Write

Write something, anything. Is writing such a trivial matter. Can one write anything?

There she stood before me. So strong yet so delicate. The eyes smiling look into nothing, nothing at all. She looked beyond you into the emptiness inside. Her hair fallen all over her face. The darkness inviting into the mysteries of the world. The forehead so pure like a bridge between heaven and hell. With a movement of those dark orbs she could declare the fate of humans. A sudden upward moment declaring surprise, a downward moment announcing shyness. Those blood red lips so luscious, so near yet so far. The ultimate prize for a man's lifetime of crusade. a slight upward moment declaring sunshine, a downward twitch the end of humanity. When she smiled her teeth seemed to be what they were, the pearly gates of heaven.

The sun was shining bright. Not that it was summer, the winter was on decline and the sun was shining after a long time. The sudden warmth had brightened many a lives that day. As he walked down that empty footpath, he couldn't help singing. Suddenly he veered to the left and then back to his position and then to the right. He felt like dancing. The birds chirping around encouraged him along. He rotated around his position ending the step with his hands spread out and his face downwards The king 'Elvis' couldn't have don't it better. The smile kept spreading its tentacles around his face. he loved life. He in that moment forgave his enemies, reached out to heaven and beckoned hell along. His song got a bit louder, his steps a bit hasty, his smile wider. Love was in the air, and he was not immune to it. He remembered her, she was smiling. Ha, does life get any better. He moved left his home stared at him. Kept dancing on his way to his house humming the song. When suddenly a car came out of nowhere and hit him. As if life played in slow motion. He remembered being thrown up and his slow fall downwards. A drop of red fell into his eyes as he lay sprawled over the road. So, this was life, death at last A smile in between.His life flashed in front of his life. His mom, his father, his sister all as if stood in front of him, smiling. He raised his to try and touch them for the last time, a weak smile on his face. But the strain was too much, and with a sigh he ended his song.

Sparks

“Pathetic. Incredibly stupid. That’s what I think it is. This is incredibly pathetic. All of you are stupid, daft, nonsense. Idiots. A bunch of rotten pigs you are. I haven’t met a gathering of idiots in this school as rotten as you. The whole bunch of you is sickeningly rotten. None of you even try to study do you? Only one kid, Amit, here seems to be trying to study. He is the only one who gives me hope in this class. Rest of you are useless fools.”

The teacher paused taking in a breath before beginning to lambast the students below average performance once again. I sat as usual in the second bench in the middle row. My head hung low in acknowledgment of all the attention I had garnered. Being in the middle of the class ranks had been just perfect for me, this sudden rise to stardom left me speechless and feeling awkward. Life of obscurity, the absence of attention, had been my goal but this term everyone seemed to have failed miserably. Embarrassment overflew from me, as did the promise to never top again. As I came out of the mist of these emotions that I noticed the girls in the first two benches of the row left of me . There was she, the beauty that glittered in this winter morning. Ah, how many days I have wasted staring at her knowing very well that the looks will never be reciprocated. I know such things look daft, but alas love is kind of stupid. Being a nobody, had not helped either. Now as I looked at her I noticed her staring back and she was giggling pointing in my direction and from that corner I heard the word ‘Blush’. I had been blushing, I assure you, I didn’t know it though. This nightmare of displaying my emotions left me further embarrassed and perplexed. But as with any other day, the class ended and the gathering of idiots broke up for the recess. As I sat with my usual group of friends I noticed her still staring at me and whispering something to the girl next to her. I was sure they were talking about the blushing incident. And that sadly embarrassed me even more. I did what any other normal human would do; I stood up and just went away aghast that this moment when at last she noticed me would be so disappointing, so crushing.

