Cost of Freedom

The plea was innocent!
to unshackle and let her
soar,high into
the unknown skies.
To let the chain
break  and free her,
to let her fly till her
wings hurt and heart is
content.
The king did so,
quite foolishly.
For him,
it was her heart that
mattered the most.
Quite foolishly,conscious to
the pain that’d be corporeal
that mark his death,or just an
existence with insanity,
the king gave in to
her  plea,thus unchaining her.
Spreading the bright silver wings,
with feathers of a divine flame,
she soared into the sun,
into her own sky of happiness
only leaving a trail of blood,
a satisfied face with a broken heart,
and,
a dead king.

A Summer Peruse

23^rd June, 2014.

Since it’s been a while that I’ve wrote anything stupid, and plus the month is coming to an end, plus I have particularly nothing to do, why not waste the times?

It has been a long month in every literary sense there is possible to describe how long this month has been. Even if I exclude the blood-drying heat that has comfortably settled itself over us poor delhiites, there was practically nothing to do or nowhere to go because of, well the heat (lame jokes, bleh!) and the reason that after exams, almost all of the friends were out of city. Even the slightest sign of life around was more than enough for me, (try to shut yourself in a room for a week or so, you’ll know what I mean).  The eternal boredom took its corporeal form in the shape of slow times, boring TV shows, and long afternoons with either books or naps. The same faces in my area with the eternal questions of –“exam khatam hogaye? Aage ka kya plan hai?  Service?” seemed like my neighbors are more concerned about my future than I am.

Anyways, I had to sought asylum in my books that I bought in case of any dire emergency that occurs, which proved to be true more or less. Succumbing to the bad habit of becoming a paraplegic while reading (no offense) or a vegetable, the month went away with accumulating and processing different characters and ideas. Exempli gratia, if you attempt suicide, you are an asshole, sex is not just two bodies with lust, but somewhat spiritual and is sacred (no I didn’t had any experience, it is theoretical and I don’t have any plans to engage in sexual activities anytime soon either), one shouldn’t forget one’s origins and so forth. The nights were/are devoted to fifa world cup (though in fairness, my knowledge over football and any other sports is damagingly feeble, so I won’t comment much on that).

So, this, the aforementioned trivial things in which I have been engaged with can be assumed as a quick glance over the dull monotonous life that follows, and I am in hope that this changes to a “garden that bursts into life” (dumb metaphor again, but I guess you were not hoping something awfully witty from me, were you?)

Regards.

P.S- it was a whatsapp message from dear bohemian that woke me up this evening with the dreaded news, “results are out”… good thing is I passed, phew! Heh…this demands one hell of a celebration…maybe Aerosmith’s “living on the edge” will be appropriate!

Placidity

06th June, 2014.

My previous entry was about the lethality of a dull routine that one follows with reluctance during exams, which leads to a placid state of mind. Who knew that this was going to follow after the exams? So, if I had to, I can divide this placidity in a chronology, I can divide it into past, present and future.

Past – before my last exam, my stars may have decided to play a practical joke on me, like “hey, guys, come see this, it’s real fun, I am going to give this guy CHICKEN POX..HAHA’’… so yeah, I fell down with pox, and the placidity starts. When you are suffering from pox, take it from me, you really want to see the world burn. Firstly, the food; no salt or spice in the diet, just freaking boiled veggies. I mean really?? I am a BONG for god sakes, how can I live without fish curry and stereotypical Bengali food?? Secondly, the rest. You are quarantined to a room with nothing, maybe with your mobile with songs and laptop with movies, but it gets on your nerve. You really don’t know what song is playing or what are those human figures trying to do in a movie. You are not awake, you are not sleeping. You turn into a psychopathic insomniac, laying down the whole night with your eyes wide open, the wheezing fan on the ceiling, the dripping faucet in your kitchen, the snoring of your tired father from the other room amplifies a hundred times, and you just want to kill everyone, the days are boring and more or less same like nights; whatsapp and facebook bores you and the days become placid, stagnant with same routine.

Present – post pox days. I am recovered, just the spots on my face, and I may have gained a bit weight too (though not morbidly obese, I am fatty..huh..the only cross I bear). Now, to expect that someone would visit you with a fresh bouquet of flower would be childish, but this human nature does expect things invariably. Dishant did came though, quite unexpectedly. Yet, I was somewhat promised a visit by someone else, but it didn’t happen. Oh well, I can’t say I was disappointed, I have practice to get disappointed so yeah. And people are busy these days, so, no complaints. And plus, I can’t do anything about some things, so yeah, present is placid too. No one to meet, no one to come. Maybe just some old habits to pass the time with.

Future – so, summer is burning Delhi to a crisp, and most of my friends are leaving. Close ones actually; I don’t have many friends (sociopathic behavior or asperger syndrome?) I now feel like the unnamed hero from Dostoevsky’s white nights, where he felt forsaken when everyone in the city was leaving for summer vacations. So, with them gone, I don’t have anything to go on with, and with the heat wave, the remaining ones won’t risk going out just to get burned by the raging sun. I will be quarantined in my rooms, with the few new books and old movies (need new movies) to keep myself sane. Occasional visits to the sand castle and some writing maybe; the placidity will go on.

Regards.