The Purple Mist of winter sweet

Shining diamonds and shouting monkeys. How does one stop the craziness. How does one start to believe. When words lack sense and people lack sensitivity. How is one to believe.
When emotions run on a overdrive and people run astray. How is one to believe.
Does it every go away? When does one become complete? When does one start living? When do children find their way home?
In all this mayhem and madness, how is one to believe?
When life becomes a question and loneliness becomes the truth. How is one to believe.
The purple mist of winter is Dipped in chocolate, hanging on a flimsy screen of reality. Once blown over, what do you see? An empty house atop a lonely hill with windchimes singing a song so beautiful, you cannot hear. Stop and listen to the sound of nothingness.

To Just Be.

Why does it all have to be so 'unconscious'? And make sense only in retrospect everytime? Why can't I "see" my life changing? The "phases" of my life...Why can't we tell one phase from the other while we are in them? I guess that's why we need friends and generally, people, so that we have an outsider to tell us, "oh, it's just a phase.." or "awww...this is love!" or "don't worry, you WILL move on!" or "honey, there is something better in store for you..." Jeez! Are we just CONDITIONED to WAIT. Just wait. Wait for things to happen. Wait till you are old enough. Like Right now, I know what a kid I am. How scared I am. How "directionless" I am and how lazy I am. I see that for myself, and yet I don't see a way out. How does one GROW UP? Is there a ladder I can climb? *Looks at you pitifully!* I have never been in a hurry to grow up, really, never wanted to go to a disc when I was fourteen, never was in a hurry to have a boyfriend (debatable), never in a hurry to do "it" (still not) or all those things that kids are in a hurry to do. But today I sit here thinking, and my god, with so many "opportunities" from God, I still am such a kid. And here's the kiddish part, I dont want to take any responsibility for my actions. I don't want to take a call. I still want to be able to say at the end of the day, "hey, I did it because You, told me to..." This is NOT what I wanted to see myself as after three years of college. Bah.

Or maybe it's just "institutionalisation". There I go again. Blaming the system. Maybe it's just something that "happens", "unconsciously", as one steps out into the world. Really, am I so insignificant that things will just keep "happening" to me all my life while I "wait" for them to happen! Jeez Lewizzz (unfamiliar with this expression but seemed apt)!

No man. I refuse to let things happen to me. I am done living in such "unawareness". I refuse to believe I am made for that purpose. To just Be.

*Uuuuughhhh* Disgusting.

To Forgiveness and all that Jazz

How many words can you say to get me to forgive you? Keep trying you, someday, something may just do the trick...What do the words even mean? And how does it even matter now? What is expected of my "forgiveness"? And maturity? In a matter of six months? wow! What I had been trying to get you to do in four years! Woohoo! Love? Are you kidding me? What do these words even mean? My mental dictionary is totally in a state of flux, still! You figured out already?! Bravo! 

The only thought I have today is that, none of it was worth this. Except for the fact that I am stronger now and blah-dy blah, I wasted my time. Before you give yourself undue importance, let me tell you, that I am not angry, and as far as I am concerned you are "forgiven", for I don't know who you are. What makes me sad, and kills me everyday, in each moment, perhaps, is the fact that I lost someone I loved. I loved and I lost, and fuck whoever said that "its better to have lost than to have never loved at all", he was a man, and had no idea what he was talking about. I have never seen a death in my family, till April 1st. I lost a man I had truly loved. Perhaps that was the day I realized I had lost him, for he was gone much before that day. 

April 1st: Haha. I truly felt like a fool that day. A fool to have loved. And boy, do I regret it!

Anyhoo, donot flatter yourself. The guy I speak of is dead, doesn't exist and was probably my imagination. 

What is flattering is the power one gives to their beloved. While the power he had over me was because of love, what you feel now, is due to sheer guilt. But no sweat, I don't enjoy having power over you, i truly think it's pretty pathetic. 

The irony of ironies remains, however, the power, a powerless man has over me! 

Talking about fiction and reality. So which bubble are you living in these days? 

I'm sorry to be sounding rude sir, but I don't have much respect for you. I hope you are "on your feet" now, and I hope so only for you, stranger. I see you as a third person, and I regret to inform you that I cant help but judge you for what you have done in your past. Your credibilty, your character, are all hanging under the Damascus' sword at the moment. 

Lastly, you should know that I am not angry. And like you, I am also trying to crawl out of this sad place that is inside me. And like you, I am trying to understand why I have lost my love, and like you, I am trying to forgive myself for loving someone so deeply. Finally, like you, I am trying, to give myself a second chance. 

