Saturday, October 11, 2014

The silence after rain

Clouds withered in some rainy lamentations.  Universe draining out its stories in every water molecules of the earth, the evening appeared to be more meditative than before.  The silence after rain. It reminded me that I am on the lap of a woman, whom I lusted to every pore of her body. Lusted.  But never loved. The woman, whose words were little profound than her thoughts.   

There was a divine silence after her every speech.  That fine interval between her thought process and utterance.  In the silence after her words, I found the intensity of Universe. I found the Heaven and Earth, the continents floating in between Oceans, the woods leading to dry lands, the cities turning graveyards and all its philosophical burials. The  glory and lamentation of one whole generation, it contained.

There was a kind of insanity she placed in between every spell of her speeches. Sometimes it was sudden and rigorous.  Other times, it was slow and uneven.  The beautiful gap between her words. In that space, I found myself.   The insane me. My prejudices. My ego and attitude. Everything was within them. I was the man who chased her to the psychiatric chambers to discover peace.  The prison bars from where she mastered this art of speaking in silence of words. Her words might be silver but her silence was always golden.  She loved me.  And I never did.  

But sooner, I knew that I was falling for her silence. It never felt to be a full blown love.  I liked it when she kept quite. Without uttering any word.  Just keeping her 'other part of the self' deeply immersed in my  thoughts.  Her gaze. The silence thrown out from the beautiful corners of her eye and the first tear droplet, it produced. The intensity of its molecules.  The senseless words and the deep evocative meanings it made in silence. Everything was beautiful. Life made more meaning in its intervals. 

She waited for the day I fell for her fully with all my senses and soul. I lusted to her words. I loved its silence. My lust was never a full blown love.  I fell for her silence but never her speech. She continued waiting. And I continued my lust. But, never a full blown love. And, one fine afternoon in the silence of an unexpected rain when she stopped all the talking and stayed calm in her eternal silence, I fell for her completely. Wit the feelings of one lifetime into a love ‘full blown love’ as I said it always, I became her. Her eloquent silence. I never heard her after that. Where will she be now??

Saturday, October 4, 2014


And when the two women had fallen for the same man, the world called them rivals. Those were not mere fascinations but close to perfect affairs. Everyone around asked, if it happened simultaneously. But who can say a ‘no’?  The two women believed and disbelieved it be so. When ‘X’ believed, the ‘Y’ disbelieved. And when ‘Y’ believed, the poor ‘X’ had plenty of disbelief. However, man being in the center of field was attracted to both the unlike poles like a bar magnet. There was only a thin line of boundary between being in love, disagreements, heart aches, patch ups, reunion and love makings to both the women. Both thought that they ruled his heart. But his heart had attained freedom beyond the boundaries of their rules. They governed him.  And he ungoverned. So sometimes, the three; two women and their man in between formed a perfect triangle. 

Both the women must have been similar somehow, somewhere. They might be certainly different. The two repulsive poles, those were made attractive because of the single magnet. But each time he gets to both, there must be certain common traits that pull him close. The woman, ‘X’ was so submissive inside while the woman ‘Y’ was much dominant. ‘X’ was very much feminine in beauty while ‘Y’ appealed him with her nature of character.  But once undressed, both the women appeared to be same. They behaved alike on bed. Both aroused him.The same softness, bouncy pounds of skin, the thin line between the breasts and waist, the artistic curves of their hips. Sometimes the hugging arms. Other times, the resting shoulders. Both lusted to his soul but neither could reach that point. He switched his roles between the two women. He loved both and unloved them. The colorless chameleon, he was. Sometimes, a male chauvinist...

Sometimes the middle of the triangle disappeared. The man.  It was like, he was there but he was not there. And the triangle became a well defined straight line. A diminishing point. Blurred out, it was. And when the man vanished, X and Y lusted for each other. The truth bites bitter. Both never loved the man. The fonder they grew upon the man, the stronger they loved each other. Both flaunted to get the attention of each other through man as the center point. Sometimes they were second-self. Sometimes they were alter-egos. Sometimes they were bad omens. But most of the times, they were in love - may be lesbians or something similar to that sort.

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Behind those closed doors

A few moments ago, 
opening up her purple streaked umbrella, she got down from the bus. Local buses, that ran between her home and office, that passed by a market and the convent school and that carried her to and fro, except for today. And today, she got down in between, without picking up her son from his school or going to the vegetable market. Yes, she got in between. Passing by the bare withered trees, she entered into an unfamiliar avenue.  A dramatic busy street, where nobody startled, nobody cared. Among the hundreds walking across the street, she was one. Entering into the compound of apartment, she raised her head to see the top of the building, but she couldn’t. The rain drops still continued its fall. 

