So Close

Needing a nudge

A literal push

Just a little start

Through the viscous media

Don't judge

Indeliberate ambush

Pulling all apart

My abhorrent foolish idea

I won't budge

I won't rush

World I would depart

But with such incongruent philia

I'd make the mudge

With a dull crush

With all that is thwart

Only controlling thy sickly bulimia

No, there's no grudge

Everything a lull hush

For it's a worldly cart

A beligerent intimate melancholia 

So close, this bridge

In the end it's a mush

Like a speedy dart

None but a Shakespeare's peripeteia

A meaningless buldge

Another meaningless flush

Intermittent existential restart

From this horrible horrendous hysteria

Making this mudge

Or am I in a rush

But before I fall apart

Let me gather my worldly paraphernalia

In Nostalgia

Happen it did years ago,
Such things one doesn’t forgo,
But remains discreet deep inside,
Like the trace of oxygen in its oxide,
Or like shades of blue in indigo.
Stepping on the grass blade,
Entering into the life’s glades,
The enormous structure,
Stood in its broken shackles,
And random thoughts,
Which one, one merely forgot?
But with their past glory,
And fields not so gory.
There they stood,
With their heads held high,
Indeed afoot,
Were the beautiful blue barns,
Stood in our long lost farms.
Thoughts of random plays,
And dancing our fancy ways,
A home was built of love,
And of muffins and coco-puffs!
Fell the viscous sun,
Onto the empty barrel of rum.
Even the valiant and the dauntless,
Shall fall to the mystifying shadows,
Our random dreamy meadows,
Shall rest in peace under the beaded skies,
And fiery sunrise,
The colors over the walls,
Of a perfect home, otherwise.
O’ matronly tree!
Like the only lonely widow,
Like sad, secluded thing for miles,
Alone you stand,
And alone you have always been!
Stepping into the world of past,
And over the high mast,
All we did all day,
Was to hide, run and play.
In the hearts of the home,
Coughing we entered,
Into the room I called my own.
In tears,
And nostalgia,
With the day’s end,
Was the perfect little ruin,
In the hearts of four people,
And memories of four random wishes.

I Know

I open my eyes and all I see
And know
That this is how it's always going to be
For how perfect human is
And yet I fail to me

I knew not this touch
And now I know
That this would hurt this much,
How do you even sense your lover's face
When your own fingers are in a clutch?

Not even once I gave it a thought
And now I know
Of all the battles I've ever fought
How naive humans can be
For this is the one that has be most caught

Of all the things that people have
They miss the most
Is what once they had
Not wanting and yet
And now they shall never believe to have

Is this what we call peace?
Or mere existing?
Living a life in such a miss
Every moment we get
And yet living in yesterday's piece

How do you even wake up everyday
When you are your own enemy
Dreaming and wanting away
Desiring but defeated
And not having the strength to work in its way?

Alas, I know not how
Living among all the why's
Saying to do it in the now
But standing in the rain
With the stoicism of a cow.

That Place

That place
Between your fingers
Or on your neck where I nibble
Somewhere insides of your thighs
Or playing with the softness of your nipple
That hard kiss on your lips
Smoldering and yet so delicate
Sucking the tiredness of the entire day place
For which I dearly long and persist.

That place
With the light pull of your cheeks
As I take a bite
How irresistible is that place
Which I can't even describe.

That place
Just gazing into your eyes
Thinking what you might be thinking
I comprehend only through your smile
With my lips on you
And me slightly pulling your hair
As you fall into sleep
So purely vulnerable
And God how you trust me with it
How delicately I rub myself on you
And yet I still take a bite.

That place
And why do I even call it home? 

