Me....

With a ray of dawn
That pierces through the fog
I search for myself
The Mystique

In a call of the wild
That spoils the night
I listen inquiring for me
The mystery

In every drop that drenches the sky
I picture myself
To collect the shards
A broken dream

On a tender leaf
Appeasing the eye
I see my face
A languid dew

A sky that reflects my emotions
A wind that spreads my fragrance
A river that flows my thought
A pebble for my innocence

A quest never inquired
A journey never begun
An end in inception
A seminal finale
A paradox

A traveler with no destination
A nomad with no trail
A hitchhiker on the road of destiny
A child of fate

A face of the millions
A voice in the din
A ripple in the lake
A wave on sand

Freedom does not bind me
Chains never free me
Happiness has no pursuit
Sorrow will not hurt me

Switching roles at will
Never permanent
Ephemeral
Evanescent

I walk formless
A nameless identity
A faceless recognition
A muted music

A life that I live
A survival I practice
I live at the inhale
I die when I exhale

And then I wake to search again
A search for no quarry
A search for survival
A search
The survival

Only the Good die Young.....Billy Joel

Only the Good die Young…A song I had heard many times was blaring from my speakers. The room was empty…no I was there…and there was…yes there was Sumit. My best buddy since college. He was burning a CD, some music, Ghazals. I listened to Ghazals a lot, the soulfully rendered ones. There was tea on the table, it was piping hot, the tea was for us, Amma had made it for us. Sumit loved tea, he was sipping satisfied and looking at my computer, playing UT, it was raining outside, the monsoon, the earthy smell of rain. I could smell it now also. I was looking out of the window, rains made me nostalgic all the time. Nostalgia, a horizon of the present and the past, a horizon, an apparent rendezvous, the music blarred…it was a remix probably, it had some huge thumps and a single monotone beep, weird, even Billy Joel was remixed, like that Westlife remix.

I was alone, Sumit must have left for his home. I sneaked into my Dad’s closet and had a peg of his scotch. It was lovely, in the weather. A loud crash…I broke the bottle. I ran out of the closet and latched myself inside the room acted as if nothing happened. I was shivering… there was some noise like those old televisions made when there was nothing being played, there was some static also…but where was the television. I was shivering... wait…Why am I scared? Is time playing spoilsport? The horizon, am I at the horizon?

It was raining, Savi was standing alone, in the rain, under the bus shelter. I had the letter, I had to give it to her. It was a love letter. I loved her. I loved her very much. It was my last chance, tomorrow I might lose her. I gave her the letter, she smiled and put it in her bag, Sumit didn’t write his name on his letter to Savi. The auto passed us splashing water on us, we laughed. Savi sounded good when she laughed, a playful tinker of a laughter, but there was a bell ringing throughout the laughter.

It was raining, I was at Café, Savi was there with me, holding my hand, caressing it like she always did, we orderd coffee, her favorite, the song was blaring. I was watching the horizon, a dark line, an illusion. An illusion, her illusion, my love her reality, my love my illusion. I didn’t love her enough, I couldn’t hear what I was saying, there was a long monotone, a bell. I stood up and walked away, angrily, she was staring at me, I walked away, into the rain, the rain soaking me. I felt strangely happy.

It was raining, Savi was asleep, I was there to let her sleep, she was dead, it was raining on her burial. I was watching the horizon, the rendezvous. Her appointment with death, her rendezvous with poison

It was raining. I was on the bike. Sumit, my best friend was there too. He was riding pillion. I could not hear the horn of the lorry behind me. I could only hear a long beep. A long mononic beep. I saw the horizon beyond the highway. A crash. I was pn the road. There was a pain in my right hand. Sumit lay splattered with blood on the sidewalk, the bottle of vodka in my pocket was broken.

A long beep. A monotone. My ears were aching now, the horizon, now appeared white, there was a white hue all over, a haze…a White haze…a noise…a novel called White noise…..

It was raining. I could hear the noise of the rain on the window sill. The horizon, I couldn’t see it. It was dark.

The monotone was now not so clear, the thumping was louder, it was getting irritiating, the monotone was intermittent, it was disturbing me. It was disturbing my horizon, my horizon, my line, it was red…

The doctors tried hard not to end it…but it was my last dream….
Only the good die young…Billy Joel…..

Gratitude

She came closer
When the world met its nemesis
In the sweet hands of her lover
She lived

She winked her tear away
A tear of acknowledgement
A tear of acquittal
To the fate she blamed till date

She smiled angelic
A smile to erase the past
To free her destiny
From the thrall of the bygones

She let him hold her
To dance in defiance
Of the norms that she bad broken
The taboo now surpassed

She let him touch her
When his hand was her placebo
When his touch orchestrated
Her myriad of emotions

She let him have her
Have in being, in soul and mind
When the ransom was to command
When the order was to own

With eyes welled with tears
And a quiver of lips
With a hand shivering
In the warmth of her being
He found strength to utter

Thank You