The last class was games or P.T. period. The boys played cricket while the girls played basketball just next to the cricket ground. Batsman had hit the ball high. I ran under the ball to catch it and was just about to dive when I slipped into a puddle of mud and the ball fell right on me. Everyone laughed and she in that corner, in her heinous voice, laughed out the loudest I am sure. The wretchedness of the moment was too much to bear. All along the second half of the class day, I knew positively that she had been laughing at me, giggling like the stupid bitch she was. Making comments about me, the blush .To think I had been begging for attention from such a girl exasperated me. At that precise moment I knew I had to make her pay for it. The vengeance would be mine. I wanted to pick up the bat. I wanted to walk to her in utter silence. And when the distance was just right, hit her straight on the face with the wide side of the bat. As she fell, to knock her in the abdomen with the thinner edge of the bat. Then to continue smashing her face with the narrow handle of the bat. I wanted to hit her face as if it was golf ball. To stomp on that evil face, to leave her face battered beyond recognition. To go on thrashing the shamefaced bitch till she had no life to utter any other word against anyone ever. As the crowd looked on too shell shocked to react, I wanted to kill her to death right then. I wish I hadn’t.

Cleanin the Closet Series - III

Ther'es a silence now... the free flow of last few years has taken its toll... u grow up, u fade away.... the transition from the peak to the depths,... the realization of decay that is what gnaws at our soul every day.... run away??... where to?? or to fight but to fight whom, when there aint no enemy... anyways following is the stuff i wrote in college....


And the summer days are gone... and the winters coming out.....and i feel alone i miss something somehow... the nights have passed alone.... then the dawn returns... and i sit on the couch crying like i did last night.... and the summer days are gone.....the winds blow, the silence has won... the sun rises and begins the dawn... but theres no light now in my life.... now that the brightness is all gone.... i know i never told how..... much i loved u and do..... how much i miss u now.... and the paints shall fade away and the wall shall crumble down..... but i shall always be here.... waiting for u to come around.... u know wasnt always so bad.... i gave it all that i had... the coffers empty now...and the actor takes his bow.... i hope u know i do.... i hope u know i love you.... i hope so many things.... i wish i could do all of it again.... dont just leave me here alone.... a dark room where the light once shown...

Pyaasa - Shayari

Jab hum chale to saaya bhi apna na saath de, jab tum chalo zameen chale asman chale
jab hum rukein sath ruke sham e bekasi, jab tum ruko bahar ruke chandni ruke.

GHam is kadar badhe ke mein ghbra ke pi gaya,is dil ki bebasi pe taras kha ke pi gaya
Thukra raha tha mujhko badi der se jahan, mein aaj sab jahan ko thukra ke pi gaya


Yeh hanste hue fool yeh mehka hua gulshan,
yeh rang aur noor mein doobi hui rahen
yeh foolon ka rass peke machalte hue bhanvre
mein dun bhi to kya dun tumhein ae shauk nazaron
le de kar mere paas kuch aansun hai kuch aanhein

Tragical History OF Doctor Faustus

Been planning of publishing for a long time. Well at last here it is, lines from Tragical History of Doctor Faustus by CHristopher Marlowe...

All things that move between the quiet poles
Shall be at my command: emperors and kings
Are but obeyed in their several provinces

Was this the face that launched a thousand ships
And burnt the topless towers of Ilium.
Sweet Helen make me immortal with a kiss (Kisses Helen)
Her lips suck forth my soul! See where it flies!
Come Helen come, give me my soul again
Here will I dwell, for heaven is in these lips,
And all is dross that is not Helen.

O, thou art fairer than the evening air
Clad in the beauty of thousand stars;

Stand still, you ever moving sphere of heaven,
That time may cease, and midnight never come:
Fair nature’s eye, rise, rise again and make
Perpetual day; or let this hour be but
A year, a month, a week, a natural day
That Faustus may repent and save his soul.

Let Faustus live in hell a thousand years
A hundred thousand years, and at last be sav’d!
O, no end is limited to damn’d souls.

The stars move still, time reins, the clock will strike,
The devil will come and Faustus must be dam’d
O, I’ll leap up to my God! – Who pulls me down?
See, see, where Christ’s blood streams in the firmament.

Terminat Hora Diem
Terminat Auctor Opus.
(The hour ends the day
The author ends his work.)

