I thought about the title and drew a blank...

The cold December air cuts in, as my lower lip bleeds,

I’m alone and shivering, looking at my life sift in vain,

I’m in agony, my soul is sundered,

Yet all I realize is I find peace in all the pain.

I most definitely expect my mentor and my most regular reader to instantly come up with the words “Melancholy... Not again!” But this is not just another piece of poetry, this is a fact that I've come to terms with in the past few days. And queerly, I’m not even bothered by it. I don’t give a shit. I don’t care. My life’s a living hell and I love it.

Stopped Time...

This brood here again is true to my character, filled with melancholy. As with despair, I do not like to 'dilly dally' hence I shall delve straight into stopped time.

When time came to a standstill,

When I couldn't even move even with my will,

My world, so shattered, seemed to regroup,

Till I realized I am not the hunter but the kill.

Truly life's never been so tough,

Whenever I found joy, life gave me a cuff,

A moment of peace, a person to trust,

Its all i want, I do not bluff.

Life's a party, with fun the booze,

If you lose your fear, it will seem like a cruise,

Love's the cradle which can be your shield,

But one wrong move and all you'll lose.

I cringe, I shout, I try to turn away,

Hoping against hope that the pain wouldn't hold sway,

But I am in agony, long lost and alone,

I have the goal in sight but don't know the way.

Death...

I do not know why today of all the days I decided to post this. This wasn't something I had in mind when I took up the pen to write a post. But I let the pen flow and this came out. Death, in its purest sense is perhaps a new beginning, is a beautiful entity which everyone hates. I do not! For I believe that the soul is eternal and the person lost is not gone. They are here, always with us. Cynical as they may seem, these are my views and I believe in them. You, on the other hand, are perhaps better off not believing them. More thoughts shall come later, for now enjoy (*no pun intended*)....death!

The rushing sound swished by me,

And I fell into oblivion absolute.

Unsure, uncertain of what my fate would be,

I swivelled past the wailing world,myself totally mute.

Several suns and stars flashed by,

It seemed to go on for an eon.

In between were moments of pain making me cry,

But some of estacy egging me to move on.

It took me forever to realize it all,

And I was surprised that at my realization instead

Of fear, a calm followed my fall,

That rushing indeed was my end, for sure, my death.

Mysterious Girl...

Sometimes you come across a person who leaves a lasting impression in the shortest of intervals. What follows is some part of the plethora of emotions she left me with. Needless to say, do not look for an ending because this is life and it has no end except at the very last. But do try to look for similarities in the emotions you would've experienced at some point or the other, for there are bound to be some; for all, leaving no exceptions.

Cool vibes,

Teasing jibes,

The way she moves,

With poise and groove,

Swinging hips,

Sexy lips,

Charming ways,

Piercing gaze,

Naughty as hell,

Hence all's well,

What's in store,

No clue anymore,

Joy seems to come my way,

Only hope its here to stay.

Chal Diye...

Dil ke taaron ko chedkar tum to chal diye,

Na diya pata na thikhana koi tum to chal diye,

Begane hue hum tum to chal diye,

Kya suraj kya chanda na soojhe ab lekin tum to chal diye.

Ankhon se gazal hume suna tum to chal diye,

Honton se bikher ek muskaan tum to chal diye,

Deewane hue hum tum to chal diye,

Khwahish hai ab bas tumhari lekin tumhe kya, tum to chal diye!!

Photo Courtsey: http://www.snappedinsin.com

CRAPS...A small attempt at humor

This comes as a direct result of a suggestion/challenge by one of the dearest persons' in my life, Varunda. So here's for you, an attempt at humor, though it may seem to fall in the category of satire but I do hope it brings a smile on the reader's face. This is also for you dad, life has little positives too, I know! Thanks for being there always...

Caviar and vodka,

Roses and Wine,

A night to remember,

Perfect and Divine,

Sound of alarm and I woke up!

My Last Hope...My First Acrostic

Mistakes of no-one haunt me

Yielding to them remains the only choice

Lost in myself I seem to be

Armed with weapons of my own demise

Suffering and pain seems to hold sway

Tortures I try to avert yet fail

Have no clue which's my way

Options are limited, are only pain and hate

Push on is the only thing I do

Even as death prepares to make its raid

Crossroad

Standing at this crossroad,
Am clueless of the path,
That brought me here,
And also of the one,
I should take.

Standing at this crossroad,
Am filled with regret,
For the wrong turns taken,
And those turns,
That I failed to take.

Standing at this crossroad,
I look at the paths ahead,
All dusty and desolate,
Not a soul in sight,
With wisdom to partake.

Standing at this crossroad,
Realization hits me,
I am truly alone,
The ambiguous cloud that's future,
Is mine to make.

