While Spring Stays...

06^th February, 2016.

Hello humans! My fellow companions to hell! How do you fare? Ah, let me take a wild guess here, you fare well! Either that or you are feeling the untimely heat of February which I cannot help.

Speaking of February, spring is here. Or summer! I am not very sure, never was. Spring is that one season that arrives out of the blues and rushes out with a strange exaltation, leaving me (don’t know about others) stranded to face the blazing sun and the nightmarish heat. It has been so for the last few decades, and I always fail to catch up. I guess that’s a fault rendered by the elementary education and silly Hindi songs talking about the dreamy ambience of spring with bees and butterflies and new leaves and blooming buds and whatnot. I am not denying them, they may happen, but as I said, I always miss it out. Or maybe I don’t. I miss the physical realm of it, I never see bees buzzing about or the roses bloom, but that’s just physicality of the season, which is fine by me. I mean, if spring is just to be marked by a silly date or a number of absurd factors, then I apologize, I am not your guy. But ask me if I feel it around, ask me if my heart races suddenly and I smile without any reason, remembering something I ought to forget and ask me if I look at the sky for no good reason, I would give you a story to tell. I assume a lot of people do that and I guess they are to be appreciated. People who smile for no reason are more amazing than anything, because they feel something that others don’t. I do that a lot.

Geez! I am trying to write, but this is one of those moments when my brain goes for a walk and won’t return easily and the ‘intellectual’ void is too big to fill. It’s like this gap which you really want to fill and you brainstorm, but all you get is flashbacks of silly cat videos, cheesy Bhojpuri songs that can lead you to perpetual dementia with its auto-tune and vulgar innuendos, for which you will either lament or you will slam you head, to get some good idea for writing. As of right now, all I am getting is the renaissance, the glorious revolution, and the stupidity of doing journalism when everything is bought and sold, and for good reasons, I cannot write them together. But I can do this...

Aazad farishton ko qaid kiya maine,

Gulistan-e-firdaus ko jalaya maine,

Tere liye.

Khuda ke inaayat ko thukraya maine,

Uske hukm ko namanzoor kiya,

Uski marzi ko jhuklaya maine,

Tere liye.

Chahta toh tujhe bhi rok leta,

Teri fariyaadon ko darkinaar kiye,

Tujhe bhi qaid kar leta,

Par jaane do,

Apne haathon ek aur jahannam banane ki khwahish

Nahi thi mujhe.

Jalte hue khwabon ko aur jalaake,

Tujhe jane diya,

Tere liye.

So, there, a stupid verse for you all to read and enjoy, while spring still stays.

Tada!

Hate.

Hate.

They hated each other.

He hated her,

she was the reason

for each burning cigarette.

She hated him,

he was her justification

for every empty glass.

It was she, who made his fingers bleed,

on the steel strings of his guitar.

It was he, who made her color palette

diluted on the white canvas.

Poisoned to the bones,

they hated each other,

relentlessly, vehemently

and

unknown to each other.

Just Something.

I found this...letter somewhere on the internet. Thought I would it share it, since I have nothing else to do I guess.

"January 31, 2016
I’ve read, watched and heard about heartache. They said it hurts like needles to your chest and your head feels heavy. You feel like breaking down into tiny pieces that seem impossible to put back together.
But I think tonight is one of those nights when I am feeling it. I can hear loud shrieking sounds in the silence of my room. I can vividly listen to the sound of my tears rolling down my cheeks and my breathing getting heavier with every memory that flashes in my head. I know I’m shouting and crying in vain inside of me but I’m not making any sound because I’m afraid someone will get to know what’s happening to me. I’m trying to tell myself that this is just a matter of a few more minutes but I know it too well to fool myself into believing it. Ceaselessly aiming to making this the first and last time I let myself be weighed down by the memories of my past and stand tall to my future but I know I’m failing.
Its hurting me to even remember it. I am relentlessly focussing my brain on tiny vestiges of the times long gone. I’m trying to recollect the minutest details of moments, snippets and fractions of seconds buried in the closets of my heart and mind. I might find them somewhere right ? Maybe if I try harder I’ll also find an answer to it. Perhaps I’ll finally know why I did what I did and why I never gathered the courage to fix it.
Why I am letting it haunt me now, let alone why it haunts me?
The hurting has lessened now. No, I don’t mean that I am okay, its probably worse now. I hear my head ringing. I feel my agitated fingers hitting the buttons on the keyboard too strongly.
You know what’s on my mind right now? I want to write a letter to you. The longest letter ever. I want to write down everything that has happened to me, changed in me and improved in me. Whatever I have realized and whatever I wish hadn’t ever since I’ve lived a life without you.
Oh. My fingers are suddenly moving faster across these letters. They seem to be my only way of reaching out to you tonight. I know this is never going to reach you in reality but at least in my head I’m typing this out believing you know all this, if not all, you will perhaps know the bits I need you to know. So yeah, going back to when I wrote ‘lived without you.’ I have never been without you. Not a single day. I’ve had days where i adequately convinced myself that i don’t want/need/miss/feel for/ wish to see you but never have I had a day without you. You have been right there in me ever since I told you I don’t need you.
Why did I do that?
I still don’t know. All I remember is you fading away from my life. I remember I let you go.
I feel numb now. I’ve looked at my phone 500 times in the last 40 minutes hoping you might say something. Send me a goddamn full stop maybe. I am desperately in need of some sort of consolation. I need someone, just anyone to tell me it will be okay. And its funny again how I’m writing someone or anyone when I know that all I need is you right now. Nothing else.
Find me a time turner, now."