I love…

I am a bad boy,
I love.
I love, love, love,
And I love when I’m tired.
I love,
I stand tall and love all.
I am a bad boy, I love.

Choruibhatir Bhoj

Aj shubho diner ghonta baje, ey je ashe nako roj
Esho mashi pishi mama jethu, aj choruibhatir bhoj

Khete pele shutey chao, tai machher pashbalish
Phurphure bhaat ey shuru, koro na go nalish

Jhur jhure alu bhaja, ashe jhuri jhuri
Makho makho moog daal ey makha makhi kori

Swadey swadey utshobey, phulkopi koi
Malai kari tey chingri, kore hoichoi

Koshiye pathar mangsho khete boro khatni
Jhal jodi lage, ache alubokhrar chatni

Cheteputey khete khete papor er shathe
Mishti mukh hote hobe rajbhog patey

Hath dhuye mukh muchey, kulfi tey ashi
Paan diye shesh kori, mukh bhore hashi...

Fly to me...

In vain, I’ve tried to forget your name. Over and over and over again. I’ve wept and I’ve cried, in-visible tears. The blue blood is cold now, inside my vein. No more pretensions, no more stories. No more veils to hide no more. The time is come now, set me free. Would you fly with me to the blueberry shore?

I’ve been foolish, so foolish to watch you go. And then I’ll be lost, I never did know. Today I know, and I say you’re the one. You are my angel, the one from the sun. I’ve dressed you, and I’ve missed you, and I’ve kissed you in my dream. Can you hear me? O hear me! Do you hear me when I scream?

O Goddess of moon, remember the dreams you have dreamt.
With me, your me, the nights you have spent.
You took me in your arms for an endless time.
Where I’ve rested in peace, in love sublime.
Remember the moment you looked into my eyes.
Like a shining star in the darkest skies.
As I held you so close, so near to my heart.

Your arms wrapped around me, which nothing could part.
Our bodies so naked, and our souls entwined.

I still can hear your whisper in my mind.
I still can feel the touch of your skin.

I still can smell your zephyr flowing.
Your hair on my neck, and your breath so warm.

It felt like life that I’ve longed and I’ve yearned.

Let me be your only one, see my love, can you see? I’m a bird in chains, I want to fly, love me be, set me free. The time is come now O bluebird, fly my love, fly to me.

Janoki

Mayer kole hashe janoki, godhulir paane cheye
Jane ki naki, jane naki shey, janoki tar meye?
Roop kironer, surjo jyoti, teer dhonukey badha
Aj rong beronger phul phuteche, lal nil ar shada...

Live, and you will learn...

Krishnokoli

Ajke mor shopne tumi Krishnokoli eshecho
Pran krishno bromor koli hridoyre tumi chuyecho
Kesh kajoler, kajol deho, kajol tomar ankhi
Adrishyo tomar aishwarjo, kajole makha makhi
Chokher kaalo bhasha bhasha, jeno moner bhasha koy
Raater tara shudaye morey 'tor kishetey bhoy?'

Byomkiyo na, dhomkiyo na, amarey tumi chomkiyo na
Mrigotrishartho morubhumi te asha nirashar byatha dio na
Rukkho hridoye, shukkho dehey, pranheenotaye bachi
Pran bhromra pran diye jao, urey esho kacha kachi
Hotei hobe tomake amar, shudhu shomoyer anagona
Koto opekkha koto protikkha, ekhono shey ojana
Kaya premer krishno tumi, amari koli hobe
Maya hridoyer chirodini mor krishnokoli robe

Come Along...

Velvet Ivory Cascade, was the fall of her hair,
With a whiff of snow jasmine enchanting the air.
Our eyes haven't met yet, but we can see
The long, the lonely wait till eternity.
And the moment she looked into my eyes,
I caught a glimpse of the chameleon skies.
With a splash of rain, and a bolt of thunder,
Somethin' so sweet that made me wonder...
Where on earth has my love all gone?
To be loved like this, left all alone?
For you my you, I've been waiting so long...
So I try to whisper and sing this song...
Let the little bird fly, her mother's long gone...
Now I spread my wings, would you come along...?

