River of life

Carry me, Oh carry me
River of life.
Carry me downstream
Where you release
All your pain,
Into the sea of fate.
I have rowed too far,
My will is worn out,
I am too tired to try.
I won't hide behind hopes;
Carry me, oh carry me
River of life.

Street Lights

Like a moth I find love in every street lamp,
I wander aimlessly;
Shadows of her haunt me
Everywhere throughout the night.
I fly high towards the moon
But fall back softly, cushioned by her soft love
I take rest in the cover of her shadow;
Headlights all around try to distract me
Like two big red eyes of the devil in the night,
I scurry away towards the nook, where I found love once
And in its safety I sleep sound tonight.

Victory of Failure

I am not here to glorify failure or justify its necessity but I would like to take a pragmatic standpoint to pacify the satisfaction starving heart of my life. It is to be understood that whenever I talk about life I do not want to associate it with only the big things.
So what I wish to describe here exactly lies in the understanding on the irony of hope. Why am I mentioning irony with hope? I know it is highly surprising and puzzling at the same time. What exactly is hope? We all have hopes or had hopes at one point of our life. We expect the best results that will wash away all the negatives that are pushing us back in our bid to move forward in life. Hope is a just a state of mind. No matter how many times we try to adjust the feelings in order to satisfy the purpose of hope it will always remain inside our mind. What I meant here is that hope never reveals itself.
My life has always been a pocketful of hopes until they get shattered by the realities of life every time. Whenever I try to understand why was I not satisfied with anything that I get in life, I am always baffled by a strange mystery. I am unusually unsatisfied with whatever I do. As if I have something inside me that forces my results to turn out below my expectations. Then I realized that it is my expectations that always change when I reach the point where hope is supposed to have successfully reached its final destination. Then I again start hoping in a different way. Let me give you my example. When at first I didn't have a job I always hoped that if I just get a job (no matter what) everything will be alright for the rest of my life. But after getting that I realized that my expectations have changed and then I begun to hope for something better than that. An endless train of hopes and expectations appeared.
Thus where I thought I found victory resulted in nothing but a failure. It's ironical because each victory I tasted was just the beginning of a failure of my new expectation. Maybe there is beauty in it. Who knows? Or maybe this is the unreachable destiny which is keeling me alive.

Why

Why? I often questioned
Why? The reason unkown
Why? It always dawned
Why? It was late and gone
Why? Do u know the answer?
Why? Can you help me?
Why? Everything is the same ever
Why? There is nothing more to see
Why? I won't ask again
Why? It's not meant for all
Why? This is both my boon and bane
Why? I will never recall

Now

Now is here
To take me to tomorrow,
Young ages grow older
Black turning to grey.
I once crawled to reach
Where to I now run
Never ending, constantly;
The river flows quietly,
Dipped my feet
Found it too cold
I cannot wash myself clean.
I see your face, a reflection of the past,
Gather the images in the sand
Sieve the memories
Roughened by time
Glistening though.
My time may come
I will leave behind quietly
Carry not my body but my memories
Do not bury it or burn it
Take it home with you
I will meet you on the other side of the river
The boat comes only once.

Freedom

She is my freedom
In the deep sleep, my dream.
I snore like a child untangled
From dark worries of tomorrow.
I suckle on the tits of life,
Milking out the naivities;
Wraps me like a blanket soft
And the sweet scent of hibiscus
Wafted along with the summer sweat.
Naked love, no sins hidden
Diaphanous heart, absorbs my passion
Throbbing slowly, rhytmically
I am reborn, I am both, yet I am one
She is my freedom
I am free.

Distant Dream

I yearn for a land
Where they feverishly pray
Where the river kisses the rough sand
Where the people chant the names of Gods
Where the land cushions the hard rain
And all the flowers, dewy covered
Floats silently down the waterfall
But i am bound by reasons
I cannot yank my chains free
Despondent I fall asleep
To dream, thoughts turned to nightmare

Night Flower

Eyes glistened, reflecting the moonlight
She is a flower that blooms at night
Beady sweats, like dew. Silvery
Pearls, beautifully round and shiny
I planted a kiss on the lips
Velvety petals that tremble upon touch
I can smell the night in her
The freshness, all night lingers
And I am an insomniac nocturnal bee
That hypnotically hovers around her in glee

From Dusk to Dawn

Chapter 1 - Love and Awakening

“Love is no part of the dream world. Love belongs to desire and desire is cruel” -  Neil Gaiman

The knife felt cold in my hand, sending a small shiver down my body. Maybe it was out of fear. I couldn’t recognize the actual source. Fear is a cold form of emotion. As I turned the handle in the dark, the edges glistened and then slowly faded away to darkness. I always wondered why deaths mostly occurred at night. It must have something to do with the peaceful nature of night. Maybe the souls find sanctuary in it and refuse to return to the body where they have lived long enough and are bound by the external limitations where human interaction plays a great role. I took a look at the polished silvery surface and saw my face in the moonlight. My eyes were red and swollen; it all looked strange to me. This is an amazing phenomenon, crying. I could never comprehend the mechanism. I felt like laughing at this stupidity of creating water from emotion. If only I could create something more than just water. I smiled a bit. But, still there is this little voice in my head shouting out the uselessness of my life, shouting all kinds of obscene words.  I can hear it laughing out at my condition. I could recognize the voice. It makes it even more difficult to bear. I took a firm grip on the handle of the knife and lift it up slowly to my other wrist…

When I was young I had big dreams about love, though about it as a fairy tale story where everything ended in the line, “And they lived happily ever after”. One time I got the opportunity to make this dream come true. There she was suddenly in front of me as if she had always been expecting my arrival, waiting for me to come to her life. She was in my house and I have felt her presence comforting as if I knew her for ages. Her eyes looked at me searching for something in my mind. I felt shy and excused myself mumbling under my breath. Later in the evening she came to my room,

“Hi! Is this your room? Can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure”

“Why don’t you talk that much?”

