The Crude Lover.

Never did I, a vagabond lover, belong anywhere.
The air so uncared for, I breathe at heights, where carcasses dare.

Oft I kick the dust at country roads.
Sometimes I become one with the serene abodes.

Sharper skylines, colorful cities, customary musty smell,
I lay with the lie to be with the truth to duel.

I am a clandestine lover, your lover, though incognito you are,
let thyself know, this love is crimson, sans any scar.

You know why I love you,
for my loyalty to the emotion of love is due.

Here and There: Two

A pit was dug in to clean the muck.
The scraper stood lame denied of means and luck.
He forgot he had able limbs.
He forgot he could think!

*********

Sun sets.
Fireflies glow.
Stars shine.
Moon lays down.
Then the crimson dawn.

In a matter of hours, I'll be sightless by the redundant light.

*********

Love pours, she drenches.
The taste, the kiss quenches.
For another moment, he longs.
Awaits a melody of bittersweet songs.

Here and There: One

“Don’t you hate that?”

“Yes, I do.”

“What?”

“Incoherent murmurs.”

“They stab the space around.”

“What about coherent blabber?”

“Hate them too. Mundane and overused…….No?”


“So? Will Silence do?”

(Smiles) “It’s a privilege.”

************************************



“Can you read this?”

“Hmm. Yes.”

“And can you read this?”

“Yes.”

“This?”

“No.”

“That?”

“No.”

“I am afraid you need no glasses.”

“But I am unable to read those things.”

“You are unable to read. But you can SEE.”

“Well?”

“Get rid of your paradigms, and your old thick glasses.”


***************************************

Void of the Season.

Splotch.

The dry words on the foolscap sheet got drenched. I moved the tip of my fingers over my eyelids, they were as dry as they were a while ago. I took out a piece of mirror and looked furtively at the face inside. The eyes had failed to shed tears again.

Splotch! Splotch! Splotch! Splotch!

The coherent vocabulary I had purged through my pen began to flow in a stream. But it was not raining now. Well, the leaves were shedding the remnants of the downpour that left behind words, a protracted wait but no tears.

The leaves erased my discreetly penned emotions. It was a blank page again.

Waking up to the day lit illusion.

One moment of idleness and the thoughts start crawling. Several cramps in my abdomen attempt to cease my efforts while my fingers are trying to hold on to the earth for solace. I try to ignore. I need to work.... think and work. If I cease, I will fail the heights I had been loyal to all through my climb. My hero says, “EVERY SECOND COUNTS!” and he means it literally. The thoughts reach atop and start feasting on my grey matter. Act..... I move around hopelessly. ACT!

“Jekyll, it’s ok. Apocalypse is distant. Meanwhile, you can bask as much as you want...Nobody is perfect.”

“Hyde!!! I am not nobody yet!!!! I want velocity.”

My miserably shaking voice reaches him.

“You are the greatest of human fallacies”, hollers Hyde, “You could have been invincible, my friend. Alas! Time is not an ally. Yet, Time should not be feared.

Somewhere nearby ajar gates bring in an unsullied breeze. My fingers clasp my forehead and my body composes itself in a fetal position to feel better.

Hyde and his howling laughter melt away in the zephyr. The thoughts are still gorging, I could feel. There is darkness now - navy blue and chilly. I am lying on the floor. Then darkness turns pitch black.

“Hyde was right about me. But I'll be always here. No mortal has ever been loyal to me. Very few have embraced me. Your thoughts may be the only salvation at the moment”, said a serene voice.

“Please wait, I am coming.” I heard myself uttering desperately and loathed my voice for the cowardice.

“I do not wait, you know. You have only thoughts now. You need to run.”

Whoosh!

And then poured in a golden light, the skyscrapers and the noise. I was lying down comfortably unfeeling as I did at every dawn. The wheels rasped and the engines bellowed.

‘Oh! Just a dream.' I fooled myself.

Yet Again, yet again I was swallowed in by the day's apathy.

For a fellow fighter!

To a fellow fighter,

Born free,born alone.
With no cry,no moan.

Bondages cannot anchor you.
To fight and survive in the endless battle,
blessed are very few.

People live life.
The fighters celebrate it.
Crushed are they, then and again.
Yet they rise, then and again.

Shines the indomitable spirit,
carved in the skyline.
Against the rays of Sun,
stands he unbent
For he is a Hero
Seeking in every mortal inside...

For he is a warrior,
He is not a winner, nor a loser - He is none.
He who stands true to every deed,
and lives the spirit, the only one.

-from a fellow fighter

Keep Fighting!!!

This is for you Somesh and the gutsy characters.

Thought Process: One

It has always been a joy to see Federer win. He smashes his opponents with such incredible humility....
Even if it was a straightset match it did not seem as if Gonzalez was an underdog...
**************
And whenever I see sweat running and dripping for glory and passion... I find the fire in me ...
I yearn for the day when the national anthem will be played and I will be standing tall on the podium... it may take next eight years...may be twenty... but not certainly a lifetime.... real passions never die....for me may be they lie in the sword ..and the word...
***************
I dont mind if dreams are shattered. There is always a hope to rebuild...
There is a joy too in pursuing the dreams. But the blame I may face while doing this - the label of being overambitious or that of being inconsiderate to social causes because of selfish ones. (I laugh)
***************
Wont a work of perfection, a work done with independence and purpose be enough to serve? It will involuntarily serve more than one cause because of its nature, character and completeness, wont it ???