. Dil Chahta Hai. Summer of '69. First date. Tutorials. Parents. Rebel. School trip. McDonald's. Four letter words. Boards. Relief. Anxiety. Tears. Jubilation. Achievement. Farewell Party. Keep in touch. New friends. Messenger. Sling bags. Reunions. Looks. Hair gels. Low rise denims. Flirting. Weird accents. D-Day zits. Ragging teachers. Mummy, Papa. Mom, Dad. Sleepovers. Pink Floyd. Guitar riffs. Angelina Jolie. Brad Pitt. First cell phone. Coaching classes. 1 AM bedtime. Branded wear. Music. Music. Music. Bunking classes. Relating to F.R.I.E.N.D.S. Black tees. Coffee and conversations. First relationship. Love? Flaunting it. Long walks. Youth. Chinese cuisine only diets. First heartbreak. Tears. Betrayal. Moving on. Peer pressure. Awareness. Breaking rules. Plunging necklines. Rising hemlines. Concerts. Gigs. Makeovers. Midnight gossip. 2 AM tears. Phone bills. Whatever. Practical classes. Long hair. Streaked hair. Youth activism. First bribe. Nuts, screws and bolts. Testing waters. Bitching. Trust. Piercings. Tattoos. Still comic strips. Getting caught. Mood swings. Philosophy. The Internet. AIDS. Grudges. Lonely walks. Identity crisis. Friends. Guy talk. Eves only. Secret crushes. Hanging out. Late nights. Black humour. Gays and Lesbians. Almost flunking. Jealousy. Messaging. Every nerd has his day. Music, yet again. Life's like that. Farewell: The Sequel. Suits and saris. 2nd year exams. Last minute preparations. Photocopying notes. No bedtime. 4 AM coffee. Scraping through. Entrance exams. Abbreviations galore. JEE, AIEEE, PMT, CET, XYZ. Learning it the hard way. Counselling. Glory. Meeting up. Different, empty roads. Misogynist> Bravado> Chivalry> Friendship. Final confessions. Hope. Beauty. Joy. Truth. Apologies. Tears. Hugs. Friendship.18.

A dream ends. A dream begins.



Life.

Another Shade Of Green

A couple of days ago, I was hanging out with my friends at a popular zone. Somehow on entering that place, I was suddenly struck by that plague extraordinaire : silence. I withdrew into my shell, as I often do, and began to think. Think about about the futility and inevitability of it all. Think about the new detours that our common highway was splitting into. And quietly but unwillingly, I began to sink into the depths of gloom. There, while we waiting at the bowling alley for a free lane, I saw this group of people, all of whom were hearing-impaired. I saw them, gesturing vigourously with their hands, trying to communicate through the Sign Language. They blended effortlessly into the hip, young crowd there and I would guess them to be around 23-25 years of age. There were about six of them, three guys, two women and a small young boy, barely five years old. While I was waiting there with the rest of my friends, I continued to watch them. I saw them gesturing enthusiastically, laughing together, teasing each other regarding their bowling skills or rather the lack of it. You could see the laughter gleaming in their eyes and the absolutely magical joy with which they had embraced life. All of them began to clap and applaud as the young boy (I guess he one of the couple's son) lifted the ball with great effort and staggered nervously towards the lane. They all began to cheer as his father lifted him and helped him bowl. As his ball trotted off into the gutter, they all let out a collective sigh and the two women rushed to hug him. Then, the kid saw his dad bowl and as nine of the pins spluttered away like dominoes, he rushed towards his mom to give her a high-five and began to explain the pins' descent to his mom with pure ecstasy written all over his angelic face. As I watched them, still grappling with my gloom, I saw the joie de vivre that had softly illuminated their life. And slowly, like a ghost, a whisper in my mind came alive.


Hell, I'm the one who's disabled.

Guilty Grandeur

The leaves of regret rustle,
And the air is thick with tears,
Here in the graveyard of my heart,
I buried hope.

Volte-Face

It strikes. It strikes and then disappears into the blue. The moment the scales tilt in the favour of happiness, the long whip of gloom strikes to tear away the skin of peace.

Haven't all of us had such moments? Moments, when, in the midst of quiet revelry, that creature of darkness comes to haunt you. A picture of despair so vivid that it screams into the iris of your eyes and pulls apart your facade. And it hurts. It so hurts to witness that memory of failure in the nucleus of success that you're celebrating on the clouds. It so hurts to lay your eyes on the glossy cover of success when you are writhing in the depths of failure.
Your memories crouch, lurking in some some neglected corner of your mind, waiting for a chance to spring upon at the slightest whiff of joy. They remind you of the dark caverns of gloom when you are busy basking in the sun of glee. Yet, you can't escape them. How, after all, can you escape your thoughts? They strike without warning, gnawing away at every morsel of happiness that has been scattered upon your heart. You try to push them away, try to live in the moment. But then, darkness is a persistent cloud. It doesn't warm the cold caves of separation nor does it allow you to enjoy the candle of togetherness.

They all haunt you. Memories of love that clutch your heart when you are yearning to hate. Memories of hatred that torture your soul when you are reaching out to love. Memories of intimacy when you are learning the language of separation. Memories of separation when you are seeking to rebuild the gardens of love. Memories of despair when you are embracing hope. Memories of joy when you are slaving to the whims of misery. It is in moments like these that you know realize the fragility of life. Moments like these, when both the roads at the fork lead to nowhere. These are the times when you can't shut your mind nor can you open your heart.

Remembering memories is like having a knife pointed at your back. Facing them makes you turn around to pierce it through your heart. It's a moment when you are stuck in reverse.

Unwilling to hold on, unable to let go.

Footsteps To Eternity

Revolves a black hole in my head,
Where all emotions are lost,
Forced to take a stand,
When I can't trust myself.

Distance grows to make feelings simmer,
Memories wither to fallen petals,
Trying to run backwards with feet of lead,
As the spear of time hangs in balance.

When did the flowers turn to dust?
Where did the stars disappear?
Why does the sun wait to shed sunlight?
Why do dreams fail to burn my soul?

My mind is my prison.