.
Karma; what goes around comes around.
as if telling you
that maybe, slightly, I don’t know, I feel
eager or a bit obsessed, is going to change my
Kismet or yours; because I think I am fated to be
unlucky when it comes to this
meaning all my tiny little
expectations with love, what seems like love, don’t
necessarily or even remotely meet yours.
(But what if, they did?)
**
Dear man of my dreams,
Stop ghosting me
(at least send me a meme)
that is if you yourself are not a ghost-
Give me a sign if you exist!
And if you are going to be late,
Don’t worry, I can wait
but if you are never going to come,
If you are dead already
Or if you were never born,
Can you somehow still let me know so that I can move on?
8 billion people on this planet-
Many of them married,
some live in North Korea, some in jails,
but still there must be many eligible bachelors out there…
They say I should perhaps
Look again into those dating apps
Dig deeper
Search harder
Further and farther;
Dates
after dates
after dates
after dates
I’ve met new strangers, new lovers,
new friends, new fuckers
new followers, new unfollowers,
But where the hell are you?
As my friends
and colleagues
and the whole wide world on Instagram’s getting married
finding so much love
and love
and love
and love
(And God, they are so much in love)
I am fearing what if I am missing out?
I want to try saying I love you to an actual person
That you, my darling, are the one
Who for a change is not my own reflection.
I call you man of my dreams
even though you have never once appeared in one
Meaning, says Marvel,
not just this Universe you don’t exist in any Universe.
Look, I don’t mind dying alone
Many people have done that happily
And I am sure I can be one of them too
But are you sure you are not there?
Are you, god forbid, one of those guys
whose ‘Hys’ I never bothered to reply?
Are you one of those I have been ignoring?
Because I think you are a bit too boring?
How am I supposed to know if I actually meet you?
Will there be violins in the background that will set us in a daze?
While my hair blows in slow motion and you can’t help but gaze?
Shouldn’t there be a clue
that tells me if I am meant to be with you?
You will know, Saloni
You will just know, they tell me
That is, of course, if we ever meet
That is, of course, if you are there
I am starting to think maybe you are not…
If you are looking for a sign for you to send me a sign
Can this qualify as one?
It’s not great, but it’s better than none.
I am not really sure if this is how it works
But if it works,
Dear man of my dreams
find me or let me find you
And let us find love…
And love
And so much of love
That we’d spam their feed so bad
they’d regret us finding each other.
**
I don’t know why
but being different is important to me.
Does it give me happiness?
Not always.
Does it give me clarity?
Not always.
Does it give me money?
Never.
But still, I have to be this way.
I guess it gives me a bit of meaning.
But if I brood too much,
that meaning is lost.
I guess it gives me a soul,
But if I commercialise it that soul is lost.
I guess it gives me a bit of passion,
my raison d^etre,
But there could be so many better reasons to live,
There could be so many reasons not to live,
And my pen can’t take the weight to counter them all.
Maybe it gives me some goals,
But I never complete them till the end –
An end that can be recognized
An end that concludes a dream.
But what exactly is this dream?
To create, and abandon?
To wander, lost and confused?
To fix, and break something else in the process?
To explore, this endless world?
only to know
that you don’t know shit?
Sometimes I wish I was like everyone else
or whatever I think everyone else is like
But I know I can’t be that
being normal is boring,
and being different is exciting,
being different is freedom!
But freedom at what cost?
The corpses of expectations,
The greener grass of the path not taken,
The tormentors from the land of uncertainty,
And the goddess of procrastination,
asking for hours and hours
of daily worship.
But when I create anything
everything melts away
My creation
compensates for the lack of a company,
it compensates for the apparent lack of purpose
and even though it’s not a magnum opus
I love it.
It doesn’t make me exactly that different
but it gives me the illusion that I am
and nothing else seems to matter
until the last brush stroke,
until that last one word.
It doesn’t make sense.
But being this way
somehow feels the right way to be.
I don’t know why.
*
My newest hobby
is to look for jobs on LinkedIn
and study the job descriptions
like textbooks.
And then wonder even after decades of learning
there’s so much
that I need to learn.
And what I need to learn
is not necessarily what I want to learn
but I have to learn it
to be ‘employable’.
My newest idea for fun
is to apply to these jobs right away
(unless they ask for cover letters)
(or direct me to a new website to build yet another profile)
and even when I don’t fit
I apply
and even when I know
that most probably they won’t reply
I apply
to see how much my confidence can take it.
It’s not like I don’t have a job,
I do.
It’s not like I particularly despise it,
I don’t.
But sometimes I do
like at some point we all do
but it’s not bad
it’s great
there are definitely some good parts
and I can be loyal
because employers expect loyalty
but employees expect an appraisal
some acknowledgement,
a bit of appreciation
but these days apparently we all expect too much.
