And So Shall He Become...

What they said:

"Bastard!” Ex-love, exclaiming about her great escape.

"I hope you will Die now. No one will be happier than me", Friend, SMS-ing the source of his glee.

"What-a-Pervert”, Faceless stranger, after her inevitable discovery online.

"Selfish cold blooded Git", the Crowd, defining an entire life in a simple sentence.

What he heard:

Naked voices!

Of her and the 12 hours

"For the unborn twins and the invisible me"

"Here starts the wild ride" I say, as she glistens at me in complete silence with a smile. That silence was dragging towards no end as we sit close to each other in the reverie of our past few months. What's ahead that night, both of us didn't know. And both of us agreed not to discuss but to experience those last 12 hours, which is going to cap the short journey we were passing together in each other's life. May be her eyes will shine once again tonight. May be her words might drag and drool more than what they have achieved before. May be the enchantress in her will emerge once again tonight, to challenge my mortality. I don’t know. But, that really isn't matter now. What that matters is the night that I have in my hands to spend with her. And her.

Allow me to speak about her. Of what she is and what she was. Of what she is not and what she was not. To me and to me. But do I know all? I am not so sure. Is it all true that I think is true, I am not so sure. But she's all what my recent past has been filled with. The words that are scattered around my ears, to talk. The whispers that has spread all over me, to dream. The fights and tears that has filled  my brain cells, to deceive. The confusions, the complications , the laughters, to love. She's all whom I had.

"I was never yours" she says with the same smile. I agree. And I was not hers. I know. But we are each other's. That's what her cold fingers tell me when it touches me with the intent to hurt, as she used to say. There is no romance like no romance. But then, is this romance?

Allow me to speak about her hands. Of which is cold. So cold, that it pierces through my nerves and tells me something that only I can understand. But again there are her lips which used to say the opposite.  My brain goes into a overdrive to give excuses to hold those beautiful hands every time. But then now, today being a strange day, she offers her hand for me to read. She knows that I know nuts in palmistry. I know that she knows that. But now her hands are in my possession on her wish against reason. I feel the chillness of her hand breaking my nerves slowly... and steadily. What does she feels in mine?

"You are going to have 21 husbands" I say as she erupts into laughter. I go on with the illegitimate twins she is going to have by someone other than those twenty one. She stops laughing. I laugh. She looks away for a while. I didn't. I know exactly what she was thinking. Knowing that I was looking at her, she turns towards me. I laugh again. She raises her hand and beats me lazily. I fake pain. She smiles. And there, I lose myself again.

Allow me to speak about her smile. That weaves the silken touch inside me, beyond the tears that stares the galaxy on those lonely nights I used to have. What do I see in that smile along with the small shift in the eyebrows and a piercing look that gets passed through my silent barriers. Do I have to wait a life time to find the right words to describe them?

"So finally here we are…" I announce to mark the start of the occasion as the bus start towards the end of the twelve hours which is going to bind us together. Did I see a twinkle of excitement in her eyes about what's ahead? Or am I dreaming as usual? She is speaking continuously. This is one of those odd occasions. But strangely I am not listening. She stops, realizing my eyes. Then the silence comes to steal the space in between us as it usually does. We disappear from each other’s sight for a glimmer. She looks outside the bus' window. I look at my feet.

This feeling is so wet. Unlike the night which is slipping past us.

Allow me to speak about this night. The night which has been built for a month to bring us together and then split us apart. It is as dark as any other night. Surprisingly, not so cold. It doesn't hold any signs of being a special one but it is in its hurrying best to finish off soon and take us to the point where I loath to reach. But then here is the night which I so much wanted for past one month or so. The night that is slipping thick and fast between our words and silences. This is not the time for regrets. This is not the time for assumptions. And definitely, this is not the time for an elegy. She, me and the night. The time is right in front of us to sit together and cherish it, until its very last second that's going to announce her departure. This is the time for us, the twelve hours.

