Saturday, May 30, 2009
There was this message i had received once which went like: "If You found you had 24 hours to live what would you do? I'd spend 23 hours with you, and spent the last one searching for someone who'd take care of you..."
Maybe that message could speak appreciatively for lovers, bosom pals. But for a anybody, what would he do, and thats what i have to prophesise about.I'll go back in time again. I once had a chat with TR, soon after Dasvidaniya was released. We told each other about our own 10 things which we we'd like to see done before leaving for the next level.
Now, I'd really liked to finish those desires to completion. But as I reach the last day of my LIFE, I'd filled with sheer nostalgia and memories, wistfully sometimes, and the earning for freedom which I'd soon get immersed in.
It wouldn't be possible to call all friends, as many of them i have. I'd probably gather a large piece of paper, write a long letter, and name all the people who have come into my life, as much as i can remember. I'd fold it neatly and keep it on the bedside table.
I'd ask mom and dad to spend the whole day with me, but only after I'd return. I'd go the nearby post box and post a letter to my beloved, with whom I am no longer in contact. That would be my LAST EVER ATTEMPT TOWARDS YOU...IN THIS LIFE. And taking the opportunity, I'd collect a custom ordered Sari for mom(those garments are eternal favourites of mom) and the collage (bearing reminiscences of me and my life) which I'd have given for lamination.
I'd return home and have lunch with dad and mom(Chilli Chicken and Mutton Chap cooked by mom in the menu). And I'd surprise them with my gifts and fool around basically and joke out loud till all of us are literally rolling on the floor with laughter.I'd then call up a few of my treasured persons on this world, and chat just like that, without any reference or appraisal about the Last Day. I'd take my guitar and play just like that, yet again. I expect by then i can play some licks :P
And then all of a sudden I'd find the clock ticking at 11:38:45 P.M. I'd realize I got another few precious minutes. I'd go to my bedroom and steal a kiss from mom n dad and bid them good night, no goodbye, and I'd depart to my room. To go as I had come. Alone. The loneliness can be sometimes so fulfilling. I'd lie on my back, arms and legs outstretched in the form of the PENTACLE, in a final attempt to be perfect as much as i can be ever. I'd close my eyes for eternity and Goodbye ... Adios ... Ciao ... Dasvidaniya ...
P.S.:- A feeble attempt to imagine and pen down thoughts, and of a really bad literal quality...
P.S.:- This is a scheduled post.
P.S.:- I pass this tag along to 11 terrific bloggers,(in no particular order) who make me feel, "whoa! this is called creativity and expression" every single time i read their posts.
The Pink Orchid
No Mute Spectator
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Misused, she lay in a corner. The dark alley was replete with dirt. And polythenes. And drums. And barrels. And torn clothes, of her, shred all around. As she recovered her sense, her hand travelled to her temple, which throbbed wildly reminding her about her being. All of a sudden she felt a chill. As she browsed her hand over breast, she felt her nipples and realized her naked figure. It came back to her. The woeful thrusts and pain. The forcefulness and wildness of the rogues, the bastards! She felt and remembered everything, except she didn't have the guts to open her eyes. What if they were still there? What if they were just sitting by the wayside waiting to pounce on her while she came back to her senses?
With shaking eyelids and drooped in pain, she opened her left eye. Gory dark stared back at her. Far away something bright was there. It was hazy. She was having trouble adjusting to the black. she opened both her eyes. It must be the street lamp. As she sat up, and looked at herself, a new shudder passed through her. she shivered all the way down to the bone. She felt shame, guilt, atrociously. Empty streets greeted her.
Looking all around, well aware of peeks, she picked up shrapnels of her dress, and covered her bare essentials. Dragging herself along, with a shiver keeping her rooted sometimes. A mere shadow on a lighted window or foot-steps on the stone pathway alerted her and she pryfully stepped into the darkness hiding herself.
She was almost there now. She could see the lights. She could also hear Mozart. It was Cain's favourite. She reached the steps. She could now read the nameplate stuck rigidly on the door. It read" Cain & ishshah " . She loved to be called "ishshah". She was Cain's and only Cain's ishshah. She loved it when he took her hands and pressed them into his own, just like rose petals embraced the anthers within. Even if she had been torn apart by those rogues. Her Cain would see to it that she be avenged. She adored it when he took her in his arms and swivelled around with her in embrace to the ballad tunes. She lost herself in him when he made his moves on her and made love to her. A coach on its way on the street with ringing bells drew her back. She didn't have the strength nor the courage to knock. She pushed the door and went inside, apprehensively.
Cain and a woman were on the floor. In close intimacy. Cain stared dumbfounded at her, and the woman screamed," You said you had her finished and the business was over!". He quietened her, "ishshah, just be quiet!"