Probably, my future job will be like this too
but at least it would be new
for a while
and maybe I may not like it
but my salary, they would hike it
and I guess I would like that
and the ton of responsibility that will come with that.
At least I hope I won’t be frustrated or bored
there’ll be new people to frustrate and bore.
Also, there’ll be more experience onboard
to apply for better jobs
and get a better pay
so that I could pay better taxes
and work more
and manage more
until my work-life balance is completely annihilated.
So then I think
I should start something of my own
and instead of 9 to 5
I should work all the time
anyway I work all the time
at least I can pay myself better
if at all I get the clients
to pay me,
if at all I get skilled employees
who can work for me
with all honesty and dedication
whom I can pay less
while writing big fat cheques
to myself
and buy a bungalow at the seaside
or in the mountains
or at the moon
and finally, finally live in peace
and try not to worry
about my business not generating enough revenue
or my business not getting sold
or employees whom I may have trained and guided
leaving me for better opportunities
or clients going for better deals
and I am left feeling betrayed
if at all
the business runs at all.
Is there any optimistic ending
at any end?
My inbox is filled with rejections
and I am too busy to feel dejection
and too scared to start anything of my own
or stick to it if I do.
So I am scrolling and scrolling
not the reels
but the LinkedIn
again,
wondering
amidst all the stories of success that I am seeing
where is my life going?
Wondering
what the fucking hell!
These days
nothing rings a bell!
When I was younger there was a dream
but now I am getting older
and it seems
there’s always a movie I want to stream
because the real world is depressing.
But I need to do my job
a good job
the good job
to feel valued
to feel relevant
and finally feel exploited.
All I wanted was some money to pay off my loan
travel around
create art
eat, live, and invest
and have fun while doing it.
And that if and when I am old
I can chill, I can rest
at last
but apparently, that’s not enough.
Apparently, that’s not even possible.
Where are these roads going
the time is passing
a month, a year, a decade…
What was it supposed to be like
to live an ideal life?
Is there an ideal life?
Can I just die and never be born again?
And sound less depressing when I say that?
Oh wait,
even for that apparently
I need to meditate the entire existence out of myself
and burn all the karmic connections I have had
not just in this birth
but all the births I have ever had.
Can I do that by watching some memes instead?
I can volunteer to travel to the mountains though.
Oh wait, for that too I need money.
And more importantly, I need leaves.
I am okay, I am fine,
in case anyone at all is asking
I am not generally this pessimistic
in case anyone is judging.
It’s just that
everything is a box
and everything is a square
and life keeps on running in a circle.
I am someplace
somewhere a dot
flung far away in the Universe
looking for a job that suits me
looking for a me that suits the job
Perhaps I will find it
and later complain about it-
for nothing good is permanently good
and everything good can be better.
Meanwhile,
the Universe doesn’t give a damn.
Or perhaps it does
if I may
Just overestimate my importance a little.
So now I am on Linkedin again
Updating a new post
to be visible
to be viral
to be famous
And then do what?
Post new posts
because fame has to be maintained,
even fame is a job.
Anyway there’s nothing much I can do with it
except losing whatever little privacy I have
and get free food at the restaurants perhaps
for sharing stories
and get free trolling in case I run out of unnecessary attention.
Do we have any better purpose?
Does anyone else feel we must have something more
something?
anything more?
No? Are you sure?
Maybe I should try
being satisfied with what I have,
find a new hobby
try yoga for instance,
or return to the old ones
poetry for instance
poetry which is not explosive
poetry about monsoon
about love
poetry about all the good things
all the good little fake things.
Will anyone judge me for this?
My potential employers,
My current employers,
My ex-employers,
Should I be scared?
for being honest
for letting my thoughts out unfiltered
for demanding more
for needing more
for wanting a better life
for me
and for all
am I too naive?
am I too greedy?
am I just too stupid?
What do you think?
Would you let me know in the comments?
Followed by some hashtags-
gestures of how you like this
and how you care
and still, there’s nothing you can do
to address my despair?
Or yours.
Except clicking a small little button?
Because maybe you too believe
you are just too ungrateful
for wanting to be unique
and special
and yet blend in the crowd
for wanting to be you
and not wanting to change that
for wanting to get what you deserve
for wanting a perfect life
and yet failing to achieve that
despite all the 90 percentages and percentiles,
all the fancy institutes
all the fancy companies
government or private
all the fancy skills,
and the certificates,
and the experiences,
and the motivational books, and the videos, and the success stories?
They will tell you one way or the other
that nope
you don’t deserve it.
“You are too average.”
But what about the heart that refuses to believe that?
What about the heart that yearns to be different?
That yearns to make a difference?
That heart tells me not to think about all this
That heart tells me to keep trying
keep hoping
keep making
mistakes after mistakes
until I can say
that they were mistaken.
