Posts Tagged ‘dead’

image of a bald guy talking to a girl

The Bald Guy

Probably why a lot of things stay hallowed in my head is, I guess, because my world still lingers around a lot of undone things. Unsaid words. Unaccomplished possibilities. Gargantuan morsels of hope that ended up getting swallowed by despair. Menial trivial things that could have created a memory, could never make it. Like the time she had wished to stroke my hair. The fact that it never happened left a hole in my dimension. It ended up becoming a skipped fragment that could never possibly attain fruition.

Other petty notions of our talks that could have avalanched into a nervous wreck stay disbanded in space. Broken threads they are, suffering in their own mute misery. No knots find them. They sway like torn dreams. A bazillion “could-haves”, those hidden somewhere betwixt our silent whispers, could never make it. That makes me sad. That shattering incomplete feeling is a consequence of all such figments.

I wasn’t fortunate enough to even have my day. One day! That could have flung us towards unrivalled elation. Not even a seamless graze on a cheek to test those walls of love. Not even melting away in each other’s arms. Not even a hug of tingling warmth, to say so long. Nothing to justify. Nothing to prove all those words of mettle that once echoed to and fro between the media of mundane. Words they ended up being. Spoken and forgotten. Like crude promises. They fell dead like a pang of wretch. Shot down mid-air by a bullet of fate.

We could never even make it to the finish line. All those dreams just kind of fluttered away in time. Lost. Never to be found.

I just feel all of it at once sometimes, and then sometimes never. Hard to explain. Maybe I am all alone in this dead vale. Meant to feel that way. Maybe truth deserves me more than ever, as it sneaks through to speak through from beyond, beyond the holes of my past.

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The Perpendicular Universe Dhauladhar range

I can’t seem to shake it off. That view! The dark greenish hue of the mountain that was so high and far that it would occasionally blend in with the whites of the clouds. Complementing it gorgeously was another colossal mountain covered in a brownish tint measuring it from a distance, which had almost disappeared, if it weren’t for our keen eyes that were successful in scaling its edges across the heaven.

The latter reminded me of the kite I would fly, back at home – when I would slacken it till it would disappear into the sky. My kite would then blend into the colours of the sea and would get lost. One minor distraction, and lo! It would be hard to tell what I was really holding on to. It would appear as if I was steering the whole sky. Reeling it to make it go further, and pulling sometimes to see if I could bring its blue enormity closer.

Every time I close my eyes, I see the capped freak staring at me from a distance. There were smudges on its body, probably glaciers running down, that seemed silent like a pond from my vantage. Occasionally clouds would cover the beast up, afraid it was showing too much skin. At times, its peak would peak from the blankets to see who the stranger was and why his eyes carried mad love. And why wouldn’t he stop staring?

As our car galloped onto the Kangra road, the mountain followed us. It was inquisitive, while I couldn’t stop myself from gawking. The world must be wondering- “How imprudent!”

About 12 hours earlier we were right there. If not at the top then probably somewhere around its bosom. Heading towards Dharamshala on a bike, we would occasionally take a pit-stop just to marvel at the scenic orgasmic vista the mountain manifested. Cameras would come out at once to capture our perspective in style so that we never forget the unforgettable. Our bike roared in pain as it lunged into the unknown roads. It was hard to tell if we could make it. But the beauty beckoned, and there was no turning back.

From a distance, the ridges looked as if they were drenched in dark. There were shadows over it while the whole world burned alight. It seemed to be sleeping. Quiet like a lifeless thing, which can never be awaken. It slept while its rivers wept. It was written in green. Trees stretched all across its body.

We crossed Dharamshala soon and headed towards McLeodganj. The ascent was punishing. The moment we got closer, it began raining. It struck me at once that the dark was owing to the clouds there. Within seconds we were drenched in the downpour. There was no place to hide, and then we thought, “Let’s do this!” We stormed off to the renowned Bhagsu water fall. The place offered one helluva panorama. My eyes captured it the moment I set them on it.

