Again.

From these ashes, not fire, I shall rise again. From these sleeps, not dreams, I shall wake up again.
The pain is a bit too large, a bit too heavy. The darkness is a bit too black, a bit too dark. But its changing, the pain increasing, the blackness accelerating. The light could be seen, a while back.
Its cold out here. I am freezing. The fire is making my life miserable. But everything is changing and the clouds are clearing.
Its moments away. A few moments. A few dozens of them.
But it shall happen. It must happen. It has to.

Someone will come back to life. Again.

Stuck Destinies – I

Big drums beating, dozens of people dancing madly. Drums form the outer circle, the people the inner one. At the centre is a glowing fire, getting brighter with every second. The drumbeats get fast, every thump making the people scream with excitement. The peak achieved, a loud resonant shriek, freezing water poured over the fire. A lake replaces the fire, swaying replaces dancing, humming replaces screaming, violins replace the drums.

That evening, it was raining. Weather has always had a big effect on how I think. And when I am that high, as I was that day, the effect magnifies by a mass proportion. I was alone in the apartment. I still had the urge in me just like the night before. I wanted to have that Vrooooooooooooooooooom, that familiar sniff, that smell, that rush of blood, that lightness of mind, that loud voice of my own heart beating, those movements in my stomach, that decelaration of time, Oh I just could not control myself. But that was not suppose to happen. I had promised myself that it won’t happen again. I did not want my life like this, I did not want to feel wasted, again. It was not to happen, but it had to happen.
The almirah opened, the clothes lifted, the hand mirror and those few miligrams in my hands, again.
Vrooooooooooooooooom. It felt like that.The sound of a car racing by your ears, just that the here the car is not lost into infinity, it goes on and on…Vrooooooooooooooooooooom…till you leave the land and are floating in air.
The time left in my life was running out fast. A clock with receding batteries. It would start at a position, try hard to move on but get back again, wherein the world would have moved forward by an hour. I would start a day, thinking about the night before, feel the pain inside, wash my pale face, see my face in the mirror, the pain used to get bigger. I felt lost, lost in a labyrinth, not a clue to the way out. Although I knew frome where I got in, but it did not matter. I knew I was dying a slow death. But was I afraid? Not really. A few minutes would pass, all the urges back as a fascinating orchestra, playing that familiar enchanting music, and I just did not have any other option than to succumb.

I decided to move out a bit, feel the fresh air, the freezing drops of water and listen to the chores of frequent lightning. I took the lift downwards, my head was still not at 0 kmph, it seemed like hours I had been in that elevator, but finally it opened, ever so slowly and I moved out. The breeze felt so nice and so fresh, as I had never felt that before, I took out a cigarrette and stood under a shade, the shops were all closed because of Sunday, and one confectionary gave me that shelter, from where I could see the twilight, the sun setting, and the street lights starting to gain momentum, the sparkling droplets of water, made the complete scene highly mesmerizing, whose stage was already set beautifully in my mind. I finished smoking and started walking on the road, feeling the light rain in the best way, the lightning made me shine. I stood on that bench where people sat during the evenings seeing the skies, stretched my arms, felt the droplets on my palms, the sky was so dark, and every drop on my face meant a feeling of purity, a sensation unparalleled. If there is something called being on top of the world, I was, at that moment. I felt like a bird without any burden of a companion, I felt free, I felt life.

Was there something which was missing? I guess yes. A man? Perhaps yes, i guess no, no! I wanted to be higher, not on top of this world, even higher, oh that urge was here again, and I wanted to resist it so much. It had been just an hour or so since I last had it. But I guess the moment was so beautiful I did not want to ruin it. The drums were beating again and I just had to had it. I rushed towards the apartment. I was there in the elevator, not alone. And just when I thought I am just some seconds away, there was a power cut!

The Tilted See Saw

So much to say, so much to write, but much more to hear and much more to think.

