Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Abandoned Life

The staircase was desolate.
There is a difference between things appearing deserted and being actually deserted by life itself. This cannot be realized until you happen to, in the blackest hour of your life, come across such a place. The staircase would continue to serve its purpose; many sets of feet would continue to prance happily or run urgently or drudge lazily along its length, but still it would never be whole again because on pair of feet has disappeared forever. Never again will there be the calculated rhythmic sound of those two going up after a long day. However the echo will remain always like a fractious kid who creeps up behind you as soon as you are distracted, touches you or speaks in your ear and is gone again as soon as you turn around leaving you to frantically search for something to explain the noise, and you wonder with a hopeful but despaired heart hammering in your chest whether it was the person your eyes longed to see and your ears strained to hear from.
In the day, the light appeared too white, too serene, devoid of colour and allure. It was like living in a dream in alien surroundings where you don’t understand anything, nothing is under your control and you just float around trying to piece together an answer which makes some sense. The white world was like a hospital where there is so much pain and sadness around you that it becomes essential to cut yourself away from it to continue with your existence, just existence not life.
The nights were worse – the darkness was even darker- the pain and longing kept at bay because of the fear that the daylight would reveal them and they would lie naked demeaned by the presence of unfelt empathy in strange eyes, would come crashing down in a moment. Eyes that never glistened in company could barely contain themselves. Hands which longed for the touch, the feel, the presence shivered. The emptiness inside would expand to fill all the crevices and the recesses of the entire being in all its complexity and reduce it to just infinite, unendurable and inexplicable pain. The eyes refused to close dreading the moment they did and there would be sharp jibes of pain from the dull fire that keeps burning endlessly chilling and numbing everything.
The sense of loss is one of the most imperishable of all the feelings that exist in the universe. To add to the despair it is accompanied by regrets that so much was left unsaid, so much undone and so much time was lost, precious, invaluable time. This guilt never goes away and maybe that is why the memory of death often outlives the joy of the life it purloined.
The heart and eyes always lie in wait at the bottom of the desolate staircase, even when the mind tells them to move on; turn around and never ever look there, but still the echo and memory remain, coming back to haunt you and make you stare and search fruitlessly in the past again and again.
* * *
When you were there before my eyes
There were reasons to laugh and smile,
And wishes came true without any compromise
Because you would go that extra mile.

It was easy to tell you secrets
Because I knew you would understand
And somehow erase all my regrets
As if you possesed a magic wand.

The happiness and ease came naturally,
Never forced or grudgingly forgone,
And comforts were given gift wrapped to me.
Now it is just I and I alone.

You have gone too far to come back
But still I long for the sound of your voice,
Instead I am haunted by echos that lack
Your soul, or you to be precise.

Your voice, your face, your love and your feel
Are irrevocably lost forever
But in prayer before you, not god I kneel
For I know you will leave me never.

The memory of you is safe with me,
It’ll always be fresher than dew and never fade.
The precious past is under lock and key,
But for another moment with you, centuries I’ll happily trade.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Candles, Balloons, Chocolates And A Heart...But Why's The Other Seat Vacant?


Well I guess many people will either derive a satisfactory smirk from the knowledge that unlike them I am going to spend the evening of valentine's day alone at home watching T.V. and eating (which might appear to be the only interesting part) or solace that like them I too lack a valentine. Well I have always been a good sport and everyone is welcome to their share of smirk or solace from my fate. Yes I am still at the shore looking at the huge sea, feeling the breeze and the sun on my face both tempted and scared by the prospect of embarking on a journey which may end in my finding the Elysium or lying stone like and unfeeling at the bottom with my capsized boat of dreams beside me. To do myself justice may be the decision would not have been this hard if there had been a boat of dreams or, dropping the metaphor, a guy around. However as there isn't any immediate need (read as opportunity) coming my way I might as well think it through.

Smart, caring, loving, sensible, easy to be with and a friend above all who knows and understands me (and male, definitely male)...that's it, are these really hard specifications to be found in one person? I do not think so and well even if they are I am ready to wait afterall I am a dreamer and a believer, making me see sense is as good as hammering nails upside down. Besides one thing I know about myself for sure that though I am fickle minded and completely clueless when it comes to what I want, I will recognise it whatever the difference may be between reality and dreams.

Until then I am content with my fantasies and hopes, and ready to wait with candles, balloons and a heart in front of a vacant seat for years to come. Plus there is chocolate which makes everything better.

Monday, February 9, 2009

The Meteor

The blackest of moods often descend on the liveliest of people, completely engulfing and trapping them, rendering them incapable of enjoying the small joys of life which are so absolutely essential to a happy existence. The nearest I have ever been to tying this despair in the shackles of words is a pitiable attempt. Life becomes a fruit squeezed of its nectar- and it does not stop there- its squashed and trampled upon by every small misery that treads the path, bruised and battered it lies there craving for a kind eye a kind touch –for what- just to be thrown into the dustbin. Does not appear very inviting, does it?

To add to these uninvited, unexpected and detested black moods there exists a human tendency in all individuals (especially me) to fall prey to irrational, unexplained but completely crippling desires. Here I paraphrase Ed - without these needs life is a an endless night but there are tiny pinpricks of reason but then a sudden need shoots through the night sky like a meteor lighting up everything. And when the meteor has passed leaving behind darkness, somehow more pressing than before, everything vanishes. The stars still exist but its just the eyes which have been blinded, incapable of looking at reason and finding zest.

Yesterday I fell prey to one such longing. My heart would listen to no reason and see no fact, it refused to behave rationally threatening to burst or shrivel- whichever it felt was easier- if I did not listen to it. Paintings, colours, other curious little pieces and originality of thought which usually exhilarate me ‘hath no shine’. What I wanted was to feel the brilliance of a writer long dead but never forgotten. I wanted to see and marvel at the words written ages ago but which still stand true, words which have withstood the blows of time and promise to keep doing so, words which attain a musical quality never apparent when they stand alone. I wanted to read poetry.

Often the next best thing suffices a lesser mind but the tricky part is finding that next best thing, afterall ‘all that shines is not gold’. Hence the tragedy of the lesser mind is that its companion, the heart, need not go through the pain it manufactures for itself but the mind’s poor judgment leave it with no other option than to endure. As for me, I tried writing something. Two unfinished poems and several unfinished prose pieces later this option proved to be a fault of my lesser mind’s judgment.

Thus longing and craving I went to sleep but alas there was no solace in dreams too, what of interest can come out of a poor mind and a broken heart…