THE WORST NEW YEAR FEELING

Here is another calendar year beginning. Turning back to the pages of the past, i get a nauseating sensation in my guts. Its like the things had been happening so slow and not so properly. It makes me feel whether i have missed something in the swift flow of time or am i gonna loose something in the future time flow?
I can see that i have missed so many things, persons, events and much more in the past. But what makes me uncomfortable is the thought to investigate the missed ones. i.e when i start investigating those what if i found i had missed something much crucial or say i have done something thats terrible and irreversible? May be these fears deep inside my mind causes the nausea whenever i think about the past. But i cannot stop thinking about the past or even the future.
Some people say like 'don't worry about the past, don't dream about the future, but live the present'. I guess i cannot do that. I have tried it many times, say a hundred times last year, but couldn't succeed. I have found myself loosing a good night's sleep just by worrying about the past or planning the next step in my life.
Sometimes i have really felt like a stupid who have let many things go off my hands when i had enough time to grab them. The fault with me is that in a single moment i will have numerous ideas running through my mind, and of course i'm multidisciplinary. The problem arises when prioritizing my ideas.
I'm extremely puzzled and guess i have to spend this year solving my puzzled mind

The innocence I have lost

I see the girl, she has a handsome boy on her side, caressing her like a baby............
I might not have anyone to wipe off my tears when am sad but am not jealous of her.........

I see the girl; she has all the money by her side to get her every creature comfort he may ever want.....
I might not have enough to buy me a pair of reputed jeans or shoes but am not jealous of him either........

I see the girlwho looks as if god carved her when he thought of creating a master piece......
I don’t not like seeing my lifeless impression casted in the mirror everyday but still am not jealous...........

And then I see little children’s playing in the rain in the streets wide opened, stretching their hands to feel the pouring rain...........
I can’t feel the rain as they do because I have to bear the price of being grown up and for the first time I feel jealous.........

I see them playing the games of childhood which splashes their innocent hearts with the rain of joy in the same way when I was innocent like them........
Greed, jealousy, lust, anger play wicked games in my mind now. Am not innocent anymore and am jealous of the innocence they have in them........

I look at their faces filled with feelings and emotions so rare and genuine like gems which I myself treasured when i was like them..........
But the mask I wear daily now to hide the ugly face I have inside has made the gems disappear and I am jealous for loosing those gems.........

I see them and I just keep on seeing them, playing in the little paradise they have created around themselves.......
And they don’t bother about dark forces of life which would inevitably turn the paradise in to hell one day like
It changed mine and I am jealous of the paradise they still have.................
And then I go near them and say to them "be like this forever and ever"................
They don’t seem to understand me and they keep playing................

And then I walk away from the magical world of innocence they rule to the sinful world of which am a slave............
And I realize that the most sinful act god can ever do to you, is not that he made u a human but is the curse that u will have to grow up one day...............

The Lake Who Loved Me

Quite often, Time takes me back to a few moments in my life, when it allowed me to sit back and watch it pass. Apropos, this is not an accomplishment of any great magnitude, and it amazes how Time manages to take us in the opposite direction, against its tremendous flow in which we manage to stay afloat.

Time seems to somehow apportion these moments throughout the span of one's life. One of my favorite pastimes, apart from playing, used to be talking to inanimate objects. As a child, my Ma used to tie me to the window, comfortably, and ask me to count the number of bikes, scooters, cars, trucks, vans, buses passing by. I had to report that to Dad when he used to be back from office, his scooter inclusive. Thus as a mode of remembering the exact numbers, i used to discuss it with the window. And as Time flew, the habit of talking to such inanimate objects continued....talking to the bathroom walls during baths, to my bicycle, with my books and recently my PC. But as days passed by & Age started playing its tricks, Priority took different routes and somehow the habit started fading away.

I lived in a place situated at the foot of a hill, facing a lake. The lake used to dry up in the summers & its rocky bed used to an ideal condition for rock biking. But in the monsoons, the place just metamorphosed into something different.....something surreal. The last winding turn of the road, leading to this place, used to be a fun event. Because, here you were, traveling through a normal road and suddenly a turn raised the curtains to a fascinating visual experience.....a picture postcard view. Two hills, a line of Ashoka & eucalyptus trees surrounding a lake, with ripples unlimited, a set of beautiful residential buildings facing it, the road running parallel to the lake and the complex.....many a stolid spirits came there to get sprightly. And this is the place where I got back the old habit...temporarily....but I retained a few beautiful experiences I would take to my grave... or pyre to be precise, without being racial.

