Worthless

He mustered the courage

More like got owned by his madness

It was his last chance

Putting their past behind

Throwing the tattered rags of his self respect down the gutter

He asked her

Am outside your place

Could I see you the one last time?

I leave tomorrow morning

I'm afraid am in middle of a conversation

Sorry

He snapped the phone shut

And sat down where he stood

Thinking nothing

Looking into nothing

Wiping the blood off his wound

A befitting beautiful end to his beautiful story

She carried on with her conversation

It was just another call

She knew he'd be fine

Just another day after all

High on Pain

Love, is a beautiful feeling. Its probably like having your best friend around you all the time for the rest of your life. Someone to annoy the hell out of you when your sulky. Someone to dance around and enjoy the icecream while being drenched in the rain. Its the ease with which you raise your kids along with your friend and decades later still keep picking on each other. Its knowing fully well the best and the worst side of each other and loving both of them equally. Someone that diffuses into your soul in such a manner that the two entities aren't discernable anymore. And such romantic picturisations can be plenty. But I guess its essentially about the comfort we as humans feel in the company of our partners.

I was looking for that in the wrong person!

When years of dilusions are shattered, it does hurt

And yes it certainly wasn't meant to be

Ending with something like

May love touch you someday

While love is more or less intangible, the end of it leaves you with a pain thats very real. Its not just about sitting quietly in a room alone with your thoughts, there's a real pain right there in your chest, like a hole widening gradually in your body right in the center of your chest. You try holding yourself together, placing a hand on your chest but you can still feel it, something sinking too low within your body. You just dont know whether to cry or stay silent. This pain empties you from within, leaving nothing behind, no emotions, no hurt, no memories. You're stunned, almost stoned! Things cease to make sense. And then slowly, gradually it hits you, the pain of what you've lost. You mumble stuff regardless of where you are. You laugh and cry incoherently. It kicks you like the finest scotch, giving you a high beyond your own comprehension. High on pain. And then when you've fallen asleep while high and finally wake up, the kick is gone, no hangover nothing. You face the overly bright morning sun and slave through the day realising every moment, of the emptiness, untill the pain returns to waste you again. To stone you again.

Dusk to Midnight

Dusk 

In a while the sun will set 
Sinking behind the jungle of concrete 
Leaving nothing behind but empty meaningless darkness 
And i will have nothing to look at 
Nothing to gaze at anymore 
No empty skies, no rustling leaves 
No falling rains, no signs of life 
Those free flights of thoughts 
Shall now be caged in these four walls 
Where there's no difference between day and night 
Good and bad 
Right and wrong 
________________________ 

Midnight 

The late days, the late nights 
My thoughts are all i got 
And they know it 
Here i stand at their mercy 
Juggling personalities 
Shuttling between moods 
In a span of minutes 
I observe a new day arrive 
And depart for another 
Without a grain of difference in life 

There's a lot i should be doing 
A lot more i want to 
A lot less i eventually will 
I know not what stops me 

How i yearn to break free 
Run out of the cage and never be back 
Take up a journey Unexplored 
And run as far as my feet care to support
Immersing myself in life 
Watching the break of dawn end a beautiful starlit night 
Watching the skies change colors 
Grey, blue, black and those in between 
The wind rustling the lush green leaves, the lush fields 
Brushing past my skin 
The bunch of kids playing and quarelling 
And making up again 
Standing on the highway inhaling the fragrance of wet soil right after the rain 
Walking unabated, free of worldly concerns 
Of expectations, of forced responsibilities

How i yearn to break free 
These shackles of duties, of things that should be done 
And yet all i wish, is to feel alive again 

Saying this i retire to bed 
Right here inside my cage 
Three hours post midnight 
Looking over a productive tomorrow 
Starting post noon 
Have a good night earthlings 
I should probably be going

And It Rained

And It Rained

And it rained
After a long sweaty night 
As he approached home
It rained
Chucking the weather forecasts away into the dustbin
Laughing them off
The nature had smiled
The skies were an array of blues and blacks and greys
A tiny ball of sun played peekaboo with them
Its rays occasionally splitting into discernable beams of light
Waking the little town to a new day
The railway tracks he passed glistened in the sunlight
A band of CRPF men were starting their morning warmups
And he was happy
The soil smelled his own
This was where the story began
These lanes, by lanes formed his own little cosy corner in the world
Slowly the rain faded away
But not what it had left him with
He was happy
At last he was home
_________________________

