My new hobby

Is to think about you,
I search for the tiniest of our memories
in the remotest corners
stringing them along in
a new narrative
every day
every night
like a mini theater in my head,
I watch the same films,
same characters,
same scenes,
reach the same conclusion.

My new hobby
is to have imaginary conversations with you,
even though mostly,
in reality,
you spoke too much
and I didn’t at all
but now I say it all;
your part
my part –
things we would have never said
things we would have never done,
You are so painfully interesting in my imagination
I long
and I long
wishing that you are near and real,
tangible,
lovable,
knowing perfectly that if you are with me
all your imperfections are real too.

My new hobby
is to idealize you
and then to wonder how you aren’t ideal in fact,
my new hobby
is to clutch your memories close to my heart
where no one can steal them,
my new hobby
is to wonder
whether to tell
or not to tell;
What even?
Why even?
How even?
Rather be insane
with my mental conversations
and everyday retinal movie screenings
than to awkwardly reveal my secrets to you,
What to do?
What to even expect?
I am scared that in the end, you will only judge and reject.

Nevermind though,
You are and you will still be in my thoughts.
Silent suffering,
Mysterious rejoice,
It seems that’s my new hobby.

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The Window

The white smoke rapidly escapes the distant chimneys –
Two brothers standing side by side through thick and thin.
Oh how they burn!
The waste less,
my heart more,
like red hot lava coated with grey ashes.
I gaze and gaze,
Hoping you would look back.
Shush! It’s a secret.
No one is supposed to know,
especially you.

The cold creeps into my skin,
every strand of hair gives me a standing ovation
as if thoroughly entertained by my bleeding heart.
It must be funny, I understand,
How the void is bigger now.
Hadn’t I harboured enough man-made gods inside that you had to leave me with another one?

The scattered shards of my obsession
spill over the pages again.
I am refraining from an open acknowledgement because…
Remember it’s a secret?
Why do I always end up exchanging love for indifference?
(Provided it’s love at all,
maybe just a temporary imbalance of hormones)
Surely, I think, I don’t deserve this.
Surely, you don’t share the same opinion.
What am I though?
A walking placard for “Use me”?
or maybe just a stinking landfill.
I admit that my notions of love are absurd.
You would slip into my ink much before than my heart.
Still, does that justify your cruelty?

I stare and stare,
I wish I could be the bird tottering about the green,
I wish I could be the amber leaves; lifeless and beautiful,
Or the raindrops eventually finding their path to the drains,
Or maybe a candle burning with all its might when the sun soars at its highest.
But I will get along
with another poem.
Dream another dream.
I will get along,
There will be more birds.
There will be more skeletons of trees flaunting off a leave or two.
There will be more colours
as my heart paints itself grey.
There will be more humour
as there will be more disappointment.
There will be softer sounds of my sobs,
as there will be more melodious notes of another beautiful song.
You will be there in my head, like so many others before, like so many others after.
I am not even sure if I want to forget…

So I watch a little more,
Through the vague reflections on the transparent glass of my window,
Abstract figures, abstract thoughts, abstract future,
Where I would trade love for uncertainty again.
And of course blame myself to the point that I am drowned in my own tears or something.
“No regrets”, and I shall regret even more.
But I will brush the hair off my forehead,
I will put on a red nose, a gigantic smile.
I must look like a clown,
As pathetic as it may sound.

Worry not though,
The grass is still chartreuse,
The sky is still misty and magical.
Sure you wouldn’t look back,
and I would turn thousand different times,
thousand different ways.
The fault is mine;
It’s cooler to be apathetic after all.
It’s cooler not to be hurt.
But what can I say?
You have your drugs and I have mine.
And whatever it may or may not entail,
I am addicted;
I have always been and I always will be.
The wet pages, the blurred margins, the smeared ink and the slurred words being my rehabilitation.