Acts of absolute futility.  

 

Strike Two

Do I have a sign on my forehead that says, "Clobber me."? or something like, "I'm nice, hence, walk all over me."? Sheesh. Or perhaps there is some truth in what Carrie Bradshaw's (from Sex and the City) shrink has to say to Carrie, "You go for the wrong men."

Whatever it is. I must declare. I AM NOT NICE. I REFUSE TO BE NICE TO YOU. YOU SHALL NOT TAKE ME FOR GRANTED. MOST IMPORTANTLY, MR. MALE, I AM NOT THERE WHEN YOU NEED ME.

Except that I am.

Damn.

To Whomsoever It May Concern

If you are reading this, I am probably writing this for you. 

There are a whole lot of things I want to say. Mostly questions I want to pose to you. Simple questions, that even a mind as great as mine cannot find answers to. 

Questions like while I write this post, why must my mother ask me redundant things and sit beside me hoping to start a conversation about my career. I mean, why now?

Tell me, is "modern" thought regressive?

Or is religion, a utilitarian notion?

Are human inconsistencies crap? (Howard Roark said so.)

Is moving on just something that happens, or are matters concerning emotions something that can be deliberated on?

Am I just lazy when I say I'm waiting to figure out my calling?

Is the irony of life that everyday that you live, you are a day closer to death?

Do we need each other?

If yes, then what is your purpose in my life?

If no, then why do you exist at all?

Every moment that passes, is a moment lost, or a moment gained?

When did you take charge of my life?

What is the difference between survival and living?

What is the greater purpose of my existence?

Will the human species also become extinct someday? (I hope soon.)

Am I anti-social? Am I anti-you?

Is Self-obsession, the best obsession?

Is silence over-rated?

Are you a threat to me?

Are emotions over-rated?

Why is positive, positive and negative, not so nice?

What do I want to do with my time here?

Who are these people who make me feel these things?

Are thoughts superior to emotions?

Why do people cry at the feet of their Lords?

How does "surrender" to something "greater" give me "strength"?

Then, does "helplessness" become a cause for "strength"?

Does the mind prescribe to the order in nature?

How free, is freedom?

Who decides my limitations?

How much can one (wo)man do to change the world?

Is the purpose of human existence:

a) the creation of a system

b) sustaining an already created order

c) creating disorder

Feel free to comment. Or ask questions. But do not expect any answers. 

Regards,

To Whomsoever It May Concern

All shook up

Isn't it funny how some people or situations shake you up completely?
How easy it is for others to alter your self perception, to change you, to shake you up from your very core.
Everyday he asks himself. Will he love again? And he says these words, with an uncanny numbness, mind you. There is no emotion attached to it. But then again, will it ever be the same?
"My life is fiction. And I'm trying so hard to fit in.", that's what he told me once, again in one of his vague moods I so enjoyed. It was hard to get him to say the truth.
You'd like him if you ever met him. Undoubtedly a charmer. So happy and so alive...and yet.

The boy who lived...

"There was a death that day, wasn't there?"
She asked. Who had died that night? Did I die alone? Did I suffer alone? It's a funny kind of feeling, the pain. The irony. Sharing the hurt with the one who hurt you. While one lives, the other is merely in exile, for they can't exist together. And yet, as queer as it may sound, they become companions in pain. Noone chose to, the suffering came to them both. As guilt, to one, and as pain to the other.
"Must I share this with you?", she asked. "Anything, if it makes it go away, my dear." and he shed a little tear for her. Was that salt water the medicine to her wound?
My mind is yours, my love. The thoughts, you've taken them with you. It runs through the meadow, while i lay here, hoping, and wanting.

A moment's folly? Or was it an intentional crime?

It left me wounded, my love. And my heart still lies with you. In the wilderness. Where you buried it.

Somebody did die that night.

While my thoughts still wander in the meadows, and with lips that can taste your tears, I yearn. To say goodbye. To the boy, that died.

falling out

On a lonely monday morning, she lay in bed with her eyes open. She can't remember the last time she slept. She could only feel the weight of every breath she took. And the force of every move she had to make to get by. And every time her lips broke into a smile. Just like she did every morning, she questioned. Life, reality, and her existence.
With every breath she felt life entering her lungs. And she felt a blow in her chest every time she exhaled. She was an island. cut off. But somehow, alive.
What is the truth? I am tired, just like you. Must I pretend to love you.
I want to crawl back into your arms. Kindly give me some space my dear. And hold me till I don't have to breath anymore.