The lake had a cemented boundary, which used a slightly overflow during monsoons. And my favorite pastime used to be lying down on the boundary with my head resting on my shoulders and just staring at the ripples and currents.....it was something unexplainable.....but again, surreal would be the closest expression of my feelings. And with me around, she seemed to get very exhilarated.....almost showing off her nubility, while others considered her to be noxious. Her small waves always kissed my feet; gently....I didn’t see her do that to other admirers....or was it just Murphy's Law! She seemed to beam the moment i came out of my colonies gate ....i could literally hear her tides dance in a state of extreme excitement.....there she was at her hyacinthine best.

She did her best to woo me. She changed herself to look as i wanted her to look....a phenomenon I still can’t deduce. I remember having watched a Pete Sampras tennis match on TV in '97.... held in Key Biscayne near Miami. The skyline during that match had a beautiful shade of purple, something i hadn’t seen before. Though the match got over, the skyline remained embedded in my minds eye. It was September, with the rains ceasing finally. A few days after the match, following my routine of sitting by the lake, I was intrigued by an occurrence. I sat there staring at the lake.....she was still that day, and thus forming a mirror for the Sky to see itself. Suddenly I saw precisely the same shade of purple i had seen during that tennis match, reflecting on her. I got a shock of my life & immediately turned to look up at the Sky.....it seemed liked she knew what I wanted to see and gave it to me.

And yet, I could never give her what she wanted....... How could I give her what she wanted....I was a mortal. I cheered her, played with her, talked to her, spent some beautiful evenings with her. I gave her company on the harsh summer days when she faded away into a small puddle of water....planted small flower plants beside her to cheer her up....but yet she stared at me, seeking something I never really understood. I guess she understood the futility of the relationship. But at least she had me for company.

But one day, I shifted my residence. And i could sense her grief....I couldn’t even embrace her before I left. As I bid her farewell, Time seemed to stop and take me back to those beautiful evenings spent with the Lake.

And the same Time changed my Priorities path and pushed me into a flow I could never come out of. For years I haven’t got the opportunity to see her. Friends tell me that the lake has lost her Charm.....only I know why!

ANONYMITY

Even after two years of living together, she barely knew anything more about him than what she did when he first staggered into her life… She remembered the incident so clearly that it could have been just yesterday… Home after her shift at the hospital, she was heating the dinner cooked earlier that morning, when the shrill doorbell shattered the somnolent silence of the night. It had been a long and tiring day, and a friendly neighbourly visit was the last thing she wanted.

Safety chain firmly in place, she peered out to see an unfamiliar man leaning heavily against the doorjamb. “You are a nurse…” he said, rather than asked. His left hand was gripping his right arm, trying to stem the blood that oozed through his fingers, trickling slowly down the back of his hand and wrist, soaking the sleeve of his shirt already red with blood. He had noticeably lost an enormous amount of blood. Barely managing to enter the room, he collapsed.

He drifted in and out of consciousness for the next 24 hours. A total stranger, she knew nothing about him. Yet she instinctively realised that he didn’t want anyone to be called. No doctor, no neighbour, no friend. Relying on her years of experience and using all her skills, she extricated the bullet, cleaned and dressed his gaping wound...

The first night had been bad. Hot and feverish, she worried whether some infection had set in. But he looked visibly better next day. Well enough for her to go for duty, even though leaving the house with an unknown person inside did cause her a few qualms.

He stayed on for almost a week before he left one day while she was still at work. Reserved, almost to the point of being brusque, he said very little. Except for his name, she had learnt nothing more about him… his family, his home, his job.

