Dare to know the Truth

Of Journeys and Destinations

2011-11-21T16:20:00.001+05:30

I stand filled with restless thoughts
Like the wandering wind…
Looking for a place to stop…

Watching the rain from a speeding car…
Hurtling towards inevitability
With a half burnt cigarette in my lips…

Stripped of all illusions of control…
I stand quiet…Staring blankly outside the window…
The coffee…untouched…cold…dark…

As, I wonder about purpose…
I feel a familiar hand in mine…
I close my eyes…maybe, it’s worth it all

What have I got to say?

2011-10-31T16:36:00.002+05:30

What have I got to say...
Is it simple…or perhaps, convoluted
Is it worth a thousand words…
Or, a silent smile…

Will someone hear it…
Amongst the din of people dying
Amongst agony…hunger…lust…life…
Should I be heard?

What is it that I am saying…
That hasn’t been felt before…
Insignificant words…for an indifferent multitude
Who cares…

Yet, I fill these pages
Waiting…to find that word…
That stirs the water under the bridge…
And, reminds you of rain on a dark night

Like a blind traveller…
In the boulevard of words
I feel each word with awe…and pen down a few…
Someday…someone…will find a meaning…I just keep writing

Of Change and Constancy

2011-10-19T15:58:00.002+05:30

In the faraway horizon
Where, the sky melts into the ocean
Somber...Silent…
I stand with you…ensconced in solitude

Tired of the constant battering…
Of joys and sorrows
Beyond boundaries and bonds…
Where, it’s just You and I…and us…

In one cataclysmic dance…
I have left the world behind
In the manic, suicidal desire
To love…to be loved

As, the words come to the lips
Yet, are spoken by the eyes… I stand with you in my arms…
As seasons change…lives change…
But, the sky keeps melting into the ocean

Anguish

2011-09-26T12:55:00.000+05:30

I watch the sea of life…
Break on the shores of eternity
And, I watch the endless parade…
Of lives without meaning

And, I cry…
Waiting, for the tears to be heard
While, I search for words
In the sunshine-less streets of the world

Somewhere, there is a saga
Of memories…and quicksand
Of forgotten words in dusty bylanes
Of stories untold

I bid adieu…I lose myself
To join the crowd, yet not be a part
To be torn apart…just to be whole again
Time it is…for being heard

I sing…the unsung songs
Carrying the voice of unheard throngs
I fly and fall…I flow and ebb…
With the hungry tides eating my soul

The Falling of a Star

2011-09-08T11:10:00.004+05:30

The sleepless river beckons…
As, I watch from the sidelines
Her dark liaisons…
And, the scars of countless lovers

She stands bereft of the spotlight…
In the shadows…after an eternity
And, even in my arms…
She yearns to e free…

The lonely street lamps stand witness
To whispered secrets…behind the veil
To forgotten tears…
And, unknown streets

Adorned with the weight of time…
Practiced smile hiding the usual pain
Greeting the thousands waiting for her…she turns to me…
She has never been more lonely

To A Journey

2011-08-04T22:35:00.002+05:30

Trembling lips…
She stands bereft of social trappings…
Beyond pretensions…and forced smiles…
She stands numb…

In the end, it counts to nothing…
A whole lot of mistakes and a few lies
Forgotten wildflowers…and, left behind ties
All, she has is life…

Heavy drops on silent nights…
Quietly encroach upon her senses…
Taking her in…
Like the man who rode the storm

She waits…
A stained coffee cup in her hand
Civilization roaring beneath her…
While, she is on pause in her balcony

She watches the evening birds
And, the rising sun slowly setting…
Caught in the labyrinth of life
She closes her eyes…

Maybe, its time…
To end this sojourn…
To hit the unknown road again
Bid adieu to an un-understood city…loved and hated…

La Guitara

2011-07-23T22:00:00.002+05:30

It lies forgotten…
Covered with dust…in a lonely corner
With music lost in its depth…
My guitar…

I stumbled on it…
As, you tend to find un-looked for things…
Wondering, how I had left it behind…
How with time, I had ceased to care

Unstrung…covered with sands of time
It flooded me…
Like an old memory
Bittersweet…happily painful…

I slowly looked out…
Far away in the distance
A blank stare…a desperate search…
A search for my guitar…and a forgotten me…

Rain Dance

2011-07-09T23:40:00.001+05:30

I look at you, this stormy evening…
While you are lost in your dance
I watch as your rhythm beckon the drunk winds…
And, you slowly draw me in…

The dangerously beautiful beats…
Ring out solitary and true…
And, I let the dance of madness carry on around me…
While I seek peace in you

You brought my life to a stop…
In a moment’s notice
Almost, mocking my presumptions of control…
Yet somehow, making me feel free…

I watch…
The rolling clouds in the distance
Silent as a distant memory…
Buried yet remembered…in my solitary sojourns

Tender…bittersweet…thy impressions
My failures…the darkness…
That I could not take away from your eyes…
Let them be drowned…as you dance and I lose myself…

Cloudy In May

2011-05-26T23:20:00.001+05:30

It is the quiet of the clouded sky…
The silent rustle of awakened leaves…
And, the trumpet sound of eternal greydom…
In its awesome glory…melancholy beauty

The urgent patter on plastic keys
Fall silent…
One by one, everyone looks out…
The magnificent is getting ready to dance…

All present feels the music…
Slow…Steady…Rising to a zenith
Wild…Passionate…Beautiful…
As, the light streaks across the sky

For a moment, all is quiet…
As, if the walls have dissolved
And, we want to be washed by its freshness
Then, we turn back…the patter starts again…civilization calls…

Wait

2011-05-22T22:59:00.001+05:30

The rains are back…
She feels before the first drops hit her face…
She closes her eyes…
His smile is all she can see

Distance…and situations…
She waits in silence…
Looking at the ring on a lonely finger
While, salty tears flow with the rain

The unbearable mornings…
As, she remembers every moment
The desperate desire…
To be lost in time with him

Slow music and intimate hugs…
The feel of his lips…
His arms around her…
She remembers…she yearns for…

The agony…the anguish
She would walk miles…
Just for a moment with him
But, he is too far away…and for now it’s an unending wait…

Lost Pages

2011-05-21T22:24:00.001+05:30

Suddenly I feel lost…
Having lost those pages full of words…
The stolen emotions…
The forgotten smiles and tears…lost…

That first gift…
To a companion
Pages full of cobwebs and light…
Pain…Relief…a new high…lost

Moments blank out before me…
As, those lost words scream out
The rain…the deafening silence…
The lost music…my lost thoughts…

I forget who I loved…
Or what you demanded of me…
Those quiet afternoon and haunting nights…
I had lost you once…I lost you again…

Cobwebs

2011-04-19T20:56:00.002+05:30

The cobwebs revealed themselves…
In the farthest and darkest of corners
As, the accumulated weight was removed
And, the shelves lay barren…bereft of its wealth…

The sun caught the intricate patterns…
Dazzling in its devilish trickery…
The window watched.
Quietly

I walked up to the edge…
And, watched the grey clouds roll in
Its time…
It’s about to rain again

But, I am drawn back
By those empty shelves
Dust…Hollow…
And, cobwebs…

At, the end of it all
Alone behind the scenes, I wonder…
How many tears have I buried?
For every smile to be possible

And, I seek her hand…
To push the cobwebs away…
Push them away…into light
From the farthest and darkest corners of my mind

I had gotten rid of all I had…
But, not what was stored inside
Maybe, that brought the rain…
To help wash the debris away

The words flow like an aimless stream…
A steady patter on the windowpane
The crazy breeze threatening to ruin everything…
Dust. Cobwebs. Sleep…

Rain Messenger's Diary 17...Letter to Annie 6

2011-04-19T20:54:00.000+05:30

Dear Annie,

It really has been a long time since I last wrote to you. Somehow, I had not lifted the pen for a long time, words seemed to have frozen and I was going on in a trance.

I know you must be a bit worried by now or wondering whether I am in the clutches of one of my bouts of depression. Let me allay your fears – it is not so. Not all trances are necessarily bad and this definitely aint.

Annie, we have had several conversations over the years, when I have felt your responses in the gentle night breeze or the embrace of the early morning sun. you have inspired me to hold on to perhaps something abstract or even just a notion that better things will come. The eternal sceptic, doubted you. Today, perhaps the wait is over.

Annie, I am drenched again. After all these years of blinding agony, it’s raining again. The fragrance of the night stars and steady assurance of the river seems to be intoxicating me. Each shared laugh or innocent moment of love seems to be a gift.

Sometimes, life makes us feel glad that it is uncertain. Such moments are rare, but this is one such moment when am at peace with the world. I know you must be giving one of your indulgent smiles now, thinking these are the words of a man who is high on life…well I am.

Is that a bad thing???

With all my best wishes,
Rain Messenger

Song of the Road

2011-03-03T22:43:00.002+05:30

Perhaps, there is a story…
Behind every tear
A long-forgotten insecurity…
Behind every nightmare

Maybe, peace never had a chance
In the haze of our lust
Poetry butchered…
In our desire to be there first

Did we hear them?
Words that came from beyond the wall…
From men who flirted with insanity
For, we drove them there…

It is perhaps a madman’s rambling…
Irresponsible and unimportant
While, we look towards bloody sunrises…
But, never cease to hide from ourselves…

Where are we all running away…
What are we running towards…
I pause to seek you…
But, the crowd carries me forward…

I search…
I don’t know what…
I cry…
But, I am not sad

Maybe, there’s a story
Somewhere, deep inside…
But, let it be untold…
For, now it’s a little goodbye

Suicide

2011-02-10T22:59:00.002+05:30

I lie with my head against the cold rail
Awaiting a reassuring and thundering vibration
And, I look up at the sky…blue…vast…
And, I close my eyes…black…immense…

I lie with my world at peace…
A point beyond grief…
Slow…Detached…Calm…
Green…Blue…Black…

I know not what time is it…
A lost space between night and dawn…
Momentary thoughts drift through my mind…
But, your face remains…

Only, those eyes bother me…
Deep…Knowing…Pained…
My guilt chokes me…tears constricting my throat…
But, here I am and it matters not…anymore…

I hear the wheels…
Somehow…it seems to make no difference…
I open my eyes…kissing the blue…to kiss you
Pain…Blank…Silence…

Sudden Shower

2011-02-07T22:28:00.001+05:30

The sudden gust of wind…
Slowly took over my senses
While, the unexpected shower
Drenched my parched soul…

I closed my eyes to see your face
As, the rain beat a steady rhythm
I remembered your promise…
Of drowning in our rain

Someday…
Perhaps, I will draw blood from your lips
Fill life in your veins
Tear you apart, just to make you whole again…

Or, perhaps…
I will take you in my arms…
And, hide you from the world
Waiting, for rain to blanket our kisses…

As, the heavy drops blur my vision
I seek warmth from a distant screen…
Find love in accidents, coffee cups and rain…
Maybe someday, it will all make sense…someday…

Save the Last Dance

2011-01-19T02:36:00.002+05:30

The dawn slowly arrives…
Slowly with bhairav
Majestic in its dignity
Slow yet graceful in poise…

The early riser greets the Ganges…
While the strains of ajaan…
Waft in from the distance…
While most of the rest sleep on…

I lie awake looking for words…
Searching the soul of the morning breeze…
Looking for someone to share this with…
Nervous…Afraid…Happy…Hopeful…

The wizard plays his tabla…
And, the guitar joins him…
While the flute gently caresses
And, the piano takes it all in…

And, I stand silent…
Watching you dance…
Beautiful…far away…but it matters not…
For I know, you will save the last dance for me.

