Sunday, September 17, 2017

Vale in agony...

Eyes of both were closed.  He sat holding her, like a stem holding the rose, behind her.  She sat leaning over him, her back over his chest.  It was drizzling outside with mild wind rattling the windows. “Don’t you want to feel it?” she asked. He said “I want…” There eyes remained closed for the reality might get into them.  She pulled his hand and placed it over her bare abdomen. “Your gift…” she said.  Her skin was soft, fresh and cold. He surfed over her abdomen up and down. The softness killed him internally.  Not the first time he felt the softness but it always feels like the first time. He moved his body to and fro to cradle her still with his hand over her abdomen. “Don't sway… you will miss it…” she said. He surfed all over her abdomen but he still missed it.  She grabbed his hands and moved slowly, slowly and slowly.  The skin felt even softer than he ever felt. She stopped moving his hands at moment, at a particular point. “Could you…?” She asked.  He didn’t reply.  He was deep in trance to make him one with her body and soul. He was in deep tranquillity; an inner peace.  His fast beating heart slowed down, the mind was out of fear and was clear.  He felt it. He felt the pulse. He felt the heartbeat; the second heart she carried inside her. The trance was deeper now.  He could imagine how the face would be, how the hands and legs would be.  He could imagine how she would smile – yeah he wanted it to be a girl. He could imagine… he could imagine…

“Could you?” she asked.  “I am with her…” he continued “my girl… my blood and soul…” words stumbled out from his mouth. “…don't say that” she stopped him.  The next hour went in silence. She adjusted herself in his chest, turned to kiss him in his neck. He replied with a smooch over her cheeks, lips and neck and…

His hands were still caressing his offspring.  She grabbed his hand again and tried to move it away.  He hesitated. “It’s time…” He took his hands away.

She got up and so him.  She looked into his eyes and said “this one hour is all I could give you…” He didn’t say anything. “You know… she has to go…” she said touching her abdomen. Tears rolled down her cheeks.  He hugged her and cried.  “Life is all mystery, puzzle…” she said.  “No… we made it so” He replied.

In a week his dream was dissolved. His blood was dissolved in her blood. 


Crazy creation!

Saturday, August 12, 2017

In The Rain...

He stood watching the rain from his French window. There was no sun, no moon, and no stars.  It was the birth of the night with the fumes of clouds all around has hidden the sky. He stood watching the rain, drop by drop.  He then decided to step out into the down pour, to taste the elixir from the heaven.  She stood there with her arms open to the world in the down pour.  He walked to her from behind, stood close to her leaving no space for the air to pass through.  Water dilutes all the adhesives but between them the rain acted as an adhesive.  The chillness around froze them together and the warmth of their bodies played the roles of magnet, attracting opposite poles.  He ran his nose over her hair; there was a unique fragrance she holds. He buried his head in her hair in the confusion whether the fragrance is hers’ or the rains’ or the blend of the both.  She didn’t utter a word, neither he.  The rain slowed down to drizzles.  She stood leaning back on him with her eyes closed. A drop of rain ran from her forehead and stopped on the tip of her nose.  The light from the street lamp lit the rain drop on the nose tip to illuminate it. Drenched in the rain and lulled by the breeze the adhesive was stronger now. She turned and hugged him.  She could hear his heart beat.  She was safer in his arms, safe and warm.  He could feel her on his skin; he could feel her in his heart and soul.  He wished the rain doesn’t stops; he wished they both could stand still and melt in the rain to vanish in to the sky.  There was no acoustic of words, there is any silence either; they both spoke with each other in the language of love. It darkened.  The moon rose from the horizon and tried to peep between the clouds.  But, as if to safeguard the both of them from the chillness of the moon the clouds gathered again and hid them from the moon.  It was raining heavily now; more adhesives now.  There was a sudden thunder; clouds making love, the lightening lit the place bright.  He backed down and opened his eyes. 

The rain was there, the clouds were there, and her fragrance was still in his body.  She disappeared.  He stood still in the rain wanting to melt and escape from his body to find her; to find his own soul. 

Tuesday, August 1, 2017

Turning to you...

