Silence…

Which was nothing but worthlessly stinking carrion for the vultures of hatred to pillage.

Which deplorably castrated every ounce of handsome energy into the gallows of extinction…

Silence…

Which led neither to the past or present or immediate optimistic future.

Which was solely wholesomely and wretchedly circumscribed by the very last breath of emollient life...

Tell me.....
How it feels .. to burst out like a rose?

I wish that I, like skeletal insects
Could spin across the waters….
My reflections mirrored

I wish I could twirl in the moonlight
with pearl dust on my wings….
veined, fragile and transparent

I wish
I wish
I wish.....

A cheerful old bear at the zoo
Could always find something to do.
When it bored him to walk to and fro
He reversed it, and walked fro and to.

I look up at the satin velvet sky
The stars shining
Like a million diamonds scattered,
So precious, so high…
I'm lying on the cold floor,
A scarf of pain keeps me warm
I watch a silver tear escape.
My weakness…. it yells.
I watch it slip onto the floor
to join its fellow traitors….
A silver pool, on a silver night.
A silver pool of tears....

It is pure bliss…
To hold an infant close to the heart…
To hear it gurgle, soothe it when it cries…
Watch its rosy palms clutch onto shoulders for security when it sleeps…
To feel little dimpled baby hands, grasping the fingers tightly…
To feel the contentment that comes from loving…

Imagine a sight
That of a dying man...
fighting for his last breath before he succumbs to finality..
The last sight...
of one in a car-wreck
or a cancer patient
or someone who’s just had enough and holds a gun to his temple...
Imagine hands...
not that of a poet or artist..
but hands that are wanting, praying and hoping.
Wanting answers but receiving nothing.....

Laugh like a lady

Laugh like a lady….
Every girl’s college has its favourite disciplinarian. In my college, the focus of our lives was the quick-tempered Mrs. Quazi. She had a beautiful singing voice, a warm sense of humour and a nose like the prow of a ship.
One day, she called the 11th class students aside for a special impromptu lecture. “Girls!” she said, “I’ve been listening to some of you laughing and I’m sorry to say, you sound like…” she paused to choose a suitable example, “…hyenas!” When she wanted to make a point, her voice rose high enough to loosen the fillings in teeth.
We snuffled and snorted in response, whereupon she exclaimed, “That’s just what I mean!” She followed up with a highly exaggerated instant replay of the sounds we had made. There was the explosive “HAH!”, the hearty ‘haw-haw-haw!’, the nasal ‘snee-snee-snee!’, the machine-gun ‘heh-eh-eh-eh!’ and the utterly ungainly ‘gurk!gurk!gurk!’, sometimes accompanied by a loud, guttural grunting at the end, ‘gnaaaarhhh!’ It just wouldn’t do, she told us. In order to grow into proper ladies, we must learn to laugh with greater decorum. A couple of us protested immediately. “Wouldn’t that be false, Mam?” we asked. “And unnatural?”
“You can be perfectly natural and still have an attractive laugh,” she insisted. “It should be sweet and pretty, like the tinkling of little silver bell heard in the distance: A-hahahaha-uhh!” she demonstrated. A slight intake of breadth, a mild whinnying, followed by a final delicate gasp. “Don’t throw your head back, don’t open your mouth wide – you’re not visiting a dentist – and most of all, don’t break the sound barrier!” She got us to practise a few times and even though we were gargling much more than we were tinkling, the lesson got through: There is a right and wrong way even for something as spontaneous as laughter.
Do respectable young men get similar lessons, I wonder? I didn’t ask myself this question at that time and anyway, my own laugh being of the hearty machine-gun brand, it was clear then that I would never gain membership to the Lady’s Circle when I grew up. But I often thought back upon that little lecture. It was hilarious, at the time, but the point of it was that we needed control, modify and suppress the freedoms we had known as young girls, so as to remain acceptable to our social class. Laughter is supposedly involuntary, a response to a remark or situation that is absurd enough to cause us to make an audible sound. Most people look forward to laughter, and I’m one of them. It is said that humour is good for the nervous system; even an artificial smile causes beneficial relaxation to trickle through the mysterious wiring of our brain. Yet for a girl to become a woman, she needs to rein in her behaviour, lower her emotional profile and appear to be the model of quite restraint.
As our mam said, “an open, laughing mouth brings up associations with the Other Orifice”. This may be why we’re encouraged to cover our mouths while laughing, yawning, or doing anything else which requires us to open our mouth wide. Perhaps the sight of a woman laughing uninhibitedly creates the impression of uninhibited sexuality – and we certainly know that’s taboo – so as a fail-safe, nicely brought up girls are told to avoid extreme hilarity altogether.
Like I said, however I didn’t expect to become a lady – and I haven’t. I kept right on laughing raucously regardless of Mrs. Q’s advice. My repertoire has expanded to include the explosive rattle (‘HAH-huhuhuh!’), the nasal gurk (‘snurk-snurk’), and the helpless rattling giggle (‘hah!hah!hah!’). I’ve been at it all till now and haven’t suffered too much for my excesses.
You know how they tell you that you must not laugh to much or else you’ll cry? It isn’t true. I’ve certainly cried a number of times in my life, but I’ve definitely laughed a lot more.
Aha! As for the respectable young men, I have no idea whether or not they’re taught hoe to laugh. Frankly, I wouldn’t mind it if some of them showed a little restraint now and then. It would be nice, for instance, if they covered their mouths while eating and sat with the ankles nicely crossed with none of that rhythmic foot-jittering and knee-flapping we get to see in waiting rooms. A little less burping, farting and crotch-scratching too, would be much appreciated too!
Snurk!snurk!snurk!