The Crescent Smile

Cobalt blue eyes. Dark Cobalt blue. Somehow I knew they were black. But then, I felt blue. Dark Cobalt blue. Staring at me, expecting something. Something, to say, or something, to be said. He is sitting in a cab, a bright yellow one, not in the driver’s seat but just beside the opposite window. Staring at me, expecting something.
Where to? He questions.
I could hear him but I really could not. I was somewhere else. Lost. In the bustle of man made machinery, interrupted by strange honks louder than any mammal alive, punctuated with desperate curses of the machine pullers, shriller than a baby’s cry. I can see moving laser lights, like thick beams of the sun. Sometimes white, sometimes red and most often an unidentifiable blue. Which looks like the arctic cold but if you go too close you will feel wounded by its unnatural heat. They’re all moving. Faster than anything that God has put on earth. If anything called God exists at all.
I can see insects. I do not know what they feed on but they are so big, they might defeat you in a wrestle. Insects in lines. Straight lines. Crooked lines. Broken lines. All kinds of lines. And some, wander alone without caring about any of these lines. They walk alone. But they are very few, and you can hardly notice them in the struggle of all these lines. Maybe they are the bugs, bugged down by the histrionics of this foolish machine that they find themselves stuck in. Maybe I am just one of them. Stuck.
In the confusion of this huge, goliath huge and loud, shrieking loud and bright, flashing bright circus of man made marvels, I happened to notice something, I should have long back. Prussian blue sky. And dots of stars. Like diamond studs. And a faint crescent shape. The faintness is not because of the few strands of hovering rain clouds, but the cloud formed by the exhaust pipes of the circus. This cloud for them, is quite natural. For the insects. Forming new kinds of lines every passing moment. And in this fantasy, I was lost.
It had been long. Two days can be really long. Two days that I hadn’t smoked some green. And today I had decided to. This fair decision became reason enough for me to get out and seek refuge in a friend’s place. For a few hours. It felt good again. Friend’s name? Irrelevant. I was somewhere else. Lost. Again.
Suddenly I realize that I am supposed to get back. Back to where I came from. And it was getting late. A smile on my face and I think who decides what’s late? I realize the yellow covering a chunk of my view. And the Cobalt blue which had caught a grey hue by now. Like a spider’s web getting dense and denser, day after day. And I realize someone’s asking something.
Haldiram’s. I said and stared back at the Cobalt blue grey spider web, as if trying to clamber my way through the grey, to the core of its nest, to find out what the spider was thinking. I couldn’t know, even if I tried to. Maybe the spider never knew my language. He kept staring as I opened the back door and sat right behind, without waiting for him to say anything.
He turns his head back, like an owl, with a plastic white cup in his left hand, which exhumed fumes of hot tea, I presumed. He, is still staring. A blank stare. Not into my eyes but into me. As if he wanted to know what I was, man or maggot, where I came from, mars or moon, what I really ate, meat or mite, before he could actually start speaking. Not a word. Still. For a split second, I sensed stupid by the stupidity of this stupefying scene. And I interrupt.
Do you know Haldiram’s?
Nothing. Blankness. And the crawling spider.
Do you understand English?
I thought he belonged to the same tribe as that of the spider in his eyes, who never knew my language. Blankness. Continued.
Are you going to drive?
This question to my relief cut the stupidity. And he spoke. Finally.
No sir, I can’t drive. He’s coming.
This man’s voice sounded gross. Like the grunt of a pig. The kind of grunt you will not hear. But feel. In your spine. Or maybe like the rotten engine roar of a vintage car, to sound better. I was reminded of Jigsaw from a movie series where he killed people in the most psychotic way, using machines he designed just for the purpose. He put his victims in chambers, and tied them, and clamped them, and stitched them to those machines and gave them an option to survive. A way out. But only through an ordeal of excruciating pain which was often life-taking. And he called that a game which he liked to play. Fascinating. Although Jigsaw carried a chic of charisma in his cynical character, he was a complete psycho. Although he was a complete psycho, I felt relief in the pig’s grunt. At least the pig grunted. I had thought the pig was dumb.
