Thursday, September 5, 2013

I gave them life, and their life I took away.


Incessant blabbering. 
Periodical pangs. 
The former meaningless; 
the latter too sharp. 
They are me but I don't recognize them. 
They have been let loose 
and have grown to unprecedented heights, 
fell to unprecedented depths. 
They threaten to consume me. 
They are eating me up slowly since long. 
I can't trust them to become complacent. 
Questions. Memories. Feelings. Fantasies. 
Cruel romanticism. Crude reality. 
Blanket of darkness. The stubborn flicker of light from afar. 
Struggle. Numbness.

The serpentine swirl of red-hot naked emotions, the labyrinth of internal dialogue that you know will only lead to a bottomless pit and the lethargy that prevents you from shutting your mind up and letting you breathe...all lose their potency when exposed in the form of black and white.

They look human, and hence vulnerable. I can now touch them, my inner demons. I can now tame them and turn them into another one of my ramblings that my readers would read, and.perhaps like. I depersonalize them by turning them into fodder for a writer's work. A work of art. I turn my enemies into raw material for my finished work of art, to be examined, turned up and down and even dissected, and at last perhaps appreciated, by my readers.

I start playing music. My demons cry out. I leave my laptop on the table and take out a letter from my drawer. I sit on the edge of my window. I take in the words of the letter. It's the first love letter my love gave me. The breeze and the love oozing out, infuse life into me. I lift my eyes up when a drizzle starts to make my arms wet. I smile.
My demons have been  demolished.


They will be reborn. 
They will be demolished again. 
A writer's tale. Old one.

Sunday, September 1, 2013

The cloak of melancholy: 'No ordinary love story' series



Dressed in tears, her arms beckoned me
The man in me was eager; the human, apprehensive-
Will I be able to carry the burden of one more soul?

I didn't deliberate; I took the leap, unsure but determined
Those tears had to be wiped away, forever
And my sweetheart had to be adorned with only happiness

I caressed her salt kissed cheeks 
And brushed away her damp strands of hair
Her head she then placed on my shoulders

I told her my stories, and she told me hers
Her narratives brimmed with tears 
But I was there to contain those

By and by, she started smiling again
Tears didn't disappear though
I kept trying harder and harder

She told me how happy I made her
I realised my love had also grown manifolds
Life had happened to us; life in all its glory was shining upon us

The tears had dried but they refused to die
They used to confuse me no end: what is lacking still?
I didn't like the feeling of helplessness those salt drops flooded me with

I lived with that searing helplessness for years hoping I'll ultimately succeed
And one day, perhaps having sensed my struggle
She kissed me on my forehead and said- that's who I am; I'm not going to change.

Apparently, the cloak of melancholy was as much a part of her
As were the bones and flesh beneath it.
I stopped struggling, for I knew there was no victory to be had here.

And strangely that was the end of my love for her.


Note: Love is a very less understood term, and is often confused with gratification of needs. If one's needs are being satisfied and one is effortlessly able to satisfy one's partner's needs, then the numbness of compatibility clouds one's consciousness and the lofty ideal that love is remains unrealised. One's all consuming need to nurture and protect, whether people need it or not, can often be the one pervasive pattern that runs through all of one's relationships and this facet in a romantic relationship was explored in this poem.

Read the first part of the series here- No Ordinary Love Story I, and the second part here- No Ordinary Love Story II.