She stood for a while under the search board of residents list and took the elevator. On the third or fourth, there is the house of a man who taught piano classes to some..some of his friends, some of their children and so. She might have reached the fourth floor to find in a place where she can send her little son for his piano lessons. There was a security guard instructing some workers, standing near the floor that wouldn’t even spare a stare as the woman would walk in his house and they shut the door. 

And downstairs stood, the middle aged man with an eye on her, watching at her every move, trying to draw out her intentions. Why was a beautiful woman like her going alone to the house of a young man, and at this time?  In the rainy afternoon, when nobody is home. He had been made to believe that she was going to engage in something illicit. Something out of the so called morality, a man and woman must be expected to abide by. They are going to do something that would bring a shame to both and destroy two individuals, two families and an entire society. 

Torn between the thoughts of a middle aged man and the shut door of the apartment, we really do not know, why did she go there?  What goes on behind the shut door? Is she discussing on her son’s piano classes or is she doing something else with the man? Or is she the melody by which he played his piano ever?  May be…Man’s curiosity will never end. But sometimes unknowing is much better than to know. Because,  knowing is Human and unknowing is Divine…

Sunday, June 15, 2014

The Murder of the Murderer

This is what happens when,
A song of the murder
Becomes the murder of the murderer
It was a day before; I saw him and her,
Running on the streets,
Laughing out and screaming aloud,
He never forgot to kiss her hair,
While, it was playing with the breeze.
So alive it felt like and
They owned the world; I thought-
A love breaking all the clichés and rewriting epics

Then, there was an elegy of slowness
An elegy of fathomless infidelity.
Heard it, echoing from a distance
Wondering with her eyes like a child,
She asked him what it is of.
And he told her with a lovely smile,
"It is the song of our love
Somebody will write one day"

The vibrations in the thick air began to roar,
The cool breeze becoming wild storm
But only an apple fell down the tree.
Empty words sprung with no meaning,
Blue lights of the red streets,
Dead souls, stunned faces
Life torn apart by life,
The street that went pitiless,
Till the end of times.
A society that destroyed itself,
While daughters of Eve in search of the apple.
The humans repeated their mistakes again and again,
Yet, the world moved on.
And then, the love that made mountains
Began to crumble down back to the soil.

The doom, the terror, the blood.
Stabbed him! Yes, she stabbed him.
And bathed her hands in his blood,
She knew that he loved her more than anyone,
And also that he was ready to die for her.
So she did it again. Stabbed! 

She drowned him. Tied him up to her chest,
And drowned him in the flood of blood, a river.
Seconds that will never return;
Time inevitable, Existence’s shortness.
He was stabbed but she was dead.
And when he was dead,
She was already in the coffin,
Covered with in some impure whites,
Waiting for the Judgment.

She asked me, why am I dead?
And I told her in a low voice,
You were not you, but you were him.
You stabbed and left him wounds but death is yours,
He bleeds and the pain is yours.
She gave me a smile
And returned to her coffin
Covering up herself in some dirty whites.
Uttering his name in the quiet of its dark,

 And here at the end of all things,
To him, who got stabbed and not died,
I want to say,
She has left you but I am here.
And I love you so much more than her and
will write you a story
But before that,
Come to me, a second time
Upon words and promises,
Let’s own something
Others will never understand

And for a last time, lay with me on the ground
Under the trees where we made love,
And kiss me while you have tears still falling in your eyes
Hold me tight for one last time
Give me your ears to whisper
And I want to tell there a ‘sorry’
Because I am not me
I am her, the remains of her
The woman who is already in the coffin...

Thursday, March 6, 2014

Gut Feelings

When you feel all the happiness of the world inside a small group and know that there are still souls who can read volumes from your eyes, all you have to do is to hold on....

When you understand that the world contains liars, deceivers, hypocrites and the man, who doesn’t even utter your name in his sleep, don’t drive confused. Just hold on...

When you have twenty five poems in your mind, but the ink bottles are clear and all the papers of the world are burnt off, what would you do?? Do nothing. But hold on...

When you have secrets to brood over at 3.a.m and some drops of tears to fall down from your pretty eyes, just hold on...

When you have the appetite to drink two bottles of beer, several glasses of wine and still can look into their eyes, hold on....

When you have a sense to feel the presence of souls and spirits of other world in your one -member room, hold on.

When you have a half read novel in front of you with some unfolded clothes, unwashed coffee mugs and half-eaten snacks of yesterday - and still when you can see and sense the life inside your room, hold on....

When the phone doesn’t ring and letters aren’t written, don’t pack your bags and go back .Just stay and hold on... 

When you're the last one to leave the party, and you feel a feeling that feels like you'll never forget it, hold on....

When you have the guts to lie down upon the center of earth and feel her pulse, stay happy and hold on..
Others may think, you are dead. But you know, you are not....

Keep holding on, because gut feelings hit you just once...

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