What You Gave Me & What I Took

Once there was no sky to turn up to, no land to let the feet rest only if the sun had bothered enough to hide in the universe’s wilderness, had you step out of your misery evident not by your face, your present, your hate, your undulating hum sulking in the nappier serving of my voice trying to seep in, wherever it may proceed like a forest fire on the day of dooms, you should have necessarily walked a step of reason, a direction, a commitment and conviction. Whose rest days are over yet he’s in sleep, his deeds point to you bearing anger in his nerves.

His gifts were ample, rising and shining in the palace of achievements, corroded sometimes by the emptiness of time, hidden sometimes by the honourable treaties of friendships and stolen sometimes by deceit and mistrust. If this is about an explanation as to what led to what, who assumed they deserved better, or time, special it might be, comes but with flowers squished to maintain the aroma of a better life, those roads leading to destinations free and safe, then it might be safe to announce that it’s a life where there is an empty space, time and a soul on roam.

Search for a better sleep is on and so is to find a being whose rhythm matches yours, whose kindness is to dig deep into you and bring out the diamond, whose need is not to overshadow your everything or to demerit you of your pain you endured to be not what others have become, neither to give you hopes encoded to make you imitate your heart to a chicken waiting death, but make sense of the day and the nights, living or dead, thought or no thought, you or someone else. You gave me nothing. I dared my uneasiness to open up for you, a leading edge returning me commonality, betrayal, hopelessness, failure, sadness, and you despite of all the hurt I offered you.

World was kind, and misguided I was. I led to you in all my powers, entrusted upon you my tears shivering me down my nerves and bounced back only to realise that the world hasn’t ended, the tears haven’t dried and the story isn’t concluded. The rise is yet to be ensured to the beneficiaries of such a relation. Dug deep in the silence of the soul is an eye wide open and voice singing lore of today, this very time is when the two meet and talk endlessly till the dusk doesn’t die and the dawn never comes. Let both of them get dry from the rains of pains, let not a sight bear the sign of fear and let not them go away without a necessity to live. World was kind, and misguided I was. I led to you in all my powers, entrusted upon you my tears shivering me down my nerves and bounced back only to realise that the world hasn’t ended, the tears haven’t dried and the story isn’t concluded. The rise is yet to be ensured to the beneficiaries of such a relation.

You couldn’t even have spiced a thought, a merry girl spotted of being a lantern on the chair, designated to stand tall, be known, be congratulated to be an oasis in the mid deserts, you didn’t even wanted to, you never ever desired, you never even frowned but accepted the vitality of perking around jerks, you were never gifted, you never ever deserved, nor I had a divine force to keep lifting you above the water, but still you are here, still meaninglessly drowning into the shanties of your rotten heart, your eyes sulked black in darkness, your voice embleming pristine tears out of sheer pain, incapability, unwillingness, lovelessness and infinite failure. A thread seems to exist about what’s written is not an ass’s job to execute, nor meaningless it should go if returned without a reception, I’m hitting back on earth through the power of these words to those morons whom you made yourselves. I really don’t need to, nor do I wish for an ultimate reputation from your side. I want you to be clearing the mist, erase a horrendous past, be prepared to the unfairness the world is yet to offer you and simply read this message.

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Tik Tok

I’ve seen the clock struck the same hour every day. Saying it’s tickling all round the degrees and coming back and forth.

It creates a magical sound. Something like ‘Tik-Tok” or “Click-click”. It depicts the time is moving. Someone’s taking a birth, someone’s dying. Explain the process of getting closer to the happenings in the world every passing second, you can’t! We’re not supposed to.

So, even if it clocks not moving, time departure is not being depicted, or you’re careless enough to forget about time, time’s still on the move. Tik-Tok, Tik-Tok, can you hear it? No? Maybe you need to.

Tell me, how’s your life. That you can.

When Wreckage of the Past is Erased Not Built

It’s been a while when the world has shifted a century. Industrialisation, privatization and Foreign Direct Investment has let the country of India observe an unprecedented scale of development. But that development at the cost of natural resources, are we becoming more normal with this kind of exploitation? Well, actually we are!

I take the case of highways for now. From centuries these roads have been letting us reach places. Cities, towns, villages, you name it, the importance of roads are always uncalled for. With more people plying on these roads to reach destinations, it calls for expansions unless it’s an intention to create chaos.

What we see in a corrupted democracy is continuous delay in plan executions. Improper planning is also a first hand problem. No visible ‘work-in-progress’ indications to the commuters causes life threatening inconveniences. Uneven compensations for the acquired lands calls for life long protests. Merciless cutting of trees causes huge threat to environment. Delay in reaching destinations may cause someone lives.

Who cares?

An expansion project of just 50-60 kms may take years to complete. This means years of suffering. This means our country has failed to deliver to the taxpayers money, to the votes in the favour of the government and to the promises that utterly discouraged a dream of a better future. And just for 60 km road that actually is serving lakhs of people connecting two important cities and yes, which incidentally is also a national highway?

I’m being personal here. In my three years of regular commute on this road, I share millions of memories. Talking to the trees enroute to my college which occasionally would make the road look like a heavenly cave as they would usually entangle themselves with the trees on the either sides mark my memories of a beautiful past. Now, a four lane would make the summer travels merciless and winter travels bleak without drop of fog leaving the leaves making my travelling body shiver with cold. Now, newly built milestones would tell me that here were some relentless trees who were once martyred without a title for us humans to ply faster to reach nowhere.

