The Sunset

Sure, it’s beautiful –
This ending day;
Crimson, Magenta
Tiffany, Tuscany
Why are the birds departing already?
Wings dispersed like charcoal ashes in the air,
The street lights shining like a long diamond necklace along the roads.
There’s moon on the other side
The love birds must be exchanging a cheesy dialogue or two.
This public display of affection makes me uncomfortable
But the moon alone makes me more uncomfortable –
For the night shall be gloomy,
Cold and restless,
Unsettling.
I am hoping you two understand human mentality more than I do.
You have been here much much longer than me after all.
You have witnessed thousands of lameness like this being written right here
And you will do that in future as well.
But here’s the thing –
Sun, stay here for a little more while
Moon, you can stay too if you want
I am just not sure if I am ready for the darkness yet.
Don’t leave me with my disorientated freezing heart,
I could appreciate some warmth right now,
The warmth that’s safer to obtain from you
Than a heartless lover
Or a bottle of wine,
Or a puff of smoke.
Don’t leave me just yet.
My treacherous mind is scarier than the ghosts outside.
Don’t leave me just yet,
Hear my plea if only you can.
Another day will be passed-
A new link of disappointment added to the chain
A new day dream of what could have been.
Be the present,
Don’t be the past yet.
I am not yet adjusted to your ridiculous speed.
But you won’t listen, will you?
You will say you are coming back,
With another dawn,
Another day,
But it is not the same!
It’s a different date.
It’s a different day.
It is NOT the same.

So, you have gone,
The dark starless night.
Maybe I could still fish you out of the horizon,
If I am patient enough
If I am quiet enough
But you have gone.
Gone.
Maybe someday I might visit you again through a time travelling machine.
Gone.
Or maybe just skim through some random memories
at a random day
reading a random diary entry
or listening to a random old song.
And I would long for you even more,
But gone,
Gone –
That’s what you are.
“Move on,” you say,
Like a person apologizing for not loving his lover back.
I will, of course
Not that I have any other choice,
I need to live in the end.
But I wish there was a pause button,
A rewind
Or even fast forward
But too bad;
It’s much more simple than that
Once you hit play,
The only thing you can press
Is Stop.

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Your human existence?

Your human existence
is running out of evidence
as your tales fade away when I pass them to others,
and others, preoccupied, don’t pass to another,
as words die at the tip of my tongue
when I try to recall the songs since long unsung,
as I toss and topple through a restless night,
and people who knew you depart gradually out of sight…
as your same old stories are recycled over and over
camouflaged as new ones, drunk and sober,
as my own judgement dresses up like your possible advice,
In moments of uncertainty, that’s a cunning disguise,
as your clothes lay, never touched, never worn,
degrading slowly, yearning to be given away or thrown,
as your photographs smile like you never left any dots or dashes,
Conveniently ignoring that your flesh and bones are long gone burnt to ashes.

And, you are far from being mattered now
Hence you exist like a god;
Never seen
Never heard
All your mistakes are forgotten
All your missteps are wise
Your fury is symphony
Your love is a way to paradise
Your voice is a miracle
Your smile is the turquoise ocean
And all my tears are my prayers
All my sorrow is my temple
You are worshiped here everyday
You are glorified every hour…

But then you are not a god
Just a handful of memories;
Fading and dripping,
Now only the best ones remain in the filter cone,
And they too are eroding everyday, millimeter by millimeter
Lost in the wind, lost in the history, lost in our ironical transcendence into  nothingness…

 

Dozing off during lecture…

Date; Quite frankly, I am too disoriented to recall it.

Location; Classroom ( the same place that Sleeping beauty had cursed with intolerable somnolence years ago and fell asleep herself as the curse backfired. )

Dear notebook

Either I am turning Narcoleptic or this Lecture is actually a heavy dose of anesthesia. And I mean no offence but I really, really am trying hard to stay awake. I am literally counting every second in hopes of shedding this dreadful heaviness off my eyes but this clock is ticking so slow that this strategy is back firing and all I am getting is even more urge to sleep. Time is crawling and I am sure the wrist watch on my hand has got pretty much scared of this dopey face of mine that keeps flashing in front of it every now and then and the act that might have once seemed cute to it, has gone far beyond being creepy.

As I was struggling to keep my eyelids open and epically failing in doing so, my body swinging to a rhythm of uncanny sleeping routine, I decided to use one and only tool I have to fight the pitiable state of mine.

So, here I am writing.

