Forgetting

Forgetting you was very easy.

I sat down one day and drank.

I did the same the second day,

And the third and the fourth.

Time passed I do not know,

And maybe I forgot you.

But I drank much then.

And from the past few days,

I have been remembering you,

And this wine just doesn’t feel the same.

I am soaked in the memories of old days,

Yours, mine and maybe theirs too.

But I do not know how to find you again,

Because the last time we met it was crazy.

I shouted and hurled abuses at you.

I knew many big words then and used all of them.

Now I run dry, and clueless about these overwhelming feels.

Should I pray to anyone to help me now?

I remember now the meaning of your words.

I want to tell you but you are nowhere.

And it pains, a great deal.

I wish for it to tone down,

Wither and die maybe.

Because sleep has run away from the nights,

And i do nothing but remember you.

Tried the pills, yoga and meditation too.

Everything useless but the pills were tasty.

I realise the point of no return very well.

You belong there, and the helplessness kills me.

But I am awake tonight and I feel alive,

Free to do anything.

But there is nothing to be done.

So Goodbye, and you should have taken everything with yourself.

I know it is getting tiring and repetitive,

But i still search you in things.

You never knew anything about staying quiet.

And humming loudly you still echo here,

Go on and on and till the breathes continue.

I am coming,but don’t wait.

Advertisements

Stupid Things in Night (Chapter – 3)

I listen to songs. Romantic, sad, songs which have heartbreak and unfaithful lover in themes. Nothing works, for I feel nothing after listening to them. They just do not seem to affect me at all. Hardly a surprise, given I have never dabbled in matters of love and heartbreaks. All I know about it, is from movies and music videos. My friends in school told me things. But those seem more like juvenile fantasies now.

Two more days. Still no reply. I have given up hopes of receiving a message from her. I do not blame her. There is much more important things in life than replying to one’s hi message on Internet. I hope it comes true for me also.

It is a moonless night. I think about love, its scarcity in life. Nothing comes up in mind. Why do I even think about this subject? I have no answer.

It might have to do with my loneliness. But what is loneliness in its truest sense? I have people to talk to. I talk to them. Is loneliness something people face in the night when they are left to themselves? If yes, then I have been having too much of it. It is, the silence of night is apt for a deep sleep. But for the sleepless folks, it is the music of worries, regrets and issues pervading them.

It is unknown to me if I talk sense. Or what I think is right by other people. It is an unusual thing for a silent person to want someone dear to talk about things.

It is night, and I wonder if I am too woke to make sense.

••

I do not remember any of my dreams. I also wonder if I have an inability to visualise a dream in the first place. I remember things which happened, sometimes people and places, memories but not dreams.

Are dreams infinite, in sense that they are beyond the limits of reality?

If yes, then I wonder if I can dream about someone to talk to and possibly heartbreaks too.

Sleep does not come. I want to have a dream, right now.

I am the popular lad. I am the obedient son. I excel in sports and studies. People love me. No one envies me. Girls are madly in love with me. Teachers view me as someone who would make them proud one day in future.

I do not fear anyone or anything. My pictures on Instagram and Facebook receive thousand of likes and shares. People praise me in comments. Whatever written in my captions and wall is regarded as absolute philosophy of the highest order.

I have a girlfriend. She loves me and I love her. I go on long drives with her. She tells me about her deepest desires and secrets she never revealed to anyone.

Success is the only thing which happens whenever I try a new thing. Be it music, musical instruments, writing or even filmmaking. I am brilliant at whatever I do and people and my parents love me for it.

I am a good person. I never did harm anyone. I donate blood and I am an organ donor. I do social work and I teach kids in my free time. Kids love me and they call me ‘Bade Bhaiya.’

I am on good terms with my friends, be old or new ones. Relatives are fond of me. They pray for my wellbeing.

Life is good. And I am the human equivalent of the philosopher’s stone. Everything I touch becomes good.

I have managed to make Earth a better place by bringing real peace. People treat each other with respect now. I have treated AIDS and Cancer and global warming and hate.

The weather is good now. Pollution is non-existent along with nuclear weapons. The world does not have any problem, for it is basically a big family now. Vasudheva Kutumbakam.

A dream like this, is far-fetched even for the most imaginative person. I seek sleep, a place away from this nonsense.

••••

Stupid Things in Night (Chapter – 1)

I woke up with an unwillingness to start the day’s proceedings. All I wanted to do was lie down, eat and sleep.

So I slept. Morning, afternoon and in evening. Now it is night. Everything has gone silent. I am awake. My back hurts and the bed is uncomfortable. I listen to the same songs again. Repetition is boring. And I am lonely now.

How wonderful it would be to have someone to talk to now, I think. I pick up the phone and go through my Facebook and WhatsApp list. No one to talk to.

I remember things of old days. Mostly school time. College is OK but not memorable. Memories of friends, teachers and crushes come up. And comes this sense of unease. I feel choked with these memories. I get up and walk out of the room.

There is a sudden chill in the wind. It means the arrival of winter. There are hardly any stars in the sky. The only sound comes from the road far away. I go inside.

What a boring person I have become. I was not so. I used to be fun. I remember my friends always laughed when they were with me. But a lot of them got married and have families of their own to support now. I also want to get married. I just have not found a suitable girl yet. Last year father got many proposals from other parents. I turned all of them down. I did not want to get married last year. I was fresh out of College and wanted to live a little. This went on for few months. Lately, there have been no proposals for marriage.

I think about Anjana. She was my classmate. We were best friends for a few months in College before she got herself a boyfriend. She started spending more time with him. Our interactions receded. By the time College ended, she was someone less than a friend but more than an acquaintance. It sucked and I genuinely felt bad when our talks decreased, because she was a good listener.

I want to talk to her. But her Facebook account has been inactive for some time. She must have changed her number, as her WhatsApp status have been invisible to me for a long time. Maybe she has moved on towards the next big things in her life. I feel happiness for a split second. I am happy for her, because she has got things planned. Hardly surprising, since she always knew what to do.

And there was Lata. She was my senior. We met while we participated in inter-class debate competition. From there started the hi-hello in corridors and we progressed to eating lunch and talked often during our free lectures. She was funny. But she graduated soon after.

I did not remember her until today. I search her on Facebook. We have three mutual friends. I also sent a ‘hi’ message along with my friend request.

It is midnight, so the chances of a reply and getting my request accepted are none. I close my eyes and wait for sleep to come.

••

यादों का पहला दिन

मैं घर से चल दिया।

मैं गाड़ी में बैठा हूँ। मुझे ज्यादा चीजें याद ना है। बस इतना है कि मैं रास्ते चलते देख रहा हूँ। रास्ते जाने-पहचाने लगते है। कुछ याद भी आता है। मेरा स्कूल, जिसे मैं सालों पहले छोड़ आया था, वह अब भी यही है। गाड़ी से उतरकर, मैं गेट के सामने खड़ा होकर इसे देखता हूँ। मन में यादें आती है। यादों के साथ वर्तमान को मिलाता हूँ। मेरी यादें वही है, बाकी सब बदल गया है।

Continue reading

Stories of any kind

The kind of stories I want to tell,

I do not know If,

I will ever be able to tell them as they are.

To say a poor man is poor,

I will tell you about him,

And the things he did to endure the day,

And fill his belly with food.

I will tell but I will hope,

The man finds his happiness soon.

I know it will make my stories false.

But I will be truly happy then.

Feel this art we create with lives,

These lives are of humans like us.

We will pinpoint differences later,

For now, they are just like us.

I don’t want to be proud of something,

Which came out of someone’s miserable days.

I would have written about my life,

But this boredom rules the king.

Picking up a piece from a life,

And holding it against voices and opinions,

It is cruel when it emits satisfaction to the ego.

All while their origins remain the same way they were.

Our boring live must be content,

With the little crux we have.

Ordinary things are beautiful too.

Beautiful Things

Beautiful things kill you.
Sometimes they are swift
And sometimes they take their sweet time.
But since we know
What we will find in the end,
We should like them with caution.
Take the snow for example,
The whiteness in front of you will seem pure,
And fluffy.
But once you taste its likeness to the raw edge,
You will run away from it,
Back to your grounds where spring stays forever.

Beautiful things despise the average things of world.
They do not know
That the world itself is average.
A pale reflection of what it was supposed to be.
It isn’t what we thought.
And it’s good because we have time.
I suppose we can make it whole
Before we give it to the ones
Who are next in line.
Thoughts are not beautiful
That’s why I have them.
It is noble that we should save the Earth.
I do not. We will not.

The Earth looks beautiful from space.
It should have beautiful things with it.
They should stay.
We are average folks and
This is the world we inherit.
We are meant to go.
Forever doesn’t mean being stubborn.
It means the beauty of moments shouldn’t stay.
We should go.
Now.

I am wide awake

I am wide awake
And the streets wear silence.
I do nothing but stare
At random things
And thoughts.

How often it was
When I told you
We should run away.
The world has got a short memory.
Everyone would have forgotten us.
As even I do not remember our love.
Was it fiction or fact?
I rack my brains to find the answer.
There is none.
It must have been a book
I read somewhere long ago.
Its figments are coming back.
What’s your name?