Other side of Hope

2011-01-13T21:47:00.001+05:30

I am back to you my sunset…
At, another beginning’s end
The coffee is cold again…
The unlit cigarette lies forgotten on my lips

The sand has finally slipped through my fingers…
Once again it’s empty inside
Yet, the long night looks on…
And, winter hides it all with her misty blanket

It’s time once again…
Time for rain…
It’s time to continue my wait…
For you, my eternal stranger

The dawn will be bereft of your presence
And, I will seek your hand…
While, I stare at the busy road
From my lonely verandah

As, the evening bird rests its wings
And, the weary traveler takes the last train home…
Here I am…back to you…
My stranger…my rain…my sunset…cold coffee and cigarettes

So that you remember me

2011-01-11T21:46:00.002+05:30

My words have lost themselves…
In the vagaries of my existence

I write these lines for you, my love
For you, who I haven’t yet met

And, I am quiet…
As, evening falls heavily

The winter fog embraces me.
And, I want to find the unknown address again…

I let the violin’s melancholy note wash over me
As, I walk…and keep walking…

Even, the sands of time have shifted…
And, my footprints are to be found no more…

I try to make my way…
Where there is no path to be followed…

I seek what is long gone…
Hoping for answers to forgotten questions…

And, tonight I have lost you…
For, my words have lost themselves.

But, I write these lines for you…
So that you remember me

The Last Journey

2011-01-06T23:21:00.001+05:30

She lay sleeping
Calm in her final destination…
The expression frozen in time
The life lost in memories…

And, as all arrived…
Tears…Pain…Sorrow…
I hear the lamentations of a lonely swan…
And, a life that could have been...

And, as she embarks on her final journey
On a cheap bed carried by four willing shoulders…
And as, the repetitive chant stabs the chilly silence
It’s already rituals and a forgotten life…

The dark winter night…
Slowly envelops the weary Ganges
Flowing through the ages…
Eternity etched in hungry tides…

And, she lends us a bit of her cold self…
To cool the smouldering ashes
To give a life spent in compromises, burnt in rituals...
An eternity of peace…

The Evening Train

2010-12-25T03:04:00.002+05:30

Take me home on the evening train…
Where I can hear the laughter
And the song of the road again

I have long waited for oblivion…
Blissful…peaceful…
Flying on the night bird’s wings

Maybe, I waited for too long…
But, I was walking all alone…
And, listening to the man who sang of trains…

Perhaps, I make no sense…
Like the foggy winter morning….
Of cold coffee…tears and rains…

Yet, I know I am tired…
And, I have hurt you, my dearest one
But, am coming home to make it up to you again…

I hope you forgive me…
Hope you know I lost my way…
Lost my soul to the man daring to say Imagine…

Can you tell her I am coming home by the evening train?
Maybe, she will look out of the window
For one last time….again…

Rain Messenger's Diary 16...Letter to Annie 5

2010-12-19T11:49:00.000+05:30

Dear Annie,

I created a new mail id today. Nothing special or out of the ordinary and I realize it doesn’t really make as impressive an opening line as “Call me Ishmael” but I never claimed to be Herman Melville anyway. However, such exercises can sometimes be an amazing experience albeit completely unexpectedly. When I clicked on an innocuous looking option which allowed me to link my previous id with my current one, hardly did I know that this would make me embark on a journey that was cathartic as well as blindingly painful at the same time.

What that simple looking innocent option did was draw all the mails from my old inbox, from the oldest to the latest, to the new inbox. This was at a very slow place I might add, allowing me, jobless as I am, to read some of those mails from the dinosaur age.

You might by now be wondering that I must have run of things to say and out of sheer desperation am writing about something as mundane as creating a new mail id, you are not completely wrong I have to admit, but fortunately there is another aspect to it which hopefully saves my face a bit. The idea behind this letter is to ask how exactly do we deal with these shadows called memories? As, has been oft repeated and famously stated, boxing with your shadow while might be a good way to improve your boxing skills, is not very fruitful if you are looking for a result in the match. The point of this letter is to pose a question to us as to what do we do with these pieces of our lives, which are a part of our being…part of who we are and where exactly do they fit in into our future? How exactly are you supposed to react when after almost three years you suddenly see an old picture that was mailed to you by a friend and at that time had seemed to be the greatest gift to you, but now it’s too heavy for you to bear or when you read a mail that a love-struck you of yore had written confident in the knowledge that finally you have found what you have been looking for or reading a mail from her telling how you mean the world to her and realizing that they have all been lies.

Once again unfortunately I find myself writing a letter to you full of unanswered and perplexing questions. I am not sure why, as I am not about a lot of things in my life, so guess that is not a surprise to you.

There are times I feel we come at a place in our lives where we believe that we have left certain things behind us, yet, there they are separated by a thin veil waiting to disrupt our new routines. This uncertainty is disconcerting…it’s like discovering a rotten skeleton while looking for treasure. Yet, that is nostalgia isn’t it?

I write this letter with the hope that memories haven’t darkened your brow and your heart is not heavy with the past.

With all my love,
Rain Messenger

A letter for you

2010-12-16T18:07:00.002+05:30

I would like to say I miss you…
Maybe, even that I love you…
But, the dawn is foggy and you are far away…
And, it’s not the time yet

I wish to say you swept me off my feet
One thin little wild gypsy beat…
Tell you, that I drowned in your eyes…
Yet, I know I would only scare you away

What if, we had met before…
Perhaps shared a coffee or a few words…
What if I could have said this with my eyes deep in yours…
What if…

Time changes everything and covers old wounds…
Till we forget it's still raw inside
Now, it’s blown wide open…
And, all I have is a letter for you

I wish I knew what to say…Wish you felt differently…
Wish I was not so afraid of losing you…
Wish you knew how I feel…
But, here I am guitar…letter…me

Her Song

2010-12-07T13:43:00.002+05:30

She sang to me…
From the corners of the night
Slow…Deep…Scared…
She called out to me

There was pain that forged her…
Music that cradled her
And, a veil
A long black veil…

She sang to me…
From the depths of my soul
Like the lover, professing his love…
Tentative…Frightened…Brave…

A life that was…
For, a rose that trembled
Rain that embraced her
And…a love…

She sang to me…
From beyond the shadows
Freeing me yet binding me in chains…
And, she sang…about the long black veil

Hunger

2010-11-26T12:46:00.002+05:30

The night calls out to me
From the voids of the great unknown
Slow…seductive…silent
I walk…I keep walking

Hunger burns with renewed fervor
Burying all else beyond comprehension
I look around hoping to see light…
I see the night…I look for food

I refuse to return to reality
I walk in a haze…somnambulating while awake
I look to buy a smile on my mother’s lips
I wonder what to trade for the right to survive…

The mind wanders…
Like the restless wind lost in the concrete jungle…
I see neon, music and a drunk world heady with success
While I look for life in the leftovers

I sit for a while in the pavement…
The parched lips finally wet with my own blood
Slowly the night takes me in its arms…
Sleep…Silence…Peace…

Early Morning Flight

2010-11-22T14:18:00.003+05:30

The bejeweled night silently sighs…
Tired of being a silent spectator
Of glorious uncertainties…
And a maze called life

The sun slowly rises…
Over the foggy, winter morning airport
Promising to be bright to light my way…
As, I prepare to plunge into the unknown

There is precious little I leave behind
There is not much I look forward to…
Yet, I am afraid to lose this pittance…
Impatient, Restless…looking for answers to unasked questions

As, the clouds kiss the wing tips
I remember the warmth of my princess’ lips
I wish I had held her longer…
I wish she had not let me go…

I am scared we will run out of things to say…
Afraid that you will need me no more…
For I know not why I can’t resist you…
Unsure why you chose to find me

The seven horses of dawn pull away…
As, morning takes its place
And, I bid you adieu, mi reina
In a hope you will understand my love someday…

The Stranger

2010-11-15T16:45:00.002+05:30

The last dregs of coffee...
Drained from the lonely cup…
And, as I get up to lose myself in the world, again
I stumble on the threshold of her eyes…

An eternity passes between us,
While the world measures seconds…
I hang on to every inconsequential syllable…
Hoping to hear some more

Walking away is hard yet necessary…
As, I bury hope, trying to forget the stranger…
But, she finds me
In the mess of an electronic mesh

The unsure, tentative steps…
Lead to long late night chats…
As, we talk of life and chrysanthemums...
While, welcoming the birds home

The future’s uncertain…
The afterglow of the setting sun…
Burns like fire..
While I wonder, does it mean anything?

Turning 22

2010-10-24T14:44:00.001+05:30

The sun signs off for the day
Benign and magnificent in its parting glory…
And, we let it go…for they say…
If you love them, set them free…

The wind comes out of nowhere
Threatening to blow all away…
As, rain rips apart the evening sky
I take a walk…

As, the rain encompasses me
Things become hazy and hard to see…
Yet, things have rarely been clearer…
I have seldom been so free

All is still…as the world seems to reflect…
Life and crossroads…death and wisdom…
All is quiet…as the world seems to listen…
Fury and peace…rhythm and rain…

The walk continues…as does age…
Another year of decay and growth…
As, I walk towards maturity and death…
Life…a tension of opposites…continues…

Buried

2010-10-19T14:33:00.001+05:30

I seek not to redress or purge
I seek not revenge or retribution
In these lonely sojourns…
In my yearly visits back to life

The age-old rituals and sound of dhaks
The smells, sights and sounds…
The familiar warmth
And, the feeling of being home again

Time and time again…
Tilottoma in your arms…
In crescent moons and fleur de lis
I sleep…I cry…I remember…

The dark room and old roads
And, trying to explain where I stand…
Tearing apart those who try to reach out
Pushing them, hurting them…till it hurts no more

I know not why I write…
As, I see the sun rise from the early morning flight
And, I return to the world burying you deep inside…
But, as much as I try Tilottoma, you are buried but never forgotten.

Rain Messenger's Diary 15...Letter to Annie 4

2010-09-24T23:17:00.004+05:30

Dear Annie,

Today, I spoke of love. Not anything or anyone in particular, it was like love, people and relationships in general…if at all they can be generalized. You know how I get sometimes. It was raining. Delhi has not seen so much rain for the last 30 years. It’s amazing how sometimes some irrelevant statistics get stuck in your head.

Anyway, without doing what I usually do, get lost in my own maze of words, let me tell you why I am writing to you. You know love reminded me of you. Don’t be worried I don’t love you anymore…sorry perhaps, that sounded more like a consolation made to myself than a statement to you….but still, it’s true. What I meant by love reminding me of you, was a fleeting thought that I had as to why I loved you or why I would love anyone for that matter. You know, it was not because you understood me or because you actually managed to like me in spite of my idiosyncrasies. It was not because of all those walks in the rains or the hurried, awkward kisses in the stairways, empty lifts or when we are lucky in empty movie-halls and during windfalls in empty rooms. It was perhaps because of the way you looked when you woke up from sleep or perhaps just before you woke up. It might also be because of the way in which you could crave for the smallest of things at the oddest of hours. Remember you once made me run around half the city for like hours early in the morning just because you wanted candy floss and just had to have it…it makes me smile now, to think of it. Or, perhaps the numerous other odd things that used to make us unique…like the way I always had to give you the same chocolate every day I met you.

