Wish For A shadow

Please don’t utter the word love,

It is not meant to be, love is too little, too vague, too monotonous a word for me,

I seek to understand what the heart wants, but fail abysmally as a cold noise fogs my mind,caging my senses

I want us to be free, but I know there is no us,as you are gone, you were never there,

But your shadow brightened the moor,

And I could almost paint an illusion on that drought of life, on the cracked earth,

I dreamt of a meadow, the air breathed life,as wafted your charm awakening my senses,

On the green green grass lay you and I, I and your shadow, And I made love to your soul,

I recited to you a fable of a little girl lost in the meadows,

She wandered, escaping from the ghosts that haunted her home amidst the dark forest,

She found sheep, but she found a soft comfort in the paws of the wolf,

Kindness in his eyes, a warmth penetrated her lost soul,

And then your rare sudden gay laughter, blowing with the breeze,a touch of solace to my soul,

Today I run on the barren land, towards or away, both or neither,

Do I search, do I follow, do I trust my foolish heart, Or do I buy my mind’s sadist rationale?

The harsh winds sting my eyes, tears escape finding their phony mates, to escape unseen is a trick,

I almost welcome the dulling pain succumbing to numbness, but the end, is it here?

I can’t see, but I sense a grim loss settling in on the night, the stars seem too far,

And none twinkling as if to smile, The moon has been hiding far too long,

And the clouds are beginning to invade the sky,

And I have been waiting beneath the darkness, nothingness, to catch a glimpse of the shadow,

But it flitted away before I could see the end, before I could see the darkness,

I want to ask you,

who is the lucky lass who holds your soul in a rapture?

Will you forget me? Has your heart already dusted off my words?

Was the shadow never there? Was it a story I told only the little girl as she lay with me in my solitude?

Were you me?

Did the shadow only fool me, masking itself with your beautiful face,

And were you alive only in the frills of my mind?

Or was the shadow only ever a shadow, never our friend?

There is wish, there is hope, there is want, and none is the other,

You are my wish, as I feel no hope, and I want no rose.

Only a true shadow of friendship that binds you and me,

Coaxing the little girl lovingly to keep wandering in the meadows, away from the house of haunting screeches.

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-Musings of a little Girl and a foolish heart

Short Angry Rant( human rights)

At the risk of sounding radical..well h*** yeah, I will be radical.To anybody who hints at human rights for terrorists, please surrender yourself to them, the terrorists,since you are so overflowing with humanity, you could save a few lives, as those “I don’t know have words for them” will have other lives at their disposal.

And yeah do define human for us, your unintelligent counterparts, before you bring out your memorandum of rights. I apologise, I belong to country of Gandhi but I am hopelessly incapable of digesting and inculcating his ideologies.I am just suddenly reminded of Jalianwala Bagh incident. The difference between then and now is the cause for the brutality.

India has borne the brunt of terror since years and I have been hearing and reading about for as long as I can remember.  I am not sure if there is any cure for evil, evil that exists for the sake of being evil, except to say, crush it. How? I don’t know. And what does that make us? Is our cause for brutality justified? yes it is, without second thoughts, yes, it is.

A poem I had written quite a while ago, I find it quite relevant to what I feel again today.

Mutation Beyond Recognition

The heart screams out,

It screams and dies a death every time,

Every time a daughter is raped by her dad,

A son is beaten and his dignity stolen and shred to pieces,

Sometimes seeing in print, sometimes seeing the devastation after in being,

From one animal to another, have we gone beyond being an animal?

Sunk lower than the lowest ones,

Have our thoughts become mutated?

Mutated beyond recognition and resurrection?

Section so and so, section so and so, out comes the law book,

A book scripted to bench the crime, not do away with it,

A law book scripted to give benefits of doubt,

Find evidence, find evidence, I must be followed, It says,

For I am the sole way out you see, I am irreplaceable,

You have endowed me with powers and now I overpower you,

Laws of nature, Is its original copy unedited, missing a section?

Or has it been muddled up and left with gaping loop holes,

A sight being replayed since the time of our epics,

When the court of books and all the noble souls stood watching,

Noble dastardly souls, with immense courage to stand by their laws,

But not an ounce of it to stand for humanity, overpowered they were you see,

As the laws rip apart a world it had tried to make human,

Today we meekly stand and see the grave yard expanding,

Graveyard of pained souls, Graveyard of revengeful spirits,

All awaiting their turn to return, sharpening their canines to tear and masticate the demons,

But alas, No urban law, no International court of justice to push back and curb this expansion and invasion!

Have we no way to heal the wounds? No way to pulverize the mansion of evil?

No way to grind it to minuscule particles?

I envision a momentous win when these particles would have no nucleus,

No polarity to reform,

No limbs to capture what belonged to our humankind.

Lost In The Man

I have always believed that we make our own choices, we have the sole owner of our lives yet each person we come across plays a role in our lives, however small or pivotal maybe. We might not realize or see the part that someone played in that moment but later when you look back and connect the dots it fits, they were there for reason,the tangential moments too mattered.