There is more to this night than the yaks and laughs and laughs and yaks. There is more to the words that we speak, the silences we cherish. I feel the softness of her arm against mine as I get snatched by the memories. The memories that made all the attempts to fling us apart in the past few months but failed. I daze to see the point where we are now. I yearned for this? I will never know. There are no traces of regrets in her face now and rightly so.

This is all her. This night, these words, the silences, the smiles, the jokes, the laughs, these twelve hours and...me. These all are made for her and made of her. I tell this to her. She laughs. I remain unsure. I am here but not here. She knows where she is. She sees nothing. I see no one else. We remain much closer to each other as the night progress. I breathe in her as we balance ourselves, after all who else is there? The hundreds of people who are around us doesn't hold an iota of importance. Words we speak are irrelevant. The confusions, assumptions, complications are even more so. May be this night, so far, has taught us more about each other, but for what we will not know. I laugh and taunt at the every chance that passes by much to her smiles and fake resentment.

Night grows older as we talk about anything and everything. Night has grown into me and her. It had succeeded in its attempt to make us feel cold but not tired. My jacket was enough to stop her shivers. I see her inside my jacket and feel colder. She tries her all to make me comfortable in that uncomfortable chair. She feels sorry for making me stay awake all night. I pull out from her for a second, to ask myself whether is it tough. Then I look at her to mutter "Let this night stretch, go beyond the limits, and expand itself forever. You would find me sitting here, in this chair, talking with you, like the world has no tomorrow to it…" She looks at me ever so deeply. I dare not to ask her how she feels. But I do. She replies in fewer words than I did.

"I don't know" she says wryly. Remorseless, I know, I know. She stays calm. We see each other for a while. There are things written over both our faces that both of us dare not to ask. I know her words from her thoughts. Her eyes betray her as much as my actions betray me. We know and we don't know. Our attempts to reason, to find meanings, to know answers will take us nowhere. We agreed to stay away from questions that are irrelevant and relevant, long ago. Who is she? Who am I? This night is not more than she and I, then what care she or I.

But there has to be an end. For our night, for our twelve hours, for everything. The morning that I so despise to come, has to come. I realize that when the hazy daylight comes behind me to tell the night is over. She is still there in front of me, but will not be for long. The moment to meet the end of the twelve hours and our journey together is fast approaching.

Allow me to tell about the last few minutes of one of the most coveted twelve hours of my life. The twelve hours that juxtaposed us, our destinies, our affection and our love, for those twelve hours. The twelve hours that we sat together and tasted like a red wine. The twelve hours that is in its dying minutes. I deserted poignancy few hours back. Time is not for that. Then for what? I’ll never know.

There are times, moments, seconds that you dare to search for the meaning of things you do, to soothe yourself by knowing that its futility served some purpose. But seldom you succeed. This time wasn't different for me either. I stand there and watch her shake my hands and walk away from me, carrying our past, the night and the twelve hours. There is not much difference to the day and the night. The day doesn't act as a reminder for the night before. Nothing separates them both except for the fact- that she was there with me, she will not be after few seconds.

I stand there with a motionless stupor, watch her walk away in a slow pace, which discounts my pain of her departure. I see through the hazy sunlight, the moment when I spoke with her for the first time. I see the nights, fights, smiles and tears that brought us ever close to each other. I see her eyes. I see her smiles. I see her hands that drained all my life’s grief into zilch. I see nothing and I see everything. I see the life's futility as it engulfs me with its vengeful thirst against reason. And then I see her stop, turn back towards me and say – "I’ll miss you!"

Yes! I am not hers and she is not mine. But we are each others. Forever!

That Sinking Feeling...

...is funny!

I lie in this dirty bed in this messed up place for past one hour. Eyes firmly planted on the fan above, trying to count the rotations for some reason and fail. Series of distorted images and events and thoughts dances in front of my eyes without any connection, that takes my life to a toss –up and down and down and up and down… and down… and drown…and drown…

I look at this glass in front of me. The dangling liquid dances inside my eyes. It takes less than a second for us to become one. I blaze within, as we flow together kissing all over my nerves. I could feel the electricity in the air. I move my hands hazily like wings in an attempt to melt in the thin smoke that has surrounded me. The giggles and the music are dying deep inside my ears and I feel nothing. Bliss…

I’ve sold up my soul, long back. I live against reason. I act upon justifications to what I wouldn’t get convinced. I smile without honesty. I hear no one. I see nothing. The damage has been done. There’s no repair to it. I live the consequences. Happily.