It made me believe somehow we don’t love the people we love for all those things that we think matter but we love them more for those small little things that we never think will matter or even for things that perhaps irritate us a bit. I once heard someone say, “no, my love was not perfect but in the end, it was all those small imperfections that made her perfect for me.” I don’t think I understood it then, the way I understand it now. It’s still raining you know.

The sky has turned dark and the world seems different, as things seem to have slowed down, even the wet dog in the street seems least bothered and is happily getting wet, lost, even if for a moment, in the infinite beauty of our finite lives. However, these moments are increasingly becoming hard to find. Is it because the world is changing or is it because I am? As usual, I think I have puzzled you to the extent that you are thinking why I keep writing these letters to you…now after all these years, when, perhaps, you are happy, you have moved on, married, had kids…who knows…you must be wondering. Don’t worry as usual, I don’t expect a reply nor do I hope it will reach you. It will be posted like the others…to the wind or perhaps, this time to the sea and it will reach you, when it reaches you. These letters are written more to me than you…ah, that makes you smile….ya, you are right I remain as selfish as ever. These letters are perhaps an acknowledgement made to myself, that something inside me is still alive…something which is untouched from my forgotten past…it’s so ancient that even I don’t know what it is. I know you don’t mind me being alive, so I am hazarding a guess that you won’t really mind the letters and maybe, just maybe, these letters make you smile or be exasperated or just simply make you feel enough to look forward to them as something that breaks the clutter of your everyday existence.

I still enjoy the little things of life…a coffee and a cigarette, while it is raining is still my idea of a perfect evening. I hope I can love again for the same reason…the little unimportant things…the oddities that will make us unique, for if I find a real reason for being in love with a person then it is not love, is it? You see, with you I never had a reason, I just had you and perhaps, that is why these letters still find their way to you. I hope this letter finds you well and happy wherever you are in your new life.

With all my love,
Rain Messenger

Timeless Wishes

2010-09-12T22:47:00.002+05:30

The passive green beside your name…
A hidden desire and a chosen barrier…
I wish I had seen you naked…
Your thoughts rather than your body

Time decides to play havoc
Dancing an unknown dance…
While the river swells…
Threatening to wash away all insults

Tremulous…tentative…
I look beyond…telling my story
Through endless words…
But, ending up saying nothing at all…

I wish I could have told them…
About the stolen kisses…and broken dreams
And, the vain search for your arms
And, the warmth of your face against mine

Yet, I am away…I am far…
I am dead while alive
And, you still serenade to broken stairways…
While I listen to life in the silence of the rains

May you soar…
May there always be wind beneath your wings…
While I pursue my purpose
Prove to the wind… “I” means something

Through the window & beyond

2010-09-08T21:45:00.004+05:30

Green flashes…the occasional whistle…
The faraway engine and…
The incessant rumbling of rusted wheels
And life…stolen in glances at the faraway horizon

It’s amazing how everything feels so still
Even, when I am moving so fast…
And, I look around…
I find…gray hairs…and lost eyes…

The journey rarely felt so significant
Yet, the music tries to slowly pull me back…
I don’t want to be held now…not today…
In the distance…today, let the music be in the distance

The rain keeps me company…
A sheet of haze…
Blurring my vision, washing the green clean
While, I purge my soul

Flashes of decay…
The unavoidable circle of life…
The birth of new hope beside the barren…
Death…and you…

You come back to me…
In drifting clouds and flooded fields
But, I move on…penning my random ramblings
Watching my life fly by…through the windows of a moving train.

Restless Dreams

2010-08-15T14:35:00.001+05:30

I search for a soul
Waiting for a known train…
To take me to an unknown destination
While I search…I sing…I live…for a change

As, sleepless nights slip by…
And, passing days leave its mark
In graying hairs and crinkling cheeks…
I seek to break free

Travelling alone on lonely alleys…
Hearing the night whisper its secrets
I seek to be accepted within its fold…
To be given access to the dark side of the moon

I know not where I tread
Is it real or a dream…
I, however, keep walking on the edges of sanity
Flirting with life across the line

The smoke hangs thick
Adding to the haze
Lonely, lovely, dark silence…
The seductive black’s beckoning

I stand alone…
Bereft of fetters and desires
I die to wake up…
I die hoping to be part of the black soon…

A Tear

2010-07-26T19:44:00.001+05:30

I cannot remember what we fought about…
I hope it was important
I can’t remember why you made me cry…
I hope you had a reason

From the depths of dark, unknown bowels
Of misconstrued and messed up emotions
Travels a solitary tear…
Carrying the burden of my sorrows

I seek solace from a friend…
Hundreds of miles away
Finding warmth from a hug
By simply reading the syllables

And, a lonely tear…
Makes its journey to the threshold of my eyes…
While, I search…
I search for an answer to the elusive why…

And, you remain…
In the sounds of silence
And, forgotten lyrics of oft-heard songs…
While, the heavy tear dries itself on my cheeks

A Small Wish

2010-07-22T01:04:00.001+05:30

A small message…
Lost in the pathways of the electronic jungle…
An unexpected reply…after ages…
A faltering footstep of trust in an untrusting world

I remember these…as, the first drops of rain
Wash the dawn to welcome you…
I hear the tune of early morning ajaan…
And, every syllable sings of you

May, the morning bring you happiness…
And, evening peace in its arms…
May, life give you strength
And, humility to accept it all

It’s a long road and it’s a hard rain…
And, you have left a bit of you at every bend…
Time…and time again…
And, it’s quiet while you look ahead…

I slowly take your hand
And, walk with you for a while…
For, I know you will keep walking…long after I am gone…
For, I know I leave you love and a wish….Happy Birthday, my friend.

Lost

2010-07-14T20:30:00.001+05:30

The sky finally spills over…
While, I sit with a cup of coffee on my solitary verandah
Looking beyond the greydom
Into the distance…through the rain, through your eyes

A melancholy tune wafts in…
While I lose you in this world
I had let you down, yet your eyes never accused me…
I loved you, yet I let you go…but you never complained…

Time moves on…but, times like these…
As, I watch the empty streets…
And, the rain drenches my soul…
I miss you…yet, I cannot reach for you

It was a strange act…
Caught between eternities and fleeting moments…
Your arm was reassuring but I was scared
Your presence was calming, but I was restless…

And, then you were gone…
Like the restless breeze lost in the meadows…
Maybe, I never loved you enough
Maybe, I never knew how to…

I hold the cup tightly…
As, the rain lashes my eyes
And, I shut the world out…
Waiting. Despairing. Hoping. Despairing.

Rain Messenger's Diary 14...Letter to Annie 3

2010-07-10T11:39:00.000+05:30

Dear Annie,
They say I have learnt nothing. Nothing, from the pain and tears that I have been through. They say I am still a fool. A fool, who does not deserve to live or belong in this world.

Yet, Annie I love to live. All that they curse me for or scream at me for are the only things that I hold on to in my darkest hours. They are all that are the best in me. How do you deal with it when you are hated for what, you think you should be loved for? How far do you have to be pushed before you go over the edge?

Do you remember our late night chats constituting random nonsense and whispered fears and hopes? There is no one who wants to listen to my silence anymore and I’m afraid to speak. I am moving on, leaving people behind. One by one they all have forsaken me or perhaps I have forced them to forsake me, whichever way, I am lonely.

Annie, are you sick of me cribbing? I am. I am tired of being vulnerable inside and also strong to face the world. I am tired of fighting the desire to be destructive. Annie, I am tired of asking questions to which there are no answers.

They have given up on me, left me for a used, washed-up, shell of a man. They mock my emotions and label me a cheap flirt, yet Annie, I survive.

Annie, I survive for I know that whenever the world is too heavy, no matter how far, my words will be carried to you. I survive for I know that I can always sleep in your arms and be protected from them. This letter is a wish, a wish that I don’t lose myself in the dust of the world, a wish that as long as I live, my letters find you well
With all my love,
Rain Messenger

Storm

2010-06-25T23:41:00.002+05:30

The sky darkens…
As, the dust get wings
And, I watch alone…
Suddenly, invisible in the dust of the world

I stretch my arms…
Wishing I could ride on its back
Lost amongst our existence…
Running back to anthills

Time refuses to stand still or pass on…
As, the first drops hit my eyelids…
The lightning threatens
And, the sky seems dangerous…

Everyone runs for shelter…
I try to join them…yet…
I stand crazy…calm…
In your arms again

This is It

2010-06-19T23:14:00.001+05:30

The sky looks on with a misty eye…
As, I feel the sudden rush of speed before the calm…
The ground hastily recedes
As, the propellers fly me away…

I look for you…
But, all seems so small from up here anyway…
And, it’s time to embrace reality, to be better…
To be more, than what you had thought I would ever be

And, hence its goodbye…
To old friends and forgotten follies
Adieu, to broken hearts and emotions that weakens.
It’s goodbye to you.

I know not what I seek…
Or where it is that I seek it…
Yet, I never despair…
I know my rain is never far away…

I draw the smoke in deeply…
Looking for a last embrace
But, guess I took in too much…
My eyes burn…and I cannot seem to exhale

The raindrops repeat your words…
As I look for patterns in the empty coffee cup
When, I close my eyes your lies still choke
Yet, I smile…

I emerge.
Burnt and free. A hardened actor…
Convincing enough to fool even myself…
You wanted me to be happy…this is it.

She

2010-06-10T22:33:00.001+05:30

Happiness lost, in a vain pursuit…
The journey insignificant, for a glorified destination
And, a race of neon-addicts and marathon men
A caricature called life…

She embraces all…
With equal love or equal indifference
Sweetening the acrid nights…
Making mindless hate…

She leads you to her room and takes off her life…
To take the world in
Closing her eyes…to open them in a faraway land…
If only, Freud interpreted her dreams

She moves on through changing rates and changing times
Yet, her face is hidden…
And, the fight for the street corner is on
While, every night, she waits as they try to choose the best…

The lure of money, as the world seeks to invest…
She sways to the music…
Hoping, the make-up is loud enough
To silence the hunger inside

And, she wakes up alone…every dawn
The oldest profession denying her the afterglow…
Taking an early bath…
To wash away the tears for the rest of the day…

Futile Expectations

2010-05-24T23:49:00.002+05:30

The light shone out…
A defiant challenge to the envelope of darkness…
As, the car cuts through the silence
Speeding towards an unknown destination

The mind races keeping pace…
Forming, destroying and re-forming images…
A bated breath anticipation…a barely concealed desperation…
An endless wait…to meet you

The flowers have to be mauled…
To capture its perfume
Destroying its existence, in order to preserve its essence
In our manic obsession for immortality

A mesh of complicated electronic pathways…
Sealed our friendship
Spanning distances…and human boundaries
Like a soaring eagle seeking to embrace the sun…

Sharing fears and hidden tears…
My memories flood the cobwebs of my mind…
As, I look at the slice of overcast sky through my windscreen
My journey continues…to meet you.

A shared defiance…
And, daring to be different
While the world threatens to overrun us
We do well, just to survive

And, after ages…and countless phone calls…
I come back…and the endless wait promises to end
I seek to meet you…but now you are busy…
With your appointment with eternity…it’s too late

A Walk Along The Lake

2010-05-20T00:03:00.001+05:30

A long walk. A half burnt cigarette…
And the mute lake standing testimony to countless dreams
The dilapidated benches strewn with yellow leaves…
The only one who laments our absence…

The moon was always beautiful
When I looked at it through your eyes…
But, now it’s cold with a dead glow…
Almost mocking…cynical about my weakness.

