Posts Tagged ‘truth’

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.

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I write pain. Does that mean, I am a sad soul?

Life is a tragedy. I have said it so many times, that tragedy knows me now. If I stop thinking about it, it doesn’t become less justified. The fact remains. The truth stands.

Today, I listened to a story so tragic I wish I didn’t have the power to empathize. I listened to death. Believe me – His voice is shaky, dark, dreadful and unforgiving.

Two people. Mad in love. One is taken. In a poof. One survives. While death, void of emotions, watched her weep.

I see the survivor every day. Her face talks death. I know those smiles are fake. I know that ecstasy is compelled through prolonged weariness. I know the happiness on the face of my survivor has nothing to do with this mundane earth. Yet my survivor is always there, making the world happy, making the world a better place to live in and making amends to this pointless life.

Have you ever witnessed an accident? Have you ever been a part of it? She witnessed an accident so tragic it makes my heart weep. I can’t imagine the horror she had to go through. Walls of the car painted red. Limbs cut. What not.

She watched ‘him’ go. In seconds. Poof! Just like that. He was there with her a minute ago laughing and having fun. She was having the time of her life with her to-be-soulmate. But fate had other plans for her. I have never really liked fate. That dumb old bastard! I have never really liked death as well. He screws life.

I have observed. Her face always wears a smile. She hides her emotions so well! People get duped all the time. But now I know. Now her eyes tell a different story to me. She is scared of this world. She is scared of accidents. She is scared of death. Yet she is brave like a lion. Funny like a clown. Lovely like a rose though living like a zombie. There is tragedy, right there. Sitting silently in the corner, her eyes full of tears.

I don’t know how I would have taken it. I whine at a mere heart-break. She just watched him leave this world. My angst feels so trivial now. She watched him leave her alone, involuntarily. He wished to stay. They were meant to be together. They could have had a great life. This happy-ending leaflet was simply plucked out. At least, I found out what happened to my relationship. She never even got the chance.

Death is a tragedy. So is living, after you have seen death.

I picture the hurt. I empathize for people. I make it mine. I will write for them. If they have words, I know how to put them on a paper. If they wish to be heard, I will listen. If possible I might alleviate them. If not then I will cry with them.

Yes! I am a sad soul. I am an emotional wreck. I feel for the suffering out there. Gazillions of dusky souls with their zillions of problems. I wish to write, if not to them, then for them.

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I ended up working late in the office yesterday. Actually, it was planned. With a consensus between me and my project lead, it was decided that I would pump in some extra hours in order to complete a pending job. Yeah, work I did. But I didn’t foresee that I would be all alone.

It was the first time I was all by myself in the office and that too after the sunset. I worked till 8 PM, additional 2 hours, from my usual time of leaving. The peon had switched off the lights, those not required, and so the rest of the cubicles went pitch dark. I hardly cared as I was busy with my work. I had constantly been glaring at the screen, which was unrelenting too. My orbs would hurt. I was feeling the way I used to, when I would sometimes succumb to insomnia. I badly needed a shuteye. I would occasionally get up from my seat, and peek from the window, down at the traffic. The hustle and bustle below kept me company the whole time.

Whenever I would come back to my seat and engage myself in useful work, I would hear the ticking of the clock, occasional honks of the cars below, din of a drilling machine coming from the building next to ours and sometimes loud shrill of something, which my mind would always confuse with heavy breathing. It was spooky. I know it is hard to work in such an environment. It was eerie. Yet there was nothing that really bothered me as such. I guess, time has made me brave, unconcerned and intelligent.

Yet in the back of my mind, all those scenes from the flick ‘The Grudge‘ kept visiting my head. Yeah, remember that office bit? I would occasionally turn around to check the plant which stood in the dark, that had a bizarre resemblance to a human being, when looked from a particular angle. I would tilt my chair occasionally to have a good look at the door in order to eschew any out of the blue surprises. Even if someone tried to play a prank at such an hour, it was still not good for the heart, so I thought.

Amongst all that non-existent commotion, I worked my way through, without getting consciously alarmed of anything mentioned above, and groped for the switch in the dark to turn off the remaining lights.

At this point, I remembered, how as a kid I used to be strangely conscious of everything around me. I would startle at every movement or noise. I wouldn’t go to sleep for hours, wondering if a monster would come up from under my bed and devour me. I would endeavor my best to avoid watching horror shows on TV, so as to shun any formidable memories later at night. There used to be a spot at my balcony, where I would always study unaffected and unaware of my surroundings on a regular basis. I believed it helped me to understand things better, with the view and all. Until one day I saw a horror show on TV. From that point onwards, I wouldn’t even go to my balcony, wondering, “What if a hand comes from behind and grabs me?”

I am glad now sense has slipped in. I ‘now’ desire for miracles. I want them to happen. So that I behold the unusual.

I don’t understand if fear is good or bad. The only thing I get is that, it is there. It has always been there. It is real. Just in different forms, in all of those eras we lived. We have simply named them. Human minds are built this way. We can’t help being apprehensive. We can’t help being afraid of the extraordinary.

We would always be afraid. Sometimes for a reason, sometimes without one. It is one of the harsh truths of life, which I surmise, keeps us in check, all the time.