Gods-II.

A woman finally meets
her dream man.
They’re very happy.
Their friends are elated.
Their friend’s friend’s
are thrilled.

Then he leaves her.

She thinks she couldn’t
match up to his standards:
He is a God after all.
And that she must’ve
hurt him irrepairably.

But he’s not a God, he
knows. He’s just an
ordinary man. Nothing
special about him.
An ordinary man
who got bored of the
Goddess.

Gods.

The colorful abyss.

She enters the crowded room. You
see her lean body covered under
layers of clothes. Clumsily, she
makes some disruption in the otherwise
pre-occupied room. She finds the
closest seat to become a part of
the incognito within the space of
the surrounding room.

You see her frantic eye
scanning the faces around her. Her
eyes meet yours. Unspoken thoughts
make a chapter of a few unrequited
words as the sparks fly.

You offer her an embrace that peels
through every layer of bulky textile
to the delicate small of her quivering
back. It sends a shiver down your spine.

She looks deep into your eyes and
you wish you were the
kohl in her eyes. You crave to touch
her hair and run your bare palms
over silken skin.

You’re lost in your own brazen thoughts
when he walks into the room and
kisses her on the mouth. You notice she’s kissing him back
with her entire body. You sigh.

They walk out of the room together, his
arm around her waist. She drops a
note near your chair.

“You’ve drowned. In the colorful abyss.”, it read.

P.S. This post has been written for Ashwini. You, inspire me, mate. Thank you. 🙂

If.

If I give up, things will come right,
so they say.
If I tell you that I have given up on you.
If in response you rush joyfully into the distance.
If I turn my head to hide my tears.

If I walk away, quietly.
If I walk long enough, to a far distant place.
If it doesn’t work and I find I am truly alone.
If I relinquish my ego to the heavens
but they return it back to me.
If the heavens decide I need it in order to do my work.

If I ask ‘Where is the way?’ and look
among the houses to find a Teacher
who’d help me find Way.

If it doesn’t work and the teacher is already
gone to find his own path.
If he only left me a book and it doesn’t
contain the way to the Way.

If it turns out that this is the Way
and I am already on it.
If the Way leads me to a thousand different
houses, and each house has a piece of puzzle.

If once I find a piece, I must move to another house.
If some of the people from the houses follow me.
If I become a teacher, incomplete as I am.
If letting people call me a teacher is a shameful piece of egotism.
If I am always a student, deep down.

If only all the pieces were in one house, I could
sit and build that house
and invite everyone over.
If I built the house anyway, everyone can
bring their pieces.

If I’m not strong enough to build the house, I
can build a room of my own.
If everyone comes and adds to it,
it’d turn into a b’ful room.
If that house is like the house of Wikipedia.

If there are still pieces missing we can make them
ourselves, or just enjoy the puzzle.
If it doesn’t work and the puzzle has an enormous hole in it.
If I get scared and unsure looking at what’ve we done.

If I go back to the road and the search,
away from the people and the hole-d house.

If you would walk beside me, it might be nicer.
If you would walk beside me, each of us might be less lonely.
If you’ve got some of the puzzle pieces, even better.
If you’d give me your pieces, there might be no hole in the house.
If you are walking beside me now, but my ego is blocking my senses.
If you’re talking to me now, and I’m too deaf to hear you.
If you’re looking at me, but I am blinded.
If you’re holding out the pieces, and I don’t take them.
If you want to swap them, for something even more precious I am holding on to.

If you know you are the one, do not knock at my door, just come on in.

Photo credits : A Pensive Polaroid.

A letter from a Friend.

Following is a mail i received from a friend a while ago. Makes sense. I thought i must share.

 

To not know can be the source of all doubts and discomfort, ignorance is bliss? It’s hard to be ignorant and feel blissful. I think one knows all and is ignorant of nothing. Thereby being ignorant of something, which is nothing enabling that one to be blissful. My angst lies in not knowing the answer to the questions in life, primarily ‘who am I?’ , ‘what is my purpose?’ And so on. The questions gnawed at me, exposing my weaknesses. I still don’t know. I know who you are, I feel lost as always as I don’t know me. That’s probably something that rankles me all the time. Dissonance for almost everything. That’s it for the day, I need to find the path. Sad? Happy? I felt complete with you, this whole idea of the world being polychromatic is a sham. People are monochromatic. I’m wrong, I’m right, I see, I don’t see, I don’t know, I know. Nothing and something and everything and anything, all is what all seek. I guess I can think? The illusions created, how far can you actually see through them? Being the self and unified with all the other self’s. Maybe I’m wrong, I worry because I am wrong. To see and feel, to feel without contact. Must be madness, engulfed by the world makes madness negative, me thinks that is. I don’t know, this was a rant. Live fast, run faster. Life’s speedy and a rut to move about.
Pip pip, ma cher,
As always.

A Flower’s Lament.

I remember when you first saw me
as you walked through the garden.
My fragrance and beauty attracted you
soothed your soul.

You visited me everyday and spent hours just watching me
you put me on a pedestal and worshipped me
you loved me so much.

Then I gave you the infamous rose coloured glasses
the ones that made you think that the world is pretty
that made you think that you can see better
you loved me so much.

Then you tried to hold me
and I spat words that pierced your heart like thorns
I hit your soul.

And I lived with the guilt.
I had loved you too.
I wished I would wither and die.

You chose to walk off me.
You didn’t bother to say goodbye.

I didn’t die.
I became more beautiful.

You passed the garden again and saw me
the aroma of nostalgia filled the air
you took off the glasses and left them at my feet
as you walked away, you heard footsteps.
You turned around
saw a boy admiring me.

He loved me so much.