The cigarette burns up to the lips…
And, I finally stub you out…
Yet, I wonder whether you still look at the same sky
Through the gap between those two forsaken trees…

You used to dream of a graveyard full of roses…
While I tried to hide you from harm
You sought a shelter…
But, never found one…you were afraid of imprisonment

The music rings out from the old piano
Like coffee on a rainy afternoon
And, I listen to my life…
Slowly, trickling down glass panes

The light threatens to burn out
And, leave me darkness again…
I embrace it as your gift to me…
While burning my feelings to keep me warm

Unsaid words linger around…
Like a long black veil
While I keep walking
Discovering the oft treaded roads… all over again…

Silent Screams

2010-05-06T00:20:00.001+05:30

Tender, tentative steps…
Unsure, short breaths coming as gasps…
She looks around…
She is born…

Time had wasted her…
Flushed her down the gutters
Like unwanted furniture…
And, darkness, her friend had found her…

Screams. Kicks. Bloody lips. Silence…
As, another spirit was broken
And, the wild west was perhaps tamed…
While, she waited to fight another day

She kept no count…
The endless procession of ageless rhythm
Meaningless passion and spewing hate
And, the fire inside keeps the ice outside from melting…

She waited for no knight…
Or, a fairytale police officer…
She did not expect a life
Just survive…

Then, life came calling…
Like the least desired always seems to happen
A primordial stirring, from some ink-black darkness
Deep within her womb

The silence shattered…
And, the imprisoned tigress woke up…
And, the fire, kept the life warm
While, she fought and felt born again…

But, life comes with a price tag…
In the dark alleys of civilization
And there were…Screams. Blood. Silence…
And, this time it wrapped her in an eternal veil.

Rain Messenger's Diary 13...Letter to Annie 2

2010-05-06T00:18:00.000+05:30

Dear Annie,
Do you ever feel lost? As if, the one street light that was supposed to somehow show you your way in a dark alley also went off?
Perhaps, you are wondering why I always write you letters full of questions, whose answers will never come. Or, perhaps you don’t, you know me too well. Annie, does that bore you? Knowing someone so well that you can differentiate and interpret their silences? Isn’t that boring? There’s nothing new to expect or any anticipation.
I know I keep losing you, somewhere in the everyday smoke of existence and stench of life. I lose you to the harangued auto-rickshaw man, the interactive computer screens and the homecoming birds. But, it is better this way, it makes it so much more worth it when I rediscover you, in some corner of my mind, shining as I had left you, as somehow the dust of age never seems to settle on your shoulders.
These days everyone seems to have a broken feeling. Or, perhaps Annie, everything is broken, but no one breaks them, they just break anyway. It is like this wind chime, we had once seen, made of sea shells. As, the wind made it dance, it rang out beautifully yet there was a melancholy note, as if, it was sad at being so far away from its nurturer. Annie, remember, what you had said to me? You had said I was a flotsam and could never find an anchor, yet the world seems to be floating around and I seem to be static. The world moves too fast these days, doesn’t it?
My letters to you always find me whining or dreaming or just being me. Through these letters, I find myself as if, seeing me through a glass of scotch. Perhaps, that is why I don’t write to you often. It is not easy to frequently see ourselves in the naked light.
If you have read till here, you will know why I asked you the first question. I feel blind, floundering, feeling my way about and banging off walls. Yet, there you are a blinding flash of light, peace between the frothing breakers, life in a wasteland – I hope this letter finds you well
With all my love,
Rain Messenger

Sin

2010-04-29T21:14:00.001+05:30

I seek thy hand…
A moment of weakness
A world without cares…
And, thy breath on my neck

I have saved all my fervor…
For this day when rain will come calling…
And, the dilapidated windows of the attic
Will rattle with unbridled passion…

And, we will sin, the ages old sin…
While the sun plays hide and seek
Timeless. Ageless. Shoreless. Endless.
We will float…or drown in it…

You will envy my pain…
As I take you to a distant heaven
And, you will mark your territory
While my limbs will bear the scars of war

And, we will rise on every windswell
To be able to free fall again
And, thy lips will draw blood
While, I will listen to my life beating in your heart

Idle Dreams

2010-04-26T23:23:00.001+05:30

Flying kites and improbable letters…
A global village and the all pervading web…
Timeless…yet bound by mortal lives
Romantic, yet cynical due to popular demand

And, we choke the dreamers…
While, Darwin feels proud in his grave…
Existence is all about survival and EMIs…
Yet somehow, lost in between, we live…

Some life got lost in the grounds of my old school…
Some life, with the girl who broke my heart…
A bit is taken by the long, winding road
The rest, I have kept safe for her

The pristine clouds and a late-night chat
While, I fight to justify my defence
The cold, winter rain narrates my story…
And, I struggle to explain why I cannot hate

Unanswered questions resound from my laptop
While, you look to me for answers
I am helpless…the answer’s not there
But, you remind me that once I used to ask the same questions

Times have gone by…
And, a lot of water has flown under the bridge…
Yet, the words of wisdom are still in subway walls and tenement halls
And…apologetically, unfortunately, defiantly…a dreamer I will remain.

Saga of the Last Support

2010-04-20T22:04:00.001+05:30

Strangers have shared our stories…
Through directionless words and distant rain
And, every time I come back to you, my pain
I know not what binds us…love or hate…

Times have gone by…as I knew they would…
Yet death’s a luxury I can’t afford…
And, you seek shelter in my arms now…
While, you robbed me of mine

The black graveyard rose keeps calling
A distant song keeps ringing in my head…
Restless thoughts and a calm face…
Torn apart, yet I remain…

I run away…I run far…
Escaping emotions and barricading hurt…
I run hard and win…win…win some more…
But, still inside I stand alone…

And, I finally yield to the call…
Of the dark side of the moon
While rain has forsaken me
I await…I know not what…but I wait…

A smile. Innocence. Vulnerability. Fear.
And, a scary present seeks to bridge a cruel past...
And, you succumb, your last support stands strong
But, what if I was weak…someday….?

Godhuli - fire in the sky

2010-04-13T00:38:00.003+05:30

Time slowly dwindles past…
As, I watch her beautiful eyes…
In the golden glow of dusk
And, the bride shifts her gaze…

The surreal light…
And, the chiaroscuro on her face
As, my kisses feel unfamiliar in familiar places
She, averts my gaze…

The eternal fireball benignly smiles
And, nature sets the stage…
With the warmth of the fire in the sky
The beautiful dusk and homecoming birds…asks me to seek love again

Yet, as our bodies entwine
I find you lightyears away…
As, I look to drown myself to find you…
I realize Tilottoma you have changed again…

The romantic fire gently glows…
Sages ask us to seek brides
While, it hits home…it’s been a while…
Tilottoma, you have moved on…again…

Crimson Sky

2010-03-17T21:20:00.002+05:30

Let the directions be directionless tonight
And, the drunk breeze wild…
Death came to her in my arms
And, the crimson sky didn’t care that night

So, what if the tears are safely tucked away?
And, solace seems nowhere in sight…
I await the other side…
While the sky keeps burning my eyes

Your last, cold kiss…
The bloodless eyes…
And, the urn was all that was left that night…
But, there is still fire in the sky and I’m alright

The cost you paid for my life was too high…
I live, lost in the pages of your diary
While I watch the fire in the sky and think
I lost you in my arms and the crimson sky never cared…

Coffee

2010-03-10T21:11:00.002+05:30

A lonely cup of cooling coffee
And, a half burnt cigarette dangling from burnt lips
The sultry summer catching its breath…
With the first shower of the season

But, he doesn’t notice…
The beauty…or, the mocking glances.
He has met his rain…
And, he keeps drowning

The dreamer struggles to break free
Weaving a hundred stories…
And…halting… hesitating…
He, drinks from her lips…

He fights to bury his obsession…
His addiction of her scent…of her presence…of her skin
While, he floats in her music and smoke
Sitting in a lonely staircase…

There were a hundred anomalies
An un-understood past, a scary present and an uncertain future
Yet, he craves every moment…zealous to gain her attention
Yet, insecure that maybe for her, he is a huge mistake.

Slowly, the magic passes…
And, reality catches him unawares…
And, he finds himself shunned to the sidelines
With excuses and false hopes

He watches helpless…
While his rain stops raining
And, the smoke clears…
While the music seems far, far away

He doesn’t believe reality…
Hating and loving her…
Angry yet disbelieving her actions…
While fighting to find his lost soul…

And, he finds himself back…
Sipping a cup of coffee, watching rain…
Looking for her invigoration in acrid smoke of cheap cigarettes…
Broken stairways…clouds…and…pain

The Actor

2010-03-04T22:22:00.002+05:30

The gentle sway of an actor’s brow
The sweat, the tears…and the fierce pride
The subtle hints and twitches
And, a change of mask…for faces often lie

The beauty of every role,
And changing lives like a costume
The romanticism and ugliness…
And, the pain behind the mask…for faces often lie

The desire to reach out
Be bigger than what the stage can be
The whisper carried over like a scream
And, the naturally prepared expressions of the mask…

Oh! The madness, the heroism of it all
The vanity of being the best…
The knowledge of inspired creation…
And, knowing life is but a performance.

Passion and the thunderous applause,
The lines running like blood through his veins
He is the actor and the world’s his stage
He is a mask yet a beautiful face…

A few hundred souls

2010-02-28T22:18:00.001+05:30

Who cares for a few hundred ordinary souls…
Let them die in the rain…
Or, drown in the salt of their own tears…
While we worry about pride

Who knows…who lives or dies?
Who cares and who decides??
Oh, let them die in the gutters or blow up in a bomb
What is the matter with a few hundred ordinary souls…

Teeming ants, blocking every highway
Extermination is the solution anyway…
So, don’t bother let them be ignored…
It’s just a few hundred ordinary souls.

The rape of human dignity
And the friendly gun,
And, hate….
And, we all condemn it sipping coffee with cakes

It’s pointless to point out
In a land of billions
We will be insulted and torn apart… Yet, we will watch..
As, it’s not just a few hundred…all our souls are dead anyway.

Violence and Valentines

2010-02-15T00:36:00.001+05:30

On a day leading to violets and valentines
On a night waiting for dawn to celebrate love…
And, a peaceful city celebrating life
Shattered due to violence and vendetta

The tremulous rose is silenced
As, I watch the rain in her eyes…
And, we all are aghast
While love seems to be full of lies

Time again for blames…
Time again for blood to be mopped up from the streets
Time again maybe to rise up…
To be beaten down again??