Accepting

I’m on the different phase of the world,

And I truly believe that I’ve made it home.

I sense the breath inside me against the world,

I’m truly abducted from outside in a place called home.

I paint a true picture while keeping my eyes closed,

Hearing the tales of failure with both my ears closed.

Jumping and wailing and letting the world truly know,

A story of mine carefully curated if I truly know.

Trusting that truth shall deliver not but broken promises,

Waiting as long before I deliver my life before it’s dead.

Today I ain’t getting the answer forged against some promises,

I won’t get it even long after this soul is dead.

You Don’t See!

Whilst staring at a young lad uttering some words in his mouth, I could make he’s in a lip sync with some sort of derogatory music. Cute he may be, little of it he may understand out of the words, but a dismal truth had hit me hard; I don’t see what I ought to see, life.

In the chaos of things, we hardly get time to introspect. Occasionally, we ask for our review from the people around. I may have read a couple of effective books, but I don’t sway away from feeling the inertia that the break of life gives. It’s hard to realise the failure after continued efforts of doing what was obvious. With the play of words, I try to relate today’s quest with every day that comes and with anyone willing to lead, experiences. The paucity of ideas shallows down my upright approach. I still drive while I see the details a little less. The danger of losing out eventually takes greater shape.

I love these moments!

When it’s the lights out time, dimming the pace of the day and seeing the breath drowning into an unknown world, I infer each and every word of mine said and listened to as a gift of knowledge. I see my grin lightening up the dingy stage of life. I even listen the littered unheard words of the people wandering across the night sky looking for listeners! I deeply regret for the wrong that I do but nevertheless, it hits the chords right.

If time would have every answer to every confusion that exists, I feel undesirably arrogant in knowing one. It hurts when trees speak when you dare seek silence in the forests. I wonder what this air have for me, does that make me an avid interrogator? I don’t think so. But I feel as to why those souls have every unrespectable answers on their tips. They see my silent but they don’t see me wobbling which I admit I do. If every awkward answer in an awkward situation needs an awkward answer for an awkward people, I’m not up for the job. The best is always left unsaid.

I surrender to the veils that people wear. I say to myself I don’t see anything. I don’t wish to

A Beauty on the Side walk

Innocent but yet wild in answers. All the world is yet to praise this little soul hiding her spectacle onto her left. This as it seems isn’t a dream and isn’t yet to hold praise of holding one. All of the darkness have already faded which in the unexpected manaouvers have taken turns to inspire! 

Let’s begin! 

In the world of charms, outside my heart, I still don’t feel the breath seizing out the need of me. Every other day becomes a question with changing meanings. Who does pays heed to needless motivations, after all? In today’s mean world, who wants to remember the information that hurts? 

My adventure with the beauty begins at home. I aspire to inspire my wants to walk up. When the ultimate magic happens, I retreat to good technology that hurts my eyes and ultimately my brain cells. And the war goes on until I push the bed with my back with no more stuttering fingers. What I mean ‘beauty’ here is the usual life; a forgetful life. 

The burning light over the other end of shore plunders every hope of survival unless it doesn’t respond. So, practically it keeps a watch on us but it just keeps on staring. That light is what we need to have an answer to. This calls to find a meaning of another beauty. 

As I reiterate, ” Innocent it is, yet wild in answers”. I see her yawning towards my side in bewilderness, towing her legs a little more titled and face looking for an hideout from the outside world. And I sit calm reading the story with own lenses. Unsaid is the glimpse of the another time ahead, but I hear our words in perfect sync. I don’t answer and she forgets to question that’s what keeps the distance going. While I fail to admit what her guardians are upto? Or what if it’s just a blunder? Am I just playing foul? 

Let’s take the shot. I have no one else to share this word. I knew down and put a constant stare. She suddenly puts her wide eyes shut. It calm as only I hear her hair crawling down in the air for freedom. 

And then, I just stop. And do what I need to do. No bad intentions at all! 

Little Unfair

Long long time ago, in the winning world, a dreamer stepped out of the pond filled with happiness spilling the lores on the floor just like that. He had one thing to come out of, and to make the people believe that ‘it’ really exists! 

Smilingly​ he kept on going, the ashes made his feet burn, the sun kept tearing his head down and his heart sinking in the dust. Still he went on, to fill the list of his own; to find another happiness in town. His model of action had no failure, unknowingly he remained stiff against the world. Not doing out of someone’s saying or someone’s order but to fulfil his own self and to never question why did he actually stepped out…
One may say he’s the man, he may find something one day. One may say he’s hard man to get, he’s out of reach.
One may even affront to his mediocrity. 

At least one should have stood in the front on his, asking what’s he upto? One must have been surprised to realise what makes such a commitment go further than life, isn’t it? 

Lots of words in play, and his journey now stands still on the pavement of a known. He doesn’t hesitates to relate affinity in souls. He doesn’t fail to openly confess. Now what he begs on to know the other side of the story, to know what stands behind the door; what makes up curiosity take the breath out. It seems like it may set him free if he realizes. Chemically, the other world shall be answering. 

In the darker walks of life, when he shouts for where he came from, what journey he is on, and now where he paused to. Of the people who play, the lives of themselves as well as the others, what shall put an end to these everlasting strong moron beings? They have adequately learnt to adapt to the situation. 

He leaves a mark on the dying sun in an unfairer dusk playing games to end towards an everlasting tunnel of darkness. It shall be suffocating it seems, he thinks but no wonder if anyone won’t ever ask where did he went. 

What was his story

Seems a little unfair!