Second Stanza

30^th December, 2016.

Something off my mind, nothing serious…

‘You are absent, away somewhere,

You are here, right in front of me,

As I write.

Marked with trivial errors that I made,

I look back, only to find more pages

devoted to you.

I showed some, I hid more,

Afraid I’ll hurt you with the inked scars.

You still aren’t here, absent, somewhere away,

You are here as I struggle through words,

Words which always eluded me,

Ending in single stanzas.

As my scars grew in population,

The pages devoted to you came accordingly,

Like victims seeking refuge

In your still storms.

You are absent, away,

Somewhere,

You are here yet,

In my poem

Creating second stanzas.’

have a good year people!

Love!

This Side of Paradise.

15th December, 2016.

This side of paradise is mine.
It's mottled and it creaks with every step
and the ground feels cracked
as my shadow walks over it,
carefully treading, trying not to break anything.

Here my wounds heal quickly,
though it's argumentative,
whether my residence here is justified or not,
as it's basically dead, sepia toned.

This side of paradise is mine,
as mythical as it sounds, here I keep my gods,
designed on my own,
and there are no great expectations,
they are just devices,
advocates of my jest.

Wayward and broken,
this side of paradise,
with its grayed skies,
with a gloom air of despaired songs,
is perfect for dreaming,
and be nothing but ethereal.

Here I reside.

An Invitation to everyone.

14^th December, 2016.

I keep you somewhere,

somewhere in the depths

of a restless mind,

not because of an undefended scorn,

but to remind me,

that we are strangers,

sort of.

But that’s not futile a thought,

don’t get me wrong.

true, indeed that our paths haven’t crossed in a while

and that we refrain from mentioning each other

in public gatherings,

or at least I do, yet

not a day goes by that you aren’t there,

in my thoughts and memories.

Strictly speaking, I miss you,

a lot!

And keeping that stringent fallacy in mind,

I would keep it, keep you in the moments I froze

in myself.

And maybe, just maybe

one day when we cross each other on some desolate street

or some busy road,

I’d love to catch up,

over a cup of coffee,

and maybe walk with you silently,

just to prove that I still love you,

 and yet we are strangers,

sort of…

To False Lovers

10^th December, 2016.

I found our false winter promises back,

As the rusted pieces fell apart,

Like flaked skins of a corpse,

I found the evident tribute,

Compelling us to smother each other’s memories,

As the mist came early this night.

I kept my chaos sedated,

Kept my tornadoes in rest

As no more could I bear

The rancid smiles that we pasted,

As we slept through enough lies,

And pretended that it was normalcy,

I need the peace, insanity, so be it.

I’m tired of our excuses we made

Every night, promising to us that it is not absurd,

While quoting Keats and Tennyson to satiate

The remarkable deceits we wove for each other,

That this was love.

So here I bleed,

For one last time,

As I watch the hands of truth grasp my throat

And I exhale the last breath, putrid nicotine breath.

Let this be my last verse, false lover,

But let this be my last ode to you,

For it was false,

But still it was love and I love you.

Xxxxxx­___________xxxxxxxX

Lagged writings

09^th December, 2016.

Fuck…I know I lagged behind… so here are three things in one blog…

Thing 1

“Where are you hiding?

Somewhere you’ll never look!

You’re hiding under the mottled blanket of thoughts and memories.

How do you know?!

Because that’s what I’d do!

Because at the end of it, you’re just the same

After all these years”.

Thing 2

 “Does it ever stop?” Sahiba asked Amartya as he made another peg of scotch.

“No it doesn’t, the bottle isn’t even half” Amartya replied, focusing on the quantity of the drink; making good pegs was an art for him and he took it seriously right after Hendrix and Marley.

“I am talking about something else Ami!” Sahiba retorted.

Amartya handed over the glass to Sahiba and leaned back on his armchair; “I know, and I guess it does, like after 5 more rounds and a year later it will be gone. I’d rather focus my time on the stuff at hand if I were you.”

“I so wish you weren’t asexual Ami”, Sahiba slurred out as she finished the drink.