A Day int the LIfe of the Prince

He wept all alone in the corner of his magnificent castle. The room was very neatly arranged and obviously with good taste. Some of the best pieces of work had been bought by him from Christie’s. People never realized nor did they care about who bought them or where they went. But he had all of them arranged in their frames aesthetically in this room. This was his private lounge. It was perpetually dark, he seemed to love darkness. He found it more natural. He very often said “You see light is artificial, there has to something to provide you with light but darkness well even God could not create it. It was always there just waiting for the light to go out. You could remove the light but you could not remove the dark, it would always sneak in”. The place was so silent, so beautiful that he always came to contemplate and occasionally cry in this room.

His name was Lucifer, though most people better knew him as Satan or by his title The Prince of Darkness. And no, his favorite number was not 666, it was 2. There was no particular reason for this; it was just arbitrarily his favorite number. And no, he didn’t have horns or a tail, though he wore them when he felt like going old school with his newer entries. Ruling a sad place like hell had worn him down. He wanted a break; he wanted to stay for a few days, away from this misery, this silence. It overwhlemed him.He hadn't always been so alone. Once the closest to God, he now lay forsaken in his kingdom. To have been amongst the chosen few of Lord himself and then to live in such a cold place, broke him. Sometimes, even after so many years, he dreamt he was back with his father in heaven, tucked near him, listening to a bed time story. He pondered when in his life had he become the villain of those tales.He still cried in his dreams over the beauty he was missing. He hadn't always been so alone. God himself had kept him company many a times when he felt alone, and now in this giant mansion he felt like a brick himself. It seemed he was there just because the mason had nothing better to put there. This facade of evilness was eroding the core of his heart, which was not completely dark yet. He wanted to run away but where he had no clue. He had no friends, no relatives he could go to. The dark clouds were covering the sun, but somehow a few sunrays still gleamed from that core.

Heaven was no longer as merciful as it had been. This had happened ever since God had appointed Peter to be the guardian of those pearly gates. He lighted a cigarette. He loved smoking when he was all alone, it calmed him,thought he never did so in public. He didn’t want people to die prematurely and not get their complete life duration to live. He wanted to give people every second of their lives so that they could do a good deed, so that they could repent and not have to come to such a poignant place. The smoke cleared his head, sobered him down. He had left drinking ever since his wife had left him. Though he had tried to hold on to her on virtue of his being the sole authority of this inferno, he had let her go realizing all the powers of hell were not enough to please a women when she did not love you, for hell hath no fury like a woman scorn’d. Ah! The happy moments he had with his wife still lingered fresh in his mind, her sweet smell, and her rosy lips all felt so delightful in such a place. He wished he had not been so busy back then with all that job of re-arranging everything in hell. How he wished she could be here. That someone cared for him was all he longed for in this inferno.

A knock on the door woke him up from his day dreaming, and Mephisto walked in announcing that his daily speech was due in 15 minutes. The routine speech about repentance, to give the poor souls one more chance to make it to heaven, was one of the most interesting times of his daily fixture.He could act the way he was meant to be, a lone soul with a wosh to help others. He stood up from his armchair with a sigh and walked out of the room, with a sly smile on his face for that was what the crowd expected from him and as was very well known in private circles he always kept what he promised. He gently closed the door of the room leaving behind him his feelings for he knew they were safely locked in. No one cared, and he knew he wasn’t worth being cared about.

Forlorn collection of I's

I have always wished to talk to someone late at night i.e. around 4 and 4:30am. I mean its not like i haven't survived the nights till now but I think talking to sum one else is far more interesting than talking to yourself. i mean talking to sum one else is far more mentally stimulating, u might get to hear some thing new.

I talk to myself all the time. i discuss stuff, debate a lot with myself. But then it limits the opposition. I am in a constant race with myself to one up myself. Since i am the both sides of the debate, its basically me vs me and no matter what i win. I find points against myself and vice-versa when i should be trying to come across new horizons at all new level itself. the problem is i haven't come across any other person who challenges me in the manner I want them to. May be its just plain loneliness and all the despair it entails. A paradigm, a paradox, a quote something, anything that i can appreciate and, depreciate myself on not having thought of it earlier. I don't speak much publicly but there are a lot of stuff i would like to point out to people, a lot i would like to make them understand but i just don't want to take upon myself the burden of educating the masses. i don't care, that's my problem i don't care enough about my problems, about myself or anything for that matter.