Lost In The Man

Years ago, when the heart was frail,

When ripe innocence had been pushed to the edge, and was withering,

Was swaying at the edge of the wuthering cliff, staring down, eyes brimming with silent tears of dread,

Or was the heart, already falling, clutching on to the ghost of the soul that stood there once,

It was then, that I saw a man, I saw his eyes,

He wasn’t of this world;

Eyes and lips speak tongues of their own,

Doors behind those blackened eyes were shut,

And yet I could see a soul in them, they spoke yet they said not a word,

In whispers howled the eyes stories afloat in the winds,

Revealing the allusion of silent secrets only heart shared with the mind,

The wholeness of his laughter, candid eyes that crinkled as they smiled,

An imprint, a memory, many a time casting a glow of hope over the shadows of my soul,

Days went by, and each glimpse tugged the heart,

The man, an image of a warrior of life,

Heart the curious master wondered of the words that decked those dense lashes,

When eyes met for fleeting moments, the soul flushed, blushed, glowered, aware of its captivation,

Time- life’s spindle, Years later I found him at the cross roads,

The eyes had deepened, blatant debauchery to my soul,

The smile frolic my senses to this day,

However as paths of eerie woods of my life lead me astray,

A few glimpses, few words, but not enough, only a peek into that intriguing mind,

As I lay on the cold marble, lost, reminiscing life’s addiction to amending itself each dwindling moment,

I wonder if he might trot on this path just a little longer,

A little longer could the spindle roll steady, our moments fading parallel to the others image,

Could destiny if real match my heart beat, only for a few more fleeting moments?

Then my life could brush past his, and I would be in his story, and he in mine.

And I might just tell you another story of him, a few years from now.

Crumbs of Purpose

I would rather not say anything at all,

Lest the conspiracy devils heard the sounds of my wishful thinking,

My hopes, my dreams and turned them against me,

Demons of time, planning coincidences to thwart my advances,

Fogging my path, misleading me into taking the wrong turn,

Failing to capture the moments as I get lost in the petty traps laid out for my human heart,

Nowadays words dim the fervour,

I would rather let the words breathe fire, keep the pyre of passions burning,

A face, eyes of a free man that hold the mind in a rapture,

Musical trance as strings of strange likeness keep strumming,

Standing at the edge, there is that one spot in the woods that the heart wants to find,

But more than ever it desires to run wild through the woods,

As its dimly lit mysteries beckon the soul, whisper enticingly to the it,

Life is purposeless, yet with the illusion of purpose the soul lives on,

Purpose, aah I would rather not speak of  mine, risky, I mutter to my own soul,

Purpose, crumbs of life long struggles,sufferings, leading to moments of euphoria,

I pick them up, I drop a few blinded by the sudden darkness, I find the lost then I find pieces anew,

I ask myself, can another trample my crumbs, soul only friend smiles,”Only you can see them,my sweet”

Someday the crumbs will feed my hungry heart with moments of triumph,

A day sooner, darkness will rise to be my ally, and it will invite the light,

One day the soul will recite the mysteries of that beyond good and evil,

Someday the purpose will be whole,

It will hum a lovely tune, no lamentations, with its head held high on my grave,

But today I will speak of them only to my loyal friend,my soul, my avenger, my only friend.

Some Words

I have been offline for a while.. though writing. Hence I thought I would just share a poem from one of my quite recent posts.. A sunnier one than usual:)

Thoughts

Some words soothe your seething wounds,

Some words rupture the clinched flesh of a healing scar,

Some words hold your heart in a rapture of serenity,

Almost as though the stillness might pervade forever,

Some words make the heart shrink,

 Knees touch the forehead as arms cross over,

The head bends hoping to find a cave to hide in the soul

 Clinging to the sound of bitter sorrow,

Some words written in parchment by the smiles of strangers,

You can read them almost like you can taste the drink you might share with them,

Some words erupt from the eyes, as though frosted breath misting the air,

They emerge from the shadowy corners,

Waiting and wishing for some one to lend them a melody,

Pen them a song that synch with the jingles and chimes,

Whines and sultry whispers of a soul shy yet wishful of being heard,

Some words…

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Hollow Man against The Wild Woman

Oh my manly dear hollow man,

My virginity; was it my making or your discovery and hence engraved on you is the will to posses?

Who defined purity, innocence, your god?

When did you learn to hammer into pieces and slice through virgin layers?

You were born as nude as I,

You were born as lowly as I,

We evolved and got through Darwin’s test together,

Was I asked to enslave myself to your ways by your kind?

Did you threaten to pierce though my flesh and make me dance to your tunes then too?

How did the will to trap the woman rise?

Your passions were matched by hers, her intellect by yours or maybe she surpassed you in all arenas?

Is that it, tangled within her powerful yet primal soul; gnawed the demon at your peripheral sanity and sparked the need to subdued, to display your power?

You defined her first, and you trapped her in a form,

Then you cusped her being, the wild fire that kindled, in a jar brimming with your desires,

Incapable of the realization, or maybe fearful of the same,

The realization that defining a wild woman, the breath of nature, was to curb what she could be,

If trapping her in your narcissistic distasteful ways weren’t enough, you try since centuries to shatter her,

To make her succumb to her own forcefully woven mindlessness, to make her hate herself,

Then you take away what you have thrusted at her, her fake sense of dignity, dignity through eyes of your barbarous gruesome world,

Masticating her physical being, slicing and scarring her soul,

Yet this world breathes, as she breathes, as nature breathes, as a wild fire is bestowed with nature’s zeal,

As harsh winds blow, it lights by itself, setting the civilization on fire,

Man shall bear the brunt of his atrocities and his shrieks shall resound and fill the forest,

Can his pleas and screams mask the hoarse voice of her agonized soul, can they melt her scars?

Ages to come shall tell that story, but a woman shan’t ever serveth the hollow man’s will, surrender to his beastly command or the whip of his brutish acts.

P.S-Writing after long!

This is a poem born out of anger against all the atrocities against women, the subjugation, the do’s and don’t’s , the definitions of a woman, all that I have seen and felt in my life and in the lives of those around me and those I have heard of. The repulsive devils and even the milder sadistic fools are just everywhere. I seek to understand evil but it just leaves me aghast, I don’t understand its epicentre, its reason for existence.