The seven deadly sins or are they….??? -Part I, Envy

I really needed to vent this out, I’ll rather not mention the reasons that have led to this uncharacteristically chucking of personal emotions on my behalf, but I will delve straight into a discussion about the seven deadly sins, namely, “Envy”, “Gluttony”, “Greed”, “Lust”, “Pride”, “Sloth” and “Wrath”.
If you are unaware of their meanings or origin, do not read on! Rather go wiki it.
Here on I’m just going to discuss my views on why the supposedly “deadly sins” are the basic traits of any man, without whom the existence of any civilized society is questionable.
This post is the first one of seven that will deal with the deadly sins, as I see them.
This one deals with envy.
It’s necessary. The hierarchy of society makes for every reason to be envious of someone or the other. A beautiful example is a short story by Jeffery Archer, “The grass is always greener”. I’ll tell it in succinct, it moves as a narrative through the various employees of an organisation, everyone of whom is envious of the next. It begins with the doorkeeper and ends with the firm’s CEO being envious of the same doorkeeper.
Now if you did wiki/google the title, you probably have read Dante’s take on it, “love of one’s own good perverted to a desire to deprive other men of theirs.” But oxford dictionary, the ultimate standard of anything English gives it as: “A feeling of grudging admiration and desire to have something that is possessed by another”. There’s a big difference.
It’s totally natural to desire something you do not have. In fact it’s motivating! It spurs you on to try and get what you desire and you do not have. Yes, the realization that you don’t have it but somebody you do not like has it fills you with anger. But isn’t it good to bubble with anger and doing something about it than to live life in a way so demeaning that you do not even care.
Feel free to call me dark and a Satanist but I do not care. There’s no such thing as black and white in today’s world and in this canvass of grey all of us have a few dark shades. So instead of denying them why not embrace them and reap the benefits of the dark side too.
I do not believe in hypocrisy and openly admit of being extremely envious of a people I barely know, yet whose lives have crossed paths with mine. I hate them, and of things they got and have still got! But instead of sitting around brooding about it, I have decided to do something about it. Maybe it’s a bit too late but, in the highly clichéd footsteps of the wise, better late than never.
Just so that people do not take me wrongly I’m not a necromancer, nor am I going to harm them in any way, but all I’m going to do is take crisp and strong steps to achieve all I want and can still get.
Not that I was always like this, it was a demon for me, one that I badly wanted exorcised. But I faced my demon and now have embraced envy and am hoping to turn it in the way I want. Can you?

Of crazies and bull-crap...

I’ve always wanted to write about this. It’s a dream, a passion rather an obsession. The topic that concerns me today is:

The effective use of rhetoric to obscure lack of content or in simpler words, use of total bull-poo to cover up the fact that you have little to offer. If you read any of the dozens of newspapers and magazines, watch the irrelevant 24x7 news channels, you know you’ve come across this. So many times they have nothing of relevance to offer so they pick up something of so tiny importance, its creator has no clue of its existence and they adorn it with frivolous words frolicking around and looking all pretty, and people do actually lap it all up!

Not that I’m condemning such activities. In fact I, myself, am a great plugger of rhetoric. The beauty lies in the stream of colourful yet magnanimous words that adorn a sentence whether its writ plain or spoken with just the appropriate amount of elocution so as to appeal to the heart rather than make an impression on the reader’s/listener’s mind!

Just take for example today’s newspaper, agreed, sec 377’s repeal makes for the headline, but it spanned as many as 6 pages in both the leading national dailies. And if you paid a closer look, nothing substantial you would’ve found! Trust me it was all beautifully written, but the same thing kept appearing in half a dozen moulds.

Perhaps in this post too, nothing of relevance was written, I know not and neither do I care. What I do care about is writing on this topic, ever since my high school English teacher told me that the simple use of rhetoric is insufficient on its own to be consistent enough for a write-up, I’ve always wanted to do this.

As I officially move past the 300 word mark, I assure every literature enthusiast that rhetoric if used effectively can pull off anything you want it to!

Hope it made for a good read, bringing a reminiscent smile to your face without overexerting your brain cells too much. More soon.

Adios

P.S.: This comes here because of the fact that I'm shifting my creativity section of "The sentient soul speaks" here.

Some scribbles are really short, barely a para, sometimes its just a line. However long they may be, they truly effuse from the bottom of my heart. Here's another of my scribbled emotions, the first of my Pensive Memoirs:

Even at the doorsteps of death,

I shall wait for you with abated breaths.

Hoping against hope that you would cometh,

Bidding me thy farewell of not love but hate instead.

I wanna be high...

Semester-end examinations are going on, so you can probably guess what I must be going through. Literally no preparations, and facing multiple backs. Hah, yet I defy all, everything and everyone to scribble this.

Wings of emotions soar me to new heights,

Across the abyss, up the mountains to new delights,

But in the enigma of delight lies pain that makes me sigh,

Oh, I want to be away from the pain,

I really want to be high.

On the brink of disaster I stand now,

But to avert it  don't know how,

Addicted to lonliness I see no scope,

Despite being an optimist,

I just have no hope.

I know I am alive, but yet I am not,

Embellished to the hilt, nothing I have got,

Resigned to my fate, I reslish in the fact,

That even at my end,

My sanctity will be intact.