22 October

Why do I not remember your face?
Or any moment of your laughter?
Not even a single glimpse of your smile
And yet I don't forget you
Even after decades.
Why do I remember the taste of your foods?
Or the dresses you did not make?
But not the touch of your skin
And only tears and pain?
Why am I remembering you?
Even when I know not your voice
Not even a flick of your hair
Or the slightest warmth
Or your hug or your brace.
And why do I even regret
Not having done enough for you
And not being with you now?
Even though I was too young
To know the details of life
Or maybe these are just excuses
That I tell myself
Only to be reminded that I made a mistake.
All I can I do is apologize
But why would that matter now?
It's been ages and yet
I want you here
To love you and serve you
And make life easy for you,
But of all the possible possibilities
That, I know, won't come true.
Cause now you no longer are mine
And yet I so dearly crave.
Why do I miss you?
When I don't even know you,
Or had the time to love you.
All that remains is a fleeting joy
That existed because of you.
And the time that you ever lived with me
Wasn't dreamy or happy or loved
That what was all was a concocted home
Of your broken dreams and bones. 

The Dark Stagnation

Is the world this dark?
Or is it just me?
For all I see is blur,
And I can't go more literal than this.
But I am not angry or sad,
I question your very existence,
Your behavior and presence,
And the atrocities in the name of love,
Or your so called teachings.
I saw the sun and the moon kiss,
But the world didn't end.
It ended when you smiled,
On a fine summer morning,
With the passing of a spring tale.
Do you enjoy the smirk on you,
The sadistic pleasure you get,
From the pain of your beloved?
Or do I presume too much?
But I could hear the sadness in the sky,
For it lingered more than it was invited.
But how do you know?
If the sun keeps the moon happy,
When all I see is pain?

Have you been so happy?

Have you been so happy?

Like when someone holds your hand,

Especially when you least expected,

And suddenly you know

You’re taken care of.

Have you been so happy?

Like tickling someone so much,

And they have the weirdest laugh,

Added with unapologetic noises,

And you kiss them so hard.

Have you been so happy?

Like getting pecked on the neck,

With bear hugs from behind,

And you try to free yourself

From their tightening grip, unsuccessfully.

Have you been so happy?

When their smile makes you entire day,

And even hours of separation are difficult

And all you do is think about them

And to make their day a bit more lively.

Have you been so happy?

Even when you try to look for flaws,

You find none.

And you question if you deserve that much love,

And you promise to love them even more.

Have you been so happy?

That you couldn’t define perfection,

And now you know what it means

When people say that they love someone.

And now suddenly everything makes sense.

Have you been so happy?

That now you’ve started loving yourself,

Because a person taught you.

And now you both grow emotionally

And intellectually and support each other unconditionally.

Have you been so happy?

When just holding them

Gives you immense pleasure.

And you won’t let go,

Even when it annoys them.

Have you been so happy?

When they hug you,

And they just won’t let you go.

And you are busy,

But you still melt in their arms.

Have you been so happy?

You let them annoy you

Because you know that it makes them laugh

And you simply make faces

And they love you even more.

Have you been so happy?

That you can stay all day in bed with them,

Even when you are a clean freak.

And all you do is cuddle,

And it becomes the next day already.

Have you been so happy?

When you don’t have to talk,

Not even a sigh and they know what’s wrong.

And when you can fight the world

And be with them no matter what.

Have you been so happy?

When you get kisses even from far,

Especially at a crowded party,

And you know you’re being protected

Even from the corner of their eyes.

Have you been so happy?

That you wink at them discreetly

And they grin at you calling you a fool

And you make a sad face

And they wink back at you.

Have you been so happy?

When you remember the way they looked at you

When you wore that dress for the first time.

And you couldn’t stop gushing,

Yet you pretended that they didn’t notice.

Have you been so happy?

When all your life

You thought that love didn’t exist

And that it didn’t have any meaning whatsoever,

And now you know that you were so wrong.

Have you been so happy?

That you wear their shirt

Unclean and unwashed

For days at end

Because you’re miles away and you miss them incredibly.

Have you been so happy?

When you can’t stop staring at them

Especially when they laugh

And you think what’s wrong with you

And yet you day dream about being with them.

Have you been so happy?

That you fight with them

Over small and large things

And you talk like insane beings

And yet you can’t spend the night apart.

Have you been so happy?

When you were so broken,

And you knew nothing could heel you

Yet someone came and fixed you

And you wondered if everything was real.