When was that I was I? Where was it that I lived? I dreamt I’ll suffer less for that I loved goodness? But then what is good? Was I virtuous? Kind? I have fallen into the trap of my big fat lies? Lies. They never stop coming, do they? Was my confidence laid in those lies? Love, light, memories and more... are just deeds? Not more? Are these are just my mind’s workings? My figment of imagination? As I see the things unfold as they are, it seems there’s no truth –whatsoever-against me, with me.

Sometimes I imagine too much that I start to believe that I am in another world. I attempt to kill my ignorance which splits me into pieces and kills me in turn. Those lies have become my life. Now all has started to appear the same. The shriek, my scar, the boredom, the stray dog on the road side, the applause, the soft-chilly lips, the unpicked shirt, that slap on my face, the used napkin in the dustbin, the sticky tear drops on my finger tips all appears to have the same face. Bliss…

I swim through the shiny liquid as it continues to challenge my mortality. It claws me in its hands as I crave for the bank. I whirl against the waves as it tries to engulf the last drop of my soul with a vengeful thirst. I see my hands drop down; head drown as it sees through my eyes. All the objects around are shining with glee. Shine that blinds me with no mercy. I close my eyes slowly.

And then the mariachi group starts singing in my ears. Slowly, steadily, softly. "You wanted to fly without wings, you wanted to touch the sky, you wanted too many things, and you wanted to play with fire".

I could feel my heart heavy. I stand up and search for my reflection in the mirror. I see the red eyes, messed up hair; the face that I am so used to, for so many years looks so different these days. I brush away the desire to break the mirror down into pieces. I see deep into those eyes. I feel like a drop of dried up vomit on the window sill. And strangely, I laugh out loud.

This is funny, this feeling.

The Clockwork Orange

“…has the appearance of an organism lovely with color and juice, but is in fact only a clockwork toy to be wound up by God or the Devil; or the almighty state.”

Or simply.

“A Clockwork orange refers to a mechanically responsive human.”  

[Anthony Burgess]

Transcend.

Stand. Speak.

Act greater than God.

Get into the brain cells of

each and everyone out there.

Transfix.

You be them.

Let them be you.

Conquer.

Rule.

Then, wake up. 

‘You what, an effin’ Alexander?’

Hey,

Did he win the whole world?

For a change though,

let us be real.

Let our objectives be on earth.

Let us hope for

a good cup of tea for a start.

Ah wait! Before that…

let us hope to be the first one

in toilet.

A crowded place is where we live.

A group of strangers

from places we’ve never seen,

speak languages we never knew 

is with whom we live.

The odor of the nights left behind all over,

the attempts to run the past night off

and to start the different  day with same old shit,
the strangers who roam in front of you…
Is there any trace of their dreams in their faces?

Is there any trace of your dreams in your face?

Find yourself in the mirror.

Tell me what you are searching in it for.

The sad story,

that ends in a failed mission.

Will you ever find what you are looking for?

First of all, tell me,

Do you know what you are looking for?

Pull yourself.

Wear your masquerade of the day.

Get on to the safe hands of clock.

Race against the time.

Take a wild ride.

Time against the race.

Search for you in the strangers you see.

Learn and forget -

The eternal truth behind the dog’s tail.

The person whom you are talking to,

Do you like him?

Is it necessary that you like him?

Huh, Is it even necessary that it is him?

He seems though listening to you carefully.

But the words you speak,

Will you listen to those carefully?

Perhaps not.

Get praised for what you are not.

Be scared.

Very scared to show what you are,

Not to what not.

See those who all with you

for that, and..

smile.