The scars of undeserved deaths
The blinding pain of open wounds…
While we wait for rain to embrace us
And, stand up demanding a change

The pen seems an unworthy weapon
But, the feeble words are all I have
While the anger boils in a billion minds…
And, my country is ravaged again…

Yet, tomorrow is a new day of an emerging country
The promise of a young nation
A promise of love…And a resolve…
To fly no matter what the odds…

Dawn

2010-01-25T06:20:00.003+05:30

I hear a faraway melancholy ajaan
While sitting alone at a lonely night’s dawn…
Hearing, the quaint out of tune melody
And, the peace of a centuries old song…

An un-understood beauty beckons…
While the solitary sailor looks on…
The lighthouse beacon sweeps by again…
Yet, the rocks seem to summon…

She wanders in another land….
While I seek the out of tune melody
And, I succumb all over again…
To a rustic tune that moved mountains…

I have lost many…
To the calling of darkness
I have lost myself in your song…
And you will find me when the lights go off

She will kill to win
While I fight to surrender
And, I wait while the lonely ajaan cleanses me
And, music rushes through my veins…

The threshold of tomorrow
Unfolds with un-foretold beauty
And, I watch spellbound…
While far, far away…She sleeps in peace

Fog

2010-01-04T23:12:00.002+05:30

The silent evening…
Stealthily arrives in the dark domain
Of a foggy winter’s dawn
While, life blunders on…

The blinding pain…
Of losing after having found again
Of seeing it all slip away
Down the same road of old rain

And, yet the maddening hope
Lingers on in the musty cellars
Of the torn down mansion
Full of old cares…

She says it’s all there…
Behind, the smoke somewhere
Yet, she throws me away
Revolted at the sight of my rotting wounds

And, my vain vigil continues…
Staring at the silent phone
Burning down another night
Waiting, to be understood.

Rat Race

2009-12-07T23:21:00.001+05:30

Tomorrow will be yesterday again…
As, the sun rides low on the horizon
Silent witness of eternity…
Of what once was and never will be

And, we are quiet…
Forgetting the songs of silence
Violent in our devotion…
To false neon gods

We are all drunk…
Trying to find meaning in our self-created complications
And, we are all in mourning…
For, that which quietly died without us noticing

Yet, we shall kill some more
Ride on… Forward O’ soldier…
Success calls…and that elusive class…
While, the graveyard stands silent waiting for us to extinguish

Few madmen will keep writing…
And, some songs will be hidden deep within your breasts
While we run on in a trance…
On and on…over the edge…

Rain Messenger's Diary 12...Letter to Annie

2009-12-01T22:29:00.002+05:30

Dear Annie,
I am not sure who you are or even, why I am writing this letter to you. The things that am going to tell you today may not even make sense to you. You are liable to think am crazy yet I want to tell you all this. Maybe, there are a few things that remain unsaid like a quiet veil around our lives. Or, maybe it’s just that I miss the habit of sharing my thoughts with someone like I once used to with a person sitting on a certain bench staring at clouds, broken stairways and rain…
I am not sure whether you will ever get to read this letter, for I do not know where or whom to send it to. So, I will just float it in the wind and maybe, it will find its way to you in the end. Things always do come home, you know, no matter how long it takes.
It’s been a while since I last wrote to you, so I am a bit rusty and I do not even know what to say. You know, they say, that life comes round in a complete circle, but what I like to believe is that it shapes up in mysterious ways, kind of like the random shapes the rocks get under the constant battering of the sea. They are all different, unintentionally shaped over hundreds of years, yet they all fit in as if they were all meant to be there.
There is always this dilemma when I write to you, a tug-of-war between whether to apologise for reasons I do not understand or tell you that none of it was my fault. I have come to learn that it is a bit of both.
It, however, suffices to say that you changed my life, maybe even saved it. It suffices to say that am sorry that my love was not strong enough to keep even God from pulling you away. Yet, there is this guitar and every tune I play reminds me of a certain balcony where you used to sing to me.
By now, perhaps you are wondering what the whole point is behind this meandering letter. As, I said, I do not know and when I post it today in the air of a virtual world, it will be a message and a prayer. A message that my yesterdays are still a part of my tomorrows but, that am slowly learning to choose between them and there soon maybe a day when I will choose my tomorrow free of my yesterday. It is a message that, when that day comes, it will not be an insult or me forgetting something, it will simply be me embracing sunrise again.
And, it is a prayer that you find peace with this letter and love. A love that can keep you safe and calm the tumultuous wind that keeps shattering things within us. It is a prayer that when you gaze into the horizon at the sunset, all you think of is that if the sunset is that beautiful, how beautiful the sunrise is going to be.

With all my love,
rain messenger

The Widow

2009-11-12T18:37:00.003+05:30

The surreal fogs are back…
Her mind feels while waiting in her lonely balcony
She feels nothing…the mind cannot reach her…
She waits…grasping the railing…her knuckles white

She knows she has faltered…
Grasped by a sudden fear…
Of a dark winter… Of snow…
And, a dead body frozen in the cold…

She waits…knowing she will jump…
She knows, he watches
Silently…mockingly…the perpetual cigarette on his lips…
She knows he is dead and that, she betrayed him…

She wanted to leave him…
Having found love at a crossroad…
Yet, he didn’t give her a chance
He died…binding her to him…forever

And, she shivers…
Yet, she doesn’t feel the cold
And she thinks of the red saree…
And the missing vermillion on her head…

She waits…knuckles white…
Staring out…as the fog engulfs her…
And, a lonely poem…lost in the jungle…
Calls her…while she waits…knowing he waits too…

Stairways

2009-11-09T13:56:00.001+05:30

She saw the star…
Quiet…Dead…Luminous
And she searched…
The heavens and forgotten stairways…

The broken dolls and the glass marbles she lost
The child whose hand she let go…
Amongst the crowd, in the race…
To reach the stairway to her dreams…

The suffocation of happiness
And, her need of love…
Something, more than what her lovers gave…
Something, they don’t understand, neither does she…

Yet, it is the stairway…
That holds her down…
Unmoved…Solid…Unaffected…
And, the forgotten piano is played again

Her, escape from all that is…
Tearing apart all those who loved her…
Different…Lost…Hated…by choice
She dreams of heavens and forgotten stairways

Reason

2009-10-21T19:41:00.001+05:30

Playing a melancholy tune
While the winds whisper in her ear
The language of unheard music
And the dreams of a liar

The lost purpose…
And hidden fears
In the vain quest
For knowing why she is here…

She seeks…she stumbles…
Wishing she understood the reason…
Behind the blind, eternal chaos
Crying in vain…desperate to clasp life…

Live-wire and life in the fast lane
Restless life and a sleeping volcano
Come together for a concerto…
And, play while she waits for epiphany…

Violins and wind chimes…
Singing in the distance…in the distance
And, a late night call…left behind…far behind…
She knows yet forgets but she wants…a reason.

Rain Messenger's Diary 11.... Ma

2009-10-02T09:15:00.002+05:30

Clouds float by my sight, appearing like frozen smoke, as if someone just froze time to capture their fluid motion upwards. I had come back to the city of my soul again for a brief sojourn along the banks of Hoogly. As, I fly back, I reminisce but strangely I also remember the stranger city and some strangers who have started becoming otherwise.

I do not claim to understand the meaning of these fleeting neural responses triggered by unknown hormones, but nevertheless we live our lives learning to trust them. It is this paradox that I grapple with, flying 37000ft above sea-level, in the land of clouds where fleeting thoughts hold sway. As, I look out of the small window of this huge aircraft, all I can see is the Himalayas stretched endlessly along the horizon reflecting the red sunbeams of early dawn in its snow-capped peaks. Morgan Freeman in the movie The Bucket List also does something similar while flying at night and exclaims that stars has to be one of the “good-ones” among God’s creations. Being an atheist however I cannot totally agree with the creation aspect but honestly similar emotions flood my mind as I watch this majestic beauty in all its glory. It is an immensely humbling experience, as I feel my worries slipping away before the immensity of what I am experiencing in this routine flight that I am sharing with almost 120 others.
However, in spite of the presence of so many people I am isolated, safe in my anonymity and the advantage of being mutual strangers. There is silence. There is the whirring engine. There are the Himalayas catching clouds in its peaks. And, there is me. I always find an intriguing presence of a sort of pain in every solace, or rather a bit of loneliness in every journey, and this one is no different. I am no longer sure of my emotions, for I no longer trust them. Yet, it is trying to tell me something which I am pushing away, as long as I can. I will not survive another brush with the past, tangible or intangible, and so I hide scared from the one emotion I had sworn to live by.

Most of you, who has bothered to read till here and yet hold the desire to read on, must be wondering about the excessive and continued use of ‘I’ in the previous paragraphs. To be totally honest I do not exactly know myself but all I do know, is that it is but natural to be lost in the streams of consciousness and lose oneself in the world of memories. Yet, another puja arrived, bringing with it, like it always does, the intoxicated dance of kashful and the heady beats of dhak. For me this festival has always been something much, much bigger than just another Hindu ritual. It remains special not just for the grandeur that we associate with it but what it stands for, the ultimate woman. Bowing before the woman who is the epitome of power, peace, motherhood and much more is not very difficult even for an atheist like me. Having started to live in Delhi, for the first time I realized how much I really am attached to the pujas, and how much it really meant to me. And, as I embark on my journey back to Delhi on Ekadashi, the day after Ma left, it seemed strange that the macrocosm of the society felt the same way in bidding her adieu like my family was feeling bidding me goodbye after the same five days. It really is amazing that so many people feel so strongly about just another puja. Ultimately it really stands for bidding our daughter goodbye, and it’s poignant and poetic that so many people across the world invest their emotions not just simply to fulfill or perform some religious duties but simply to be a part of a nostalgia called “home”.
I do not know if it’s symbolic that I witness the Himalayas on my way back where Ma has returned with her kids after the brief break from her heavenly duties, but I do know that for so many other Ma-s it signals the return to their mundane, unappreciated lives. At this point of time, a particular puja in Ballygunge, South Kolkata, comes to mind, who based their puja on the real Durgas, the one who fought the day-to-day asurs, the ones who stood tall and undaunted in the face of seemingly insurmountable adversities. It also signals the lonely sighs of so many mothers whose children are not with her and remembering that her lonely vigil in front of her bedroom window is about to resume.

People say it is now the time of the emancipated woman, the woman of substance, but what we may have forgotten is that it has always been the time for the women of substance. We ignored them because they let us and as soon as they have decided to stand up and be counted we have been forced to take notice. I started this article with my confusion over trust and I find the answer in the one word that stands for the five days of festivities - MA. This monosyllable defines trust and stands for it and maybe it is this word that we will learn to respect which ultimately will transcend into the acknowledgement of women across the world. For, ultimately it is not Indira Nooyi or Vinita Bali who are the only names that should figure in the power-women list but also the faceless multitude of women who redefine courage by just living everyday.

Durga Puja for me is my salute to these women, my kudos to the real women. This puja has come a long way from the Akal Bodhon and has increasingly aligned itself with necessarily being the victory of light over shadow, and has aligned itself with social issues and as long as we continue to bond for these reasons for this festival, the colours will remain bright, every year when Ma blesses us.