And it rained
As he sat alone
Among those breathtaking views
The mighty glaciers and beautiful valleys
It rained like there was no tomorrow
Sheets of rain fell down straight from the black clouds
Probably it wasn't as beautiful today
He stayed unmoved
It wasn't unusual in this part of the world at this time of the year
Like god had suddenly decided to have some fun pouring acid on his wounds
Drop by drop, having him feel every ounce of the burning pain
Before the next drop was thrown in
It made him realise with every passing second what he was missing
What had been brutally snatched away from him
She loved these mountains, these rains
Whenever it rained, the deep blue skies and the deep green hills
Made the most picturesque collage of Nature 
Celebrating their union here was her idea
It had been five years ago
He could still see her smile, when she looked up at the grey skies
The drops of rain glistening like pearls travelling down her cheeks,
Her neck, to her bosom
It only felt like yesterday
And yet just yesterday, came down his tryst with fate
Five blissful years of union shattered in a snap by a mad truck running wild on the road
He hadnt bothered to stay for the cremation
His and her family were taking care of it
She had said, if you ever wanted me and i wasn't there
Find me here
Feel me in the drops of the rain
Hear me in the winds 
I, will be right here baby
And he looked up at the grey skies
Reminiscing her long flowing tresses
Knowing that she was up there somewhere 
Looking at him..
The sky roared in assent
And it rained, again..

Delhi..

Delhi is like the ugly looking mistress you despise at first, you see her as vile, dark, cheap, filthy, pointless and disgusting. And then, ever so gradually as and when you start living with her, she begins to grow on you, Gently, passively, slowly turning that disgust into acceptance and finally to admiration eventually culminating into a love of sorts you would never have known. The veil of ugliness recedes ever so slowly almost musically. And what lies beyond is a regal treasure that has stood the test of time, deep, mysterious.  That continues to stand tall after the numerous scars etched cruelly on her face since the day it came into being. Plundered, looted, raped and the magnificence simply stays, Like nothing ever happened. She wears her scars as proudly as her unreasonably loud makeup. There is no deterring her. Men have been hard to her and yet she smiles with the composure of a queen. Spellbinding, that smile. You sit with her and listen to her stories, of the plunders of the men in the past and the present and how she would still choose to live the life the life of a whore given a chance. You see the woman in front of you, the one who disgusted you in principle, and the one who is proud of what she is and will continue to be. And yet, you tend to see that nothing, no filth in the world could snatch her regality from her; she’s a whore, yet closer to Allah than most of her white collared clients. Don’t get me wrong, she doesn’t discard the filth, accepts it as graciously as it does its rich regal inheritance of beauty. Her tongue as honey laden as a lakhnawi tawaif, will not hesitate another minute to unite your mothers and sisters on the slightest provocation. Her tobacco laden blackened teeth won’t exactly reflect beauty as you have come to know it. And yet, when you look at her, you search within yourself for the supposed despise, disgust. All in Vain. In her you come to slowly reflect the amalgamation of the past and the present into one beautiful romance. And all the domes, the minars, the dargaahs, the gateways, the bazaars, the old wall, together with the jungle of concrete cast a spell on you that you would never decipher. And somewhere looking at the horizon, with the domes and the minars calling out to the endless skies, the answer will hit you, Delhi has got you! You my friend, have fallen in inexplicable, unreasonable love with the mistress. The one you very comfortably despised as cheap, dirty, vile, and filthy! Her eyes now have oceans of deep blue mystery, her flesh, like the mighty walls of beautiful ruins speak stories of the times witnessed, her sexual appetite that of an inexperienced newlywed, and you, can never come out of her charm anymore! Not for nothing did Ghalib choose her as his last abode! In her you could see the chaos and filth of the men who continue to plunder her soul, Or in her, you could see the magnificence of what has been, and what is to come! The stories of grandeur and equally regal romances! In the city still prepared for many more!

She is not your desire, nor a habit yet my friend she is not going let go of you!

 

 

 

Inspired by nome other than the maestro Khushwant Singh