As he turned back, the way he was before, with the white plastic cup in his left hand, I noticed something. Something I should have noticed before. But I didn’t. Till now. I was lost. Almost. His right hand was not there. It was cut off from the blade of his shoulder. And the right sleeve of his shirt was folded till it could not be folded anymore. Now I knew. And a few answers to a few questions started gathering. And immediately, I was lost. Again. In one of Jigsaw’s chambers. With rotting rats spilled like the vomit of a smack addict. Ropes of spider webs. Thick Ropes. Stink like the foul burp of a cannibal. Sweat like mating snakes. And this pig, chained down in the centre, clamped to an iron chair. This time Jigsaw had his victim’s right hand stitched to a part of the chair. And the pig yelled grunt and shrieked grunt and cried grunt. For help. But his only option was to cut his right hand so that he could live. Be free. He could. But he could not. He could not. But he had to. His only option. To live. Jigsaw enters. And the driver’s door crunched open.
He had already stepped one of his legs inside which was jostling for some space underneath the driver’s seat, when the pig grunted again.
Haldiram’s. He remarked looking at the driver, with one of his eyebrows raised in that crescent shape, a question mark.
The driver with half his body still outside, turns his head to look at me. A queer look. A look to decide which family of maggots I belonged to. Or which city of moon I came from. Or which part of the mite I liked the best. This time, I say nothing. I wait. And without a further word, the engine starts in a short while.
The car is moving and I see a picture of Kali, half the size of my palm stuck in the middle of the dashboard. It has fluorescent light bulbs twinkling all around. This driver must be in his mid thirties. With rough beard glued all over his face. I didn’t know what he sounded like. Because he never spoke. And I didn’t care. I couldn’t decipher his partner’s age though. I tried to. Maybe thirty, thirty two. Or perhaps, easily more than forty five. Mystery. And I didn’t care.
The car is moving now. I thought I should ask him how he’d cut his hand. Maybe he would say by an accident. Or from birth. Or Jigsaw. Maybe. I didn’t care I decided. Truth is I didn’t want to hear that grunt. No more.
As the cab started gaining speed, three of us were the only souls who were still. And everything else passed by like lightning. I look outside the window. And I was caught. Again. Laser lights streaked past. Sometimes white, sometimes red and most often an unidentifiable blue. Insects. Lines. Bugs. Honks and curses. Everything comes back. In faster motion. I shudder at the sight and bring myself to the Prussian blue, quite compulsively. It’s calm. It’s quiet. It’s peace. The way I like it. The warm breeze of the after sun feathering my face. The way I like it. There aren’t many stars tonight, but the crescent shape is a relic. You can’t hold it, nor can you keep it. You can just see. And feel good. If you want to. The few strands of rain clouds had collected in a bunch, and it looked like it would rain. My lips followed the crescent shape and I smiled.
I remember a shortcut underneath a flyover, which would save me some notes. An insignificant amount. Maybe. But I preferred that way. It’s dingy. It’s a slum. There are no lights. There is poverty. There are no lines. There is satisfaction. There are no honks. There is sanity. It’s dingy. And it’s a slum. With no addresses written on any of the unsettled tin roofs and black rubber curtains. Not many insects would take this way. But I would. Every time. I like seeing what most people won’t see. I like being what most people will never be. It’s calm. It’s quiet. It’s peace. The way I like it.
I see the flyover approaching. And I wait. Till it comes. Its almost there. And it’s coming. It comes and I call the driver.
Take the right. It’s shorter that way.
Can’t take right sir, roads are bad. And there are no lights.
The driver sounded quite normal, much unlike his partner. So I decided to insist. And I did. But he insisted back. I never expected the pig to grunt anything anymore. I was not really fond of his voice, to speak the truth. But my intuition, the pig grunted again.
Election time, sir. Mohammedan area. Total basti. Better to be on a safer road. Muslims, you know. I think you understand.