I have a bad habit of putting off work until the last minute. And it has gotten even worse than it was in the past. There are times though when how hard you try, circumstances don't allow getting things done early. Today I stayed up a bit late to do a homework assignment that is due at 10 tommorow morning. At 2:30 the sound of my cell phone startled me. I was in the process of printing out the work I'd done. Today I spent all day having a hard time formulating thoughts, but it wasn't too bad. And now at 4:30 in the night as I sit down to write, every single soul I know is asleep. I laugh at the irony that they are the ones to fall asleep.

My sweet and painful muse have abandoned me..
oppressed by the obliterating nothingness
that encapsulates...
I manage to scribble something
but ugh! it is horrendous!

My thoughts just go in all different directions.
Some are good... Some are not the wisest thoughts I've had.
They flicker in my mind...
like faint stars.
They glint like a drop of dew...
in the morning sun...
and vanish.

I have decided that these will be my last words on this matter, for everything that needs to be said has already been said a thousand times and the angst I have, now leaves me only bitter because of the happy life I have led. I think it's completely unfair...for once I had the world wrapped around my finger, but now I'm just so scared. The anger, sadness, and bitterness within have caged me and I somehow cannot break free on my own...or may be I am hoping someone would set me free.
I wonder where tomorrow or the day after will carry me...for I've become so tired, that I might as well end the whole thing. But notes of memories are ringing in my head..… ………And I cannot forget.
And even if I do let go, I would only lament later. I make a futile effort to grasp my little piece of heaven, filled with contentment, love, peace and trust, which has been ripped off my grip. I know that what I hope and long for will never come back. So I am thankful for those past happy days, even if they were few. Indeed, those were the sweetest days of my life. As I write, these words are what I have the strength and energy to think. Sometimes I feel may be if I stop the torrential outpour of words, I might as well change the way things are. My words seem to be few, yet there is so much to say. So for now I lay down my pen, and I close this sad chapter. And I'll continue to say I am all right, and dance and laugh across this liar’s stage, till I get over this phase.

It's so easy to forget that you exist...
It's so easy as if I just made a wish..
And poof you vanished...
It's so easy to move on..
It's so easy...
It's so right...
It's so easy.

My yearning to smile gets lost everyday but I keep trying...
My need to speak fades for no words can express what I feel..
My longing to laugh dies as the heart weeps...
I wish to sing but melodies remind me of the past..
I crave to feel but the soul is so numb...
I try to breathe but the air gets thicker..
I pine to touch but the very thought makes me recoil...
I need to stop but the tears don’t stop..
I want to think but my brain just won't work...
I try to cope but the will is not there.

to you my friend

Many loved him as a refined and clever, interesting man………
and were horrified and disappointed when they came upon the wolf in him.
And they had to because he wished, as every sentient being does,
to be loved as a whole and therefore it was just with those whose love he
most valued that he could least of all conceal and deny the wolf……….
"Where do you get your ideas from?” I ask him.
"I live in the dark…and peek only now and again into this world gone pale, cold, and claiming to be real……Maybe you want to glimpse too?”
He smiles.