 *

The Love Song

You are into her before you even know it,
You love her before you even know what love is,
You aren’t sure of course,
Sometimes it’s so easy to just be a pervert,
Sometimes it’s so easy to put your friendship on sale just to get rid of some momentary bouts of loneliness.
Friendship?
What is friendship?
Apart from that caring and sharing,
Is it the line that you swear to never cross?
Even though you are mostly hanging around this side of the line longing to explore the land opposite side of it,
Mind says it might be fun,
Mind says we should be hopeful, of course nothing would change.
What mind? Mind intoxicated with lust among other things?
Liar.
Liar.
The fucking temptress.
Nothing remains the same,
Stop with the tendency to make simple things complicated.
Let me continue walking on this side of paradise,
I love it,
No, trust me,
It’s not the question of me being corrupted or scrupulous,
Maybe it’s simply the question of me being hesitant
Or cowardly
Or in denial.
Don’t ask me.
Don’t argue.
Do you understand the implications of what you are implying?
It’s so easy to fall for her though,
No wonder it has happened before
With other people,
In other places.
It’s easy to stand in the queue,
Waiting for nothing in particular,
Maybe hanging out with people who share the same object of admiration.
Admiration?
But I fucking love her,
But they do too!
It’s so easy to love her though,
I don’t know why,
I don’t know why,
I don’t know why,
It makes me fucking hate myself
I don’t want to be another leech yearning to be loved back,
I wanted to love –
Unconditionally
For once in my whole god damned life!
Maybe that is why I am standing in the queue,
Hoping for everything,
Hoping for nothing.
I like to believe that you are aware what it means to me,
What you mean to me,
I like to believe that you are aware of my presence in this queue,
And in a way you even like it.
Who doesn’t like to be loved after all?
Makes you such a bitch.
And I love you even more.
I know you won’t say it out loud,
I know you are in some evil way even wanting me to confess,
Yeah, good luck with that.
There’s more thrill in secretly searching for various shades of the same colour in your eyes,
There’s more thrill in noticing the varying sizes of your pupil,
There’s more thrill in unabashedly juxtaposing my fantasies on to you,
There’s more thrill in listening to your voice in sync with the songs,
There’s more thrill in watching you kiss other people,
The bittersweet sigh from my heart,
I have dealt with this before,
You can be my ultimate romantic tragedy.
Anyway, I am not sure if I am capable of making you my happy ending.
So ignore my love,
Ignore my love for you, my love
Meanwhile I can write millions of love songs on you,
Which I hope would disappear from the face of the Earth,
Unread.
Especially by you.

A love letter

Dear,
How scandalous and embarrassing of me to anticipate for the day when I will be able to speak to you again,
when you are not supposed to exist,
when your charm is something I should easily resist
But look how glittering you are!
Even the dawn can’t make your presence disappear
How tempting it is to touch you,
even though it’s a common knowledge how toxic you are
How attractive it is to pursue you,
even though it’s widely known how forbidden you are
O Honey! O Darling!
Why mustn’t you desert my heart?
You bring death to my life,
You bring life to my death,
You bring love, you bring hate,
You bring joy, you frustrate,
You destroy, you create.
Are you even real?
How embarrassing and scandalous of me to be influenced by you so much,
Wasn’t my life already complicated enough?
No, it is pointless to accuse you
Because I think you make my life simpler instead.
You are blood into my veins,
Air that I could breathe,
Despite your debatable actuality,
You mean,
You exist,
As if nothing else matters.

***

Dead lives,

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.

***

I am an Alien

Beautiful places, beautiful people, beautiful pictures
And I am not a part of it
Despite being a part of it
My existence – dusted at some neglected corner
not meant to be discovered,
I stand silent, trying to admire, trying to convince
that I am in love with what lays before me
An ineffective camouflage for how really detached I feel
In my head, I am already miles away
Though I stand right here
In my head, I am already mourning the separation
Though I haven’t felt a single ounce of love for your company
In my head, I am crying over an alternate future
Though I can’t even admire the present.
Beautiful pictures, beautiful places, beautiful you!
Would you call me insensitive?
Is my heart really a stone?
Never overwhelmed or underwhelmed
I am just whelmed
Not too happy, not too hurt, not too furious
I anticipate a storm inside
But there’s no destruction
There’s no scope for creation
For a poet –
I am surprisingly devoid of turbulences
Maybe I am being too harsh
Maybe I am being too vain
All this meaningless rant –
Beautiful pictures, beautiful places, beautiful people!
And I am not a part of it
Despite being a part of it.
I am an alien and I couldn’t be more ordinary.

*

Somewhere in the Universe

“You have nothing to say to me?” you asked, sounding a bit surprised.

I looked at you and my head jolted me with a series of flashbacks of numerous diary entries, self-conversations and monologues.