I did not. Really. With eyebrows strangely perplexed, I did not want to understand. I felt a sting. I do not know where. My head, my stomach, kidney, heart or my bones? Where? I did not understand. I thought I would say something. But the sting. And I forgot what to say. The sting. Hopped skipped and jumped. Somewhere inside. And I said something else.
I hope YOU understand.
A quiet while. A drop of relief. And I said to myself, hardly audible.
Someday you will.
And I said nothing else. And the car is still moving. I just stare at the back of his head. A pair of invisible eyes. I know they are not there. But I want them. I want the spider. I want to snatch it. I want to crush it between my teeth. I want to gulp it down with a bottle of poison. So that it’s dead for sure, and it never comes back.
I look outside the window. I try to face the breeze. I don’t feel it. All I can face, or see, or feel is something very different, something very difficult. Uncomfortable. The sting. Hops skips and jumps. Movie reels. Moving faster than before. Much faster. In fast forward motion. They come and they go. Before I can realize. They’re gone. Something else comes. I can’t make out. I can’t see. I can’t think. My mind is clogged. Clouded. I can’t breathe. The sting. Hops skips and jumps. I search for the calm. The Prussian blue. And the diamond studs. And the crescent shape. But everything is hazy. Unclear. Faded. Lost. Except for the sting. It hops skips and jumps. Incessant still. It stings.
I had learned, rather taught myself a truth. Freedom was always another word for Control, over your own self. The car turned right on the main road crossing. And things started slowing down. The sting is in control. For now. The window frame and everything inside it started making sense. Again. And I relaxed a bit. I knew it was the last leg of my journey. And I knew I wanted to feel the warm breeze for the last time.
I see two coconut trees. Siblings. Very tall. Very dark. Yeah. And. Very handsome. Lucky for them. It must have been thirteen years for them standing by the hi-road. Watching laser lights. And smelling man made clouds. And feeling sick about it. They are still there. Standing tall. And dark. And handsome.
I see two kids. A boy and a girl. They are playing badminton under a halogen lamp post. Two broken rackets and a crushed paper ball. It’s about to rain. And they don’t care. I see an old old. OLD. Man. He is walking in a right angle. With a stick to balance the extra weight. He. HAS hair. A shade of white sprayed evenly on his skull. One of the bugs. Maybe. I presumed. He likes walking back home alone. He could. Probably he could not. He could not. But probably he had to. His only option. To live.
I see a tree. It’s tall. Taller than you and me. It’s right on the edge of the pitch. It’s a big tree. Bigger than you and me. The only thing special about it, is that it does not have any leaves. None. For now. It has stopped watching laser lights. And stopped smelling man made clouds. And stopped feeling sick about it. Listen. There’s more. I see a happy man. Sure. He WAS happy. I knew it. I do not know what state he was in, but I see him hugging the trunk of the naked tree, with a crescent smile on his lips. I do not know what the truth is, but I see him find solace, in love. In the Crescent. He was blown. I presumed. But he was happy. And he didn’t care. Much more.
The car pulled over just opposite Haldiram’s. Just as instructed. And the pictures come to a pause. Suddenly still. Did I feel the breeze? Yes. I did. I smile. And take out a note written 50 Rupees from my wallet. I hand it over to the driver. I open my door. Step out. With half my body still inside, I turn my head to look at the driver. A queer look. And I start.
What would you say if I had said…
I did not finish and I step out completely. I close the door. Both partners were by now bending over in their own ways to listen to what I had to say. I move a little forward, and bend over. So that my eyes are in line with that of my pig. Silent grunt. Dead spider. I finish.
I am a Muslim.
The Cobalt blue. Felt blank. For a moment. The crescent shape wasn’t there. Anywhere. And then, Cobalt looked. Stupefied. Petrified. Mortified. Continued with a hue of blood shot cheeks in shame. And chin. And head. And heart. And bones. Too. Maybe. I presumed.
As I turn to walk away, with the faint Crescent on my lips, searching for the Prussian blue, it starts pouring. Raining. Like life. Like everything else that God has put on earth. If anything called God exists at all. I smile, and I keep walking.