Howl for the times that you’ve not met

for whom you really are.

March on.

The lost chances.

The unused smiles.

The missed trains.

The dried up tears.

Blame yourself

for there is no second world.

There’s only one,

This one.

And you are all alone,

the crying clown…

Unknown.

[**Paragraph Lost into oblivion**]

Watch the day pass you by

as yesterday and tomorrow.

Watch the dusk fill in front

of your eyes.

Find joy in the dark,the wind and the solitude.

Undress the feelings.

Stand without the masquerades.

Face the moments that made you

Cherish and sick.

Blissful and gloomy.

Smart and foolish.

Or hey wait…

Do you have the guts for them?

Close your eyes.

Hide behind the slumber.

From the questions,

that chases you all your life.

Get succumbed into the vacuum.

Go behind the smoke that’s

going to engulf you tonight.

Like last night

and the night before.

Transcend.

Ice-Breaker

When you were standing on the edge of a four story building, when you were all alone with just the darkness around you, when wind blows like a mad horse on your face, when you were trying to figure out something beyond the sky through the tear-filled eyes... what exactly will be going through your mind?...

Well, exactly at the same kind of above described situation last night, I thought “what if I jump from here, right now?”…

Something inside me was begging me to do just that. It was just tempting me to close the eyes and jump with hands wide open. Like a free bird. Like the whole world is under your feet for a second, breaking all the shackles in a magical moment. Feel the air. Feel the darkness. Feel the taste of infinity. Feel the joy of autonomy. And then, go deep, deep, deep down towards the earth. Kiss it goodbye.

You know me. You have definitely seen me. Somewhere around a corner of your life. May be on the other side of an ever busy road. May be at your office. May be among the laughing gang around you. May be in your bed lying next to you. May be… in your mirror.

I am not the-chosen-one by God, if there is one, to send some message to this filth-filled world.
I am not any special one to make your blood pump to its maximum limit.
And certainly, I am not the greatest since the sliced bread.

Don’t you think I’ve made it a bit easy for you now?

Grown up with the dreams of being the next big thing that mutters all over the brain cells. Happily sketching the plans to win the whole world with a powerful smile, a match winning stroke, an award winning profile… And then to wake up late to learn the fact that these are never going to happen,I am one of the hundred faces that pass you by, daily.

Yes sir! I am one of those all singing all dancing craps of the world.

Pausing for a moment and looking back at my stupid little life gives me irk down somewhere around my heart. The mistakes I did, the wrong options I chose which lead me down the lane to the point where I am now. Doing shits that I never wanted to do, living a life that was never in my script…The ever-changing masquerades taking its toll and losing myself again and again to the vortex of time…

I wonder, what might have gone through my mind though, while walking on that solitary road which leads to my home from my tuition, fifteen years back. That was one of the most enjoyable moments of my life. No one around, like a free bird, dissolved in the thin cold air, head completely synced with the sky counting stars…

Man oh! Man oh! Man oh! Man. How I wish to go back to those days now! Just in a flash of a second, with a single stroke of a magical wand. Start my life all over again right from the scratch, and orchestrate it the way I wanted it to go. But life is never going to be a written script for anyone, is it?

...breaking all the shackles in a magical moment, Feel the air. Feel the darkness. Feel the taste of infinity. Feel the joy of autonomy. And then, go deep, deep, deep down…

And never does it have a perfect ending.

Caution: An unhinged mind at work

If you are reading this, then I think it’s my utmost responsibility to warn you against it. Every second you read of this useless space is another second off your life. You’ve read it right! The words scattered here are spilled out of the oblivion. They were picked and grouped into form a shape to make sense,but to fail again . Every word you read from this page might sound serious at times but they aren’t. It is not going to change the next minute of your life from the previous by any means. Trying to make sense of them might severely tire and damage your brain cells. Think again. Shut the PC down. Watch porn. Get out. Smile at your opposite sex. Drink Beer. Make a prank call. Sleep. Do anything. Quit reading this page. You’ve been warned.