Perhaps someday
they will be proven wrong,
Perhaps one day
it won’t matter anyway.
*
No matter what you do,
they are never going to be happy with what you do.
Out on a journey to perpetually disappoint them
You cross one milestone that they set
and they would expect you to cross one more
that they would set again
because you can be better
than what you are
always.
No matter what you do
No matter how different you are
No matter how much that means to you
No matter how much you value
if it isn’t something that they value
then your life
your talent
your so-called potential
is a waste.
In your head, you have learnt so much
In your head, you have grown so much
In your head, you think
you are happy.
In their head, they think
you are just selfish
and so damn ungrateful.
Yeah sure there’s still some struggle
there’s still some hustle
Sure there is indeed some more learning and unlearning to do
but you are happy to tussle
in between whatever little you have
whatever little that will grow
because you nourish it
you cherish it
you love it
that you have the space to be you
to create your own destinations
to choose your own dreams
and when you grow older
you’d know
that you have nothing to regret because you listened to your heart.
“But your heart is too young”
They’d say
“Your brain is blind”
They’d say
Who are you to argue?
With people who came decades before you?
With the people who created you?
Sure they’d know more about your life
than you do yourself
Either “You don’t know your own potential.”
(Someone ban the word potential please)
Or “You don’t know the world”
Or both.
How bloody irresponsible!
According to them, you have not done enough
Always throwing away opportunities
to tread through roads
that no one takes –
You call that an adventure,
They call it stupidity.
No one takes those roads
because they lead to nowhere, duh!
They have had enough.
No more.
You can do so much better.
Here try some hardcore and ridiculously competitive
tried & tested options
to prove your worth
(because they dreamt of themselves once and couldn’t live it)
and finally, be respectable.
Sure they want to bring out the best in us
and a bit of pressure
turns carbon into diamonds.
A bit too much pressure
makes things explode too.
But fine, a risk worth taking, right?
Why did we grow up to have our own voice?
When we really didn’t have any choice?
Why do we create humans but not robots as our progenies?
How can they be so sure that the decisions we take for our own
lives would be a regret
just because they don’t match with theirs?
We would have aligned with you if we could
Life would have been so much simpler that way
But this same two decades of generation gap
has given us a pair of eyes
that sees the world in a different way
that inspires us to live in a different way.
Is it too much to ask to navigate through our own lives
Find our own way, right or wrong
Find our own peace, short-lived or long,
Is it too much for them to see that
We are happy, really we are okay?
With all our glaring ordinariness
we can still be a bit extraordinary in between.
But if you argue, you are left to guilt trip
For not abiding by the principle of great obedience.
God we hope we could inherit your dreams and beliefs
instead of your genes
But sadly, we ended up growing our own
And if we get to live everything
Everything that we dreamt and envisioned
We would still fall short of their expectations
Because we couldn’t/wouldn’t crack that exam that they wanted us to crack,
Do what they wanted us to do.
Now we are forever worthless no matter what we try
No matter what the rest of the world says
No matter what we say
Our lives are forever ruined
Because it didn’t turn out to be how they wanted it to be.
And we’d feel terrible
because we are terrible.
Tell me, how is that fair?
***
It’s hard to dream really,
Once you finally get started,
You are bound to ask
Why
Why
Why
You chose to make love
Over making money
And now you stand naked in front of the people
Asking them to like you
Some of them do,
Some of them don’t,
Why do they not?
You look yourself in the mirror
And find only flaws
Why do they even do?
A question you throw to those who love you.
It’s hard to dream really
There’s one step toward progress
And two steps to regress
Two or three,
What’s wrong with me?
Where did it go, all the glory?
Once dispersed in the air like confetti
And now there are ashes slowly floating down to the ground.
What stupidity!
Now, I weep on my pages
On crazy outrages
Gasping for breath, floundering,
My mind madly meandering.
Maybe I would continue to suffocate,
Maybe I would continue to suffer,
And still, I would be an optimist
Even when the times are tougher.
I will cling on to the rope,
I may never give up hope,
And even when I weep,
I would think of the promise I must keep.
Of course, it’s hard to dream,
No wonder so many don’t.
Idiocy,
Idiosyncrasy,
And I have chosen both.
Sure, I have been upset,
But there have been no regrets,
I never stepped in with an expectation of how everything would be perfect.
And it hurts,
But also it doesn’t.
I would be honest.
I wouldn’t lie
Still each morning I need to remind myself why.
The doors are far behind,
Much farther than I thought
And even if I were to return
I will find them all locked.
So the only option is to move ahead
The real choice is between confidence and dread.
If an idiot is what they have been calling me,
Then idiot is what I would confidently be.
You have your security
And I have my dreams and my heart
I don’t know if it’s a fair trade
But I hope without too much of a fuss,
That it turns out good for both of us.