“Why, so you can rebound on me? That’s got to be the worst idea you ever came up, well right after falling for that shit-stain. In any case, it’s 5 months already; you ought to be out of that zone by now, so focus on the drink and Sade”, Amartya handed her another glass.

Possibly Amartya was right, Sahiba wondered if he was right the first time when he her against Tahir.  Possibly it will stop, as Amartya said it will. Possibly right after the next drink, she wondered.

Thing 3

‘That door needs to stay closed’ grandma said as she tucked Kartik in bed, pointing towards a door in the corridor.

‘But why?’ Kartik asked, as he removed his I-pod from his bag.

‘Because it holds a monster behind it!’ grandma said.

‘Oh come on grandma… I’m fifteen now, treat me like a grown up!’ Kartik said as he played the first song. Grandma laughed and left the room.

The door had no lock on it; the latch could be easily removed. Kartik turned the handle to open it.

‘I told you not to open it’. Kartik turned, scared to his bones, feeling his heart in his throat.

‘The door needed to stay closed’ grandma said as she put her hand on Kartik’s shoulder, ‘and it will always stay closed’, she said as she stabbed his eyes out.

December blues...

05^th December, 2016.

So! The year comes to an end, again, and here I am, again! But to be fair, I guess this was way overdue, like those silly little meetings with your friends; this is something of that sort…sort of!

I’d go on and on about this, but that’d defy the purpose or the intent of this particular blog, so let’s cut to the chase; my exams are over and as always, life and boredom comes and bites me. So here’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna write, for the next few days, some short stories, poems, micro stories and even micro poems, one per day…and I will try not be cheesy (which I doubt very much). So let’s start with the first one, eh? Oh and one more thing, these are pure brainstorming, like there’s no prior base, it’s all on the flow...

Varun was always around whenever she needed him. Or when didn’t need him. She really wasn’t sure about this as she never said a word about it. Unlike most the people would do, she kept herself to herself and never spoke much about any inconvenience she might face, but he’d be around. As if by some strange providence, Varun would always know that she needed him.

Like that day in college when she lost her I.D card somewhere and was almost devastated when she couldn’t issue the only copy of ‘God and the State’ by Bakunin  from library for her final term. Varun was just passing her as he saw her fumbling through her handbag for the card and was trying to reason with the librarian, who was essentially very helpful but at the same time was bound by the college rules. Varun saw her in despair and would have crossed her, well, who wouldn’t, given that it was the final term and none would lend their card for book issuing; but then, that wasn’t Varun’s nature. Inherently he was the ‘good kid’. So he approached her, asked her what’s wrong and as sheepishly she explained her despair, he gave his card to her and left the campus.

Or the other day when she stayed behind in college after classes till 8 in the night, finishing her work when her friends went to attend a beer infested party at someone’s apartment. It wasn’t that she was in a hurry to finish the work; she was just asocial in these matters and figured it was a wise decision to stay back. Wise would be an overstatement here as right after 8 she wouldn’t find any transport towards her P.G and even if she did, the auto-drivers demanded ransom instead of fares. Just as she was contemplating whether she should call her father to come and pick her up or head towards the P.G on foot, she saw Varun coming out of the reading rooms with a pile of papers under his arms as he struggled with his glasses and the laptop, always the mess.

They both saw each other, she said nothing, just smiled, and he understood and offered her help, asking her if she would mind him walking with her. The P.G wasn’t much far (by his calculations) but the area wasn’t what one would consider decent in a very general tone, plus one shouldn’t trust the roads these days. She agreed, but kept herself composed. They walked, barely exchanging words, just the normalcy for courtesy. 45 minutes later they were at the P.G’s gate, Varun bade her goodnight, she thanked him and that’s about it. Nothing out of the blues, no ‘do you want to come in’, nothing. It wasn’t their nature.

So that was Varun, always around when she needed him; you’d expect that they must have exchanged phone numbers and whatnot, well, they did. It happens! Naturally as they started conversing, at times Varun would know that she would need him to listen to her or to leave her be, depended on situation. He acted accordingly. And this went for a good long time.

The only time Varun wasn’t around was the day when he died.

Only that day she asked something off him. She said – “Say something. Anything”.

end.