Have you been so happy?

That you fear so much for them,

Fear losing them either emotionally or physically

And yet you brave yourself

Because only you can do so.

Have you been so happy?

That you never trusted someone

And now they know all your secrets

And you couldn’t imagine being so transparent before

And now you really are.

Have you been so happy?

That knowing someone

Inside and out

And knowing loyalty and trust

Which surprises you undoubtedly.

Have you been so happy?

Because I want you to be.

If you haven’t then I hope you’ll be,

Because such love is the only thing

That can heal anything in this entire world.

Stories

It's a very normal story
That has lasted generations
A tale in minds of humans
For as long as you could remember
How could it be
Something so satisfyingly simple
And generally generous
Obtain such ranks in the hearts of men
Well how could it be forgotten
For humans are so gullible
Not taking things as they are
But digging until they demean
It's not how people see
But how they change to perceive
It's about this travel
About this dilemma the author faced
To work for self or the society
If only he could understand
The pleasures in loneliness
And kiss of spirituality
How different of an an equation it is
The art of finding true self
If only he could understand
Not the method but the means
And how it would generate ripples in forever
But if only life could understand
To bot be so fickle
And if only man could understand
To not have a mind so gullible
All it takes is time
To overcome the prostitutes of humanity
But how guiltily human smiles
Even at the atrocities of kindness
How long will the story last
No one can ever know
For it's a story of a man
So deep in his own country
Of walls, hatred and frigidity.

Developing disasters

To developing disasters into a work of art,
Like cracked lips sucking onto a lemon,
Like mascara in competition against the wind,
Like red eyes on a smouldering summer Sunday.
Do you do this intentionally?
Or for the love of extortion?
To gain my interest and yet kill me instantly?
Twig in cold like that unlatching friendship,
To a model to keep us apart,
Such stupid intelligence.
And pains indistinguishable,
From diversity in rains,
Of confidentiality,
Of exquisite emotional equivalence,
Of conniving convenience,
And of developing disasters.
How lame the worlds are?
Suffering silently in syndrome.
And make me a gravity of a scar,
Forbidding my immortality,
And basking in attainable attenuations,
Like a paper on the verge of dissolving.
The depth in those wounds remains,
Not with bullets or swords or goons,
But with love and laughter,
And that my friend is the only thing,
In this world that doesn't hurt.

Come closer

I want to run my fingers on you
Like you are a piece of forbidden art
I want to hear you sing
Like it's the last voice I would ever
And while I touch you
I want to see how you reflex
I want to see how you feel
So that I know that you are for real

Undocumented version of a lost tale

This world is always crowded no matter when you board it or from where you board it. But among this crowd are individuals who are just there as unaware of someone’s presence as themselves, unaware of the fact that they are composed of same molecular structure, filled with same emotions that are simple yet utterly complex, distanced by ambitions and brought together by a common sense of fear.

And from these people a stranger would come one day to change your whole idea of happiness and rescue you to a more fragile yet serene world. And that my friend will be when you know you are doomed.

It isn’t surprising to be attracted to someone on the metro or someone in traffic fixing their hair or someone waiting in line to grab their first coffee of the day. What is more surprising is that that people fail to acknowledge their feelings, they pretend that such things are a just a form of lecherousness and are deemed to be thus shameful. But you never know that the person next to you could become the best of your friend or a partner in crime (literally) or your dog’s worst nightmare. You wouldn’t know because you would be too scared to approach or be marked as bothering or ridiculous individual or may even be ridiculed at. The only reason why humans are different from animals is that they have a more refined form of communication. So why not use it? Why not tell that woman that her hairdo is making her face more beautiful? Say things that you mean otherwise don’t say at all. Say good things because our speech has magic in it. It can make someone’s day and there is no greater happiness in seeing someone else happy. If you don’t like something don’t talk about it but if it is bothering you be polite and gentle for humans are impressionable and you do not know what happens to people behind closed doors. There is incredible amount of warmth in a stranger’s kindness and that is the only gift you could possibly give to others.

