Free Fall

Arms spread apart, not out of satisfaction. More of an inner apprehension. The far-away lights of a mall sparkle in the starlit horizon. Right atop the tank on the terrace of my building, I stand. The slight chill in the air so very soothes me. A sweatshirt isn’t enough to keep the cold at bay. And somehow it seems just so apt. The numbness just comes out. Disappointments galore. A sudden breeze shakes me. The shield seems broken. I feel so light. And so high. Wish I could fly away. Float and away. The ground stands six stories beneath me. Bending down forward, I notice it again. An innate urge to jump is overshadowed by a maturity. That’s not gonna be of any use. Anymore.

Rewind two years back. Things were so very different. And thank God they were. And that’s why am here today. Was such a fool. Was such an idealist. Was always thinking of the good, disregarding the bad, always rebuking the self for thinking of the worst. Reality bites. It gnashes. It burns. It tears apart. Nothing seems to be going right. A person usually improves with time. Am a modern Benjamin Button except that I don’t grow old with time. But I deteriorate. When I started college, was a 8 pointer. Have been stuttering along since. Got stuck up on being a 6 pointer now. And I have no intentions on stopping the downslide. Have I lost my brains? Has my level dropped? Have I lost my IQ? Don’t I have the capability to do it anymore? Frankly, I don’t know the answers.

I’ve gotten way too used to this. Now. The fall. A bad one. Ground beneath cracking up. Running hither forth for cover and haven to rest my burnt and ravaged soul. And then rising again. Except I don’t see the light at the end of the tunnel anymore. Days and months of patience is wearing off. It’s a dead end. And a feeling of not having attained the terminal velocity is stinging. It’s a free fall. I don’t have a parachute or a sheet of polymers over me to help me stem my velocity. And I feel, am gonna crash soon. The sun appeared closer, initially. Then clouds covered my view. Now the clouds have cleared. And I can see the horizon and the hell beneath. I am crashing. Crashing down. Straight into the heart of the soul-less. Am I coming back? Can I rise again? Or is the end? I have faith. I have hope. These two sensations don’t seem to ride off my back. But now, they are barely clutching on to me. Further and on, I’ll lose them too. And I won’t give up without a fight. I know that better than myself. The hard ground, I’m coming. I can see you. I know, I’ll be fractured and broken. But I won’t be dead. Here I am. I am almost there. And you better think how you are gonna cope up against me on a free fall …

Dew Drops On A Grass Blade

Lonely, amidst the dark

I hear the silent rustle of the leaves.

I stare at the dim outline of the twigs.

The glaring eyes of the night-prowler,

Shine through, gleaming of aura.

The moonlight shimmers,

A distant howl accentuating the tone.

A sharp silhouette walking across the terrain.

And a squeaky silence emerging again.

A drop trickles from atop,

Awakening my friends.

There’s no gush, no spurt, no rush.

Benign calm settled.

Satisfied heavens beckoning.

Then, the silent rays of light,

Emerging, and calling,

For the pre-destined end.

As yet another day sets in,

We look forward to our demise,

Sooner than earlier,

And, yet, gleaming with pride,

Are we, my friends and I.

‘cause we are mere dew-drops on a grass blade .

P.S. :- The title of the poem was suggested as blog-topic by a class mate...

GOD, IT'S KILLING ME...

The lights are out. A tiny moon sparks at me from the upper left corner of the window. It looks so nice, doesn’t it? A shimmering circle of white abode. How beautiful it actually looks on a clear starlit sky. Seems just like the whitish scar on the dark horizon face. Scars. Remnants of injuries, of infest, of the gone by.

I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed it. Maybe you have. If u look at the moon closely, on a full moon day. Well closely as far as you can get. There’s this dark blackish form which seems to be inside the moon. You stare at it. You might just notice it has the shape of a rabbit. Or maybe you’ll say my imagination’s just running wild. When I was very small, something like four or five, I read this story about how a rabbit was sent to the moon and stayed there, and even now you can see that. I happened to be too fascinated by this story then. And somehow could make out the shadowy silhouette of this rabbit then. And was singularly happy. And now as I lie, it just suddenly came back to me. And even amidst the half crescent could make out a part of that rabbit!

Weird how amazingly something can bring back a lot. And suddenly feeling low. Have been having this feeling of not achieving anything really. I know am capable of so much. I know I ‘wasted’ a precious time, but I prefer not to have it called ’wasted’. There’s this tendency to think that I can do that before doing this thing. It can be immensely motivating. But somehow you falter. Just don’t play to your potential. You know you can be miles better. You see all around. The world celebrates a success. Someone else’s. When it could well have been yours. You don’t despair. You say there’s a next time. And you join in the celebrations. And you feel so elated. You feel the true warmth and joy basking in someone else’s happiness. You soak it in. Its heavenly, trust me. And then the next chance presents itself. You start off. But again falter. You didn’t repeat that old mistake. But some fleeting mistake ruins it. You again join in celebrations, smiling along. And then you get another chance. This time you don’t falter. But alas, this time destiny plays its hand. Your destiny itself falters. Your luck doesn’t happen. No “Luck by chance”. You console yourself. You tell your mind, this time I had it right and somehow it wasn’t meant this time. I’ll get another chance. And by chance, opportunity presents itself, yet again. And. It doesn’t happen. Things don’t work out in your favour. This time, you start losing the plot. You run out of reasons to console yourself. To remind yourself. To hope, again. You know you can do it. But in the end you can’t. The world sees by the results, and they see you can’t. You see by the ability, not by the consequences. But they take a toll on your mind. You can’t take losing. You know it’s not that you don’t know what it’s to lose. You know only loss can lead to success. You know only loss can make one realize the true essence and sweetness of winning. Of victory. It’s just- this time, it’s not just one more time. It’s yet one more time. Time seems to be running out. Life seems to be taking a bend. You don’t know what lies ahead. Was a time when you knew you could face it. But not anymore. You turn your back on this, preparing for one final assault. Maybe you can finally do it. But a thought lingers and whimpers along like a squirrel at the back of your mind, Maybe you can’t. And maybe you can. And maybe you can’t.

FED- I can feel what’s going through you. Sounds sheepish but true. Maybe i have never played tennis ever in my life. But, Maybe I have been through this too. And mental anguish can really be a pain. “ GOD, IT’S KILLING ME …”

P.S.: The title of this post (and the last quote as well) has been inspired by Federer and his one line on breaking down after his loss to Rafa…