I was told the summit turns into an alp during the winter season. I just tried to imagine how badass it must look then. The green on the mountains metamorphosing into the white of the snow. As if they have called for a quilt to beat the cold.

When I came back to the same jaded life I live, suddenly I found myself surrounded by a relentless smoke of depression. I wanted to be there. Into the Mountains. Free. Adventurous. Marvelling at the invincible beauty. Taking in the serenity. Breathing in the phenomenal. Gawking at the lively ridges.

Alas! Now I am here. Everything is dead again.

The Perpendicular Universe The Cubicle

I dream for an open field. There is a wild run in me. But there is no ground to tramp on. I don’t see it. Even if it is there, I am blind to it.

My life is a cubicle. It begins in walls and ends right there. I am bound by the charms of the green. But I wish it was a meadow, and that I was free to gallop wild. Free to dart my way to search the end of it.

Every day begins with me trying to adjust my fading eyes to a computer screen. I am locked. I am compelled to. There is no escape from the life I have chosen. If there is, then maybe I am blind to that too. Or pretending that I can’t see, because I have a sea of responsibilities to swim into. Or make a living out of this dead.

Day in and day out I follow the same ritual of turning the office desktop on, checking my mails for updates, attending meetings to show the ground I have covered, having lunch when I am not hungry, making small talks that are pointless and will be forgotten, working like a workhorse to make people in the other corner of the world happy, living a misery to help build someone something I don’t give a shit about, slaying the universe’s most useful gem – time just so that everything moves on and I age to perish one day, and then repeating the whole cycle again because there is no end to this.

What I live is misery. This is someone else’s dream. I am the tiniest mote to him. It wouldn’t matter to anyone if I fall one day. They will have someone to replace my body. Because my mind doesn’t reach anywhere. It is being forced to run in a mill, where churning thoughts is a curse and of no use to anyone.

I can feel the force of this psychotic world pulling me down. This isn’t gravity, No! This is the worst. It keeps on pulling you, one piece at a time, till there is nothing left. If you had a dream it would make sure you lose your mind. It would subject you to so much pressure that you would forget life is supposed to be easy. It would swallow you in its jaded shenanigans that you would not remember what real fun is supposed to be like. It would drown you into its silent waters, take you deep down to hell, and you would never know if there was supposed to be a heaven too.

I just wish there was no one that pulled my strings. That I create something because I feel like building. That I eat because I feel hungry. That I dance because I feel like dancing. That I look at a screen because I wish to surf and have fun. That I check my mails to see another world. That I play because I feel like having a blast. That I have talks that numb minds and emanate something useful every time I do. That I pamper myself because I deserve it.

But alas! I am stuck in a cubicle. My life is it.

The Perpendicular Universe Songs of a Ruin SOAR

This came out as a justification to the title of a new blog I decided to run, trying to satiate my poetic head. You could check out the link for the same: https://songsofaruin.wordpress.com/

             SONGS OF A RUIN

Voices I make
From embers of dead,
Silent croons they are
They go unheard.

Brute heads
Don’t turn around
To have a look
At my mess.

New was I once,
Alive and the breathing kind.
My red was strong,
My head was bright.

I’d see the sun
Before it’d see me.
Would heave in dusk,
And embrace their dark.

And count stars all night,
My pastime,
As if all gloom
Was mine.

Would chat with birds
And laugh with breeze,
Weep with rains
And play with bees.

And behold the grand,
Praise the right,
They bowed to me
Might was me.

Now ashes I feel,
Cinders I taste,
Old and rotten,
My body it fades.

My neck ails,
Yet I feel a song,
Perched up in pain,
That just won’t come out.

My glee forgotten,
Husk I am,
Rip me apart
O rain! Cry me away!

I have seen it all,
What a ruin is man
What hatred he holds!
Shudders my soul.