This is what a state of oblivion is. We have so much to do, most of what we aren’t even sure about and still no time for anything. If only we could see others as tales and untold stories of hate, love, passion, crime and every other emotion; maybe then we would realize how amazing or how terrifying the world is from other’s eyes. Maybe someday. Someday, when we would understand ourselves better and look beyond the comfort of our private zones. Maybe. Someday, maybe.

It's not me, but you

I am not the poet you deserve,

Nor the artist to make such splendid art,

I am not the designer to vintage,

Nor a composer of fine music or craft.

I am a tiny human

Devouring the basics of touch,

I am not kind or noblest of all,

But I am your lover.

If not forever but just now.

I am the passion to make you kiss my lips

And hold me too tight for my taste.

I am that kind of love

To take you through melodies undefined,

Even when you know no sound,

To make you question your existence

Yet savour the underlying lust.

I am that kind of desire,

Where you run recklessly in rain,

Yet not be as wet as you would be,

When you see me naked,

Or when you feel my sultry breath on your skin.

And still I am that kind of care,

When you wake up to me caressing through your hair

And you’d feel no need to wake up

And thus lie deadly bare.

But the funny thing is,

It’s not just me, in fact, it’s all you,

Who could drive me so exotically and erotically crazy.

And thus I sit here, all bare,

With nothing on me but you.

Forgotten Treasures

To be able to achieve greatness

Isn’t what we are meant to be

In such insignificance

One must look at the trivialities.

Things that are happening now

And yet are billions of times apart,

Worlds being created and destroyed,

By so called humanity’s whims and fancies.

One must look at the long lost love

And cherish why we did what we did

And imagine the possibilities of things that could happen

Or things that couldn’t have been.

But let’s not live in a world defined by the haunts of past.

Unlearn all the learning

For maybe it’s time to look into the mirror

And see the reality for once

And recognize what’s beautiful

And will only become a face of adversary if you let it.

Love yourself in the most unimaginable ways

In ways that do not happen to exist

Because only you can create fantasies

And bring them to live into utterly broken lives.

All I want to say is that,

It’s alright if something didn’t happen,

It’s alright if something in fact did.

Nothing could possibly change

So embrace what that is now

Love the only thing you have

That is you.

But still,

It’s alright if you aren’t much loved,

There are plenty who will or maybe

Just one person who does

And still, it’s alright if you are loved

You shouldn’t fear it.

It’s alright if things don’t work out

It’s alright if you love darkness

Or if you want to be sad and broken

Or if you want to be crying all day

Or if you decide to never trust

Or to never truly laugh

Or to hide behind that mask of happiness.

It’s alright if you don’t like your family

Or if you don’t appreciate kindness

Because all stories are beyond our comprehension

As at times such things don’t matter.

And although everything might hurt

It will be alright if it isn’t.

And most of all, it’s alright if nothing really is

Because time heals.

Yes it does, really.

Existence in Solitude

I do not know if I even exist

In this peaceful darkness

I can hear someone breathe

I can hear someone live

I can hear the sounds in the night

But I do not know if I even exist

It’s beautifully terrifying

The art of the night

Making us question ourselves

And life and its basics

I can feel the wind touch me

Like the October wind does

Filled with melancholia

And yet the most serene thing ever

Maybe that’s the beauty of it

Things that we do not see

Are hidden beneath the first surface of solitude

Just like in every single being

Similarly

I wonder if someone will find me

Find that I might have something underneath

Probably treasures of unknown wisdom

Or just another boring mystery

For that, maybe light the passion of darkness

Till then all I can do is probably exist

In the wake of religion

In times like these

With virtual being our release

We owe valour someday

To love ourselves in another way

Rather, in a more natural fashion

Where people wonder indomitable passion

But in a more disbelief, it frightens me

Thinking about what I’ll do

Not to conform to worldly wisdom

I’m willing to be a forgotten autumn leaf

Falling to be free

Yet only be called a liar and a thief

I am willing to meet this humble end

Among those fallen soldiers

Where in I shall lie

Unnoticed and forgotten

Only to be crushed under their feet

But let’s not let this chivalry end

And put an end to all pretend

For all I know that maybe God is a sadist

Having given us free will

He enjoys what we do

Not to ourselves but others

And he loves stories of torture

Mayhem and despoliation of humanity everyday

And maybe that’s why they believe in him

For they enjoy the pain as much as He does

For me, hate is a strong word

But so are love and life

If only in this land was there no God

People would look upon themselves

And not as pawns of an imaginary fiend

Rare Circumstances

In the year of 1999 all my hopes shattered, my idea of life was uprooted and bones tingled with fear at the very thought of love for I believed that every happy thing ends on a rather sad note.

