A Story to the end.

To you,

I created you in the dead of night

When the rain tapped hard on the sill

And the winds creaked the old hinges.

From an ominous birth

You brought me peace,

As I had tossed and turned;

Unable to relieve myself of nightmares.

But I have had enough of you now.

You may term it as betrayal; as,

After having shared endless nights together

I seem to be no longer interested in you.

But I fought, to make you better, and the best

Withstanding many criticisms and comparisons

‘Selling’ myself to you as I vent out depressions.

But, the end had to arrive someday,

And it has now, maybe

This is your end, the end

My blog.

This is my last post here. I may delete my beloved Blog, or it may be here if I can’t gather enough strength to do so, but this is my last post here. I have spent many wonderful moments here, and I had loved the space to the extent, that I felt I was leaving someone behind when I last went out of station. But some reasons, valid to me, have left me with doubts about my reason to blog. My last post had triggered people to think that I was “selling” [precisely the term used] myself, my stories in order to gain sympathy and I was being too individualistic and thinking only about myself, leading me to ponder over my intentions. If venting out my frustrations can be termed thus, then maybe my other posts were so too, as I had parts of only me shattered all over here. Reading your comments on my last post I had really wondered about how friends could really make a difference and I was really cheerful, but this sudden respected opinion has left me in fits of doubt and depression, triggering me to take this decision. I wondered if this was the ultimate thing that people has construed about me all through these days. I am really very sad to leave my friends out here, with whom I have really been very close over the last few months, but I am really very sorry, I can’t go on like this. I don’t know if I will ever be back here, but I have indeed lost my initial attachment here.

So, everybody out here Have a very happy and safe Puja and enjoy. Bbye.

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Nothing at all!

Nothing comes to me when I sit silently staring at the blank word document in front of me. But throughout the day thoughts keep passing in and out intermittently, as I sit quietly, head bowed to the book on which I cannot concentrate, yet to which I cling with uncanny irrelativeness, sensing a personal attachment to the death of the schizophrenic father when his son thinks, how he had conveyed father’s death to his mother as well as on her father’s death a number of years back, but that nobody had conveyed his fathers death to him, the irony stings as I reconsider similar situations, maybe that is the reason why I cling to it. It is in a similar way that I seem to cling to my gloominess now-a-days. I have stopped interacting with most of my friends, even though I pine to speak to them always, but now even they seem to refute my advances. The world rolls round and life goes on, but I seem to gradually detach myself as a cello tape gradually rolls away from the roll. The strangeness of these facts as mine own seemed to sting me in the initial days. But I have accepted them now, as human beings are submissive to the ways imposed on them.

Nothing seems to occur to me, as I am hardly moved by anything now, though I feel my every day encounters with reality effects me much more these days than they did in the past. I write for hour’s everyday, but I uncannily delete every word before I go to sleep, or save them up routinely in the archives to which I provide no one access, but I constantly seem to fall short of things to post, this seems to be the reason why I post so less these days. My initial attachment with blogging has also slackened and is gathering dust now-a-days. I spend less time in this and read fewer posts even! I even contemplated deleting my blog. A few old relationships are turning over a new leaf over the last few days, whereas people on whom I relied the most seem to be constantly moving away. I am not liking the situation, but I am not being able to do anything either.

I just could not find anything to write about, so just decided to put into unforgiving words my present status. Still, some things are better dealt with silently rather than trying to communicate it and in the process making it more incomprehensible. This strange passiveness is frightening me sometimes, but I feel strangely at peace with it sometimes too!

Thank you if you had the patience to read through the crap atleast!

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Search.

Lights sparkle in and out

Through the windshield

Sometimes blinding sight

Or flashing on sideways

The long journey into the night

Through the flashing pool

Of red lights blinking headway.

Suddenly it is pitch dark

Only the moon and the night

Into an headlong collision with sight

I spot a child on his mothers lap

Gulping his mothers stories

Eyes with curled lashes full of innocence

Innocence… and the night

Is their still so much innocence left in the night?

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Wanderings on and on...

Her thoughts ramble on and on as she lies still. The wind caresses her face as the heavy smell of sweat does to her body. Something occupies the room, she is not alone. Dazed she stares at the ceiling and tries to focus. Everything seems to come in pairs, there are two fans, and there are two lights. She lifts her hands to her eyes, the light is too harsh. But the hand seems to split, she can view everything in-between! She drops the hand wearily to her side. It hits something and with a noisy clatter something falls to the floor. She sits up hurriedly coming out of her stance. She had been in the house continuously for three days. The ending had been harsh. Communicating has become difficult for the last few days. Feeling she would have been better off as dumb rather than face every embarrassing situation silently, she had gradually starting closing everything within her. It would probably be better alone, inside. She fell back on the bed. Bygone peeped in again through the door. Seeing her lying on the bed again she whispered to Present, “You can rest, she will be preoccupied with me for some time now.”. And her thoughts ambled on and on…

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Mother.

I have been missing her terribly for the last few days. So this is something for the most beloved, best friend of my life!

What does she mean to somebody? What has she bestowed you with? Whom do you think about first when you open your eyes and usher the light of a new day unto your sight? Whose face do you crave for most in the face of your troubles? Whom do you return to at the end of the day, after you have a lump of hurt emotions and crushed ego after the day long struggle? And how do you feel when you can’t even return?

To someone, for whom love never knew no bounds…

It has been a long time mother;

Since I had seen you last.

You touched me then,

As you had never felt me before.

