Posts Tagged ‘death’

The Perpendicular Universe unfinished

Been a while, I haven’t penned anything on these leaves. I have been lost in the humdrum of the mundane. A job that sucks me in, and eats away my precious hours. Takes me away from the world of writing. But these special leaflets are always there. In the backdrop of my head. Silently calling me. Making me feel the void. Trying to make its presence felt. Then life manages to put me in front of the screen somehow, as if the croons of this blog get heard.

I wish to press these leaves with only the best. Maybe that’s what takes a lot of time. To only fill the easel with quality work. My brother had asked me to keep it as a wont, when I am in the right zone. To him it is one of my best collections hitherto, a magnum opus weaved with a keen wisdom. I intend to keep it that way. It lets me unspool myself, the real me, into validation. An introspection of sorts that might reflect the real me to a reader if there is one at all.

Today, I am squeezed into work so much that this blog stays hidden from me. I distribute myself to others, so much that I forget my own identity. But this right here, this, lets me appreciate myself. When I take a step back to look at it, I realize it is nothing but my mirror. It lets me behold the real me. It lets me fathom myself more. Words smeared on these blanks tell me that I am different. It lets me dig deeper into a head of a writer, a poet who is insanely in love with words, with a brain uplifted and a head that reeks of beautiful and sentient thoughts.

What is unfortunate is the fact that he barely has time to cover ‘em all. There is so much beauty yet to read, so many wonderful people yet to encounter, so many experiences yet to experience, so much land yet to cover, so much love yet to shower, so many unknown faces yet to scan, so many enthralling creations yet to marvel at, and there are so many gorgeous thoughts in his skull still embryonic, veiled, that can only unfurl with time. It’s a shame that it’s running out.

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The perpendicular universe broken

We are the broken people. The fallen souls. The shattered hearts. The twisted, constricted echoes of a hollow body. We don’t make a sound. We croon. We weep. We are always crying, fading away gradually from the inside. Our angst nibbles us every moment. It grazes us quietly as if we are its pasture.

Our shrieks go unheard. Silent muffled screams that don’t make it to fruition. Like mumbles they wither away into eternity. We bear tears. Like clouds hold an imminent downpour. They are always hanging there. Surmounted by our feigned ego and false strength.

It is hard to figure us out. You wouldn’t know it is us. You wouldn’t be able to put a pin to our emotions. We trudge the earth like dinosaurs waiting for the dreadful meteor. Maybe eyeing that impending doom and waiting for it to swallow us. We wish death. We seek it in every little thing we do. We prefer living on the edge.

We breathe in shadows. An abyss so dark and void of hope, we enjoy its presence around us. We love the way it engulfs us. We rejoice its gnawing. We wish to be eaten away. Pain has no meaning for us. Because we are written in it. We relate to the fallen. There is beauty only we can perceive in it. The trampled leaves and crumpled grass appeal to us. The chewed up and spit out souls rivet us.

We aren’t afraid of the dark. We love to feel its claws on us, its punishing jaws that make a silent promise to tear us apart. Blood is a gift. Every smear is an orgasmic pleasure. We are penned in gore, and seek it in every act.

There is no path for us. Because to be honest, there is none. We know it is all in our head. We know everything will boil down to naught. No matter what you do. No matter where you go. We are aware, we will stay, right here.

We don masks. Masks of a fake smile, of a lying head that you can never see through. Every jovial act is ephemeral. Your laugh is evanescent. To us it is just a moment that shalt pass. Long lasting is our woe. It will remain. Perennial!

We prefer the silence. Because it speaks. Bazillion words, if not for your ears, then for our heads.

We are omnipresent. We walk amongst you. Unseen. Unnoticed. Uncared. Yet we don’t worry. Because we know, nothing matters, and nothing ever will.

We are the broken people.

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.