Yet after years in hospital and more years in therapy I came out to be a strong person. And during my periods of sanity I realized I had inherited much. But the irony is when I wanted money I was penniless and now out of nowhere I have everything I don’t want.

Pushing my wheelchair hard, mainly out of frustration, I decided to end my social identity as a recluse. I decided to sell books on a stall by the road!

I could not continue with my old job of running a heartless company and neither could I possibly face the monotonous schedule and official diorama. Added to this, I didn’t have many friends who would ridicule my desire to be with people of a different genre. But there was Mr. P, my psychologist and I didn’t tell him about my future venture.

I was young and reckless but that is how I found my wife.

Of all the books at my home my most beloved possession was The Lord of the Rings by JRR Tolkien. Almost every night I would fall asleep by its side. My father would read every line with heartfelt emotions and mother would help me dress like an elf whenever I wanted to run away into my dreams. But as I said happy isn’t what was planned for me. Now, whenever I am broken I have my copy of the book and I would read it just for the sake of old times.

Years later, I was beside my stall, hoping to be greeted by a customer I read my favorite book. The street was dark with a distinct smell of O’ Henry’s burgers. There was a strong wind which made the atmosphere more gloomy and pale, yet I had a strong feeling of being watched. Amid the howling dogs, honking cars and screaming children Mr. P came. Stomping at the carpet he said, “Hello, Jensen. How have you been feeling lately?”

I found those words unwelcome. If I said that I was fine he would emotionally blackmail me and if I said that I wasn’t he would hover over me till death. To avoid all the agony I said in a rather puny voice, “Same old, same old.”

 “Well, since you didn’t return any of my calls I took the liberty of allowing myself to ponder over your shop. And by seeing your under-improved state I suggest you should find another means to spend your day. And how many times do I have to tell you not to read that book, not to fret over what had happened?”

“This is my idea of happiness and that is all I have to say.”

Providing much relief, a woman too pretty for her age stepped ahead looking for a romantic novel (a genre I hate more than anything). She scrolled through a book and flipped through the pages just like the breeze which ran its hands through her unbelievably dark hair. She asked what the price was and I couldn’t speak. She was just as I had imagined her to be, my Arwen the fairest creature from my beloved book. I searched for words and surprisingly instead of saying anything required I demanded two dollars.

That night I couldn’t sleep, I had been hallucinating. Scared I went to my bed with difficulty. My inability to walk had rendered me useless. I flipped through the pages of the wonderful book. I went into a deep slumber. And when I woke up my world had changed. I wasn’t Jensen Archer, the poor rich guy. But I was the king of the men, Aragorn, the rider from north gifted with wisdom and longevity. My love of life was Arwen and I was there to save the world from its doomed end. I wasn’t in wheelchair any more for I could run. I had somehow found a passage to the place I had always wanted to be in.

Be Brave

Every single day I fall in love with this creature all over again. I travel a new dimension every day because he mesmerises my heart and soul with his unconditional love. People might wonder how exactly this is related to travelling but let me tell you one thing; every day is a journey you take to reach a new unexplored rein and everything you do is part of that journey.

A tribute to the best dog in the whole wide world!