I wish I could pen down some notes instead of penning down my thoughts, dear notebook , but I have tasted this delicious sin and I can’t make myself to not do it. Precisely because;

  • Self control sucks.
  • I am hopelessly addicted to it.

I have experienced the time passing through a black hole in so many lectures and the fact suggests that I must have felt the semesters passing by but quite surprisingly I haven’t.

And this is what we are going to talk about dear notebook;

Time and the way it deceives our mind. And Vice versa.

I know you expect some drives and motors and rectifiers, notebook, but Nah-uh. Not happening. I am diary-zoning you.

What is it with time?

Time is such a weird entity that nobody seems to understand it. And yet the term is there in every language and used so frequently that sometimes we forget that this thing is still unfamiliar to us!

The word time brings an image of clock in our heads but it doesn’t seem fair to confine it to two weird stout and slim ladies making rounds through the very same twelve sectors again and again. Time is more than that. It’s so much more mind boggling than that.

Time seems to matter so much to us but our brain doesn’t seem to give many fucks to it. There is no organ in brain that is dedicated especially to act as timer.

Our brain has the freedom to treat time the way it pleases. It can fuck up with the sixty seconds of a minute or sixty minutes of an hour. It can fuck up with dates. It can fuck up with history. It can fuck up with everything and you can just sit there and watch and grow old and die.

What it is with our mind and the time?

And why does the relationship between these two faceless thingies is so weird and so difficult to understand?

And can we put this weird relationship to our advantage? At least a little?

Can we train our brain to treat time the way we want to? Can we slow the speed of the passing years and fasten the speed of the passing hour?

Oh! Please, I am too sleepy to answer all this but I know someone (well, sort of) who can.

Claudia Hammond.

Who is she?

The author of the book; Time warped.

Time warped is a book which attempts to answer many interesting questions about time. And though it might not be able to cover all the weird questions that we bear in our mind about time but it’s worth your time. 😉

I am not advertising anything. But I mentioned it because, you know, I read it recently. Thought you should too.

I feel less sleepy now but the lecture has ended, so I guess it’s time to end this book-review-and-scribbling-to-stay-awake –diary-entry-and-then-later-a-blog post thingy as well.

 

 

 

 

 

A night enlightened without lights

At a distance, the gas flare keeps burning all day, all night, keeping it surroundings smeared with yellow paint, or sometimes by the black smoke, which are often concealed by the darkness of the night.

The streets are usually too busy flaunting off their diamond necklaces running on electricity.

The houses are mostly too involved in their own selves, their own brightness to notice themselves and be pleasantly surprised at how beautiful they look when they are seen  twinkling from the distance.

I am sitting here ignoring these beauties because I am simply too preoccupied  hoping for a better life, for a happier tomorrow, for a future where all my dreams have come true.

I am supposedly too busy to search for the stars ,which nowadays wear a blanket of clouds and urban lights to play a game of hide and seek, where the only rule is that they get to be the ones who hide.

I am too busy to notice the Moon that keeps shining, sometimes barely visible, sometimes barely invisible and the way she stands there, always, smiling brightly despite being told that she has an ugly spots-struck face ,which by the way, just makes her one of the most beautiful woman in the world.

I am simply just too much entangled with my life.

There is a fact about the sun and the moon; No matter what happens they never go away.

But the tiny suns and moons which we have created on earth are not that reliable. All it takes is a malfunctioning rotor or a broken transmission line and they forget everything they were given birth for.

And whenever this happens, whenever our suns and moons settle down unexpectedly, whenever there is nothing but pitch black darkness, it all slowly comes into picture.

Busy schedule hides away under scowls and curses to the transmission grid or more often to god.

With boiling blood and enraged mind we go out to catch some air.

And it is then we discover a night that is enlightened without any lights.

Why does it take a black out to realize how soothing it is to walk in nothing but a moon light.

To listen to crickets.

To watch the bats flying around.

To come across the cats with their shining eyes.

To get scared of dogs who are in turned too scared of you.

To realize how amusing it is to look at the faint but visible stars.

To compliment the moon.

To feel the cool natural air.

To realize how big the whole universe is and how, practically, we play so so tiny role in it.

How does it feel to be scared, to be crossed and to be in love with the darkness simultaneously?

How does it feel to break away from the world and be in the company of you yourself?

It feels good.

The past goes away.

The future stays hidden.

And all that is left is the present.

The darkness.

The amusement.

The fright.

The happiness.

The hope.

You.