Late Monsoons

2009-09-14T00:21:00.002+05:30

Autumn retraces its steps
As yellow turns green again…
And, rolling landscapes seen through a speeding train
Helps me find a friend…

My soul clutches on to a new support
As, new rain meets the old tree
And, she surrenders herself
In a bid to finally be free

The moon-washed smoky verandah
Made dreamy after a couple of pegs
As, rains flood the floodgates
Of hidden pains…

We force time to march on…
While watching the lonely bulbul atop the windswept tree
And, feel the last strains of ektara
In, the vaults of lost memories

Love Revisited

2009-09-08T21:54:00.001+05:30

Trying to make sense…
Of the hazy world without glasses
And, understanding that beauty is…
Because it’s ugly otherwise

The beckoning of the faraway horizon
And the memories of an old friend
Drawing me back to an old snap
Forgotten between yellow pages…

The flying lampposts…
And, the cold milestones
Reminds me of a solace
In my distant past

As, I write into the sunset
Of yet another dawn of love
I remember you…my rain
And, the paintings on the heaven above

No One's Watching

2009-08-21T22:53:00.001+05:30

The sleeping face of eternal rest
And the finality of peace
When the sun’s ready to set

Everybody’s angry...
Every one’s sad...
And no one’s watching us tonight

And the sky mourns
As, it hides its stars
Behind a black blanket

And, I look up
When it’s raining again…
We are all alone…no one’s watching us tonight

The Man Inside

2009-08-18T22:30:00.002+05:30

The quest for a smile
Has led me through a thousand tears
And at the end of alleys of love
Lay many-a-heartbreaks

Yet it is life
That inspired the dawn of new poems
And captured restless thoughts
Like a new fire in an old fireplace

The illusions enticed the dreamer
As he saw beyond the green
And lost himself in a world
That made him an outcast in this one…

But, he saw time
And felt it to be a time like no other
Stood still…
And like he is. The sea is. The sky is.

The man that should have been
Yet ain’t… The man inside
Whom I lost in my vain quest to belong
That always ended in trysts with loneliness

Summer Rain

2009-08-12T15:34:00.002+05:30

I am drunk again…
High on the smell of wet earth
As the burnt earth
Rejuvenates and sways with promise of life

I look on and wait
To hide in the warmth of your breasts
While the sky celebrates
The timeless exultation of life

The solitary green bench…
Under the shade of gaunt trees
The lonely witness…
To the masterpiece on the eternal canvas

It is time again…
To dance as if no one’s watching
And live…
Even if no one cares

And all is set right…
As, rain washes away
All the accumulated tears
And pent up pain

So, I embrace you again, rain
My love and pain…
And I wait. Look up.
And walk on as my rain embraces me.

Out of a Window

2009-08-06T22:40:00.002+05:30

The day melts into evening
Of a cloud filled day
And the trees wait
For another night

The lonely bird
Looks for a way back home
And, I watch…
From the impersonal window

Life flies by…
And the trees stand silent
The eternal listeners
Of troubled souls like mine

I wonder, what I seek…
As, I dream of flying
In the slice of sky that I see
From the cold window of my class

I remain the lonely wanderer
Of my hidden dreams
In the realm of my sky
Made mine through the impersonal window

And, as I move on…
This window stays open
And the evening embraces me
And I merge with the sky from my window

Reaching Out To Smoke

2009-08-04T15:00:00.001+05:30

I drive along deserted roads
Music and the purring engine in my ears
As, I watch the black cloud covering the moon
I see the silver lining

And, on a rock-top
At the dead of night
I watch the skyline
Of a merciless city

Yet the shadows
Calm in their solidity
Reassured of existence
Soothes my frightened soul

Still I am rejected
Left out on a cold, dark, eternal night
As, I walk alone
Grappling with conflicting emotions

Frozen strands of time
As, rain comes back
As, if she can guess my mind
And, though I hate it…I find solace

Am tired of walking
Tired of wishing for something I do not want
Yet, deep down reaching out for smoke
I light the next cigarette

Ashes and Grey

2009-07-14T22:47:00.000+05:30

The arrival of rain…
Greeted by a poignant departure
Of a stumbling madman
Who dared to live…

Born again to eternity
Embracing the pure black
But…again, he is just one more hero
In a world that doesn’t care

The fire keeps on burning
As, men become food for worms
And ashes are all that is left
As elements embrace us

It is hard to bid adieu…
More so to a friend
Yet, I bury you my soul…
Waiting for an answer

IN MEMORY OF THE SENSELESS DEMISE OF 3 FRIENDS…

New Flight

2009-07-07T21:36:00.003+05:30

The idle breeze teases me
As, I walk down the narrow lane
And the green canopy
Gently protects me from the sun.

And, I brush away my dreams
While running away from reality
Looking for the vaccum
Of my self

Lunacy is what I have
An armor against the world’s sanity
Yet the fear…
Of anticipating a new beginning

I do not seek the forward step
Yet, it has to be taken…
So, the bated breath preparation continues…
To fly out of the cocoon.

Let Darkness Fall

2009-06-22T21:41:00.001+05:30

The wind whistles past
As, I drive on...
Among the wilderness
And cry those dry tears
Which lose their way to the eye...

If only the burden could be burnt
The sweetest melody returned...
To the smile of a guy
Whose passwords
Remain a forgotten name.

Yet, so it shall be
As, I wait to win a battle
That was never fought
And the parched land
Keeps awaiting rain...

To, thee, who pass
And take ages to wipe out
And come back
From unexpected follies
Please, let the candle burn out...
And, darkness fall.

A Stranger's Blues

2009-06-17T23:04:00.002+05:30

As, the evening
Stealthily approaches my reverie
And, I look up to find the day waning
It is the stranger’s soul that I seek.

And, while the shadow lengthens
In this austere room
I, stop to start...
To seek the abandoned hope...

Maybe, I am welcome
Or, just an intruder
And the wine of the night
Just tolerates my insolence...

A long road unfolds
As, I stand at the edge of the chasm
It is not the plunge that scares me
Only, that I may falter at the edge...

Words

2009-06-01T22:11:00.001+05:30

Words may you be
The soul of my journey
The beginning of an end
And the ending of a beginning...

Words may you be
The soul of a stranger
The death with closed eyes
And an open heart...

Words may you be
My strength and my weakness
And the smile
Of a life lived for myself.

Words may you be
The dream of eternity, or
The flames that do not burn
Yet preserve my identity...

In the end
What does it matter...
For its time ...
And I must say goodbye.

Rain Messenger’s Diary10 ......Choices

2009-06-01T22:10:00.001+05:30

A journey has to be started and I am the one taking the proactive step forward for maybe the first time in my life. A conscious decision to leave the city being the first step among the series of steps I have planned for myself. Sometimes, I wonder whether it is escapism or cowardice that propels me. I reflect on the transference a person can have on another person. It is as if an indelible impression of every person we meet lies within us, some more prominent than the others. Somehow, I have started to believe that our entire lives are spent in a manner that is closely entwined with these impressions. It is as if our choices are never ours or rather we, never do have choices just an “impression” of it. It is, as if, our choices are nothing more or less than a cumulative and complex (sometimes incomprehensible) reactions to the circumstances and the people around us. This, however, does not go to suggest that we, homo sapiens, are mere victims of varying circumstances, it means, simply that to understand our choices we should understand our circumstances and more importantly the impressions that people have left on us.

It is this journey that few take and therefore few are ultimately happy with their choices. They are a rare species who stand and say “...I took the road not taken and that has made all the difference.” You do not necessarily have to be a path breaker to love your choices but sometimes it is of the utmost importance to be at peace with your decision and this particular journey is what brings me to this juncture today. I suffered long and agonised a lot over whether or not I had done myself justice by doing what I had done all my life through my various choices. I have heard it said numerous times that you were capable of more and I needed to understand that I had lived not merely existed. As, I see it all of us get a few occasions in our lives when we can stop and look back and weigh the pros and cons of the road travelled so far and judge ourselves. I decided now was one such time for me. Standing at the threshold of starting a new journey, of leaving behind all that I had known and grown up with I wanted to stop for a while and ponder about those that made me choose.

The very first discovery that I made while trying to make this journey is that not all of our choices rather none of our choices are always due to positive reasons, there is always a negative influence somewhere in it. However, that does not make the choices wrong, it is just how it is, “grey”. Now, I know most of you who know me must smile at the mention of the grey with those here-he-goes-again faces and I must admit that it is not an unwarranted reaction. But, every time I have tried to make sense of any aspect of life, I have invariably hit my head against this colour. So, accepting that basic premise to be correct I found peace in my choice to leave this city of my firsts, the city which will always be closest to my heart. I know a lot has happened in the past few years and I have grown up a lot too. I have had to go through the grindstone to get back on my feet again after being fouled. There have been numerous people some who have become friends, some whom I met only once who have influenced my life and today I feel an immense gratitude towards them for I realise the sweetest revenge is to lead a good life.
The point of this essay was not to say that I am at peace with my decision to go to Delhi but just an outlet for me and as for those who care to read it, a way in which they might want to slow down for a while and just review their decisions. Ultimately, it is the peace we find within because of the trust we develop on ourselves that we will choose what is best for us and that above all we will respect the gift of life that make us what we are.

I had loved once upon a time and all my choices seemed simple then since they were all made with one objective in mind “her” but now they are again simple since they are again made with one objective in mind “I”.
After all the sacred word is – EGO.

Instinct

2009-05-10T22:48:00.001+05:30

Can you let go…
Of the umbrellas
Or the mad scramble
For shelter or the closest exit

Are you afraid to follow…
What maybe a mirage
Or your journey to the jungle
Where freedom awaits…

Again, freedom…
Well, a forgotten idea…
Imagined and smelt
An instinct from when we lived in the world…

Will you take the journey…
With me to unlock
What maybe an illusion
Or discovery of where you belong

Ultimately, it’s your choice
But it is my time
To give you the chance
To discover freedom

And, as you smell rain
A man among the animals
You know, it all boils down to the instinct
Of self-preservation and family bondings.

Adieu Tilottama

2009-05-08T09:27:00.001+05:30

As, I flow along the sticky banks of life…
Memories try to cling on to me…
But, the only one I remember
Is the only one who never asked...

And, as I drink tea
In this deserted station…
I think of you
And all that will stay behind…

All I remember…
Is the music that was never played.
Irony, it is that I find your soul
In this moment of departure

Yet, I treasure it as my identity
As, perhaps you will remember me
Like the millions who left before me
Silent soul mate of my firsts…adieu Tilottama.

And Rains Came

2009-05-04T09:38:00.002+05:30

Flying bits of memories
That got stuck on my windshield
While I rushed past
On the highway to dreams

And, the taste of coffee
And the acrid smell of cheap smoke
Invigorated my senses
As, I turned away from fantasies.

And, the storm came with the prelude to rain
As, the city heaved a sigh of relief
And, the wind howled
While grey ruled the eternal canvas…

I stood.
Watched. Smiled. Cried.
Then, closed my windows…
And, rains came.

Let it Rain Tonight

2009-04-30T21:51:00.001+05:30

The sun rides low on the horizon
As, the birds search their way home
And, the aimless wanderer
Finally finds a perch.
And, I think it’s gonna rain tonight.

I see the infant
Sleeping naked in the street
And I watch the men…
Dying alone in the heat
But, I think it’s gonna rain tonight.

I see two lovers
Exploring the new world
And, the barren land
Finally bearing flowers
And, I think it’s gonna rain tonight.

I find the old man
Strumming on his guitar
The song of open dreams
And the open roads travelled so far
And, I think it’s gonna rain tonight.

I also watch the dawn of new dreams
And see it get shattered…
Yet, I observe the human spirit
That still listens to dreamers.
And, I think it’s gonna rain tonight.

O’ let it rain…
Hard and long
Let it rain…
All night, for many nights
And wash it all away.