Polka Butterfly !

You are Pocus Polka butterfly!
And there are sure many reasons why you fly.
It's a buzz that's yours in my indigo air,
But your flight needs to fly everywhere;
With dots as spots on wings that flicker ~
Lilac yellow colour in lazure liquor.
The bright haze stays, but the yellow not.
And the you in you screams, that white steel rod.
Have you ever heard? Have you ever thought?
Without knowing you, what you have ever got?
I got a friend in time, and the ring I have.
But I don't really have everything that I have...
This dozen and a quarter is all you sniff
To smell the black clay, and leave your grief.
A maze to questions with answers to maze,
Thoughts you weave for the mind to graze.
A scatter of toothpicks in your head,
Will take some time to go to bed.
So wait till the wait does multiply,
When you will say and not just lie,
"I am the Polka butterfly!"

Bhabuk, shey keno?

Esho,

Bosho,

Ektu jirao.

Kothaye jao?

Jete hobe,

Oneyk duur jete hobe

Accha besh...

Kintu kothaye jabe?

Kothhekey asha shuni?

Oijey, odik theke

Oneyk ta poth eshe gechi

Ar beshi shomoy nei

Aaro oneyk poth jete hobe

Ta oneyk ta poth eshecho,

Aaro oneyk poth jabe,

Phirbe na bhaya?

Eto proshno kisher moshai?

Jete toh hobei re baba

Shobai je jacche!

Haan, ta thik

Jete toh hobei

Shobai je jacche...

Nah kichu na,

Ei koutuhal, ar kichu na...

Katha bolo...

Dekho,

Shono,

Bojho...

Katha bolo...

Dekhao,

Shonao,

Bojhao...

Shikhio na!

Kintu na shekhaley...?

Shikhio na!

Shikhtey dao...

Tarpor?

Bhabtey dao...

Bhabuk...

Shey keno?

Ekta gaach,

Taar duto chhaya.

Tomar ki duto chhaya ache?

Koi? na toh...

Amar toh ektai chhaya!

Achhey, achhey bhaya achhey.

Thik kore shudhu dekhtey hobe.

Dekhabo?

Haan dekhao dekhi...

Shomoy houk, thik dekhabo.

Accha boloto, nijeke dekhtey pao?

Haan, roj dekhi, ayenae...

Oi snan kore chul achrabar shomoye.

Accha, tumi chhobi aako?

Chhobi?

Nah nah, oshob amar dwara hoyna.

Cheshta korecho?

Oi murir thongaye hiji biji ketechi...
Pakhi, phul ar pathor dekhe...

Aar,
Nijeke dekhe?

Nijeke..?

Haan, nijeke...

Dhur moshai, ki je bolen?
Nijeke dekhe abar chhobi aaka jaye?
Ki bhabey dekhbo?

Keno?
Ei na bolley je ro dekho?
Ayenaye?

Haan... kintu shey toh...

Ekbar cheshta koro!

Ayenaye dekhe nijer chhobi?
Thik ache, cheshta korbo...
Kintu chhobi eke ki hobe?
Nijeke toh roj i dekhi...
Tatey ki labh?

Shey pakhi o toh roj i dekho,
Phul phol pathor o toh roj i dekho,
Ekbar nijer dike cheye dekho!

Accha tomar ki kortey bhalo lagey?

Amar?
Amar lebu lozenge khete bhalo lagey...

Accha, aar?

Amar circus dekhtey bhalo lagey...

Besh, aar?

Gaan shuntey...

Gaan shono?
Gaan shuntey bhalo lagey?
Ki gaan?

Gaan... bhalo bhalo gaan!

Kon bhalo gaan?

Accha moshai,
Apni toh dekhchi proshner pahaar!
Eto proshno kisher bolun toh?

Nah nah kichu na,
Ei... koutuhal, ar kichu na...

Katha bolo...

Dekho,

Shono,

Bojho...

Katha bolo...

Dekhao,

Shonao,

Bojhao...

Shikhio na!

Kintu na shekhaley...?

Shikhio na!

Shikhtey dao...

Tarpor?

Bhabtey dao...

Bhabuk...

Shey keno?

Je dik mon chaye, shey dik jabo...