P.S:- Special Thanks to AD, you inspired me to scribble this with your previous writeup on the writeup cafe.

My way..

I had written this one a long time ago. I had been feeling low and lost. So I had thought of some self motivation, this scribble had come up then. Today too am feeling the same way, and was going through my scribbles for some hope, something to get me along and thus...

Black thunder & roaring waves,

Screamin' silence, listen to them say,

My dark heart cries in estatic neighs,

Brutal torture I'll avert come what may.

Atrocious cries against life,

In all the pain, all that strife,

Cutting myself with a blunt knife.

I keep tryin' to move on,

Redempting myself ever since I was born

Penances in line, like sheafs of corn.

Hoping to find peace some day,

If not I'll just create my own way,

Keeping melancholy and agony at bay,

Because that's my life and I'll have it my way.

My Freedom

I shan't give any background for this one. A lot has been going on these days, and it was with a heavy heart that I picked up my pen to scribble this...

Straining to break free,

Waiting for oppertunity,

Spinning till am dizzy,

Trying hard to finally be,

Me.

Lost in the darkness,

Burdened down with stress,

No efforts make my pain less,

Melancholy covers with finnesse,

Me.

Everything perfect I try to do,

What goes wrong, I have no clue,

Do my actions I now rue,

Sadists enjoy this disastrous view,

Me.

Absolute freedom I now need,

Have to remove this parasitic weed,

Am I paying for some evil deed,

Only Death seem's the reprieve, Hell shall be able to free,

Me.

My Rhythm

This particular scribble is extremely close to my heart. Perhaps my first scribble in college, it has a blend of emotions concocting a mellow cocktail of nostalgia, pain, hurt, frustration, confusion and yet, hope...

Here's my rhythm...

Rhythm in life's a must,

So we can be in harmony,

But life's not so just,

And lays for us troubles many.

Coming from a background gentle,

I seem lost in this backbiting haze,

I wish the change was subtle,

And not this ridiculous haze.

I wish I were away,

Back to the good and sweet,

Where friendship held sway,

Always there and silently discreet.

Bonding that always grew further strong,

Making us feel good,

And even find our wrongs,

As ideal friendship should.

But here life's different,

And interaction is less,

Coldness floods in torrents,

Adding to my stress.

Oh, I seem lost here,

But what will I get by lamenting,

Nobody cares,

So its no use even pretending.

Still I try to march on,

Towards that beacon of light,

With the hope that I'll not find it gone,

As I might break down then, I might!!

No way out..

This one came up in one of my broods. I was down and low, as so often I'm, when I started this scribble. I've a terrible attribute of seeing the best in others, often leaving me heart-broken and worse still, clueless about the reason. Prose doesn't express me as well as poetry so I'll let my bettter ability to take over...

Some people never learn,

I am one of those,

Expect way too much from others,

Only pain's my dose.

Yes am learning,

But the process's slow,

Life keeps on passing,

Letting my pain to grow.

When crisis strikes,

I try to reamain calm,

Bearing all the pain,

Without any qualms.

Am stretched and pushed,

Right upto the hilt,

No idea how much more I can take,

Before my head splits.

Like a deep cut, an open wound,

The hurt is forever,

No escape, no reprieve,

No way out, never.

Death Speaks...

This one has been one of my better attempts at pure fiction. Fate or as some call her, destiny has funny ways of getting things done her way. Without further ado, I give you

Death Speaks..

Life fades to pain and death,

Where is love in dying breaths,

I tried to find it and paid heavily,

Death comes to claim me, her eyes bloodily greedy,

For I tried to spread hope where it was not,

To those down and low lest humanity rot,

Divide melancholy, keep grief at bay,

Then death said enough! for your sins now you must pay.

She met me in the busy street of Baghdad,

Next to the auction selling ships of Sindbad,

Even in the hustle-bustle of the market street,

My spine chilled even in the burning heat,

Oh! she was beautiful,like an angel I'll say,

But I knew her, 

she was death standing in my way,

Our eyes locked, like lovers we lovingly stared,

Then she made a threating gesture, 

and I knew I'd all the reasons to be scared.

I've decided, in Baghdad I'll not stay,

I've to find a way to keep death at bay,

The fastest horse in all of Baghdad I'll find,

And set off for the west,

where in the Sun Death shall be blind.

To Samarra I'll go for the lore says,

Death goes not to Samarra till the end of days,

After I escape I'll keep spreading hope,

Continue the good work, I pray that Death allows me to elope!

Prologue:

Death:  Death I am, dark yet pure,

One day I'll be yours too, be sure,

Destiny sure is funny, with its ways,

I'll quote an incident, hear it Death says,

I didn't threaten him,

if that he thought he was kneive,

That was just surprise,

For I really liked him but had my work to do,

I really had to take him,

but that's something I'll always rue,

What surprised me was his presense in the valley,

Because with my book it didn't tally,

If he was there in Baghdad the chances were weak,

Of making it to our rendezeveous 

in Samarra that night, so Death speaks...

Repost from my other blog, "The Sentient Soul"