Guest Post: Mohita Raghav.

December 18, 2013 § 3 Comments

Etched in Aeons

In life, we always find that one person; who makes that moment of discovery seem like
a dream. They are like the surreal aspect of our forbidden dreams come to life. The
moment they enter our realm, they spread their surreality into every aspect of our
entity.

We have seen them. We have known them from eons; from the beginning of time. We
have touched them with our dream fingers. We have laid bare our souls to them already;
in an inexplicable realm of which we were the masters. We created them for ourselves in
moments, wherein we thought that we were destined to die alone. We invoked them in
rituals of our carnal fantasies. We have already slept a hundred nights in their arms and
have woken up on their spectral kisses. We have spent a million tender and vulnerable
moments with them already.

It has become hard to pinpoint that dividing line between them and reality. It has
become hard to tell whether we created them in a magical bout of imagination or they
came as an idea destined to strike us. It is nearly impossible to delineate whether we
morphed them according to our whims or we metamorphosed according to them; to
become their’s.

Lines smudged a long time back.

We committed ourselves to the fantasy and damned ourselves to a long phase of
hermit-like searching until we realized the futility of it all. We, then, pulled ourselves
together and consoled ourselves that such people only existed in fantasies…
Until they walk into our real lives; in flesh and blood, better than we sculpted them in
dreams.

What, then, can be done?

I could not decide. I was transfixed, looking at him with a mindfloating upon
numbness like a water-baby.

He was sitting alone on a table; with a half-finished sandwich, coffee mug and an
open pocket-diary. He was bent over his laptop, his long fingers flying over the
keyboard.

I stood upon the threshold of disbelief and panic. Already vulnerable to him.
Defenceless. Thrilled and flabbergasted altogether. I wanted to run away. I wanted
to run to him. I wanted to brand him with a kiss. I wanted to hide. In a bout of
seemingly sane self-defense, I even wanted to kill him.

It was at this moment when, prompted by something palpable but unseen, he raised
his eyes to look at me. And smiled a knowing smile. As if he had been waiting too. As
if he knew we will meet.

It was at this moment that all avenues of escape closed faster than they’d
materialized…

And I was lost.

About the Author:

Mohita is a wonderful person I know from Twitter. She writes stuff that you ave to read more than once, so you can grasp it. So you can absorb it.

Read her blog here. I insist.

Advertisements

Hidden.

August 11, 2012 § 22 Comments

I sit unlit in a corridor
crammed with nothing-ness,
in a building’s belly, in the
womb of darkness.
I lie down on the floor,
in a corner. I let the
air wrap me, diffuse my pores,
hide me.

Hiding me from the day’s dull
debris, the tax man, the facts man.
The chaos of heading nowhere.
The mundane monotony.

I am hid. They are in their
respective places and they don’t
know the light within the
dark.They are blind.

At last i am lost.

 

 

 

Untitled- V.

July 21, 2012 § 25 Comments

Huddled around the tiny fire
of my longing
Always wanting to be somewhere
i am not
Loving with an incomprehensible
intensity
Falling in love at the drop
of a hat
Altering each poem a
hundred times
Carefully scanning my life
and the people
Making promises i do not
want to keep
Meeting people just to escape
from myself
Observing everyone and
being observed
Ushering my dreams out of the
window for a while.

I meet you a some festival.
You. With the same dreams,
longings and love.
We either recoil. Or fall in love.
Or both.

We e mail each other. And
one day you stop replying.
Maybe because i have no money
or i dont have a flat stomach
or you’re just bored.
I wouldn’t know.

Or maybe you’re throwing
your dreams out of the
window, too.

On Infidelity.

July 18, 2012 § 20 Comments

Most affairs begin when a husband or wife makes a new friend, and an apparently harmless intimacy is born. You dont sense the danger as it’s happening, because whats wrong with friendship? Why can’t we have friends of the opposite sex- or of the same sex, for that matter- even if we are married?

There is nothing wrong with a married person launching a friendship outside of matrimony- so long as the  walls and windows of the relationship remain in the correct places. Every healthy marriage is comprised of walls and windows. The windows are the aspects of your relationship that are open to the world- that is, the necessary gaps through which you interact with family and friends; the walls are the barriers of trust behind which you guard the most intimate secrets of your marriage.

What often happens, though, during so-called harmless friendships, is that you begin sharing intimacies with your new friend that belong hidden within your marriage. You reveal secrets about yourself- your deepest yearnings and frustrations- and it feels good to be so exposed. You throw open a window where there really out to be a solid, weight-bearing wall, and soon you find yourself spilling your secret heart with this new person. Not wanting your spouse to feel jealous, you keep the details of your new friendship hidden. In doing so, you have now created a problem: You have just built a wall between you and your spouse where there really ought to be free circulation of air and light. The entire architecture of your matrimonial intimacy has therefore been rearranged. Every old wall is now a giant picture window; every old window is now boarded up like a crack house. You have just established the perfect blueprint without even noticing.