When I am not sure where to go, I turn to you.  I turn the pages of my memory, jump into the pond of nostalgia and drown in the days we walked together. I talk to you still because the only one who could understand me in this planet is you; sad that I am not the one for you.  It has been a decade since I saw you when my eyes are opened but you are there for me to stop the flowing tears when my eyes are closed. Not this life is meant for us to live together, smile together, and walk together. Never your smell left my skin; the only effervescent smell that makes me gets thorough all the nasty smell around me.  When I run down to abyss, the only hope to get out is your image. The aroma you left in my body, the change you made in my aura with your hug keeps me alive.  The best thing that has happened in my life was being with you and the worst is being alone without you.  Somewhere you were there in my heart in deep slumber and when I am in need of you, you wake up and give me your shoulders.  It is a pain to live without you.  I decided to search you in someone else at least bits and pieces of you. The search ends up in abyss pushing me down to the darkest place of life. And again you wake up from your slumber in my heart and walk me a decade back to the same road; the same road where we walked together hand in hand. The same umbrella you avoided once helped us to warm up later when we walked in rain. The kiss you left in the air and stuck in my skin scorches me when I was in need of one. Not one day skips without your memory.  Few said it is that memory keeping me away from life; but only I know that is the only thing keeping me alive. The solitary days we spent thinking of the days we are going to spent along, the promises I made, the promises you made, sleepless nights, seamless hugs, killing kisses were all those I kept secretly in my brain and open it when I feel like falling from the sky to the land. Never had you let me cry till you held me in your arms. I was just an infant in your hands, slept on your bosom, and felt the warm of love.  It makes me cry though it has happened a decade before. I call it happy tears because I was happy and it makes me happy even now.  Since I left you, the solitary days looked different.  I was used to be alone along with you.  I still didn’t get used to be in solitude without you. I waited for the loneliness to leave me; but it didn’t because it knows I will be left alone if it leaves me.  It is the only companion after you, like an old bookmark in the book.  Thanks for being with me both of you.

Tuesday, July 25, 2017

Not you...

O Dear! It is not you I wish to see, not your body, not your eyes, not your vine walking hips.  How quizzical it is to say I searched around to see you but you are not the one I wanted to see.  How malevolent it is to say that I walked behind you to see you but you are not the one I followed. To embrace your flying hair is a part of my dream but it is not you who I dreamed of. Perplexing! Like the love for the light but the hate for the warmth of the Sun, it is the warmth of keeping you around but the heat of the sun is not something to be with. You are not the Sun of my light to hate; you are not the heat to scorch my fate. You are the needle to make a hole in my heart to vent out the fumes of the burning soul. It is a search for the soul mate; may be you, may be not you but the search is always on.

The image of you is what I wanted to see; the image of you as I had in my heart.  Not every time the image in my heart matches with the real; reality is different most of the time. Those fingers that muddled with mine were that something I was searching for.  The eyes that stopped my lashes to kiss each other were that something I was looking for.  The sway of your hips that made my eyes sleep was something that made me insomniac. O dear! It is not you. The ‘you’ in my heart is different from you.

The 'You' - She is an heir of Ishtar, the kiss of the sun light on the dew drop, the blue of the sky and the sea, the chilling crescent moon and the diamond star.  O dear! It is not you.

She appeared in glittering golden wardrobe, with the walk of the sway of a vine. Holding a cup of water in hand, she blessed it with her twin wands, her lips, to make it an elixir that makes any mortal an immortal. Looking at her sweating forehead I blew my breath to chill her skin.  But I do want not those little diamond drops on her forehead to disappear.  Angels sweat; that was news for me. For the music in my mind a bunch of her hairs danced over her cheeks; hiding her beauty a little.  She draped it behind her ear.  With her touch those bunch of hairs lied behind her ear mesmerized.

In competition with the butterflies, she winked her eye lashes and thus those butterflies sat on her cheeks thinking there were two already for honey.  I am not innocent to think like a butterfly but all I see is an inverted sun-rise when she closes her eyes and an upside down sun-set when she opens.


O dear! It is certainly not you I want to see.

Sunday, July 2, 2017

Who is a writer?


I am just thinking what are all my writings were and are.  And only I know those are forgotten memories, jotted allegories, sleepless nights, dreamed days, long trodden roads, mystified sins, encrypted visions, love, lust, broken relationships, unsatisfied wants, jealous, crime, pride and lack of words.  There is no reason I write, not even one, but something pulls me towards that eternal pen, wear the hat of a writer and get drenched in the falls of words.

It is all about beauty to arrange many words in order to form a sentence with no mistakes and read it out to make some sense. But that is not writing is all about, at least up to me. Mistakes are acceptable, juggled words are manageable, errors in spelling are changeable, but what makes a word or a sentence or paragraph as a writing is what the writer puts in to it. It is the special ingredient that makes the food delicious. It is the drop of poison that makes the entire body die, it is a piece of his heart, be it broken or not, that a writer adds makes it a writing.

Every word is a pain, every word is a pleasure, those are neither be created not be destroyed like energy. They just exist. Words chooses its writer, the story choose its teller.  The beauty lies in the words of the beholder.  Only the most experienced one with the life can be a writer, words are blood oozing from the scars; happens only to a writer.