MyGrief

Have this wont of going profound. Can’t help it! There is this poetic side of me, which slows down on an amazing quote, remembers the emotional bit, and captures the heartfelt in everything life offers. So that the beauty of poetry never ceases, I have decided to tag along another category into my blog and call it ‘Unsung Poetry‘.

The poet in me was never dead. It just went on a hiatus. Now that I have decided to keep throwing in bits of poetry hither and thither into the newly created label, I think I will resurrect my writing habits. That way my leaflets would be brimming with stuff to read.

The first one is the most recently penned bit which I have decided to kick-start this project with. Empathy runs wild in my veins, and I can’t help slip into someone’s skin to perceive pain. The poem is dedicated to one of my truest friends and it runs on his recent turn of traumatic and agonizing events, and for his appalling loss I wept like a cloud in excruciating angst. Written from his perspective:

 My Grief Isn’t Yours to Take

 What makes you cry, O weary eye?
Nothing lost you have,
You still have a life,
Mine’s taken away.
 

Why do you croon for my loss?
This void, I have to bear,
The pain is mine, this angst is mine,
Why do you even care?
 

Why weep in blood?
Why feel my pain?
Why take my shoes?
And soil my rain?
 

Why find you gutters?
Thy soul still flutters!
You can soar quite high,
Your wings hath flight.
 

Your face has a smile,
Your soul has a heart,
Your limbs can talk.
Still, why do you seek my bruises?

This woe isn’t yours,
This dead all mine.
Why do you shower more than my eyes?
You lost nothing!

The truth in your orbs
Bothers my grief,
I am still not over this lie
Called life.
 

Why do you take it away?
My agony has just begun.
Let me fade with it,
I wish not to stay.
 

The world has just ended.
This sorrow isn’t yours to take.
Don’t feel my misery!
It’s all mine to make.
 

Don’t wash it away with your tears.
I will cry till my rivers dry.
And leave me barren
And lifeless.
 

Just let me be!
Don’t feel for me,
Is all I ask.
Just let me wither away.
 

I wail for heeding ears
That aren’t deaf.
Now I weep for mercy,
So the dead might come awake.

goodbyes

As a kid, I had never thought it through. Farewells and goodbyes. Our mind would always be preoccupied with the next big adventure, to pay heed to a waving hand. It was like a future of fun that strayed ahead into the pastures of the unknown, and all I cared then was to graze alongside them rather than sulk and look back. I never looked back.

That carefree age! We were never that attached to anyone. Our strings dangled freely back then. No tears of a heartache, no promises of a future, no worries of looking back, no woe, only joy. I would make fun of those who would cry on our departure. I would point out to my elder brother in a goofy tone, “Oooooooo! Auntie is crying!” and we would both chuckle derisively making a mental note to tease her in a blackmailing future.

Then what happened? Then, we grew up.

The first time I felt an immediate absence was when my sisters were leaving for their posted imminent future. I remember those tears that came to my eyes, taking me and my clenched fist by surprise, as I tried to wipe them off in discretion. They were standing at the door of that train, refusing to go back in, as the train chugged its final leaving. Both their teeny eyes on me, their lips syncing in unison, mouthing “Bye-Byes” and “Love you so much” notes quietly. I was responding to them with a sinking heart signaling them to get in, go to their seats. As the train took them away from me, I could still see them peeping, staring at me with tears in their eyes, still standing at that door and waving a painful au revoir. That was the first time I realized a goodbye grief. The pain of someone’s leaving. It struck me so hard I wanted to slap the younger me through time travel.

I used to make fun of my mother when she would roll tears for me whenever I was about to embark on a journey. Now, that I have fathomed emotions that drench a farewell, I can relate. I can empathize.

I had written this for her once I was in a quandary:

Every time I hug her tight and land a peck, she always cries. Makes me wonder: “Am I really that warm or is my void too depressing to bear?”