Knew nothing about razor blades....... where did they come from? Like slivers of light cutting elegant patterns of red on pale skin………..what was their purpose?
Knew the value of their medicine and imagined that they cut death out of people………...

As you turn to go….. Forever…… all the reminiscences I hold within, the good and the bad, I start seeing them and feeling them, I want to turn back time and make every thing right…………to prevent the bad from happening, so that maybe we wouldn’t act the way we do now.
As you turn to go….. Forever…… I start hearing and seeing things, of me and you fighting and yelling
And I eventually walking away, sad and blue……….feeling cold by the night’s wind, tears running down the cheeks, as I wipe them away, thinking about the fight.

As you turn to go….. Forever…… I remember the promises you had made to me, that no matter what happens and where we end up and whatever life throws at us, we can handle it.………We promised never to let go and give up on each other.


As you turn to go….. Forever….. I let go of someone I love;
I ask you why, over and over again.
Did you ever feel cheated? Did you ever feel uncared for?
I suffer all these feelings in this one moment.


I stand here hoping you would turn just for once……to show that you care
Like I do for you and hoping that we can go back and change time
And make the promise real again…… and now I can see you no more……….and the promise remains broken.

I wait for love to drop by....some sign of life.....something to hold on to.... something to lift the day off its knees......I pace the floor....peer out of the window and wait.....This is unhealthy and it’s getting crazier and has become an addiction……………
But I am better now. Many days of disappointment have taught me not to bother and that you really do not want to bother.

I have my exams from the 31st of Jan………….that’s my mom n dad’s wedding anniversery and not to forget the birthday of a very dear friend. But before I can enjoy or fear any of them, I must complete my stupid asignments (not even half way through them) . Haven’t gone anywhere since returning from college (day before yesterday). It seems I have been sitting in front of the computer for ages. My back’s aching and so are my fingers. My chair seems to have sunk down by God knows how many inches and it’s making all sorts of creepy sounds when I move………………Are yaar!! this whole thing is damn frustrating…….. The most irritating part is to answer a question of 5 marks in 500 words. (what the hell???)
…………….especially when I am in a habbit of using as few words as possible when typing………. and 500 words for each question? God!! That’s worse than “Sazaaye Kalapani!”
Worse still……………………I’m a slow typist………I don’t know how to spell or even the meaning of half the words I am typing……..Everything I type sounds stupid to me ………………… So I have to reread it six to seven times………… But then I’m a slow reader………………..And I’m still not sure what I am typing, whether it’s actually right or am I so tired that I am just seeing it that way……..
Ya right………… then why am I wasting all these words on this blog? ( 340 words. That’s half an answer, by the way!)
Let me answer.
For a change I am typing what I feel like typing and not what the godforsaken questions in my book want me to. It is a kind of moral boost-up (for once I don’t feel like a slave!)
Its part of my self-destructive nature to do something which will put me behind the rest……..And………. I actually had something to blog or rather whine about!

The love of men who are not lovers. Resting my head against their chest, my fists folded under my chin, their arms, though slightly awkward, shielding me muffled, pulling me in.
The warmth of men who don’t go hot, their shoulders broad enough to bear my head and after the sobbing stops, who sit clasping my hand, in both of theirs to calm me down, not asking once what it was that had upset me, instead wondering, if their lovers had ever cried like this because of them.
A man who loves, but never like a lover, who asks for my opinion, who wants to talk, and perhaps best of all, who pulls out the boy in him and makes me laugh till I forget that I have cried.
With such a man I am a seven-year girl again, full of fun, full of colour and I feel as if I am a wide-open space under the heavens.
The love of men who are not lovers, because then I never have to say goodbye.