If it takes hundred colors to paint a picture, it takes only one for a writer for art is words in colors and writing is colors in words.  Everything is a fiction, for a writer, everything is a fantasy be it real or virtual. He puts in the character he lives with and he lives with the character he framed.  Next to God if somebody can change the characteristics of somebody is a writer.  He changes them to have peace with them.  The character could be killed mercilessly when he no more could handle; you cannot punish the writer.

A writer is not a wild animal which gets satisfied with its stomach full.  He is cruel than those, crueler than any hunter, wilder than a man eater. Given him the poison he changes it to elixir if it tastes good for him; present him the elixir that tastes bitter he changes it to water.  A writer never completes his work, when he feels that something he wrote is complete then he will be no more a writer.


Perplexity is his attitude; solitude is his mannerism, to see the unthinkable is his style.  A writer sees the world with his third eye, the all-seeing-eye.

Monday, June 26, 2017

Enlightenment


The more I know,
The more I become silent.
Not because I am learnt, but
My mind becomes more violent.

I talk to my mind, and
Make it calm and quite.
No, there is no way to make it quite,
There is only one way, silent and fight.

All that happens are chain reactions,
There is no broken links, no broken bonds.
The Minds wants all the things it likes,
Though there are spells but we have only broken wands.

Only the body believes that there is difference,
Between one flesh and other, one skin and another.
It is far beyond our brain to realize, that
We all are of one body together.

It is better to be ignorant, better to be enlightened,
It is worse to be in between like living with a shrew.
On the verge of enlightenment, everything is false, and
At the same time everything looks to be true.

To cross the verge, may be years it takes,
May be minutes is enough.
But till that sea is crossed, like travelling
In the forest of bushes it leaves many gouges.

When it is realized, like a wiped glass from dust,
Everything is clear and bright.
There will exist no real or reality, no false or flakiness;
All that exist is true and right.



Sunday, June 25, 2017

Image of the Moon...

Image courtesy : google images / http://www.mdjunction.com

…she dragged him by his hands.  He stopped and turned to see her eyes that were waiting for him to look at her.  “Where are you running?” she asked with little anger in her voice and with little expectation in her eyes.  “I… I am just going…” his words stumbled. “Do I know you? Or do you know me? Have we ever spoken?” she asked.  “No” he replied. “Did I do something to hurt you are frighten you?” she questioned.  “Not absolutely…” he replied with his still stumbling words. “Then why the… why do you walk away wherever you see me or whenever I come across you? Do I look like a demon to you?” I was a little harangue. He stood still. He could answer not though he wants to answer.  He stood as if he never exists, as if he has not been questioned. She left her hand knowing he will not answer.  She let him free, knowing it is no use in holding him back and waiting for an answer.

He came back to reality, jumped down from the moon, woke up from the dream induced anesthesia.  He looked at her in the between her eyebrows. A tiny vermilion stuck like a raising sun between the mountains.  “…because” he said “I do not want to know you”. That was pretty confusing reply which made her think for a while and make her next statement “could you please explain”.  “There is no explanation… I don't want to know anything about you… because…” his words stumbled again. “Because…?” she asked. “You are not ‘what-you-are’ for me… a princess… a humble woman… an exceptional warrior… and incarnation of Ishtar” he replied in a husky tone.

“Not a word of you I understand…” she said.  “Nobody could…” he said and continued “it has to be felt in heart. You have to listen to the beats of the heart and translate and then decipher to know its meaning. Otherwise it is just like any other sound you hear” he said. “Tell me more… tell me what I should do…” she replied.  “I have no intension in explaining it to anybody, including you… but since you have asked I think I have to… I feel like my Ishtar has come down to ask for an explanation”.  “I don't understand your Ishtar-thing… tell me if you are interested to… else… it’s up to you” she said.  “I am willing to… only if you come with me…” He said.  Thinking for a minute she said okay without asking where and when.  “Come…” he said and walked out and she followed him without questions.

“…listen to me without questions.  I could tell you only in the way I know… I am not sure if you could understand it, rightly, or not.” He said without turning to her.  She nodded. “…few things could not get into our hearts with eyes opened. So…”
“Okay, I will close my eyes…” she said.

“…I request if you could tie this handkerchief on to your eyes…” he gave her his white cotton handkerchief. She closed her eyes and opened her arms signalling ‘go ahead’.  He wrapped her eyes with that piece of cotton and said “never have I thought I would blind a goddesses for a moment” she blushed but hid it behind her lips and said “what do you mean…” in her fake angry voice. “Nothing, come lets go…” he replied.

The elevator travelled up and after half of a minute it stopped. He guided her out.  “Now we have to walk a little up in the stairs… do you mind if I hold your hands” he asked for her hands and she gave.  When the stairs ended and the floor below them became flat to walk a breeze engulfed her.  She stood mesmerized. Both of them walked a few more steps hand in hand.  Hand-in-hand, the mesmerizing breeze made them forgot that he was holding her hand. “Sit down here… and be comfortable and relaxed before I could blabber” he said.  Both of them sat down on the floor and the breeze continue to flow.