It's easy

It's easy to be me
To be me today
It's easy to breathe
To look into my eyes
And smile.

It's me, oh so Free.
It's clear now
No wrongs from where I'm looking
It's getting easy to be me.

It gets better
I promise
Everyday I'm new
I feel free now.

forgetting you

I am moving away
They want me to forget you baby
And they are right aren't they
You haven't left me with much to remember you by baby

You had your reasons
And I'm so caught up to see mine
I pray for me only now honey
I wasted His time on you too much,
too often.

The Monkey on my Shoulder

A lovely looking boy
Sat alone and cried
With his head in his lap
And a nose running wild
The boy wept and sighed

I was walking on by
When he pulled my hair
Tugged at my shirt
Yelled into my ear
I must stop here,
Ordered that monkey on my shoulder.

Well, I gave it a try
I asked the sulking boy
About the tears in his eye
Sit for a while
Said that monkey on my shoulder.

I quietened him down,
Threw my monkey around
Bought him a candy or two
He looked just as blue
And so did that monkey on my shoulder.

He got off my shoulder
And walked away
The disgruntled monkey had nothing to say
And as I sat in sheer dismay
I heard the boy laugh
While he played,
With a monkey on his shoulder.

The Bird who decided to stay

I was there, the whole time
I felt it, the pain piercing my heart
And I felt it every single time
I was there, at that place
Where you gave me your hand
I heard you say my name
But i turned around and left anyway.

You would hold me
But I would pull away
You would push me
But I'd always make me stay
Too afraid to yield
And run toward that open field.

And you knew I had wings
You knew all those things
While I waited to be saved,
And crept away
From the arms of my saviour...

I took flight yesterday
Though he thought I'd stay
But I heard my voice again
As it grew tiresome and vain...

The last journey must begin.

Random ramblings for a worthless someone

Now that it is done
what did you have in mind?
Now that it is over
Tell me, what did it feel like?
Did you cry?
Did I die?
In that one moment of fear
I saw a million lives..
fading away, calling me by different names...
It was a wonderful thing that we had
Was it really even happening?

The silence was broken
I want to let you go
Give you away
Leave my mind, body and soul...
I dont want to hear you again

what use is this anyway...?
You dont even make
A good enough subject for a poem
Babe...

*Laughs out loud*

Seven breaths too late..

With my eyes closed, I held your hand
Till the very end,
Who let go baby?
Was it me or you?
It doesnt matter any more...
Cause I let go of you.

Life has just begun
And I live by no regrets
except honey,
It happened seven breaths too late.

BLACK JASMINE

I was five when I first saw them. They looked dazzling and were set beautifully in my mother’s hair. For some reason she wouldn’t stop smiling every time she wore them. My father bought them for her, whenever we would go for a drive at night. He would stop at the signal and buy her a string of those white flowers, and my mother would tie them in her hair and smile coyly.

I was convinced that that flower had magical powers. Once, I remember, my mother was really upset. My parents had gotten into an argument and father had been rude to her. I was very angry and at the same time very frightened! I would never talk to him! All father did was get her a string of jasmines and all resentment vanished. Not only was mother on seventh heaven, I decided to love my father again!

Gradually I started to identify the fragrance of the jasmine with that of my mother and it’s presence with her smiling face. Very soon, it came to symbolize the bond my parents shared, the love they had for each other, which I believed, was eternal.

And then everything changed. I came to realize that eternal was just a word. I came to realize that change is the only truth and that all beginnings have an end.As I grew, they, grew apart. My mother would sit alone in her room and I would peer out the window waiting for the jasmine string to come and work it’s magic. I was certain my mother would be delighted to see those blossoms. But they never came.

The flowers once gave me hope. Their colour reminded me of the purity of their love, their fragrance, of my mother’s bashful smile.Today, when I stop at the signal and I see those jasmines, I am filled with spite. They appear black like the colour of the kohl filled tears from my mother’s eyes. They reek of betrayal.

Black jasmine. Reminiscence of the pain.

Daddy Please

Daddy, can we go out today
Will you show me the world,
Through your eyes once again?
Daddy, I’ve missed you all along
I can’t bear to be with you
But I couldn’t bear it when you were gone

I don’t know if I loved you
I don’t know what it means
But it hurt me so much that
You never really missed me

But now that you are here
Lets not waste more time
Take me to the circus, to the zoo, on the plane, lets fly
Lets dance our little dances
Lets jump, hop and shine
Lets do this quickly daddy
We don’t have much time.

And finally when i awake
I'll pray you stick around
Long enough to see
My tiny feet, leave the ground.