Then there was this angst soaked in a forever parting, that I believe lasted till eternity. The heartbreak. I remember going home to my brother in tears, hugging him so tight it might have broken his ribs, weren’t he fat. All those ‘what-ifs’ came haunting to me every night, and I would be disappointed to wake up in reality. That goodbye was the most shattering one to me, probably because there was ‘a promise of forever’ entailed that had just been broken, probably because the idea of never seeing someone again was analogous to death to me. She had died that day for me. I was realizing it every moment. So the tears were punishing and my life unbecoming.

I had experienced a disheartening farewell yet again and had decided to breathe it to a paper. Funny how age helms us towards empathy!

Watching you go was the hardest thing. I knew I didn’t have much time and that after few minutes you would be gone. I knew I would never see you again. My heart was pounding. It was heavy as hell. Desperation came oozing out. I couldn’t do anything about it. I didn’t care if the world saw me like that. I just wanted to be with you. I didn’t know what was going through your head. I just knew what was going through mine. I couldn’t say ‘Goodbye’. I would choke if I did, so I thought. I tried to gush in happy thoughts. But the tragedy that was about to happen, stared at me.

My eyes were about to lose them. Those tears. You pacified me with a hug. I wish I had hugged you tighter. Maybe that would have forced you to stay. You disappeared in the bus. I searched you like a mad man. People would have thought I was crazy. I hardly cared. All I could see was you. Rest was hazy. Rest was vague. When you mouthed ‘I love you’ to me, it became my life’s biggest achievement all of a sudden. It made me feel special. Even though for a second, I visited heaven and came back. Because hell was about to begin. Your bus went straight into the oblivion. I waited for it to turn. But it didn’t.

At times we don’t even come across a farewell. We just uproot a person out of our soul. It is as simple as pressing the shift + delete button. At such an hour, you believe probably that soul wasn’t worth your goodbye. That it was the only way. A wave from your attachment could have possibly changed your mind. Another meeting could have changed your thoughts about letting go.

Pi Patel from Ang Lee’s masterpiece Life of Pi says:

I suppose in the end, the whole of life becomes an act of letting go, but what always hurts the most is not taking a moment to say goodbye.

Not turning back. I have used it but only at desperate moments. I believe it is justified at desperate times. When there is nothing left. When you know that your feet might fall off, if you turned. Your mind would change if you peeked at your past. Roads that wave ahead would collapse if you stopped. Seeking this crude alternative then is fine, I surmise.

When people go away, there is an oblivion that eats their existence. Things don’t remain the same. Your memories of times spent together reek of rust. When a fully fledged awareness of an impending goodbye hits you in the head, you begin thinking all sorts of stuff. You project yourself to a timeline, a state, where you feel the absence. You cannot bear to see that reality of solitude. You shudder at the mere thought of living without. That is probably what overwhelms.

We are all short sighted people. We can’t see beyond our capacity. Whatever goes far away, disappears. What breaks us down is the leaving. The realization that time is about to exscind our strings, that tomorrow will make a memory out of us is what shatters us. The fact that soon the existence of a person would wither away in time makes it even more pathetic. That is the point where the threshold of ‘missing someone’ lies.

Goodbyes are reflections of sad realities, subsets of death. Death is a perennial goodbye. There are some adieus that weep like death. Albeit there is a possibility of a future encounter, these goodbyes reflect a certain death of a relationship.

We all have encountered a certain ‘so long’ that has never been able to complete its circle. But alas! that just draws our attention now. It used to be a priority in our thoughts. Now it is just a thing we think of, when in gloom.

Image

My reflection stared hard into my eyes. It was blurry, for tears began forming up. It said, “Don’t cry! Don’t cry! Be brave!” But I wouldn’t listen. I don’t listen to my reflection. I listen to nobody when my glass is brimming. All I remembered him saying was, “I saw my father in my room.”