“I’m all ears…” she said.

“…it is tough to start with.  I am good at putting things in paper rather in voice.  I will try my best.
“When I saw you after years, you were in your maroon wardrobe that of a princess. The dress peculiarly made for you, exposing little of your waist, embedded with flickering stones all over the dress. You had neatly and naturally carved eye brows with a vermillion in between the brows just like what I see now.  Matching your maroon wardrobe, a tiny nose pin stood at your left side of the nose with a tiny ruby stone in it. Just like a star below the crescent moon you had twinkling dropping ear rings in diamond.  Dropping from your forehead was a jewel with an emerald embedded in it, over your bosom slept a priceless necklace in diamond stuck in gold. Above all the God has decorated you with an enchanting smile of yours.  It was about to become dark and lamps started to burn themselves.  It was not night yet, end of the horizon still had little light which could compete not with you. We stood in a temple. Like an epitome of humbleness you stood looking down at the earth and my eyes stuck to you.  You walked a little making music with you golden anklet. I wondered why your hip chain is not making any sound; I then realized that you swayed it with your hip to make it sleep. I came near you; I felt fragrance of jasmine spreading romance in air and perfuming your well combed hair.

“It became dark and the lamps glowing around the temple in dark made you glow like a diamond over the black cloth. You are of the same thin and height to my shoulders. I asked you to look at me but you shook your head. I kneeled with my one leg before you to give you a ring that I brought for you. When I showed it to you, you gave your hand to me and I put it in you ring finger. You looked in to my eyes and looked away blushing.  Your anklet sang the same song.  You stepped back two steps and said ‘please get up’.  I got up and called you to come with me. You followed me and once we came out of the temple I told you to close your eyes and you did.  After a little I stopped you and you asked me ‘why’. I said that the path is not for rose palms and I scooped you in my arms. You succumbed in my arms with your eyes closed. I walked to the place where I wanted to take you. I released you from my arms and asked you to open your eyes.  It was a garden made especially for you on the shore of the divine river. A chilled breeze engulfed us and you leaned back on me.  There is no other lamp in garden other than you; from behind I lifted your face by your chin to look at the garden above us.  It was a full moon day and the sky was clear filled with millions of stars; just like the flowers in garden and a shining moon like you. ‘I didn’t see you, I didn’t see anything matching you in the sky’ you said and I replied ‘it might be behind the moon, holding the beauty in its arms’ I said holding her by arms.
         
“We sat there with your shoulders on my chest and my hands on your hips counting the beads of your hip chain. You scratched my chest with thousand lines of poetry with your nails and finished it with a kiss.”

He stopped.  Silence prevailed for a minute. She didn’t talk anything. “Untie the kerchief” he said. Slowly she removed the cotton cloth from her eyes but didn’t open her eyes.  “Open your eyes” he said.  She opened her eyes and it was night, they both were in the terrace of the building fifteen floors above. At a good distance they could see the sea shore and a full moon rising from the horizon. “There you are, in a minute or two the moon will enter the garden and stand among the blossomed stars.”  She didn’t talk. She sat still looking at moon and the stars.

“I am a writer” he continued “I could not pick a girl for my story from heaven so I picked you from the earth.  I put myself in the place of my hero only then I could write the love of him to his beloved.  I picked you as my heroin” he said. “But what is the point of avoiding me…” she asked. “I don't know you, I don't know whether you are soft or hard, humble or egoistic, brave or a coward, but you are soft like a blooming rose and brave like scorching Sun in my story, your eyes talk the language of love.  I don't want to break that image of you with the original image that you carry.”  She didn’t reply.

“All that I told you were a part of my story I was writing… and…” he stopped.  She looked at him as if telling him to continue “I never thought something similar to that will happen today though I have not scooped you physically in my arms. You are soft and I know you are brave” He said and looked at the sky. “The moon entered the garden” she said and continued “but there is somebody else standing behind the moon, I am afraid there is no place for you.” she said as he could see the moon light entering the tiny diamond at the edge of her eyes.
         

          “I know…” he continued “but the moon is always a moon. I could hold a large mirror in front of me to see its reflection and stand behind it.” The moon entered deep inside the garden of stars and for a minute a row of clouds hid the moon. “Before the moon reappears from the cloud leave from this place and go home safely” he said. “Come let’s go” she said.  “No, I cannot come now, I want to talk with this moon today, and it was an enchanting night today with a real and image of the moon” she nodded and started walking. “I will talk with the image of the moon and will come down after sometime” he said.  She stopped for a second and left the place.