I was silent for a while. I was searching for an appropriate answer. I did not have any.

“Are you always like this?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I feel strange that you are in my room.”

In reality I have always been like this. Human interaction somehow confuses me. Do we talk only to communicate or we talk just because we have to?  I like talking only when there is something valuable to talk. I try to avoid any kind of talk that is not purposeful. Maybe I felt a bit shy too pondering on what words should come out of my mouth.

“Am I disturbing you?”

“No! Of course not! Why don’t you sit down and maybe we can talk.”

She sat down softly like a lotus floating on water. I couldn’t help looking at her face. She just turned her face away as if a wind of modesty blew into her face causing discomfort. The lotus revolved around my chair and then peacefully came to rest once again.

“Is that your laptop? Do you have internet? Can I search for some songs?”

I don’t have to answer those questions. She is already digging her fingers into my keyboard musically tapping away the keys. She is full of energy. She is like a honeybee in the spring time.

“Wow! You really have a fast internet!”

Poor girl, she has never seen what fast internet really is. Mine was just an average one. The pure innocence of her words fell on me like heavy rain and drenched me in a blanket of emotion that I have never felt before. She was from a place where technology has not made itself popular yet. But destiny and beauty makes no biased opinion about anyone.

“You are still not talking that much. Tomorrow you will have to go with me for sightseeing and if you don’t speak how am I going to know the places.”

“What?! Me?! I don’t know if I will be able to go.”

“You don’t want to go with me?”

“NO! That’s not the case… Ok I will go…”

Later that night as I was having my dinner which I always like to have alone, she came by my side and asked, “How was the vegetables?” “I made it”, she added with an air of childlike pride. Even though I could not find anything special about it, I did not want to hurt her as she eagerly waited for an answer. “It was great” I replied. I lied. But she was happy for the night.

Sometimes when you are about to wake up from your dream it takes a lot of effort to open your eyes. In fact it becomes really difficult to comprehend what is real and what is the dream. Both the world just mixes into each other creating a rather confusing situation. So the next morning I was about to wake up, I was confused if I was in a dream or not when I saw a girl standing by my bed looking into my eyes. I think she is trying to say something. But I was feeling deaf. I just watched with my eyes half opened. Then I felt a limb poking at me and suddenly all the noises came rushing into my ears temporarily deafening me in a unique manner. After a few seconds I was back to my normal conditions. She was still looking at me and I heard her say, “Hi! Wake up. Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah I suppose so. You woke me up so early.”

“Arre! You are going to make us late.”

She was all dressed up and ready for the day’s adventure. I looked at her. This time she did not turn away her face but slowly settled her gaze into my eyes. Her eyes are pretty and her lashes fluttered joyously every time she moved her eyes. Her hair flowed down like the ripples on a pond, curving up and down her back. She was like spring of seasons; everything around her looked full of life.

“It won’t take long for me to get ready. So where do you want to go?” I asked her.

I got up as fast as I could.

After we came back home from sightseeing in the evening, she asked me for my phone number, “Can I have your number if you don’t mind. Now as we are friends we can sometimes talk and message each other”. I did not know if we are friends. How do we make friends? In fact she was like my distant cousin. I was unable to comprehend the word ‘friend’. I was a bit confused and a bit happy that she asked for my number. I don’t know why. Sometimes we feel something which has no explainable inferences of the cause and effect.

“Ok here is my number…” and I gave her my number.

“Thank you, tomorrow I will recharge a ‘message pack’ for you. Then we can message without any worries about the charges” “I hope if you don’t mind if I recharge.”

I was enigmatic of her behavior. I was a bit afraid and a bit enticed by the situation. It was something like a game for me, a game whose rules she is going to teach me. It was like a puzzle I would like to solve.

“Ok but would you mind if I ask you why are you doing it?” “Why do we need to message?”

“Come on now we are friends. And friends always keep in touch. Why, you don’t like me or what?” she asked sounding a bit disheartened at my question.

“No… I like you…I mean… why I wouldn’t want to message you… I am ok with that. We are friends and so…” I replied in fits and my words got stuck in my throat at the end of the sentence. Then I remembered a better question to ask.

“By the way, what’s your name?” I asked.

It was a bit awkward and shameful, but yes, till then I did not even ask her name. I knew her pet name, which was how she was called at home, but I never bothered till now to ask her good name.

“That is why I always say you are not so social. You must talk with people more often than just sitting in front of the laptop.” She frowned at me. I just remained quiet.

“It’s …” she replied looking at me.

“I like your name”

“Will you miss me?” and that was like just out of the blue for me. I asked her to say it again just in case I heard it wrong. I searched inside of me for the answer. I felt hollow inside and the question reverberated inside me and faded into oblivion.

“Yeah I will miss you.” I lied for a second time. She was happy for another night.

Next morning I woke up and found someone sitting near me. She was waiting for me to wake up. She wanted to say goodbye to me before leaving. She shook my hand, looked into my eyes and asked me, “Will you miss me?” I was too late for an answer. It was time for her to go. Time does not wait for an answer. She was gone. Then something awoke inside me, a rising tide of affection which was affected by a distant body. But, Love, it always waits for an answer.

I picked up the phone. I mechanically typed some words into it and sent her a message.

“Yeah I do miss you”.