I didn't mind when you kept me awake all night with your howling and barking (and when you got scared in your dream, it was kind of funny though :p)
I didn't mind when you peed on my bed (okay that was just once but why? :O )
I didn't mind when you literally punched my eye (oh the pain!)
I didn't mind when I took you for a walk and you dragged me across the road and I scrapped my knees (that stupid cat across the road!)
I didn't mind when you shed all over my blanket (got it dry cleaned, twice!)
I didn't mind when you stole my food (because I don't need that much food anyway :/ )
I didn't mind when you ate peacock poop and fell sick and I had to clean up afterwards (you and your exquisite choice of cuisine -_- )
I definitely didn't mind when you curled up into my lap to sleep and I couldn't move for hours
I surely didn't mind when you slept in my bed, inside my blanket with my pillow (how did you even manage that :O ) 

Two years with you have been a wonderful journey where I have become a better person only because of you. You have taught me of the meaning kindness, bravery, self control, patience, discipline, strength and above all unconditional love. You are my muse, my angel, my friend in disguise.

You are mine and I am your human. If only I knew how to love humans as much as I love you :*

Bilbo the Brave :*

Unchallenged Melancholy

Even before I have known

I have craved for things forlorn

I wonder how I want

Things that I have never even known

Such as the warm whisper of love

Or a touch of stranger’s hand

Or the earthy caress of sand

Or nights without fear or glib abode

Or to know my mother’s favourite band

And maybe among other things

A smile that I long forebode

I wonder how I seek pleasures

Even in tiniest creases and cracks

I push hard to go beyond measures

And find solace even in dingy shacks

Because I know that even in the light of day

There will never be enough warmth

Not in the shadows under the sun

Or the congruent man’s wisdom

But maybe in the hatred of isolation

Or the stab of a knife

I might find what I seek

Only to other’s dismay

Sordid Tale

Sun goes down
But I'll still be here
Netted puckered fish
Dancing to the escaping wisdom
Wriggling at the sword of the producer
Flipping its tail
The flag of patriotism
On a staff of shame
Tethering and quivering
Down and out now with a trodden face
Horses of the wind
Broken for a graze
And the music within
Lullabies in no grace
Netted and pierced
Fluid so bitter with fear
World may go and my family breed
I'll still be here
Hung in there
With open eyes and lost creed

Influence

The only thing that matters today or rather now is what I remember of that day, memories in one word. I have travelled a lot many places (including hills of course!) I am always ready to make love with deep, lusty, sun reflecting Himalayas or the Shivalik range ranging from Dehradun to the sacred Kedarnath. Deep seated in my heart is my desire to travel, explore- which obviously needs money! (So, let me get a job first, let me complete my graduation till then I am dependent on daddy!).

In the summer of 2008 we went to the holy city of rudraprayag (confluence of tributaries Alaknanda and Mandakini of pure Ganges). Oh God! It’s such a misconception!! Alaknanda and Mandakini combine to form Alaknanda which further merges with Bhagirathi in Devprayag at sangam, from here the river gets the name Ganga. Don’t argue I know I am correct!

Rudraprayag only being a halting destination took me further into how I came to be what I am today (well that's another story!).

Going through the landslide infested, chalk-stone stricken road, I was mesmerized by the scenic beauty of the path. All through my way I was desperately thanking God as He made me live up-to this date so I could witness miracles every second. And I am still alive! It is so true that the real pleasure lies in the journey and not reaching the destination!

Having reached the city of Rampur/Ramgarh/Ramnagar (whatever it was! Apologizes my memory is not helping me here!!), we realized we had to wait in a queue which was more than 2 kilometers in length. Wherever we looked we found a series of MUVs- bulky, rickety, trodden, broken, punctured etcetera! Well we couldn't help but wait! 'Snail's pace' is what a phrase I am using now is but that time, that day it was divine!

The village on the right of the road, beyond the enchanting creek (lost in the gorge) was a sight to behold.

Everything I remember is an image of what my memory reflects. I want them to be the way they are... still, time-bound, picturesque so that whenever I visit them time and again I want the same voice to emerge from me. Still I would love to visit a place all over again till it is engraved in my blood and I remember every jiffy of it.
I wonder that is why people take photographs!

Let the road take me where I have always wanted to be,
Let it take me all vary,
Let it show me the way I should travel,
Road not so frequently travelled,
Let it unravel.