Haan jabe, kintu jano ki keno?

Keno..?
Mon chaye tai, abar keno?

Mon chaye, bhalo...
Tobey shetai ki shob?
Moner shonjom?

Shonjom?

Shonjom kore?

Oma,
Shonjom na korle toh pouchhotey parbe na!

Accha,
Kothau na kothau ki pouchhotei hobey?

Haan...! Oboshhoi pouchhotey hobey..!
Na pouchholey toh onyo shobai pouchhey jabey!

Kintu kothaye shuni?

Haat tey thako, thik pouchhe jabey...

Haatchi toh...
Shetai toh bhalo laagchey!
Kothau ki shotti e pouchhotey hobey?

Shudhu bhalo laaglei hobe?
Kothau na kothau toh hobe!

Haan, jabo...
Kintu  pouchhobo na...

Arey! Jabey kintu pouchhobey na...
Shey toh ek i holo?

Nah...
Ami shudhu jetey chai,
Pouchhotey chai na...

Kintu keno?

Karon,
Haat tei amar bhalo laagchey!

Accha, shei jekhane bolchiley,
Shey khane pouccholey ki aaro bhalo laagbey?

Nischoi laagbey! Shobar i toh laagchey!

Kintu kotokkhon?

Maney?

Maney kotokkhon bhalo laagbey?
Accha, shey khane pouchhey tarpor ki korbo?

Tarpor aaro ektu pouchhobey...

Ar tarpor?

Tarpor aaro, aaro beshi ektu pouchhobey...!

Taader shobar ki bhalo laagchey?

Haan bhaloi toh laagchey,
Maney karur kharap toh lagche na!

Nah, kharap keno laagbey...
Tobey...

Kharap na laagar manei ki bhalo laga?

Katha bolo...

Dekho,

Shono,

Bojho...

Katha bolo...

Dekhao,

Shonao,

Bojhao...

Shikhio na!

Kintu na shekhaley...?

Shikhio na!

Shikhtey dao...

Tarpor?

Bhabtey dao...

Bhabuk...

Shey keno?

This is what you choose...

Plastic dreams,
Or the shiny blue tie?
Little tin soldiers,
Or the grey black sky?
Decide...
Where do you want to head to?
What is it that you choose?

The purple hanger,
Keeps hanging you still.
One last trip,
You can't but feel.
Beyond your existence,
Or just within?
What is it that you choose?

The little kid inside you -
The mad, the sponge, the hungry fish!
A vaccum of uncared insanity,
Has licked and milked and made you this!
Look... It was you! And look... This, is you!
This, is where you head to...
This,... is what you choose.

I chose to choose

There was a time when I chose to choose...
There will be a time when they'll realize...
Why?

Ebony coffin

Handsome collars. Lilac hue.
And a little blue suit
With a little blue hoot.
He lies now.
Gorgeous scent,
Of jasmine blue
Swirls with the dancing smoke
Of incense, and oil,
Of despair, and toil.
This coffin describes your gone being.
Choked.

Indigo darkness. Indigo mind.
I sit in this corner leaving the chase.
I fit here. Perfectly.

The End

I am Rose,
The thorns well in prose.
Black tears, thick black...
Speak of crooked laughter, ...tragic humour in your eyes
We don't belong here. I do.
They do. With chains. With some matter and some wise.
I don't belong here. Do you? I do.

The hour comes, the sand flows...
You keep going till it goes.
I am not the one. I am just a one.
They can shout, they can curse...
They can scream by the book of words.
Can't but part this part away from the dust.
I didn't decide to be a part. Did you?

Thoughts that come when you are.
Words that ring like guns in a war.
Pain, Pain, Pain...
Is one gift when you were born.
Who chose? Who knows? Who you are?

Who will you be? When it's all gone...
When will it be gone? The end... Is there one?

You are man

You are man. You are still a mortal. You are still entangled between the twisted tentacles of this man-made social mind, which is truly morbid yet mundane. And henceforth, it will forever be. Truly, you don't deserve to belong to this philanthropic circus of silly human emotions, which goes on and on incessantly, quite restless with a little smile, a drop of tear, and a stroke of mascara till the day you come to realise that it's all gone... And then, it's all gone.