Acting the Act

I was here in the evening too. The big curtains are still there, the stage hidden behind them must be waiting, for the foot taps to vibrate it, for the artistes to come and start their chores, creating magic, those moves, those thumping dialogues, that hysteric dance on trance, and for the audience to stand, to stand and to clap in unison, a few tears rolling over, some babies silent out of shock and some like me waiting to be there, there on that very stage waiting for the people to go and be the god, myself.
Shhhhhhhh….There is not much time in hand. Lights off. Oh, I ‘ll have to do it myself. Wait…K, now it seems nice. Pitch dark. The audience waiting for the curtains to open, there are butterflies flying around in my small stomach. I should not feel nervous. Open the curtains, slowly. Do it fast, the audience might lose its patience. There is noone to do that too. I ‘ ll run myself again. Here they go, moving apart, just like when a wave ends it offense on the beach, they part away, unknowingly, swift and silent. There should be a follower moving as I move to the centre of the stage, but there is noone to control it. There should be that rear panel lights when I move back in the second scene and the babies helping all the time with different colours of rainbow, which is visible only when u show your back towards the sun and see the rain. But there is noone. But I am here. I can be on the lights. Who will act then? Do we really need someone? Yes we do. Isn’t that why we started all of this? Hmm…Lets drop the idea of lights then. Yes, that can be done, anyway noone is watching.
Lets start the show. Lets start the music. It can’t be. Can we have a round of applause from the audience? This audience is absent when it is supposed to witness the greatest of actors performing in the rarest of rare performances. I’ ll clap myself to begin with. But I ‘ ll need them as I go by, for those sighs and those smiles, those laughters, those whistles, those tears, those shocks, those fears and for that final applause. So I must act as the audience first, that is most important. But isn’t that what I have been doing all my life?

Shining Dove

He was white, his wings even whiter. The world around looked different, different colours, different shades. He went to the pond, looked at himself, smiled, looked at the sun, frowned, moved towards the town, saw a cage in the market, it was shining, looked at the sun again, then at the the cage, stepped inside, put the latch, started dancing. The owner, took the cage, went to the pond, drank water, saw his cage in it, smiled. He, in the cage, never looked at the sun, never stopped to dance, never smiled, again.

Protected: Letter of a Black Diamond : Revisited

This post is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Password:

Drowning Desire

He woke up to see the sea frozen. The waves were all gone. It was a never ending white piece of land. Smooth and beautiful. He brought his skates and started moving. Starting with the rhythm of a butterfly and moving to the hasteness of a leopard. He felt like a bird, being in a clear sky, moving where he felt like, turning when he wished. A couple of other birds joined in. Someone started playing a piano and the trio’s movements turned into dance, waving together, bending together, swirling together. The flock started becoming large. Big drums joined the piano, there was a flute too. The big troupe was skating, dancing and singing, a sight to see, a sight to remember. Hundreds of them, moving in resonance, beating with the music, seemed perfectly choreographed. Hundreds turned into millions, the birds into buzzing bees. Suddenly the sun arrived, the ice melted and everyone was engulfed. The waves were back.

Protected: Wonderfool Tonight – The Italian Remix

This post is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Password:

Searching the Moon

He was walking on the beach.
On his left side were people, noise, cries of vendors selling cutlets and cold drinks, colourful balloon sellers, newspaper walas, day long waste of wrappers,plastic bags and newspapers, swings with children dancing around them, couples holding hands, dogs looking at the people around and the food they are eating, people sitting facing the beach and the sun.
The right side had just the sea and the setting sun. The waves, the occasional tide, the breeze, the hues of orange, the silhouettes of birds flying around, the hint of distant grey clouds.
The left, the range of colour. The right, the lack of it.
The left, full of life. The right, glorifying life.
He looked at both the sides, one by one, kept moving between them.
It started getting dark. The colours started saying goodbye. People started moving away too. It was just the sea and the land. The right still had the waves, now making noise. The left had the wail of the dogs and a few couples, sitting more closely, searching the moon.
He was still in between and kept on moving, looking at the sky, both left and right, searching the moon.

White Magic

It was an island, a very small one. He could barely move on it. He couldn’t remember how he reached here. He felt so lonely. Tears started flowing, his eyes started becoming red. The water was silent. There was no life around. The distant trees surrounding the water varied from brown to white but no green. The sun was shining from two sides, from the sky and the dormant water. The lower one was pinching his eyes. He closed them.
He stayed like that for quite some time, some hours. He opened his eyes. White light had replaced the yellow one. The moon took its positions exactly where the sun was, the lower one was soothing him now. The water started moving, the air started turning into a slow breeze, he could see traces of clouds too. There was a glimpse of a pair of milky white swans in the water, moving together, seemingly hand in hand. He put his right hand in the water and gave a push, a musical note of a water ripple filled his ears. He took some of the sparkling water in his hands and slowly poured it on his dry face. His face glowed, glowed in the glory of the moonlight. The clouds started showering white pearls, ever so slowly, ever so lightly. Everything around seemed to start creating music, the water, the swans, the breeze, the drizzle, his hands, his breath. He started to sing, sing something which he himself had never heard but it was coming out, full of passion, full of life. The light became brighter, the swans increased in number, there was a flock of white birds which came and sat near him, listening to the magic, the distant trees now seemed to have grown leaves, all of white.
It was still an island, a very small one. But there was so much life around.