All That Matters

2009-04-26T10:12:00.005+05:30

I held you in my arms
As we watched the last plane take off...
From the lonely airport
And in my embrace lay hidden…
A thousand words of hope…
For your future

And as we woke up early
To welcome the white steeds of the Sun
I held you in my eyes
And in my gaze
Lay a thousand apologies
For the unkempt promises

I had discovered you
At the end of a journey
As you entered my life
Like a gust of wind…
In this sweltering heat
And made me smile again…

But, the relentless Sun glared down…
And sucked your kisses out of me
Leaving me dry and lifeless
And, though I feel you in my arms
I am blinded by the sun
And can’t see your smile

Nothing is as bleak as the future
Except maybe for the past
And, I lie content in your arms
In the cool shade of our present
As the world burns
In the merciless heat waves

Is it Nature…
Or the fire within?
As, I burn the question haunts me…
Yet, under the bough of the gaunt mango tree
You are still here in my arms
And that’s all that matters in the end.

Note: This poem owes a lot to the conversation I had with a friend of mine. So, I dedicate this to her and her gift.

Rain Messenger's Diary 9......Fulfilled Desire…a short step away from Disaster

2009-04-16T23:37:00.003+05:30

A journey has to be completed and, no matter what romantics say, the finishing line decides destiny. Ironical, though it may be we compete with even the ones closest to us.

In this unending perennial race of existence and in our desperate attempt to prove Darwinian survival of the fittest philosophy, we refuse to slacken our pace, or maybe we cannot. If we accept this as the desired way of life with the rejection of Camus’ Meursault, then we may as well judge its virtues objectively and face it with fortitude to be able to win. Even though cynics or romantics (whichever way you see it) may tell you that you still remain a mangy rat of the rat race, what is the harm in being the winning rat?

The greatest hurdle of a winner it is said is easy victories as it brings forth along with the black pestilence of complacency which pushes anyone, no matter how great, to the brink of disaster and sometimes even over the edge. Bertrand Russell had written in his book The Conquest Of Happiness…
"The human animal like others is adapted to certain amount of struggle for life and when by means of great wealth homo sapiens can gratify all whims without effort, the mere absence of effort from life removes an essential ingredient of happiness."
We could easily add to it and say that this absence or lack of effort, when one gets what he wants heralds doom as it leads to incompetency and vanity which are merely escorts to the gate of ultimate downfall.

Life is not always a bed of roses and thankfully so, because if we did not have the thorns we would not have appreciated the petals. We would be ingenuous enough to take things for granted, for complacency is not always a venial crime. If you are born with a golden spoon in your mouth or you inherit one, it usually breaks a man. It makes you forget who you are and then you want to be far from the “madding crowd”, but we forget, that it usually is the society that decides our destiny, it is the society who makes or breaks a man. As, Camus said, if you do not play the game by their rules you are an outsider and its disastrous, you are condemned with blasphemy.

As, the sun rides low on the horizon, it is ultimately the extraneous challenges of life that grants us the masks to survive, the necessary skills to steer clear of the infinite abyss of disaster. “We have the knack of choosing precisely those that are worst for us.” said Albus Dumbledore and we see the curse of complete fulfillment of every desire is something we all wish for but should avoid like a contagious disease, after all it is the final undoing of any man…his Achilles’ heel.

But the question remains, whether you play by their rules or yours...
What do you choose dear reader Meursault or society?

Soledad

2009-03-21T23:58:00.001+05:30

Time came and passed me by…
And I watched her eyes
With the guilty pleasure of desiring
What was never mine…

And as the wind blew…
We took flight on eagle’s wings
Just for a short while
In the land of lonely dreams

Regrets, there are none
As the world brushes past me
And I run along…barely keeping up
Yet waiting for the promised summer

Somewhere in the restless slumber
You beckon me
Waiting for me to draw near
So that you can draw blood
And I let you…its better than my soledad.

A page from the Journal of a Soldier

2009-03-11T11:44:00.004+05:30

Did I tell you “I love you”
Before I left you by the door,
Our baby in your arms?
Did I tell you that you are the best in me,
And the one you hold is the best gift…
I can’t remember
The sound of bullets don’t let me think.

Another day.
I have survived.
To see the next day
When my luck may finally run out...
As somebody else’s did today.
The blood made me puke
And I puked…as I shot one more down.

My love
Politics or policies I know not
I fight for the man next to me.
And you. And our cherub.
Orders have been given.
So we go on…
Into the night.

And one more falls.
No one’s a hero
All a fallen son.
But, then again, they are heroes
A forgotten star on some wall.
Yet I don’t give up…
I can't forget your face by the door.

I can’t remember how long it has been
Since, I saw you last…
These bullets don’t let me think straight
But, I fight.
The man next to me. You. And him.
Is all I remember now.
Tomorrow I go again…

So, remember to kiss him for me
And, give yourself a hug
I don't recall whether I said it before
So, I say it now
I love you and him.
And everyday’s fight is to survive
So that, I can see you.

Confined

2009-03-06T22:22:00.001+05:30

The storm came silently
Almost apologetic
As if trying hard not to intrude
And…wreaked havoc.
So, came love.

And waking up in the aftermath
In the land of blue skies…
Pure and free
Silent, sparkling raindrops
Words graced me.

And, then there was life
Begging to be discovered
At that time,
When I reflected on a lonely bed…
Sick and confined.

And the cliché fell flat
As time refused to fly
And I went to sleep
Waiting…
For the storm to come.

By Candlelight

2009-02-20T22:48:00.002+05:30

The ticking watch
Reminds me it’s late.
The match flares to light the candle…
The flickering flame
Of a nervous heart
And the darkness hidden in the heart of hearts

I take your hand.
As the shadows dance on the opposite wall,
We drown in a violent tide.
The blood rolls down its sides
And the pain is numbed
By the light

Your face rests lightly on my chest
As my fingers lose themselves in your hair.
And, we listen to a distant train
Ripping the night…
While the white sword
Promises to remain bright.

And, as our lips meet again…
I draw the strength from your tongue
And the candle flares up…
Before the final plunge into shadowy nothingness
We lock each other in the eternal embrace
As, the blanket of night watches over us.

Choosing To Live

2009-02-20T22:37:00.001+05:30

The road bends beyond my sight
And I am stuck again…
The dangerous but irresistible pastime
Lures me to forget the ill-begotten pain
The sunlight peeks through…
While I wonder about the flight
Of a lonely eagle over the green mountain

The candlelight flickers…
And as I watch it burn out
I light a fire from the dying flames
And I choose again to take the road oft taken
Just to show it can be walked a different way
And I wish I could make all my mistakes all-over again
Just to get a chance to live through them.

I smoke on…
Till I burn my lips
And as the remnants of the smoke swirl around
I keep driving…
On the endless road to ecstasy
And the old music
Presents a new escape

I finally move the stone
From a rotting sorrow
Letting the sunshine wash my tears away
I await salvation…
On the unnamed street
In the sweaty room
Of a faceless prostitute called life.

The Walk Back

2009-02-14T22:13:00.002+05:30

The sun hiding from
the blaze of your naked beauty.
The heat dimmed
in respect to your passion
My-‘self’ long lost
somewhere in the shelter of your breasts
I am finally coming home.

The buried yet remembered sins
call for the final reckoning.
And shards of broken dreams light up my way,
as I walk back to a crossroad left behind
I love to see you as my final destination,
somewhere in the lap of forgotten times,
Waiting…forgiving…encompassing me in an all powerful fire.

A full circle has been run,
and I return home.
To the place where you won my blood,
the battle…lost before the first rumble of war
yet, fought to win the right of your nakedness
and…then, deserted in pursuit of an unknown fear.
A choice wrongly made…and I turn back
to the crossroad that stole my home.
Wait…please, do wait…am coming home.

Last Song

2009-01-17T09:52:00.001+05:30

The song sung
under the shadow of the last sky,
trapped beneath the ashes
of burnt threads of time
and few lonely hearts
that stopped beating.

I knew what you were saying
but surely I knew wrong.
I heard what the world was saying
but surely I heard wrong.
The mistakes of my music
hidden by the blue veil of night.

And you are lonely…
While I lose myself in pointless poems
The words entangling and suffocating you
In a mesh of senseless sound.
As, you struggle…I watch
And immerse in my last poem as if it’s my first

The world appears hard for you…
Deserted in the darkest of winters
And, here in the moon-swept rooftop
of the forsaken mansion
I wish I could share my fears.
And, as you go behind the horizon
I write yet another song
of another dawn in the world we left behind.

This dance is yours as much as mine
And as we let the music wash over us
like the disrespectful waves
on the majestic shores.
I sacrifice myself every time
as if it’s my first.

The strength that made me weak
Left me waiting in the world of words.
Shivering, waiting for your blanket
To be hidden in your arms.
Time has come to break free again
Freedom bought at the cost of my last song
The song written in tribute to my first.

Rain Messenger's Diary 8...Death Watch

2009-01-05T22:44:00.000+05:30

Waiting for the last breath to part as everyone waits for the inevitable is a feeling that no one might understand before actually experiencing it. The pallor of death lies low on the faces and the walls and everyone except the person concerned seems to be terribly agitated.

This most unlikely vigil is what I experienced when I was called to be present at the deathbed of a distant relative as was expected of me since I was now considered “grown up”. I felt sickened at the expressions of the people there…I could feel the hidden current almost a bated breath expectation of death so that all necessary preparations of a funeral could be initiated. I had never felt so cold, it was as if the life of that person had ceased to matter as if the transition from ‘she’ to ‘it’, ‘a person’ to ‘a body’ had already been made and all that was left was the irrelevant detail of actually taking that final step. What was more irritating was she didn’t seem in any hurry to take that step. How very inconsiderate…doesn’t she know it’s a weekday, people have to return to their offices and their respective run of the mill rat races? Nobody had all the time in the world.

They say one shouldn’t talk of death as it bodes ill but then what about that collective unsaid death wish for the person who was once the home maker and was now so annoyingly holding up all the work that needed to be done after she died.

As, everyone showed up they shook her and called her as if to wake up their own spirits and just pat them back to sleep while telling them “we did our duty”........the endless roll-call of “Jethima…ami…ami Swapan”, “Jethima..ami…ami Gadai” and so on and so forth made me want to throw up. It was the ‘society’ and the ‘social fibre’ that we are so proud of laid bare for me to see. They had come…as was expected, as was proper and civil.

Why the hypocrisy, I don’t know but nobody minded. Nobody wanted to celebrate the life that was spent, no one reflected on it. Everyone concentrated on the death and the inevitability and helplessness of it. No one cared for life for there was no human being in that room just mortals doing what they were “supposed” to do.

Then…she died.

Last Cigarette

2008-12-16T22:19:00.001+05:30

As the last cigarette
Burns itself down my throat
Leaving behind burning eyes
Filled with smoke
And as the late night movie
Takes its final bow…
I hold my breath within
Afraid of losing the fragrance
Of burnt skin.

I pick up my pen
Out of the obsessive compulsion
To describe what stirs inside
Just to grasp…
The longing to write the last lines about you
Yet she refuses to be ignored
And the last cigarette
Refuses to be burnt out
And I wait…

Smoke fills the room
Blurring my vision
Or, maybe, I have closed my eyes.
Certainty, is the cost
Of my last cigarette
It’s a pain to let go
Yet I know,
That you would kill.
As I refuse to put out…the last cigarette

I know I will return to you.
Holding fire is a pleasure
You can’t let go of.
But it’s not with pleasure
That my soul’s your slave
It’s not by choice but by a ‘un-understood’ force
That I bow…
To what I hope, dearly
To be my last cigarette.

Blood Soaked Mirage

2008-11-28T19:50:00.002+05:30

They burned the tree
That owned my soul.
Using the womb as a weapon
To suffocate the desire…of survival.