You begged me not to return

But I; then in the security

Of your presence

Understood you not!

It has been long now

That I have missed your healing touch,

As I lie ailing by.

Burdened with the gift of life

That you had bestowed on me before.

New soars have been inflicted again

And again and again…

As your words come to book.

I want you again mother;

After it has been a long time

That I have yearned thither.

In the longing soars of your love,

Hurt by the lashing waves,

You had always protected me from.

Come here to me mother,

Come back to me

It had been a long time mother,

I had been sharing you with somebody other!

Truth lurks behind these words;

Though no eavesdropper can hear;

Nor can anybody decipher my monologue,

This for me proves the better;

You are mine, and no one else’s.

It had really been a long time Mother!

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On the way...

Shadows linger silent and still,

As the fiery sun glares upon;

The ever weary trudge,

To the land of dreams.

The way is hard and dry,

But I heard the destination is sweet.

It is difficult at first;

As you leave dear ones behind!

But the home there is sweeter, I heard;

Wine where flows in honey casks.

You are welcome anytime their,

Once you enter; you are a prisoner forever…

Of shadows, Of dreams, Of death.

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Eternal Repose.

You left many a pleasure,

You left many a work,

Are they for us to complete?

You left many a hearts empty,

You left many in tears,

You left many with memories;

What did you take with you then?

A coffin of reminisces you lie now,

A basket-full of memories.

You maybe are over with giving;

But did we ask you to go?

You never asked me for a bit,

Come I will give you the final rites now;

Did you leave us because you wanted these?

From me

My younger-grandfather.

Mask

I had seen it roaming about

I had seen it on the road

It was clear to me even in day light

As it lingered around me in the night.

Never had it haunted our peaceful place

Save one stray morning tragically

Snatching away somebody dear

To exist in some unknown heaven.

Since then I had not forgotten its ghastly face

Until this fine July morning

It showed the face under that hood again

To take the road until the end, its death.

SHE

How can I reach you now?

How can I but say what she spake?

Somebody wants you so much now;

That she can put her life at stake.

For you she had lived,

For you she held onto the sway.

And for you she had bore;

All the storms on the way.

She is hapless now,

A mass of misery and mourning;

She just wants to be with you;

Can you just visit her, one fine morning?

For you she will live,

For you will she strive to reach the shore;

Crossing all miseries and insults,

For the happiness you for her had left spread ashore.

My younger grand pa expired today morning. It is gloomy once again!

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The killing Instincts of the Ball!

Show me your sprinting skills… You are divided into two groups, the Red’s vs. The Blues; I want to see which team gives the most passes… Red card! Red card... Hey you, come up here! Show me your dribbling skills… Chill! Give him some water… Very Good Very good… The trial was over.

I realized my brother had Attitude!

The ball, taming it down… the looks, the stunts… his four laps over before the opponent had completed two… the killing instincts with his weapon, the ball! That’s called ATTITUDE Man!

I had never seen him that way. But that day, hearing him say “I am always fit!” and then standing by the huge field against the sultry wind, I began understanding football, I began understanding him, amazed at the way he had grown up from that little biting mischievous boy to this football champ, understanding… yeah everybody grows up, grows up to be some fine tall handsome dude who comes up to me and asks, “So… how was it didi?”. As usual we exchanged winks [you blew ‘em up ;)], as had been the code since childhood, as far as I can remember!

It was his sports trial for admission to science at JU. Results are due on the 30^th or 31^st of this month. I just wish for the day when both he and I will be in the same university. Hoping the best for him. J

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Away

The spell broke one misty morning

Quite differently from the deep night

The journey had started in.

Though moonlight had flooded in between

But paths in darkness had been written since.

Had the night lasted longer

I would have cherished the dream forever.

But the fairy had lost her way again

Maybe to some closed eye lid

Wherein no light had inhabited before.

Something became past then

Fossilized in memories and nights therein.

Something in the deep dark night died

Untangling all ties something broke away

Maybe forever…

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Halcyon days.

“I feel ashamed to say this, but if you don’t listen to me then I will commit suicide, understood? Over the years you have robbed our home of its peaceful atmosphere, and have made it a place for everybody to cringe in your fear. You know when my friends speak of their parents I simply have a lump in my throat, just because my home has always been so so very different from them. Why do you do this papa? Why?”

Typing out the words with tears steaming down her cheeks Dimy pressed ‘send’ with a certain forcefulness and certainty. This should not go on for long, mumma crying on the phone everyday unable to bear whatever dad meted out on her. She had never had the audacity to speak out before him, but this thing was trying. Dimy could not bear this anymore. Staying away from them she could neither do anything to resolve nor bear her mothers pain. Something had to be done.

She called up his phone number once again, “I want to speak to mumma”.

“Did you just send me a mail?”

“I want to speak to mumma”

“Answer me first”, he snapped.

“I want to speak to mumma”, she shouted and disconnected the phone.

She envied her friends when they jumped on seeing her parents during the summer holidays; for her these had always been very formal occasions when you were supposed to behave and speak politely.

“You did not let me speak to my mumma; I’ll do whatever I have to. Good night.”, she sent another mail.

The bell rang for dinner, but she had no appetite today.

Ring…! Came a call from papa’s cell phone. But she knew what to do. She silenced the little intruder, turned her back and buried her face in the pillow. She just wanted to go away, away with her mumma, away from the monster that had visited her home, “home” since ages!

Please give these children a better childhood.

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