Silent mouths
They howl anyway
My story of stones
Grated with time.

Their greed for theirs,
Plundered my heart.
Took me away,
From me.

Piece by piece,
Ripped apart
To invisible,
To Nothing.

Hollow I am,
Echoes cease in my webs,
Wrought by naught,
Empty within.

I am a ruin,
Don’t wish to be
The tread of the dead,
But the walk of the living.

Cloudia The Perpendicular Universe

The city is crying. Tears of grief that clouds withheld for years are falling down in unison through a bazillion eyes. Their croon – voices of thunder, shrieks of acute pain that emanate because a reaper’s scythe has cracked them open with a lightning, go unheard, unnoticed like an inevitable backdrop. They have come with colossal rivers and they are going to pour till they run dry.

As I look up at the grey that clouds our judgement, the city appears to be sad. Roads are clogged with vehicles. Every brow has a frown. Engines purring non-stop. People dying to get to their destination. Vehicles looking at the clear lane with jealous eyes as some whoosh pass by. Bikes squeezing through the narrowest of paths, whilst cars blocking them deliberately to destroy their progress. Malice grinning behind the wheels. My city carries that din that constantly knells in your head till you find a quiet. There is a constant air of confusion, of endless commotion in every eye, in every heart, a restlessness to be somewhere, far away from the dead roads.

It took me an hour to get to my room. All that time I kept thinking if I had taken a different route, maybe a different street, I could have made it a little earlier. Albeit all those what-ifs, conundrums of possibilities and probabilities account to nothing once you are home, in the back of my head, I was well aware of another day that was to come with the eventuality of yet another jam. All those roads not taken are going to haunt me again with time. All those choices in my life, all those poor decisions that took me to a halt, all those bad cuts I took that stopped me at roadblocks are going to mash up in my face one day and say:

You didn’t live enough. You didn’t live right. They gave you time and you squandered it in us clogs.

Half of my life I have been stuck up in inexorable circumstances, doing things that wouldn’t probably matter in any possible dimension. Immobile. Just hanging there, doing nothing! If I reckon every single moment I wasted, just breathing in a swarm that doesn’t go anywhere, or following orders that don’t take me to a destination, just lying in my bed staring at the fan, or doing something pointless to kill time, I would end up, to be precise, with my entire life. Sadly I have wasted every bit of it. Not just me. Everyone on this planet has. Unaware about our true purpose, and leaving things to destiny, we have basically done nothing. We are too lazy to do anything. Too stupid to fathom our real purpose. We are just passing time, waiting for the inadvertent to happen to us, and someone or something to approve of us. We are just going with the flow, slaying time so that one day we age to death.

It weeps for days here. A downpour like that, seems like nature has simply given up on us. Weather’s been changing abruptly. There were earthquakes a couple of days ago. Tsunamis with forks that plan on eating a big chunk of our land.

Is that why nature’s angry? That we haven’t figured it out yet? Is it time for nature to swallow us up and start a new project? Are we failures too just like dinosaurs, our ancestral relatives? Is it time for a better-brained evolution to succeed us?

If that were the case these tears are justified. Just wish we could do something to ease the pain!

The Perpendicular Universe Man In A Bottle
What is your biggest fear? Have you ever tried to slow down your high-paced life for a while and wasted a thought on the aforesaid? What are you afraid of? I don’t want your answer to be mere literal. I don’t want it to circle sheer material. Of course, you are afraid of cockroaches and lizards. But what I implore is something more significant. I want the meaningful you to give it a proper scrutiny. Just spend a thought. Brood over it. Slow down for a bit. Sit down for a while. Wear your thinking cap. Squeeze some time for yourself and think!

Aren’t you afraid of passing away incomplete? That one day death visits you out of the blue and you realize that you haven’t lived, and that you expected more from life? What if you hear the death knell tomorrow and you discern that there was a deed in you dying for an action, something you really wanted to do but couldn’t get enough time to sign it off?