So by the time your new friend comes to your office one day in tears over some piece of bad news, and you wrap arms around each other, and then your lips brush and you realize in a dizzying rush that you ‘love’ this person- that you have always loved this person!- its too late. Because now the fuse has been lit.

~Dr. Shirley P. Glass

I see you.. In me!

June 4, 2012 § 19 Comments

Following is a poetic conversation i had with my blogger friend Prashant http://justspokenthoughts.wordpress.com/ on Twitter! It’s fun tweeting and we’re both crazy! Madness is what i seek, when i am talking to him!! 🙂

Archana: strangers passing in the street
by chance two separate glances meet
and i am you
and what i see is me.
 
 
Prashant: the glance is of a moment
in the orchestrated sway of minds
you take all of me away
and leave all of mine behind
 
 
Archana: and in that one moment
i think i’ve lived all my life
there is a momentary lapse of reason
and then everything seems right
 
 
Prashant: the lapses you talk of
are the bits of the life we seek
momentary is the self we live as
cherish the uncertain as we speak
 
 
Archana: do we know what’re we seeking
or is it uncertain too
so many thoughts in my head
i wonder what to do
 
 
Prashant: u spoke of being in awe
as you chase a perfect life
believe in the madness of love
best to be kissed when the time is right
 
 
Archana: chasing life isnt my thing
i think its just a fuss
thats what i’ve been looking for
love with all the madness
 
 
Prashant: the madness of love
is the subtle touch of life itself
for him to know how to hold you
you must know how to be held
 
 
Archana: that i’ve always known
even wrote a post on it you liked
but there arent many men out there
who can handle a woman equivalent to a pike
 
 
Prashant: to call ourselves “men”
we need to think beyond our testosterone
this “pike” isn’t to conquer
just be honest and she is won
 
 
Archana: now how many of those
would actually think like that
i am kinda jinxed that way
only the wrong ones i attract
 
 
Prashant: the madness in love
is a thing of sense and sensibility
jinxes may last a lifetime
but this madness lasts full eternity
 
 
Archana: its not like i’m not mad that way
you have to see me to judge
but all the men i meet
are either sissy or studs 😛
 
 
Prashant: the image we create
is to hide our fears within
whom am I to judge you
a woman strong, knowing love and worth believing
 
 
Archana: i know you wouldnt judge me
a man who knows love would not
i like our conversation quite a lot
this deserves a proper post 😀
 
 
Prashant: so being a gentleman
I am supposed to carry you from here
the verses you hymned today
simply make things better and clear
 
 
Archana: and i wouldnt mind that sir
you are Mr. Angle
you help me hunt for perspective lately
when i am kinda lost and dull
 
 
Prashant: you being in your spirits
makes my day here
if I don’t feel you smiling but dull
even the literary orgasm isn’t a pleasure
 
 
Archana: makes me wonder
where were you all these years
you make me laugh and chirp at times
drowning my worst fears 😀
 
 
Prashant: I’m not The One
I am certainly not The Best
I’m just a “Ghost” who talks well
appearing, when walk away the rest
 
 
Archana: a pearl wouldnt know
its own worth anytime
i appreciate the gesture
and i like the way we rhyme! 🙂

No expectations.

May 1, 2012 § 17 Comments

That strange empty feeling
when you’re lying in bed,
staring at the cieling, listening
to a Josh Ritter number.
Trying to find perspective in
darkness, meaning in nothing-
ness, and direction standing
at a dead end.
Not expecting, and not being
expected from.
Hollow and with a void, you
reflect on what life’s been
so far. On how much’ve
you changed, in the process
of resisting change.
The agony of being helpless,
the fear of the unknown,
the love that doesn’t die off.

Yet, no expectations.

There is another poem written by www.arjun1097.wordpress.com which he certainly did not want me to post here. But i am a bad girl, sailor boy!

So here it goes:

Today i’m stuck to my bed
with a fever, cough and cold,
covered in blankets
i feel weary and old.
 
The light seems too bright
and the voices seem louder,
they all crowd around and watch
and i just give em a cold shoulder.
 
They switch on the TV
and tell me to rest,
dont move, be still they say
i think that part’s the best.
 
No expectations
the silver lining,
and it all comes to me
including fine dining.

Words.

April 9, 2012 § 8 Comments

He does not make words
for me. He instead, makes
up excuses. And tells me old
stories from his life.

He catches me when i’m
stumbling onto the path, and
leads me back when i go
astray. He keeps safe
distance when he thinks
i am getting diverted from
what i ought to do, first.

He hears all of my words, though
he barely responds to em.
He makes me a mirror sometimes,
and hangs it right in my
head. So there is some perspective.

He plays music for me, which
i, at times misconstrue to be his
words. He asks nothing
and never clarifies. Leaves
me hazy, but never leaves me.

He does not make words
for me.

Where Am I?

You are currently browsing entries tagged with Lost at Rants..

%d bloggers like this: