The pilgrim called popularity

When I have insisted, I have questioned, what mostly I did not comprehend in the very first place. I have gained attention, mastered some sort of ingenuity in creating ambiguity. Did I really have an opinion? I darn should. Did I make sense after or before I passed out? Was I tossed out or stacked inside, following the slur I developed each time I had the mike piece?

Nada! Instead I had My space, Facebook and a magnitude of free web space where only I could determine whether or not I was important.  And so I had an opinion on everything. About things that I did not give a rat’s arse about. Popularity was measured and subsequently counterfeited by how many visitors I had, on my web page.  I became smarter. I was an author, philosopher, and a photographer all in one breath. I was also significantly hanged at the flagpole, ignored and named an imbecile among the facts of existence.

Nothing changed yet in my entirety though all of a sudden me and myself were approved. Was it because I good naturedly called it random and prefixed awesomeness besides it.

Could be, I don’t get what either of them means, and am too awesome to randomly find my dictionary to look for it.

And because you reached till here you certainly deserve to hear HER out!

When Gibson said goodbye

Can I touch that key?
Can I play, that song, would I be a prodigy?
Or would I be rather sad,
Will that make you happy

Will you teach me,
Will you sing with me,
Will you sing me to sleep

Or would you rather make money
would you rather not come home
Would you rather sleep it off
Or did you ask me to do the same

Will you judge
Will you say play again
Will you be able to let me know
Will you be able to comply, in silence

Can I go now,
Isn't it too late
Did you not get my letters
Did you forget?

Should I too,
Does that mean I have to forgive,
will you ask for it
I shall think

Are you making me think
Tell me I can't tell
Am I too little, are you too big

Tell me again,
I can't tell
Can you write, I will not ask
Not for more,

I can ask for less,
Will that be enough
Will that be too much

I shall not sleep
I will wait, do you want me to?
Does that make you uncomfortable

Do I make you queasy
You want to know about me
Should I say it

Am I too loud
Ain't you too quite
Do you want me to stop

Tell me I can't tell
Tell me again, I won't say again
Will that be too much
Will that be enough

That last piece of Heaven

What is that single moment ?That moment next to nothing, nothing, nothing at all. Nothing to believe, nothing to bear down, nothing to show for?

Just one single moment. without spaces, or emptiness or pauses . No hopes to buy into, no dreams to walk to, just the plain old lucid whimsical self , trying nothing, being nothing.

Nothing shady, nothing crazy. No drama, no whimpers, nothing too absolute, nothing too oblivious.

What is that moment within a series of  moments, between all that is happening, among all that could?

Between a million possibilities , among failures, among chances amidst experiences , that could lead to nothing or too many things.

Is  it the place where the sun tilts westwards, and the moon calls in a late night? Where the darkness beneath is too high for the fires in the skies to reach? Or that sudden kiss of thunder over the roof that sees no rain at all? Or that last breath of the old man who lived through a borrowed life?

Is it the last patient breath, a mourner's silence, an angry man's plea, the last call to stop, the final man on earth, the new life that waits to look at you alone?

Is it not in solitude, in emptiness, in hollowness, in silences that you can move again, that you can finally stop looking. Is it not that moment where you decide to let go of the bygones?

Oh, why do you cry then, why do you mourn? Who is is that you are looking for? Who will it be when you can finally stop searching? Is the hope not enough, that pushes every drop of your blood to your heart, that makes you breathe, that makes you live?

That little window that overlooks two more stories, that frail piece of desert, that closed drop of hunger, that coercing peace.

That final freedom, that first discovery, that circle of life and that boundless death. That everything, that nothing, that last piece of heaven, that first piece of hell. 

The Velvet Coat

The velvet caressed her bare arms, for the very last time. She could still feel its warmth, like tiny fragments on her palm, the back of the elbow, and down the shoulders. It was as if she could whiff the fur, from which she had once longed to escape. She never noticed it had a smell!

It didn’t.  She smelt her confinement, the tight embrace and the pain. She had hidden beneath it long enough to grow accustomed. It was awkward to not be in agony, to not suffer, to not be ashamed. She was naked without it. The velvet coat had left, she hadn't.

That velvet coat was fear. 

And only at this very abandonment, she felt brave, to witness every bizarre motion that her spine once ached to feel. She was light like the autumn flower. She was weightless, and her feet knew no bound. She knew she could sit through dawn. She knew could wait, wide awake for the bright cherries in the crimson sun. In that very moment she knew she could walk till there was no land, speak till she could not hear her own voice and laugh till every flower bloomed.

In that very moment, she knew she could be happy for she knew she was free.

Zephyr

Was it the rush for the last dive or just the deep blue sky that suddenly knew no bounds, she wondered.

The last breath of sugary orange ice danced in her tongue, or was that the crisp marigold petals that blew through the sky.  

A cry broke out at the back, “Hey you, what do you think you’re up to. There are little kids waitin……”  Swoosh, woosh, she made these sounds louder to her ear, everything else could wait today. The feet rose higher and she pushed harder. She could almost hear the swing loosen up a bit, a screw or two racing to leave. After all it could not hold 100 pounds for that long, the limit was 85 pounds, children only, no adults. 

But not today, it was none of her concern.The hair was all over her face twisted in sand, her handbag at a solitary bench somewhere facing the heap, her phone would already have buzzed a hundred times, her pile at her desk was too huge to even stare at . Ah! All of it could not swap her attention from the blissful evening. She was all by herself and the wind continued its foreplay. And Zenab was still in the mood for more chases. Clink, her silver bangles would clap against each other, and air will make its way through the little spaces beneath the tuck in, there were no disappointments no judgments here. The little whims and the tears amidst the little people she was surrounded with blended with her joy, the laughter of contentment. 

For once she was deaf, the only sound she heard now did not need to make any sense, she laughed throwing her head back, and even the awful glances had no intention of holding her back today. No sweat, no worries. Thud!, , her face fell flat on the heap, the particles of sand fighting to drop inside the shirt.The swing aiming for sideways now, she was no longer on the seat, she realised. “Are you all right…, God!, can you hear me?” a hand over her head, she slowly raised herself. 

It was fun, but certainly not to those sturdy arms that helped her up. He had clean flexed up muscles, the full sleeved black T-shirt did not do justice. The nose had fine crook, thick eyebrows and a thin line for lips that frowned at her. His eyes were soft, hazel brown origins, a kid holding his shirt. Married, she presumed. She pushed her hair back, with a gentle smile to a disappointed whim, started towards the other end. The long queue at the swings dispersed and the annoyance faded at the back. What is with these hitched ones anyway, that pulls me, she said to herself. The flat screen on her phone with 6 missed calls reminded her why.

Unfolding her now sand washed denims, she breathed in the aroma for one last time. The smell of freedom wafting in the sidelines, she sat in her little blue cardilac, Rusty she called it. Agony bequeathed on her back seat, her way home and ahead.

She probably will not return those unanswered calls, talk to her mother right back, and maybe even finish the manuscript she once was so agitated to start, 6 years ago.  But one thing was definite, she would come back. 

To kiss the memories of the times when she did not check before parting out her lips for a grin, to sway in the madness of nothingness, the engine roared. One last glance, and the sun prepared for the next shift, beaming she leaped into the golden road.

Definitions

The enthusiasm post an awkward pause in a seemingly redundant conversation, the silent nods at someone preposterous, the gentle approval for nothing less than vanity just to stay on the same page, with someone we barely have spoken to before.

As desperate as all of it may seem, but we dare not disagree. We must find the same jokes amusing, appreciate the same attires, and dislike the same people or else we do not belong. And this transcends to the same aspirations, for the same institutions and aim for the same sector workplace. Anything besides, is our discourteousness or because we are miserably disturbed. 

A society that thrives on mere air-tight surveillance, perceptions have to be approved and accepted. They must undergo the litmus test before they can qualify for selfhood. Here everything is everybody’s business where space is an unheard phenomenon. It accounts for impudence or extreme exposure to American television, nothing is or can be a choice, and knowledge more often than not is futile.

And hence everything is absolute. Change is not for us, it’s as alien as orgasm.

Even in the modernistic appeal I often find the concept of this über-individualism hilarious, where our choice to replicate the trend, is the idea of ‘standing out’. Where we are in a constant search for association and within is our mundane search for the true ‘us’. We race to break out from the familiarity of homes to find a world that welcomes individualism and gradually attune to the homogenous newly acquired environment. Is it simply hegemonic or the clasps of boundless capitalistic social conditioning.

I was assured long ago as to how this has no definitive answers and how naïve of me is to even ponder over such ‘meaningless’ issues.

But really how difficult is to think for yourself?

Or just barely think for once.

Would we always need our textbook custodians, decisive decrees and a constitutional parchment to decide?For once I lets try to be able to look and not simply see, try to be able to listen and not just hear,and try to be able to fathom and not just accept.

I might seem naïve, or you simply might choose me to term as a modern day cynic. I leave that to you, you can think of me as either or none. That’s your choice and I that's how I wish to keep it.

To lament on rooftops

A dysfunctional writer like me who often has so much to say and nothing to put down on paper is usually tormented by ideas. Oh yes I’ve stopped blogging and the whole idea to write has started to creep me. What possibly than an empty page which rebukes at the very thought of ink, staring back with its wide hollow emptiness can let you stand erect.

That old sound of crisp paper, the tinkling of new thoughts and the archaic fountain pen evoked memories of all the good times we had. But then I was advised by my very wise fellas to do to away with it all. The Ms Word will be your bible and Google your Holy Grail, I was told. And as fate had it, I was typing at the speed a word per minute (my associations with technology is deeply paralysed, this was a milestone and you’re not to think of it otherwise).And then the tinkling was washed away with ready to publish googled pieces, the ideas were lost and the pen long forgotten. While the hysterically naïve me, tries to wipe tear-lets of lost wisdom. I have been deceived with the glory of new age techno-literates, and I’m here to lament over on the same lines.

As regressive as I may sound with my experiences with repelling highly conducive technology, the point here cannot be mistook for anti-modernization. I’m pro-development, improvement and what not as long as it doesn’t dehumanizes the essence of what we are. I agree with the need for massive employment of machines and widespread industrialisation, we can’t stay the third world country that loans out every now and then from the World Bank. But can we also afford massive deployment of labour, let an entire strata of people dwell under the realms of absolute ignorance. Do we have the right to pursue sacrilege of this stature?

Forgive me for spanning my inability to create into the antagonizing ideas of development. But correct me if you think I’m unable to see the point in churning up instantaneously into powerdom here. My only point is how can we proceed if we vanquish the essence of our identity? How do we see a future if we sabotage what made us get here? How do we anticipate ahead if we cannot reminisce the bygone?

Since I’ve flexed every issue except my absence from the blogosphere, I conclude that the coagulated ideas that had rested inside is giving me migraines. And I hereby rest both my cases.

Blatant Lies

Outspoken Facets

Contrived mysteries

All painted in ordeal

A silent battle

Inclined to none

Choices are few

Decisive in abundance

All characters, one creator

A plot; a game

Designed to perfection

Destined to succeed

A prophesied beginning

A framed end

Structured to proceed

Here none win, nor lose

It breaks to join

It ends to begin

Reiterating in cadency

It’s all fair

Play by the rules

Trounced beyond belief

The time is now

And you're here to stay


Oh SHE lent me a hand too 

A New Hope

A new page
A new day
A new life
It's not lost

It's white
Unforeseen
Smiling still
It's yet to begin

It's yet to relinquish
It's here to stay
It's here to hope
Its here to live

Words have failed me since quite some time now.No more verses,or rather all the more ,I don't know.But for now the following is all I can post to my otherwise inactive blog.This piece has been unable to make it to two places,since this is the only place where rejections ain't possible(I hope,I am right),I proceed..........

What’s in a name?
The recent detention of bollywood heartthrob Shahrukh Khan at the Newark airport, has opened the doors to yet another racial debate .The two hour delay , was apparently regarding his name , raising several prejudicial concerns with their overtly vigilant procedures.

While reporters were humming to the tunes of the history of religious discrimination by the US, accompanied by Mr. Khan’s fraternity on the sorry state of affairs, the US had a different story to tell. According to them, the supposed delay lasted 66 minutes, as opposed to the earlier quoted time of two hours. His don’t-you-know-me attitude otherwise worshipped in the Indian subcontinent gave way to further questioning, by the authorities. And just as his film, was basking in some free publicity, they decided finally to put the matter to rest. All his statements regarding the episode took a u-turn to put an end to this uproar.

However, the point we all seem to miss in this sudden hoopla, is the exceptional security measures to check rampant terror. Post 9/11, the US has made no exemption to the practice, not even to the likes of Bob Dylan, an unimaginable exercise in this country, where every far-fetched kin of the long list of V.I.Ps are excused from the search.

We need to draw the larger picture here, weigh the circumstances .Do we put ourselves in the fanatical lunatic nation that the world often views us as, or move on to work some sense? Speaking of which, what happened to the Kalam, frisking row.

DESTINY

Flashed identities to begin

Borrowed hopes to fulfill

Rehearsed memories to visit

I am just a silent bird

Treading past dreams

Pushing their theories

Condemning all identities

I do not reveal

Followed rhythms to play

Golden paths in the making

Travelled by and large

My beats lie elsewhere

Resting on broken shells

Relying on shadowed existence

The drill continues

I go on

Fighting thy demons

Rewriting the melodies

Tapping my own tune

I am all set to roar

Blamed to empathy

I hung my head in shame

With each passing day

I succumb to oblivion

Numbness to the core

I feel the shivers on my spine

Branching into madness

Its hard to hold tight

The lights have dozed out

Inhaling darkness with every hour

The void is yet to come

In strange humourless sarcasm i shriek

Those feelings ,I recall

Assorted spasms of joy and affection

Of timeless laughter

So stupefying in its splendor

The butterflies have gone

Corpse bodies like me

The memories are bleak

Nothing to lose nor to hold

The chuckle is coarse

Wounded my heart lay,

It's just a stingy scar

Marred from a catastrophic plight

They said I was brave

I got what I fought for

Or was just plain old lucky

Cos things always came to me

So I never shed a tear

Not in their front nor at their backs

Every dawn I masked a new smile

And covered the eyes with senseless pride

Every dusk

I repeated the ghastly night

Having countless conversations in my head

Trying to mend my damaged soul

For I always believed

It would all end like a bad dream

a disastrous performance nearing the finish line

And I would wake up to glory

I t felt nice

For those bleak moments

To just live in the false pretence

That nothing had changed

I never knew it slipped

Hanging my existence in the frail thread of hope

The madness that incapacitated me

Was simply beyond my control

And just then I suddenly knew

For better or for worse

It will all be over

Either me or the wound ,one had to lose

And I don't know why

God had changed his mind

It was I who survived that day

And I didn't know what to feel

Was it good or bad

I still have no clue

But in due course

I was glad I had won

Still,in some dark lonely nights

When I'm about to lay my head

Its hard to believe

It happened to me

seeking destiny

As I travel in the saffron hued dunes
Fiery red since noon
Hot winds blowing across my face
The sun beating down every path I trace
Exausted I stay on the move
Desperate to reach soon

Miles covered seeking destiny
Yet seems as zilch in the expance of mustard toupey
Just a few steps away I'm told
By the mentor whose impatience is yet to unfold
Oh Lord! someone gasped
By this time we all seem to have lapsed

As just as we were about to give in
Sparkling hues caught our vision
Sheer beauty was right away
Awaiting to wash us, to sway
It seemed so conspicous
Aqua marine so delirious

While serene hope has resided deep again
And maimness was harder to remain
Marching ahead and marching together
Determined for its now or never
And this time we shan't give up
For better or for worse we shall live up

Left and Right and Right and Left
We have made it,Oh yes! we did it
Joyous cries mourns of celebrations
Uprooting all failed allegations
We have defeated the cowarice
Accomplished what didn't seem nice

And the time did arrive
To reward us for what wer did strive
Bitter and sweet at the end
All juxtaposed like long lost friends
Thus everything eventuually
Fell where they were supposed to be

Untitled

I hear so much , yet I speak so little
I see,so much,yet I believe so little
I think so much,yet I work so little
I know so much,yet I recall so little
I dream so much ,yet I realize so little


I try so much,yet I succeed so little
I want so much,yet I get so little
I feel so much, yet I show so little
I do so much,yet I’m appreciated so little

Just once and only once in my life

I want to break free, run wild and flee off Just once and only once in my life

I want to chase the furious wind, a heavy storm Just once and only once in my life

I want to be carefree in my thoughts, happy in my mind and contented in my own kind Just once and only once in my life

I want to be free Just once and only once in my life

I want to chase my dream, my beautiful dream I want to ride the rainbows and caress the stream Just once and only once in my life

I want to leave dissapointment far behind Worries and fear in a distant mind Just once and only once in my life

I want to be deaf to abuse and discouragement And leave failures to its extent Just once and only once in my life