I am a procrastinator, no may be not, procrastinator only delays plans, i don't even plan. i just go to sleep rather than sit up and plan. this is the kind of stuff i do when i should be calling sum one up and asking them to talk to me, i write a bull shit piece of keyboard strokes. i wish i could run away far away from everywhere, but then i wouldn't have anyone to talk to even there.

i don't want to walk into a crowd, i hate crowds. A group of people depresses me , i want to run away. I hate being a part of the mob. i want to stand out, be sum one, not a part of everyone. i don't like to talk out publicly I'll rather wait for a person to come to the corner and chit chat with him rather than approach him when he's in the crowd. I don't usually write this kind of weird stuff, because it exposes me. I want people to play blind with me, if they knew me, they'd screw me. I know no one reads this, so am posting it to read it few months from now and laugh on it.

A path out of nowhere leading to nowhere

I just saw two movies completely world apart. Woody Allen's classic 'Annie Hall' and Robert Redford's latest offering 'Lions for lambs'. Both are good movies nothing awesome but decent acting fine directorial cuts etc. What this represented was the variety that these moving photographs can provide. The wide spectrum they covered, was all too obvious. But the question that has bothered me since my 9th grade and does so now concerns more with music.

So we all know there are 7 'sur' as we call it hindi music. These sur can be arranged and rearranged in a million ways. The problem is what happens when all the possible combination have been used. What then. DO we stop making new music? Do we make a new sur or do we remix the old ones? I hate remixes by the way. If the original song was good enough to deserve a remix then why do we need the remixes anyways. This paradox is quite interesting to say the least. I for one am wholeheartedly against remixes. I like originality. The beauty of the fact that sumone thought of such a beautiful creation before me enthralls me, captures my imagination, challenges me to innovate, do something before sumone else does. What happens when all the possible story lines have been used. Are there as many emotions possible in a human being so as to feed the hungry mouth of an avid reader. What when all combination of emotions have been tread upon? Where lies the new path? Who comes to the rescue? An American patrol team?( if u have seen the latter movie you'll understand where this came from). Thank god i won't be alive then but the question is so disturbing that it can't just be overlooked.

So what should we do, stop making new music or decrease the rate at which we make music to give more combination to the future genreations than we will today? Do we try to repress our imaginations our thoughts to give a better future. Its like the case with environmentalist. Do we stop living our live to the full to let our children live their lives to the full? Do we become the scape goats for the future. Do we compromise to prevent them from compromising? Which way do we go? What path do we take? Why is the right path always represented as the less trodden upon? Why can't the majority be right? Why the sudden onslaught of such stupid question? Why doesnt this kid go back to sleep? Why does this 21 yr old human being call himself a kid? why the...? So many questions so little time. So few holidays, even less answers and fewer people who even care to answer. Why is everyone nowadays like a pandora box full of questions? Where are the answers? Inside ourselves? when shall they open? who has the key? why werent the answers provided in a booklet the moment we were born.

Damned be thou, O spring

The summer days are gone.
The reasons i was born
are no more, a cold darkness
left, future is a dark abyss.

It's all the same now,
Not long before i take my final bow.
This is not the way it was meant to be.
This wasn't meant to be my reality.

Long ago i used to try,
many years ago i used to cry.
The coldness inside suffocates me,
like i am where i was not meant to be,

My character will die out
but the drama will play.
no matter how i shout now,
no matter what i say.

the third act all morose
hold it now, for i know not where it goes.
the fourth arrives in all its darkness
and misery, the sadness
suffocates me.

Days will come, days will pass by
I'll sit here all alone under the moonlight
and no matter how i try
I'll watch you go like a forsaken dream.

The spring shall arrive again
and I'll shall wait here
I know u wont remember
but i no longer care.