It’s not like I have nothing to say to you. Perhaps I have a million things to say to you. But I can’t say anything. You can’t say anything, despite being a writer?  Writers are the ones who struggle the most for the right words! Of course I don’t have words to say it! But are there really any confessions or accusations I would like to make? No. I am a blank chit, devoid of emotions. I am not generally like this. You know how I am! I am brimming with all kinds of emotions most of the time. Sometimes, it’s so overwhelming that it gets quite out of control. I have pictured this conversation so many times in my head and every time in every single scenario, I had no words to say to you. Why? You might ask. It’s not like I have not been hurt by you. Maybe I am still in denial and I am not willing to truly accept it. Maybe I am not that hurt and I want myself to be hurt just to know what heart-break tastes like. I have no definite answer for that. But you give me nothing but indifference and all these fictitious conversations in my head. Each day I am colder and more aloof. However, I still remember – You. I don’t know how I do that. I am sure you never intended this. Well, of course, you never intended this! But to be honest, your intentions don’t matter anyway. I know what I meant to you – Nothing! And there is nothing wrong with that. When I think about you, I never consider my own judgment or perception or my own state of mind/heart; I become you or whoever I think you are. And from your point of view, my meaninglessness in your life makes perfect sense. That’s why maybe I don’t have anything held against you. If am zero for you, well, I am a zero. I don’t mind being like that. It’s refreshing in a way. Obviously if I had any choice, I would definitely like to change that. But I can’t do that. It’s your life. You are the protagonist. Protagonists have their own characteristics; they don’t follow a writer’s rule! They make their own rules! I have nothing to say to you because you still mean so much to me and I can’t really confess that without you being offended. Offending you would be a delight but I have no energy for that neither the will. Maybe what you’d feel is not offence but guilt and then you’d ask for my forgiveness. How can I forgive you if I don’t even have an answer for whether at all I had ever been hurt? I have nothing to say to you because in my head I have said it all. There are things that I remember. There are things that I have forgotten. There are things that I am grateful for. There are things that I am sorry for. In my life you would always have a value despite my failure in gaining the same in yours. It’s not a shame. It’s a tragic beauty. But I can’t say it, at least not in a way that makes sense to you or even to me.

“No” I nodded as I nervously glanced down at my wrist watch and eagerly waited for time to pass by. You glanced at your watch too. “Is there anything you would like to say?” I asked trying to ease the awkwardness. I received a familiar nod from you. We both looked at each other with artificial smiles pasted on our faces and secretly acknowledged that this was indeed the last time we were (not) enjoying each other’s company. And yet, I saw the fireworks in the background at our last good bye as if conveying that even our last miscommunication and small insignificant mis-story had the capability to create a minuscule impact somewhere in the universe.

***

Sex, Orgasm, Atoms and the Universe

“I bet you get a lot of action.” I winked at her expecting her vibrant blush. Instead she replied as if it was a matter-of-fact, “True. It’s like a habit now. I can’t even remember when it all started. You know, I can’t even count my ex-boyfriends anymore,” she chuckled. “Wow. That many?” I replied.  “Yes and there are those guilty flings as well.” How could she say things like that in such a casual manner? I looked around ensuring that nobody was overhearing our conversation. The café was practically empty and the sole waiter was busy ogling at this girl who was sitting on a faraway corner. “Wow! So, with so many options what’s been your best experience so far?” I asked her teasingly.

“Sexually?”

“Uh-huh…”

“Hmm…Let me think”, she thought for a moment and resumed excitedly, “So there was this time; the best night of my life. In fact that night changed my life.  And I am not exaggerating. Ugh! That orgasm! That orgasm surpassed anything I had ever felt. It was more amazing than amazing, you know! I mean you cannot just call it amazing. It was beautiful beyond imagination.” She looked at my face and tried to ease my confusion, “Let me try to elaborate…What’s the smallest thing that you can think of? A dust particle? Now, they tell you that your smallest thing is nothing compared to atoms. In fact a dust particle houses thousands of atoms. You nod. You are like okay. But can you really imagine that? That something as small as a dust can house thousands of even smaller particles! But they don’t stop there. Atoms have further smaller particles! What the fuck! But wait, this doesn’t stop here even! Atom’s smaller particles have further smaller particles. These things blow my mind. I can’t imagine it. I can’t go beyond the bloody dust particle. For me, that is atom.”

I sat mystified by how my question about sex had her discussing about quantum physics. As if knowing exactly what I was thinking, she added, “Worry no more. Here comes the analogy. We take facts for what they are even when we can’t see it, even when we can’t imagine it. That night…that night I could finally imagine the unimaginable. I could finally magnify that scale. I could finally see beyond the dust. Until then orgasm had just been this supposedly amazing thing. Then it became the amazing thing. It stopped being the dust; it went on to become the atoms, the protons, the neutrons, the quarks.”