Men-analysis

Men are strange creatures. They will be in the throes of a passionate session of love making, and all of a sudden, for no apparent reason, they will say or do the stupidest thing possible. It's as if there’s some law that declares: “a man shall, at every possible moment during intimacy, put his foot in his mouth, by mentioning ex-girlfriends, models, mothers, unflattering body parts, food, sports, and sex, etc.”
Get the point? Men sometimes don’t know when to keep their mouths shut. And here are some of the darndest (grrrr!) things men say in bed! After all, what’s more amusing than men!!!
1. Hope you are as good looking when I’m sober.
2. Did you remember to take the pills?
3. But everybody looks funny naked!
4. Try breathing through your nose.
5. Can you please pass on the remote control?
6. When is it supposed to feel good?
7. How much did this nightie cost?
8. On second thoughts, let’s turn off the light.
9. Zzzzzzzzzzzz (snore) zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz (snore)
10. Sweetheart, you sure your dad’s out of town?
11. Perhaps you are just out of practice.
12. Did you come yet, dear?
13. So much for the fulfillment of sexual fantasies.
14. No really I do this part better myself!
15. You are almost as good as my ex.
16. You sweat more than a galloping horse.
17. Now I know why he dumped you.
18. Really! Foreplay is grossly overrated.
19. Have you ever considered liposuction?
20. Are those real or am I just behind the times?
21. Were you by any chance repressed as a child?
22. But I just brushed my teeth.
23. You could at least act like you are enjoying it!
24. Hic! I need another beer for this please.
25. How long do you plan to be almost there?

Cold now…..Close to the edge. …….Almost unbearable……….. Blurred vision in the gathering Fog …… Wind ripping through the bones……..Time seems to have frozen…….. The never-ending nippy nights………words coming out haltingly as syllables gel against the night air…….the abode as chilly as a coffin……and suddenly a new year card arriving belatedly is so soothingly warm.

a perfect fit

Sitting in a restaurant with my friends, earlier today, cracking jokes and laughing like a bunch of lunatics, a thought suddenly crossed my mind, "Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born." How true. (Though, as usual, I can not remember who had said these lines….)
I feel we define ourselves by the people we love...by our friends. After all, aren’t we judged by the company we keep?
When I was a kid I had a doll, and with her I shared all my secrets as if she where my best friend. But later, when she started acting terribly cutesy and helpless and wailed and whined, I dumped her.
I think this happens to most 10 year olds who suddenly wake up one morning and find, this raggedly thing needs to get life!
And so we get out and get friends, a breathing replica of our dolls, with whom we can talk for hours and talk about anything. We borrow money, clothes and tricks...(oh! and not to forget the bitching and assholing part!!)
A good pal covers-up for us when we are on thin ice, yells for falling in love twice with the same scum, has a shoulder ready for us to cry on. We fight, sneer, exasperate, switch on and switch off, swing from the frigid zone to the tropics and vice versa at the drop of a hat...And then go soapy all over again.
The best part about friends is that we get to choose them. Just give it a thought. From among billions of people in the world, we attach ourselves to just a few. It is after all, a choice we have made. We are constantly fine-slicing the thousands of people who cross our lives, sifting through their characters, matching our nature to theirs, (much as we match our accessories with our outfits) to arrive at that one perfect human being whom we choose to call a friend. To some this click happens rather rarely; to others often. We choose that this person, with a caustic sense of humour or a strong sense of discipline or one with a serene nature, appeals to us. Somewhere along, we see reflections of ourselves in this person. We share the same sentiments, have the same ambitions, love the same movies, dislike the same phobias...we may have opposing viewpoints on some things, but largely, we make a good fit. That’s what friends are. A good fit. We can count on them to be available whenever we need them. With them forgrantedness is not just another F-word; we treat them as an extension of ourselves.

After months of growing apart, the little insignificance have bit by bit accumulated into a wall and alienated us... And today when you are not with me, I am alone enough to count the nails piercing deep in my heart, studded like the door of a treasure house... And I arrange my silence in the vase of the lonely hours and try to balance the bouquet with memories of hands held, laughters reciprocated and the different colours of life shared...and as I sit within the swell of my heartbeat, I long for you...But it is too late…...…for I no longer get your touch...for your kisses are not mine anymore...for you are so far away from me...for you are not here any longer to tell me of our future that you have planned...for you are not here anymore to half-turn to go and yet stay back.