Does it shatter you to know that you haven’t really done anything in your life? That you have been trying to simply earn the greens hitherto to just make a living? That all you did was a mere waste of your time? And that whatever you achieved so far didn’t matter at all? Does it hurt to know that you don’t really have any talents? That the word ‘talent’ simply betrays your distortion?

How does it feel to know that things left unsaid could have actually resurrected you from dead? What if the moments that you had let go inadvertently, were actually the ones you should have seized to get rid of the emptiness you feel?

Aren’t you afraid of disappearing in thin air? That one day people would forget you like you never existed? There wouldn’t be any stories sung or songs written in your name. That your existence wouldn’t garner fame? That your life would simply hammer into the ordinary?

Are you not afraid of not finding out your purpose in life? Doesn’t that bum you out? Not knowing the reason of your existence? Embracing the death hug with wool over your eyes? That you were conceived in darkness and that in the end, the same darkness is going to swallow you?

Are you not afraid of being locked up on this planet? Does it not bother you? That you can’t get out? What if the truth of it all is so excruciating that it shatters you to million pieces? Knowing the truth, is it not going to affect you? Don’t you have myriad expectations? What will happen to those stereotypes that you have been spoon fed by earthlings then?

My biggest fear is dying without being understood. Knowing that I shall perish without someone getting me implodes me. How pitiful that is! What a tragedy!

I am afraid that I might perish unbloomed. That something despicable will accidentally swallow me, chew me and spit me out without knowing my worth. I am afraid of dying unheard. That my shrieking voice would not make it anywhere. I am afraid that I might fall with this emptiness in my guts and that I would take it to my grave. I am afraid that my coffin would feel empty even with my dead presence. It bothers me to know that my dead would reek of death and not of a life lived.

Limo

I remember the time I wrote this. Reclining in a not-so-comfy office chair in Chennai. Had plenty of time then, primarily because there was no work, also no one around because of the night shifts I was stuffed into. My mind would occasionally fleet to horizons of introspection and quite frequently to dismay. As I tried to linger on the same old sweet grief from the past of a body I couldn’t put a face to, I fell into the pits of cogitation. I wondered how all this time I was just by myself. Was life supposed to be like this? Am I going to find the one? Do I have someone written for me?

I have this bizarre emotional side to me that I am not that proud of, yet at times I am, probably because it emanates some brilliant streams of thoughts that bring life to a dead page. Read this beauty, drenched in simplicity, that I had penned going into that powerful yet innocent zone of sentience that brought tears to my eyes with its veritable surge. I am asking for my soul-mate to apparate into my life:

You are right there in the corner

I feel your presence.
I know you exist.
Am sure you are there,
Just out of my reach.

You lie in creation.
Without a face, without a body.
Yet I know,
You are right there.

Just within a hand’s reach,
Wish I had longer arms
I would hold you tight
And never let go.

Tired as I am,
To see you in the mist,
Wish I had vision, more clearer,
To see through, what lies yonder.

Wish I had a mouth,
That actually spake,
Every once in a while,
Words that’d bring you to reality.

Aware as I am,
Of your vibes around me,
Wish I could feel your skin
Against mine.

Wish I had that profound a heart
That would sense your presence,
And tell me,
You are around.

Wish I had at least,
Those wary ears
To hear your voice
That would assure me of your arrival.

You are not distant.
Close as you are,
I can sense your scent.
Wish I had better olfaction.

Oh my other half!
My precious reflection!
Wherever you are,
Just find me

Or knit me at least,
A path
That would guide me,
To you.

Tell me!
With words of love
Where do I look,
With these blind eyes?

Or hark with heed,
At my screeching door,
For your chiming bell.
Just tell!

I know you are perfect,
In every dimension,
In every world
Just built for me.

Oh my Yin!
I am empty without you.
Come to me soon!
And resurrect this dead.