She was stunned. Hysterically she howled and wailed and yelled," She's just my namesake!" and collapsed on to the floor, her insides tearing apart, like flesh being torn out of a fractured bone...
P.S.:- For most of you who'll be ignorant of the word, "ishshah", it means "woman" in hebrew. In the Bible(old testament) it was mentioned about Cain and ishshah. For more information you can contact http://www.answersingenesis.org/articles/nab/who-was-cains-wife
P.S.:- This is a scheduled post
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Those terrific pangs hit me.
The vicious fangs curled around me in jealousy.
A thrash and a slap on a very much surrendered cheek didn't change the vision.
You and me, sitting in a corner, it was yesterday.
Even now, its the same.
Only, its not me anymore, its a namesake.
For you, maybe its better.
For me never been better.
Happiness reigns prime in you.
Loveliness reigns godliness in you.
Truthfulness stares from me in you.
Alas! I was never in you!
Alas! I was in you!
Alas! I withered away in you!
Alas! I died in you!
Alas! I live in you!
I love you.
P.S. This is a scheduled post
Monday, May 18, 2009
The last time I met you
Emotions hard to place.
Would it be the last time
When I’d come face to face.
I’ve been waiting for this day
It burned me no end.
Feeders cherishing the bleed.
As I go from red to white.
I’ve been waiting, oh so long,
When you’d be caught stealing that was already lost.
The gamble of wait over.
Has destination taken the bend
Or is it the beginning of the end?
I’m happy and sad.
I’m gay and bright.
The truth stays in my face.
I go in search of light.
Nothing would arouse
Nothing would denounce
The game played it hand of patience
As I played the cards of penance.
Was a solitary that rose to bind
My arms, wide open and waiting
Withstood the crush of the grind.
Teeth clenched and fist wrenched
With a dash of scream, it made a dent.
The day was over
So was the night.
I was waiting…waiting for this fight…
Friday, May 15, 2009
Friday, May 08, 2009
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
The sunlight was streaming in. the dust highlighted. In a corner lying senseless was a figure. Ruffled hair. Brown eyes half-open. Beaten virtually into pulp, the oozing blood still dark crimson, the floor was a pool. the door slightly ajar, with a push a child walked in. Stricken by the scene he gasped in horror. Taking the unconscious man in his lap, the small child slapped him hard. Slowly he opened his eyes. And he kept staring. Wondering if he was in heaven or on earth. Somehow the face seemed all too familiar. The small boy too somehow with curious eyes looked on and on at the disheveled face. Taking it in all…
The man was nursed back to health by the small child’s mother, and maybe even more by the child himself. With lustrous eyes, he had caught the fascination of the now-in-crutches man. They spent the whole day together, playing soccer, fishing trouts, throwing discs. His mother never seemed to object, and even if she did, the man somehow seemed to silence her with just a wave of his hand. He simply noticed his mother’s seemingly compressed attitude. They spent a whole year together before the man left them. The young child, then only seven, missed him, bawling through his weekends. His mother sometimes consoled him, but not without restrain.
Steadily the young child grew older and stronger. Soon he left behind those childhood memories, now basking in his academics. And he was a state champ boxer too. The girls used to fall head over heels for him. He was getting used to this life. He was the rising star in high school. A bright future with a brilliant mind in place, Could there be anything that could destroy his impassively perfect life? Guess not! Sometimes when things seem too perfect, it’s just that things will start to go out of hand soon…
One fine morning when the sky was never blue-er and the breeze never calmer, the wind was knocked out of him. His mother, who had almost single-handedly brought him up, died of a sudden stroke. He saw black everywhere. Big time into studies, he hadn’t had the opportunity to earn his own bread thereby being financially dependent on his mother. On top of that he had fallen in love and was in a compelling situation whence he had to marry his love at the earliest. He didn’t have a source of income and this fact weighed heavily on him.
He married her. Amidst all the turmoil he couldn’t leave her and his to be due offspring. But he had a problem. A-hell-of-a-problem. He didn’t have any financial background and he was short of money. First the furniture went, then the jewelry. And then came the time to broker a deal for the house. A place where he had so many memories. And also he couldn’t bear to look at his wife’s face and the hardships they were going through. Casting aside his emotional attachments and ignoring his wife’s pleas for restrain, he made the deal. In the end even this did not suffice.
The child was born. It was a son. He held him aloft in his arms and as the early morning rays of the sun cast a narrow glance on the white face, it radiated a glow which looked forever so innocent. That sparkle made his day.
