The Quiet Visitor

As I yawn and stretch, hoping to go to bed in the wee hours, accusing the nocturnal being that I have become, I hear the loud murmur of people and sound of objects being dragged. I wonder who would wake up this early. Don’t be amazed at me, I haven’t slept yet. As I proceed to take a peak through the window, I smell and see gentle showers tiptoeing quietly down to the earth. It seems it is careful so as to not to wake up anyone, and secretly plans for the surprise. Maybe, it waits to see ‘that’ expression on peoples face when they wake up in the morning. I am glad seeing my quiet visitor. Unable to escape the triumphant grin on my face, that is taking pride on the sense of smell, it mocks at the failure of ears. Triumphant, also because I feel fortunate that I am among the few awake, who are stealing into the beauty of this moment. Nature’s strange calmness reflects on my face now. It is serene. The next thing I remember is my eyelids getting heavy. 

Welcome!

A Safe Return to the Cocoon

Its 3:15 a.m. and my mind is replete with thoughts. I am not going to propound new theories, just giving agency to something that we all know about, and have been forced to face innumerable times. I found myself scribbling...

Living it up in reality seemed far-fetched from all that had been conceived in her psyche for so long. The idea of truth fades as the real and illusion merge into one. It reminds me of the Buddha’s famous lines “Life is an illusion”. Guised under the favoring appearance are the multitudes that escape our gaze, for most of us suffer from the disease of selective sight. We see what we choose to and believe what we want to, not being much concerned about the authenticity of the constructed truth. It never actually exists the way you think of it to be. I won’t pass on the blame over to naïveté for this is not the first time and even she is equally aware. Her cocoon was destroyed by the same hands that had seemed to have supported it. One incident has always been enough to make it disappear into smoke. How many more murders would it take to sink it inside her head? As of now, dismay forces her to pause for sometime and then soon would start the making of a new cocoon, a construction that awaits yet another demolition. A few pair of hands this time as well would be same as earlier, echoing reassurance. I am not being preachy here, just questioning why was it hard to let go, even after being murdered many times by the same hands.

Enough attempts had been made in vying to incorporate all those traits that go in shaping of a Machiavellian, which would have otherwise helped her to smoothly sail through. She has a solution but unfortunately it is still beyond her access He is a true Machiavellian though, on being asked he had once said “No…I don’t make friends”. Appalled as she was, for she had grown up seeing him to be really popular, surrounded by friends, who were they then? Nevertheless he was the happiest person that she ever knew of. I ask her why it was hard to come to terms with the reality. She doesn’t respond this time, but I perceive some movement, little mechanical though…a new construction has begun…ensuring that it is unassailable this time...

As she became Immune to Failures...

She has been safely carried away in the chariot of darkness. Not much effort was required. Worms ate until nothing was left except for the hollow framework. As she slowly enters the domain of obscurity, her existing footprints would fade away, as if so adamant to even remove the last few marks. One would actually wonder now, how would she survive there. But this thought won’t linger around for long and soon, even her slightest remembrance would be blown away with the wind. When her present would just be accommodated in the term “her past” and the future would be just "a dream", for the dreamy reality would never be lived. She dreads it every passing moment. Despite her endless resistance, it constantly sucks her in. Once chained by the prevailing darkness, there would be no escape.

Distanced are the ones who had been her's all this while. The darkness blinds them all and none can see each other. Buried in the depths she exhales sighs, but unfortunately all of it fall on deaf ears. She was born to be a part of the race, the start was perfectly fine. She began by employing best of her abilities. What fault was hers if she stumbled and fell...what fault was hers if others walked over her ,instead of lifting her up again…what fault was hers if she was left handicapped, and could never even walk again. Unaware of the flaw in the trajectory of the path she chose, she has landed up here, “the inescapable” …

Gathering my fragmented self

The ceaseless endeavors that I pull myself through
To be at the receiving end of mute dialogues
Followed by a sense of extreme lowliness.
This isn’t me, introspection gives evidence enough.
It soared like a full-fledged tide,
tasted the shore
But now I fear it’s time to ebb away
For it’s the tranquility that is admired,
And not the convulsions.

The bell has been rung, announcing the doom
Being ripped apart, I struggle to recede.
I take back a few bits of you
To adorn my precious with these rare oddments.
Some part of me though, will remain behind…
Let it fester
Where I once existed in fragments…

Lets see how far you can go...

How far will you be able to sustain in dis void...your life.You have already waded through half of it..and now that you realize,what did you come here for??You try to find the answers,but for the terrific turmoil of the ocean ,which drowns it all.You would feel as if someone is strangling you...the stifling milieu thwarts you from getting any further.What would you do?There's no way out.Introspect,where exactly did you go wrong...hmmm...but all that you behold is the horizon,an illusory ending.The quagmire that you stand upon constantly sucks you in.There is a potent Void that exists underneath,that rots like a festering wound.You aren't even audible now...its all dark...lets see how long will you be able to sustain...

Silent whispers

A dark room
Behold someone moans
whose cries and sighs do I hear
whose warm tears do I feel
It might rain tonight
For nature comprehends the best.
Hark…still I can hear them
My gaze penetrates through the darkness
Nothing is to be seen
It’s depressing me
Is it my hallucination?
Or
My own soul…???

the new Dawn

A moonlit night
the darkened room
a candle burns…
burns that reflect mute stoicism
preserve it, for the apocalypse is not far,
It nears with every passing moment…
Yonder’s the hazy view
You grope, but all in vain;
Fall into the abyss
Of unfathomable depths
Much has been endured
Stoicism prevails, but no more…
Light dawns upon
A knock at the door
Its nearing I had said
Calling you, it draws near
Unveil your real self
Nothing’s left to be feared
Be the scavenger
Cleanse the world…
The sun shines strongly
They were warned
I told, it neared….