He surfaced some weeks later as suddenly as he had disappeared. “Can I stay?” he asked. Black eyes gazed into hers, piercing her fragile resistance, plundering her thoughts, reading her mind. Her prudent head screamed at her to say no, but her defiant heart replied, “Yes…”

She had always considered herself sensible and level headed. Not someone who was foolishly attracted to a man she barely knew. And definitely not someone who even more foolishly surrendered herself completely, body and soul. But succumbing to the unthinkable, she had discovered gentleness that surprised her. Passion that set her aflame. Caresses that conveyed what he never uttered in words. Tenderness that spoke its own silent language.

She learnt to respect his secrecy. Accept the fact that he had another life that he was unwilling to share with her. Was he married? Did he have a wife? A child? What did he do? How did he earn his living? Her gentle probing came to naught. Deftly evading her questions, he divulged nothing about himself. “I care for you… nothing else is important…” was all he would reply.

He would disappear for weeks at a time, sometimes returning tired and withdrawn, sometimes elated and happy. But return he always did, picking up the threads of their relationship as if he had never been away. Till that last time, that fateful day… Tuesday, July 11 to be exact.

Seven bomb blasts in the space of eleven minutes had devastated Mumbai, creating death and mayhem. Hundreds were injured, some grievously, while more than 180 persons lost their lives… innocent men and women. Memories of the commotion and chaos at her hospital still woke her up in the middle of the night, cold and shivering. The agonising cries of pain and terror still haunted her waking hours.

She read about the unclaimed body in the newspaper. Despite herself, she had gone to that hospital, to its morgue. One part of the face was blown off completely, one side of the body mangled and destroyed. Her eyes confirmed what her heart had known. Overcome by intense pain, she turned away…

She mourned his death in the solitude of her loneliness. Nursed her anguish in the shadows of her darkened room. Prayed that his soul had finally found peace.

She didn’t even consider collecting his body. What did she have to substantiate her claim? Probably even the name she knew him by was not his real one. She didn’t want to unnecessarily open a Pandora’s box... provide a headline for the next day’s newspaper… start a new tamasha… He had lived his life in secrecy. She would let him die in anonymity…

DARK ANGEL

Hollowed spirit,
mirrored soul.
winged messenger of flight...
Doomsday's forgotten seed...
lest your existence be for naught,
as you bandage your wound of dreams ,
lostwith a torniquet of bludgeoned memories
for you see, the moon's embrace has been the only solace
of this woman who stands before you.
her image no longer recognizable,
for she resides where only spirits dwell her soul,
transparent unable to mask the pain,
while shards of regret stain crimson,
across once periwinkle horizons.
For icicles have taken up residence within,
the shadows still summon meon too frequent an occasion ,
and I've not felt the need to bask in the rays of light
Until now...Come with me,
let us cast aside our apprehensions
and take that final step into
the land of the living.

END OF INNOCENCE

Secrets, secrets
Lies, lies
She sits in her room,
and cries and cries.
There's no more trustIn this girl's heart.
She finally found out
That life isn't perfect.
She lived in dreams,
As children often do.
But she crawled out
Into the world everyone knew.
Things that once were.
Happiness once known;
The truth of it all
To her was shown.
Her little heart
Will never trust again.
She'll never know
A real true friend.
No more trust,
For no more lies.
She'll sit in her room
And cry and cry.

SCREAMS OF FRUSTRATION

How I wish I could look back to understand
back to when lives were taken
back to when families were separated
back to when children were murdered
I wish I could have helped to save them
I wish I could have tried to understand this senseless taking of human life.
They are no different than you or I.
They did not deserve this pain, this torture.
I wish I could look back to understand, to set lives freeto learn their pain and frustration.
Trying to understand;
I can hear their screams
I can hear their pain
I can hear their fear
I can hear a mother's cry when children are shot down
Oh, that pain so great, so terrible
I can smell the odour,
the odour of burning human life
I can smell the sweat,
the sweat of hard labour
I can smell the fear,
such an atrocity
I see the footage today,
trying to learn what happened to them.
I watch the films today, trying to comprehend the pain they went through.
We all see the pictures, watch the torture, just trying to imagine this tragedy.
But the fact is we can't, unless our human life undergoes this.
These poor people, my heart cries out but there is nothing I can do.
Oh, please hear me.
I am so sorry this had to happen to you.
Your time is now, it is here, time to rest,
time to be reunited and live everlasting in that great kingdom called heaven.