*
Melancholy nights
Reminding you of
failed love affairs
embarrassing mistakes
futile struggles of life
the meaninglessness
the blues
and the greys
everything that shouldn’t return
coming back –
memories that can’t be made again
people you can’t meet again
roads that cannot be taken
things that you shouldn’t have done
words that you shouldn’t have said
wiser choices that you could have made, but you didn’t.
Melancholy nights
when the moon peeks from the formless clouds
stars blink through the mist and dust
when the streets go quiet
and the crickets come alive
when there’s no one in the room
but you
and just you.
Are your cheeks already wet?
Are you already missing the life that you never really had?
Dreams that were never going to come true?
Through ashes and smoke
Through spirits and songs
The world runs and runs
And in this melancholic night
you are left alone.
My eyes flick open again,
Just as the sun wakes up,
Just when the moon falls asleep,
Too cold to step outside the blanket
Too late not to.
I gaze outside, tad bit drowsy,
tad bit curious,
tad bit joyous,
tad bit furious.
The buildings display quite an opposite effect of sunlight on them,
Reverse tanning, to be precise,
I can’t possibly count the shades of green I see,
I can’t possibly count the kinds of flowers,
The kinds of bees,
The kinds of buzz,
The kinds of me.
What’s wrong?
It’s too early.
So what?
I can’t sleep.
How come?
I can’t sleep.
What’d you do?
I can’t sleep.
Why’s that?
Maybe,
Maybe these days I am dreaming with my eyes wide open.
*
Dead lives, dead leaves,
Scattered across the grey streets,
On a soulless journey to nowhere or everywhere
with the winds sweeping them onto different destinations
With the time decaying them back into life;
Just so they could fall lifeless once again.
What do you hope to find in this circular maze?
How are you different from other carbon corpses?
Dead eyes, dead voice,
After all, a beating heart was never your choice!
Like the stones, like the deepest ocean bed,
You are silently waiting for the end ahead.
Hush!Hush!Hush!
Don’t think it too loud!
Hush!Hush!Hush!
The stars might overhear!
Time might end today or after infinity,
But the blood must continue running stale in your veins
The thoughts must wander lost always.
Dead leaves, dead lives,
sleeping indifferently on the streets at nights.
Make sure there’s never anything to see
Make sure that the eyes are always wide shut
For if they blink open, if they ever do,
It will all come fiercely rushing through,
in all its unfairness,
tearing apart your blissfully protective wall of indifference-
The storming life,
The warrior love,
valiantly destroying your ignorant existence,
Your living death.
***
Hope isn’t a friend, my friend;
Even the popular norms can be misleading.
Hope isn’t the guy you can trust;
Sometimes, even strangers are less deluding.
Sure hope can gift you blissful dreams;
Dreams which are capable of making your hearts flutter with joy,
Shooing away all the things that might have got you annoyed
He would take you to a faraway destination –
On which you would do all kinds of investigation
For, of course, you will make that journey one day,
That one day won’t be tomorrow,
That one day won’t even be the day after tomorrow,
That one day!
That one day will be someday,
An abstract thing,
A floating entity not willing to be quantified as a date
And to be brought down into the ugliness of calendars at any rate!
But we don’t have to know this, yes.
Though even with this ignorance, don’t you dare transform that day into today
Hope won’t take it.
This very act jeopardizes the purpose of his existence,
So, he will put up with all forms of resistance,
Gaining the shape of its alter ego
Suddenly, he will transform into his apprehensive self—
What if? What if? What if?
Hope will always project an ideal parallel future,
ready to be touched but never intending to intersect;
When the limit tends to zero there would always be something to interject,
So, let your dreams thrive in the islands far far away,
Either they be tomorrows of tomorrows,
Or simply yesterdays,
Hope is a kind bastard,
who doesn’t mean you any harm, of course.
A guy a bit too concerned
who wants to protect you from remorse.
But don’t let him take control
After all what matters the most is his greatest fear—
Today.
Oh hope! It will be okay!
Frankly, I am pretty scared of your hazardous affection
Hope, you can’t always keep looking for acceptance
When you know what necessary part of life are rejections,
So, don’t leave me here in the midway-
when you have got me half dreamy but dangerously short of motivation
Be the chain reaction to my actions;
I don’t want your presence through scattered fractions,
Be honest hope! Be persistent!
If I give up, be insistent!
If I try, be an assistant!
If I fuck up, be resistant!
If I am bogged down lift me up,
Hold my hand through each hiccup,
Be real,
Not surreal,
I don’t need you as evasion,
Or some repeated persuasion,
Don’t function as a pill meant to abate,
I just need you as a mate!
But these aren’t in his basic nature,
For hope is a funny creature!
Known for his abrupt endings,
‘Hopeless’ is his second nomenclature
And so, you can only hope that he stays till the end.
Because yes, hope isn’t always a friend, my friend.
***
The Turquoise Ink 