It was afternoon on the same day. In a dark alley sitting cross-legged was a man in torn attire. Surrounding him were three well built men, who looked more like ruffians. They handed him six notes apiece, and in return they received a couple of packets of white powder each. And then they left. And then the sitting man left too, departing for the maternity home. En route he bought a few things from the market, including food and a toy for the new born.
He entered the cabin. The mother cried out in joy, on seeing her husband gone for so long, and immediately called out to the newborn, telling him his dad had come. The child seemed to understand. He responded with a cry, so typical of a day-old boy. The father took him in his arms and caressed him. And then he went back.
The child was now a year old. His father seemed to recollect his own childhood. And he didn’t want his own child to go through the same pain again. But he had to go. If he stayed in town, his family couldn’t even afford a day’s meal. He had to go seek his fortune elsewhere. Leaving behind his sweetheart and his dear son behind. With a heavy heart he set out.
He made his luck. The last 4 years had been brilliant financially for him. He returned home. He hoped for a welcome with a tinge of spring in his steps. He put his steps in the house, which he called his own, but where he hadn’t been for so long. The house seemed to be in tatters. It was dark everywhere. The corridors seemed to be empty. He drew a blank, perplexed. As soon as he was to step out, he observed a poster on the wall. It spelled “WANTED” in bold and below it a snapshot of himself. He realized his pursuits had gotten to his home before him. And the truth dawned on him.
Shaking his head as soon as he stepped out, a shot whizzed past him, rattling the glass panes. His instincts helped him salvage himself from the barrage of shots that followed. In a flash, his colt was out, now and then hurtling against the cops. He was fit and agile as ever. As he made sure that his pursuers was gone, he attempted to get up and found it terribly painful to do so. He had been shot at without even realizing it. With one last fling with the colt, he killed the lawman.
Nowhere to go, he proceeded to the barn, where he had spent many a day in his younger days. Dust and filth strewn everywhere. He couldn’t bear it any longer. Settling down against a haystack he lay down.
It was dawn.The sunlight was streaming in, the dust highlighted. In a corner lying senseless was a figure. Ruffled hair. Brown eyes half-open. The oozing blood still dark crimson, the floor was a pool. The door slightly ajar, with a push a child walked in. Stricken by the scene he gasped in horror. Taking the unconscious man in his lap, the small child slapped him hard. Slowly he opened his eyes. And he kept staring. Somehow the face seemed all too familiar. And then it hit him.
The young child was his, now five. And he recollected that day in his childhood, when the same thing had happened. It’s often said, when a man is about to breathe his last, lots of truths sink in, and there’s a certain helplessness to it. Same happened with him. He screamed out, “Reborn !” and withered into a lifeless body, still in the child’s lap.
Monday, May 04, 2009
This is something I had intended to post yesterday, but with due gratitude to BSNL and their internet service I couldn’t.
It was pretty hot, maybe it would be an understatement. Humid weather in Kolkata is never anything else. Last week was horrendous, the pitiful heat overwhelming. As rain forecasts were announced, I heard a groan from all around. No not a groan, a sigh would be more apt. My semesters are on and I had been to this friend’s place for a session of joint study. When with a huge gust, the doors and windows clattered, maybe it seemed to be a relief. But no, this CESC plays its truant, and we were left in the middle of a power cut. Eventually when the lights came back on again, we noticed the darkened sky just a shade darker.
It was evening by now. And it was darker. I was returning home. Around 7:30. I was pedaling down the road, when there was yet another power cut and amazingly the first showers came and landed right in front of me, behind me, on me. It was dark everywhere. I basically couldn’t see a thing in front me while cycling. And around me a drizzle. With the smell of freshly wet mud. I live at this place of the E.M.Bypass. and there are a few ‘jheel-s’ (big ponds or water bodies) around. And adjacent running parallel to the road are the rail tracks. Amidst that magical setting if raindrops falling on my head, with a loud roar, a local train whooshed by, as I kept looking sideways, never forgetting to pedal my way upfront. The light of the bogies fell on those ‘jheel-s’ and the reflections of the running by, immersed in hazy droplets, with ripples abound. It was tranquil. It was magical. I just stopped to admire. Magic wasn’t done yet. All of a sudden, thunders cracked the sky, and I witnessed something of a lightening. The dark sky abound all around endlessly. Just close your eyes and imagine the setting. Now from a bit to your right a lightning flashes right down to the end of the horizon in front of you. The phenomena from exactly the same angle to your left with branches . And completing the troika right down your nose, straight down the horizon, making the scene picture perfect. To me atleast. Nature’s amazingly pure and mysterical. If I had a cam, I’d love to take that shot. Gosh, I didn’t have one!
And as I returned soaking wet, I exulted in my good fortune to have completed a hattrick of drowning myself in the first showers of the nor’westers third time running…