A dear friend of mine lost the most important part of his life. His father. Tragedy hit him like a bullet. It was bound to collide as days of suffering suggested. He knew it. Things were not looking good for the past few months. He just hung on. With hope. He kept looking. He kept up his search. Solutions weren’t solutions. They were mere reflections of the bitter truth. Death – The bitter end to everything that breathes.

I wasn’t aware. For the past few weeks, he ran from clinics to hospitals, looking for every ray of light that read hope, with his unabated diligence to set things right and to make his dad stand on his feet again. I had no idea. Whilst I was busy living my life to the fullest, he was busy saving a life from waning. I wasn’t there at all. I was not even in the background. Estranged.

When things got serious I contacted him, only to be a part of his dismay. He mentioned how serious his father’s condition had become. Uncle was, in fact, in the hospital. When my friend came back home, he said he saw him there, standing in his room. He broke into tears on the phone. I didn’t know what to say. My tears simply connected his. It was a tough moment for him. I knew. I was there mentally. Standing next to him consoling, trying to flow with his tears.

I just felt impotent. Nothing I could do to reverse the event. I am no doctor. I am no God. I am nothing. I just felt so helpless. So powerless. Without an undo button. Yet, I reckoned all my options. Made couple of calls to see if miracles existed. Preposterous solutions came up. At such an hour, he was ready to hear anything. I was ready to believe anything. Whatever worked.

The next morning his dad passed away. I couldn’t react. He wrote to me, consumed by profound grief, how he thinks his dad would return anytime, that he had just gone out. How he might show up just like that and bring smiles to their faces!

I am aware how his house would be speaking of gloom. How it would reek of pain for days! How deafening the silence would be! How crazy the minds would think! How tasteless the food would seem! How sad their happy would be! I am well aware. I can empathize it all. For a moment, there is nothing alive. For days, weeks and months, nobody actually lives.

So many sleep-deprived nights. So much care. So much trouble taken. So many tears spent contemplating. So many nerves broken apprehending. All for nothing. All for naught.

I want to be a part of his misery. Just to be there. To be able to tell him that I am there. To hold his back upright. To see to it that he doesn’t fall. To listen to his hollow voice. To understand. To empathize. To let him dry out all his tears. To cry with him. To die with him. But I have these walls around me that wouldn’t let me leave. Had I been in a better room, I would have stood up and left without a second thought.

I remember when a dear friend faced a similar mishap back in my college days. I remember him telling me how he felt. While I listened to him, I cried incessantly. All his aspiration for his father, all his dreams that he knitted alongside him, all the future he created together, how it all shattered in a jiffy! Just like that! Life’s way of telling you – it is evanescent.

Sometimes I wonder what makes this life so short. What defines our confinements? Why can’t we live and just live? Why is there grief when somebody leaves? Why do we miss them when they do? What makes our strength to go on, so feeble? What changes our conviction to live? Death always screws things up. Why is He so jealous of the living?

I called home. I cried and cried for my friend’s loss. What bothered me more was the fact that I couldn’t be with him during his desperate times. What tore me to pieces was the fact that I couldn’t be a friend indeed.

I surmise, eventually, it doesn’t really matter that I made up my mind to visit. That eventually, I decided to be at my friend’s side but my plans didn’t pan out. That I cried for his loss. That I already became a shoulder when I heard the bad news. That I told my parents how bad I wanted to be with him. However, what matters in the end is, I wasn’t there when he needed me the most.

As I ramble across the shores of Chennai, waves look sad. They wouldn’t even reach my feet. They are silently aware of a great loss. They are trying to pay their tributes. My heart reaches out to Uncle’s soul. I just want him to understand how much his family fought for him. How hard they tried! How they spent sleepless nights and tearful days to bring him to life again! They did not fail. They did not succeed. His resistance was simply too strong.

My friend’s loss is shattering. I just hope nobody on this planet has to go through something tragic like that. Death makes living impossible. It has to learn to let people live without it.

But most importantly, ‘we’ have to learn to live around it.