Posts Tagged ‘life’

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 choices

Life puts you in places. In situations you have no control over. In limelight at times, where your say would eventually wrap things up. In moments, when the world will wait for you. For your first step in a direction conceived in your head. For they have a walk in their legs too, but they are impatient to follow yours. Where you are the vanguard. You are the leader. Your word is the word.

At such an hour, you can’t afford to fumble. You just can’t freeze. It is at those junctures you look at the crowd in the dark, holding their breath, counting on you, and you wonder, “What if I mess it up?” What if I screw their lives?” The world depends on you. People look up to you. With so many piercing eyes of hope, you are bound to dwindle.

Take a deep breath and just dive. You don’t know where it will take you. You don’t know how deep it will push you, and you might fall and fall and fall. But remember it was all yours – The decision to take that plunge. So take responsibility, and steer things in the right direction.

You gotta do it. Take a shot! Unflinchingly. Stand true by the plan your head cooked up in the first place, and stick to it.

Don’t look back! Don’t ever regret! In the far off future, if you get a chance to introspect, don’t ever think about the other option. Don’t even spend a thought on the road you left intact. Just say: “That was it! And I took it.”

It is the right way to live, and abate dispensable worries. You see, things like regrets always pull you down. They have hooks that are forever attached to you. With every decision you make, your fidgeting gives birth to another. As you move forward it will only slow you down. You will be compelled to wade with all your might, and it will be hard to make it, with all the weight pulling you down.

Forget options like they were ever there and you might end up loving yourself even more.

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 firecrackerI wove this beauty whilst I was working. Came across a beautiful pic of fireworks on hitRECord. Suddenly it got me thinking about how we are so much engrossed in our lives that we hardly look up at the night sky. Isn’t it beautiful too? I tried to put sense in “why am I not upstairs looking at the starry dark” ever, and why we always consider something evanescent like a firework gorgeous.

Fleeting is always beautiful. Time makes it more splendid. The jaded of forever doesn’t bind it. That’s what makes it alluring. Read on:

          The Firework

Lit up the night,
With a thousand flies,
Those weren’t stars,
But bulbs of red

Of green, and blue,
Of blood and sweat,
Of might and white,
The rainbow of the dark.

Did you ever bide to see?
The dead so good,
A starry night,
On a tarry road?

Of stories told,
On a board that black?
So bleak it seemed,
So stark this dark!

This running life,
That hates to stop,
And loves to fly,
Not to the skies

Where lurks those stars,
Where sun hides,
Only calls its dreams,
That the sun can hear

But the stars can’t hark,
Coz it’s bright and full of life,
But the night is dull,
Only calls for lull.

Wait we for,
A spark of light,
Not the dead of bright,
That stays all night.

Wait we for,
Fleeting specks,
That don’t stay up,
Like us all night.

Those works of fire,
That light our sky,
Catch our hold,
Of breath that goes

Forever, and bound in spell,
We stand for swell,
To take it all,
To breathe it in.

For it lasts,
Only a moment,
Is all we have,
In this running life, that just can’t stop.

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 Fallen from a horse There isn’t a body around me. No one I could call mine. No one who could call me his. Seems everything is crouching away from me, cringing its claws into the hollows of self-absorption. I have seen people do that. Forget you! Like you never existed, or existed but only as a background noise.

I remember the swell times I have spent with my brother, sharp as a crystal and clear as a conscience, talking for hours without taking a breath to think. Unending ceaseless talks they were, that would beat time. We would sway into the space like a bunch of curious astronauts and explore the unexplored stars. Our imagination – our telescopes. We would throw our nets into the dark, and catch fishes made of twinkles. We didn’t need anybody to guide us. We would learn from our mistakes, learn from our words. Our lips taught us what teachers couldn’t. Hours and hours of invested time that bore only fruits!

As a kid, my mum would often instruct him to hold my hand and never let go. To take care of me always. “Because he is still very young and he doesn’t know the ways of the wicked world.” It sometimes makes me picture it like this:

I see my mum waving us farewell for a journey I am too scared to take. But I am not alone and not on my own because I have my brother to call the shots. He is on a steed and been instructed to take me with him. I am sitting behind him holding him, with my arms wrapped around his waist. I turn around with a quivered brow and tearful eyes to take one last look at my mother. She is still busy asking him to go slowly and take care of me. That I am still very young and might fall off the horse. She then looks at me and smiles, and mouths, “Hold your brother tighter!” I firm up my grip. The horse takes off and gallops its way into the blue. We enjoy the cool breeze that giggles in our hair. The journey seems everlasting and we keep galloping playing to the rhythm of the gravel.

I am holding him with a comforting heart. The fact that I am not alone on the saddle soothes me. I try to close my eyes as the steed paces harder. Then suddenly I feel myself heaving up. My hand loosening its grip. The horse jumps over a hurdle, and then resumes its journey. But…..But I have fallen. I am on the ground. I am hurt. I am in pain. I can’t open my mouth to tell him that I have been left behind. I try my best to, but I simply can’t. I just make a silent scream, more of a complaint, that my brother has forgotten about me. He is still riding the horse. Still enjoying the gust in his hair. Whilst I sit in the dust the horse made through its tracks. Covered in red and filth.

He got married. Someone dearer walked into his life, and he lost focus. Suddenly I began to wither. Suddenly I began fading away as if I was a puny mote from a cloud of dust caught up in a strong rush. Our ceaseless talks ceased. Our fire simply ran out. My cords cut. I was left to float alone in the space. I was just left stranded. As if he raced the horse too fast, and forgot all about me. Forgot that his waist carried tiny hands that held him with a promise of eternity. My eyes are still complaining: But mom said, “Take care of your brother!”

I am fallen. I am scared. I am all alone. I guess there comes a time in our lives when we are supposed to feel that way. When people juggle with their priorities and choose someone else to you. I remember the time when I would have blasts with my cronies. Now I often sit in the second seat waiting for my turn to come. I hate that feeling. However honest it might sound I am still a kid waiting to be loved. Waiting for that horse to turn, and come pick me up!

The Perpendicualr Universe Diary

I wrote this one while I was enjoying the break I cracked during a festive season. I was home looking for something to do, whilst my mother hummed to her chores. I was reminded of an intact diary I had seen lying around in my living room for ages. As I turned its leaflets my heart inadvertently drifted towards poetry. Sad white pages they seemed. They wished for ink and lo! the poet in me groped for a pen and inundated the famished land with blue from the skies. I breathed the following poem on its first page:

          Blank Pages in Dust

Dazed I am to see you blank,
Your empty beckons my crowd,
And this itch in my hand I get,
To fill you up with my loud.

Every leaf that croons
And weeps in tears,
For a pen of ink,
For a pen of smears.

The Whites, they whisper
In hushed voices of despair,
They long for a soul
To brim them with a layer

Of stories, of tales, of legends
That shatter souls and wrench guts,
That reek of pain, that speak of truth
Of houses built with broken huts.

“Fill me up, O mighty sword!
I pray for blood.
Pray lance my skin,
I wish thy flood.”

Cries every void I see,
These leaves in dust,
They will die unheard,
Fill ’em with life I must.