I was finding it a bit hard to digest the analogy but she continued anyway, “Okay, I will leave physics out of this. I will tell you the best part – that night, I laughed like a mad man. I know it’s weird and it has never happened to me before and since – but I was indeed laughing so hard and this spasm, this colossal spasm simultaneously traversed across my body. And it coupled with my laughter in such a way that the waves resonated, you know. So, the amplitude got even higher! I climaxed along with my cheek muscles, my weird chuckling voice, my lips, my stomach movements – you know, how your stomach moves when you laugh, my heart beats – my laughing heartbeats! It went on for a long time.” She paused and closed her eyes for a moment as if savoring the memory and continued, “But it wasn’t the end of it. I came again. And again. And again. And again. I exploded like a big bang. Pieces of me scattered all over me like the pieces of universe. Never before had I witnessed something so beautifully shattering. I was ready to die with that explosion and it felt as if my life was complete. And in that moment it really was. Nothing could match the emotions I felt then. Happiness, hope, love. Love – one of the rare times when I actually felt it. I cannot describe the intensity. I fell in love with myself then. It was madness! My orgasm ricocheted not just across my loins, it was the origin of it, yes, but it traveled all the way up and down; from my head to my toe. To my navel, to my chest, to my heart, to my thoughts, to my dreams, to my self-esteem. It traveled to those realms as well! Can you believe that? Those were not merely repeated convulsions! Those were much powerful than that!  I had no idea that I had the capability to feel that way. And you know how the astronomers say how there are traces of big bang still spread across our universe? Like that I have traces of that night spread across me still. Often it invokes in me a feeling of longing. And I often wonder what if I never experience something like that again. But I am okay with that. I mean I would love it if I could go a level up too and explore further but I am not going to pressurize anyone or myself. Most of the amazing things happen just once in our lives, like this day right here, that’s what makes it more special. Doesn’t it? So, I am okay with this separation and linearity as well.  The memories mostly inspire me. They tell me that I am worth being sunk in those gigantic waves. That I am worth witnessing that power. That I am worth feeling that way. I deserve nothing less. It’s ironic – this statement. But it keeps my spirit high and makes me respect myself more. Ah, that night though! That night – it was infinity. It was the circle of life. It was subatomic particle. It was the eternity of universe.”

“Boy!” I muttered as I sat enraptured imagining what I couldn’t possibly imagine. ‘Atoms’, you know, as someone would like to call it. But I kind of wished that she had explained the whole scenario from the beginning and not just the end point. So, I added quietly hoping that she’d address my remote but yet influential perverseness as well by giving a few insights on how to traverse and find the road whose destination was so magical, “The guy, the guy that you slept with that night, MUST have been really good.”

“Absolutely! Except that there wasn’t one.”

***

Day Nineteen – Apathy

Under my ignorant understanding of the world,
And pitiable generalization of humanity,
I find myself openly craving for this amazing trait.
Could be that what once we saw as ‘expectations’,
Had just been an evidence for how one once cared,
But nevertheless, solicitousness is engraved with sin
And unnecessary hurt
And unnecessary pain
And indifference!
Indifference is something to celebrate!
Indifference is happiness, isn’t it?
But what’s this blue thought creeping in my head?
We have come a long way of progression –
But how did we come to be living in the world where apathy is considered to be the coolest thing to possess?

*

AUTHOR’S LITTLE NOTE:
This blog series is a part of a 30 Days writing challenge, which is as depicted by the picture below (Special thanks to Pinterest):
Writing challenge - May'17

Ma and I

I look back at my life and I look at my life now and all I see is a line, not even a plane, not even a series of line segments connected at various angles, not even that, just a line, one dimensional – an infinite repeating stale connections of collinear points. That’s it. I see rainbows but in gray scale. I see vitality but only in the creases of my palms. I sigh at life; What a fucked up mess! A tasteless stew! Vestigial! Garbage!
Distant voices call me harsh and stupid. But they don’t understand that life doesn’t care! Maybe death does but then who cares about his universally acknowledged and yet clandestine existence! Until it’s too late?
Astrologers approve of my stars. Society acknowledges my talent. Sometimes it rains small packets of happiness. Sometimes birds sit on my shoulders and sing songs of love. And yet all I see is a line – An infinite stabbing, sobbing, screaming line.

And that is all I see until I ask my mother – “What do you want? It is mother’s day!” All I see is a line until she takes me into her arms and says, “Nothing. You are enough.”
And that’s when the line shatters into stars scattered across a beautiful night sky. That’s when the line erupts into multiple hitherto unknown dimensions. That’s when the line splits into VIBGYOR. That’s when the line becomes the life worth living.

Happy mother’s day! (Not belated, because that’s today, every today)