They took me to the gallows
And death smiled
All I could do was smile back
The fear of light…as I walked out of darkness

They felled the mighty oak
The shadow
Of what once was might.
But, remorse was not what they felt

They killed.
For the guilty pleasure
Of the taste of blood
Killed…out of fear of me

Annihilation is what they want for me
Order of death is proclaimed…
Yet they cannot kill what is me…
For I am not a man…just an apparition

So they burned the tree
That owned my soul
And when, enough men have died
Maybe, we will be free

....EXPRESSING SOLIDARITY WITH MY FRIENDS IN MUMBAI AND TELLING THOSE WHO FEEL THEY CAN SHOCK US INTO SUBMISSION...WE ARE AND WILL ALWAYS BE INDIANS.
MAY THE SOULS OF THE DECEASED REST IN PEACE

Wanting Her

2008-11-17T22:21:00.002+05:30

Love was not just a game I played
To buy shelter
To walk alone or to follow her
Without question and thought of surrender.
But, she was broken
Long before the sky broke for her…

Treacherous were the alleys
Wondrous was the pain
To hold on…
Like the condemned man’s faith in God.
To build on a broken faith…
Long before faith was ever discovered

Yet, I wanted to follow
To feel her lustrous body
With the ecstasy of my mind
To lift her spirit
Higher than the wind swells.
But she was broken…
Long before the sky broke for her.

Wanting to find the destination
Of the departing night
To look for the symmetry
Of two bodies in unison.
Take away the desire from my being…
Yet, I wanted to follow.
But she was broken…
Long before the sky broke for her.

Faith Lost

2008-11-03T23:24:00.001+05:30

Integrity lost.
In the lingering moment,
Spent on your naked eyes.
Faith lost.
In the eternity spent,
In fighting…

The death sentence,
A frivolous exercise in power
Faith lost.
In the words
Of a stranger…
Of was-a-lover.

The nauseating dive
In the last attempt to hide my face in your thighs
Yet thrown away. Questioned.
Faith lost.
In life…In moments…
In what was once the time…when rain fell.

Lust for Eternity

2008-10-27T00:32:00.001+05:30

We, of the golden sunsets
Are no longer the same…
The smell of rain
Hidden away in your warm breasts
Lost forever to the glittering skyline
In the dreamy silence of windswept rooftops

I have desired you, luscious one
Warmth and pain.
The distant night bathed in loneliness,
The tentative soul afraid of losing control.
A few eternities in a few handpicked moments
Is all I have left of you…
But I am greedy for a few eternities more.

I have missed you…
You, of the crystal sunsets
You of the enigmatic eyes…
And I have made you the Queen
So let’s dance…
To the rhythm of our nude embrace
And make eternity ours.

Embrace

2008-10-12T21:22:00.002+05:30

The pilgrimage of the blind alley
Where the dreamy poet
Coughs up blood
On the wall of some nondescript whorehouse
Wishing he was left in peace
To be in harmony with the beautiful madness of creation

Bathed in the crimson waters
Holding moonbeams in his hands
He looked up to the lucid chaos of his epiphany
Wishing he could share it with the immense night
Which she shared with him…in his arms
From where she had succeeded in escaping

She slept peacefully…Assured he held her close
In the utopian haven of his embrace
She slept in peace…
She slept forever…

His soul was not satisfied
That he had lost her
He still held her close…feeling her presence linger on…
In the safe haven of his embrace
Blaming himself for suffocating her…when he held too tightly
In the peaceful oasis of his heart, protected by his restless madness
He dreamt…

Rain Messenger's Diary 7...God & I

2008-09-29T11:35:00.001+05:30

“ Bhagawan, Nomo Koro…”(that’s God bow to him)…these three words said with a tinge of righteous indulgence by numerous relatives are my first memories of this omnipotent and omnipresent being. The numerous idols and various shapes in which “Bhagawan” came was a real fascination for me but my first tiff with him started when at the age of 5-6 I started to wonder what exactly had he done to deserve my respect…and with the innocence and doggedness of a child who is convinced that he has stumbled upon the most important and hitherto overlooked question of the universe…I started to question my relatives “Bhagawan ke nomo keno korbo?” (why should I fold my hands and bow in front of God?)

A lot of rolled eyes and obvious rhetorics like “because you are supposed to…(as if that was an answer to my why)…” later I got one answer which I approved of, “ because God taught us the difference between right and wrong, good and evil, light and darkness.” God, as a teacher was an idea which appealed to my six year old senses and justified the respect showered on him.

But, God turned out to be quite a strict teacher with a penchant for doing just the things he is not supposed to do like punishing kids who did not talk in class and therefore, I soon began to grudge his presence.

His adamant omniscience and omnipresence and his fascist dictatorial and blatant refusal, to let his students pass and go to the next class and consequently a new teacher, absolutely ticked me off. I revolted with all the 7-8 year old fury I could muster.

But, after all He was the teacher and I, a mere humble student, afraid, hesitant and full of guilt of doing the “wrong” thing. He did not help. He did not choose to show me anything that could win my faith. The reasons present accepted and known for evoking faith started appearing hollow, with people asking me to bow to a great ball of fire (the sun), that really was the last straw!! After all, I had my back to consider and it was not possible to bow so many times without doing some kind of damage to it and when I knew that the great ball of fire was neither benign nor benevolent and it was a mere chance that he bestowed us with light, and any closer to his divine self, all prayers notwithstanding, he would burn us to cinders, which anyways is our final fate.

I decided it was something I had to find out for myself, questions that I had to ask myself, answer myself and even correct them myself ( if only exams were like that…). The Herculean task turned out to be much more testing than any examination I had been asked to sit for. It was a journey taken to question things that appeared so obvious that nobody seemed interested in even sparing a thought to it.

In the course of this tryst with God my question started to change from “why God?” to “How can people be so blind?” I could understand the Neolithic man’s fear of the elements and hence their primaeval Gods but how could we in the 21st century still hold on to a concept that was so obviously baseless…our behaviour with all our knowledge was as primordial as that of the Neolithic man. The other thing that really shocked me was that the fear and fundamentalism on this issue was so deep-seated, so deeply ingrained into our system, that most of the times we do not even realise that almost all of our actions and words could be attributed to it.

As one of my friends once said when I asked her, why she wore a burqa to school in today’s world, when she is being educated, a student of science and the future of the emancipated woman, she simply replied, “it’s what we are supposed to do…” the ambiguous do’s and don’ts which we so “religiously” follow never really strike us and no one bothers to stop and scrap the useless junk. Another of my friends one day vehemently tried to convince me, why it was so necessary to be religionistic and why he could not be touched by me after I had non-vegetarian food.

I was shocked or rather so tempted to laugh at this entire debacle of the Super-Being that I kept quiet. God, shed all his halos for me that day.

Since, ages from Brahmins to priests God has just been a tool of the biggest con game of the history of mankind-RELIGION.

I denounced God, not because he did not exist but for the hypocrisy of men who forced him to exist. I would have bowed to Christ, the man but I simply refuse to believe in Christ who turns water to wine. I would pray to Mother Teresa but I hate the church that looks for “miracles” to award her Sainthood. I refuse to bow to the chauvinistic Ramakrishna who makes his wife walk back 100kms (as no other conveyance was available at that time) just because he feels that she has started her journey at an inauspicious time.

God & I go back a long way, we rarely agree, often fight and almost always avoid each other. When, it comes to me, God turns deaf and blind, and what can I say for people who still believe in “HIM”………..GROW UP.

Fear

2008-09-26T23:57:00.001+05:30

I shiver…
Thankfully, time marches
The unknown fear of the known sensation
Triggering the pain…from the vault
Of the unstrung violin
I am tired…
Of the eternal desire to sleep
Scared of the new mirror…
Showing the old image
Held in the shackles of freedom,
I want to escape
The embrace of a new lease of life…

I shiver…
Thankfully, it is raining
No one notices…but I know inside…
And I cringe
No one realizes…yet I know
I am scared…
Of the old river on its course
Afraid of the cruel dance of death
She might indulge in…
Yet the rainbow shines
And makes me want to forget the devastating flood
Making me cruel…
With a desire to live

The uncertainty of the individuality
Of my manic depression
And the desperate confusion
Of unexplored and misconstrued love
Halted by a brief journey
I shiver…
Should I live…again?

Pyre Of Senses

2008-09-17T21:39:00.001+05:30

Essence of the invigorating blue sky
Assaults my senses…
I feel them burning inside
Unable to tear away…
From the sun reflected in the innocent clouds
Like a deer caught in a spotlight

The unsatisfied desire for hunger…
The unfulfilled hope…I will feel…
I feel my senses burning inside
Yet, I have found an oasis of peace
But, I can’t drink…
I have been tied to the edge of my angel

The canopy of green beauty
Insults me, they torture me
Filling me with visions of the sky
After clipping my wings…
A cruel glimpse of infinity
Just to remind, that I am cursed

Dreams they came and went
I am left standing
Bloody torn shreds of flesh
Faith has left me cold…my heart in the grave
I stand alone…I can feel
The smell of burning senses

Brittle Sky

2008-08-25T20:52:00.002+05:30

The heart grew heavy today.
Overcast skies. Drizzling rains.
Bittersweet nostalgia in the lackadaisical life-journey
A brief halt before pushing open the half shut door
Stepping in to find the fan turned off…yet turning in its inertia
You are inside…
I wondered why was I back…inertia?

The brittle sky breaks open…again
Why can’t I cry as easily?
But, no I don’t want to cry…
Before waking up from half-awake dreams
Before accepting that I have lost…yet again
The white freedom on the greydom is no longer a solace

The cry of anguish has lost itself in my throat
And I stare…The brittle sky breaks…again
I want to find you
In the prelude of tomorrow’s song
I want to ask you
Why you sentenced me to this weary fight…
How can I fight a shadow?

The rain grew heavier…outside…
I am still standing on the threshold of your house
Trying to push open…what was once your door
The door is gone…
But the void is more solid than any wall…
You are gone…and I’m back…inertia
The brittle sky keeps breaking.

Coward

2008-08-10T21:37:00.002+05:30

In the darkening skies
Of a cloudy Sunday afternoon
I lost you…to the clarity of thought
I sacrificed you…to the demands of reason

There was nothing I could do…
Yet, I do not plead innocence
For I saw your eyes
Your eyes which had faith…I would do justice…

I left you to the hounds of night
I abandoned you to the gutters
Yet you did not lose faith…
Only a veil of sadness passed your eyes

There was nothing I could do…damn you…
There was nothing anyone could do…
You had challenged society…
I couldn’t stand by you

You refused the abortion in the discreet nursing home
You refused reason…
I had to stand by it…
Yet you had faith…I would do justice…

Why don’t you blame me?
Scream…Curse and hurl accusations
I know I was guilty…but you chose to hide it
Thirty years later I realise why…silently you had branded me…a coward.

Looking For An Answer

2008-08-05T07:20:00.002+05:30

Let there be an answer…
To the broken hearts
And the broken dreams
To the shattered lives
And the blood on the streets

Let there be an answer
To the worst in us
And the business of death
To the villainy called politics
And the burden called life

Let there be an answer
To the storm raging in every soul
And the dampened fire extinguished in fear
To the quietened spirit
And the battered morale

Let there be an answer
To human greatness
To the love of existence
To the right of life
To the passion of love

If there’s an answer
I would like to know it
If there’s an answer
I dare you, to show it.