Nothing remains... at least for you to sense at the end of it all. The last thing that you would want to sense, or feel, or even think about before you leave your last breath is peace, satisfaction and joy. Or maybe 'something' which includes all the three. You do anything, and everything, and all the things that you can to seek that 'something' in your life. Maybe, that is just all you can ever understand about the reason of your existence. And that's the end of it, till you still breathe, till you still think, and till you are still mortal.

You love a woman. You say you love her more than anything else in this world. You say you love her more than your own self. You say you could die without her. This much love, empathy and feeling oozes out of your heart just for your lady love. You do it all in love, with love, for love, just to catch a glimpse of her sparkling eyes lost in you. And this is what brings You sheer happiness. And this joy, almost an inexplicable whirlpool of intoxicating emotions is what you keep striving for till you leave your last breath.

You help someone. You find a job for a poor crippled. He is forever grateful to a good man like you. He is ignorant of how to repay your blessing on him. He finds a reason to live once more. He is painfully happy, maybe a great deal more than that. And that is what brings your soul some uninvited satisfaction. And this satisfaction, almost an inexplicable whirlpool of intoxicating emotions is what you keep striving for till you leave your last breath.

You love your child. He is the one in whom you would want to see Your goodness. He is the one who you would want to believe in the most. He is the one in whom you would want to see a man. You will to struggle, and sacrifice, and even go through pain just to keep a smile on your child's white face. You will to give it all just for him. You protect him from all enemies. You provide him with all necessities. You pamper him with all luxuries. Just out of sheer love, or maybe something more than that. You teach him, you scold him, you mould him into the best he can be. You'll be there when he needs you the most. You'll yet be there when he needs you no more. You'll still still be there when he knows not what he needs. This is how much you love your child just to see him happy. Just to see him a good man. And that is what brings You peace. And this peace, almost an inexplicable warmth of placidity, chastity and freedom is what you keep striving for till you leave your last breath.

You are man. You have a mother. You have a father. And all of you are just tiny parts of a big big machinery, which works just as fine as everything else in this world. And by now of course you ought to know how everything else works in this world!

Even if you think that you are son of Morpheus, the god of dreams, you cannot dream beyond what satisfies your soul, brings you joy, or your mind at peace. You still remain a part of this knot. You have to. You are a good man. You know the value of love. You know the virtue of helping fellow mortals. You know the joy of seeing others happy. And all these qualities indeed make you a good man. But how often do you realise that you really make an effort to show off these special qualities of a good man given to you by your good breed, just because of your own self? Because of your own satisfaction; Because of your own happiness; Because you want to be at peace with your own soul. Still, you struggle. Still, you fight. Still, you strive. You are, still a man.

Why are you here?

Any question does not necessarily have an answer, or rather, a perfect answer. Maybe the answer is there somewhere inside, but not in your mind. Maybe you don't even know, but it exists. Maybe you really didn't get a chance to ask the reason of your existence. Perhaps you don't even know why you are here...

I ask you this. Why are you here?

While I'm trying to solve the mixed up collage in my head, I'll be asking more questions rather than finding words for the answers. What I see is that most of these questions are without a question mark!

Many a psychologically aristocratic minds say that we live because we choose to live. Did you really choose to be here in the first place? Did you really choose to be born as the "guy" you are, in every damn way? Did you really choose to breathe like humans do?

I am an artist. And I know that I did not choose to possess these fine creative qualities. Neither did a pianist choose to have fluent harmony in his fingers. Nor did the runner wish to posses those human legs of a horse. Who did? Why? Think... Why are you here?

You are not me...

I, for now, just for this moment, wish to die. I wish not to be the tormented for one more moment, not any more. I wish to see him, not me, no more. The pristine example of irony poking my existence is something that you will feel for. A dead man is a dead man. And once he is dead, he is left with no qualms for anything. I, being in a state of lucid torment while trying to comprehend both sides of black and white, find the joy of the dead much more alluring. And for no reason at all, today I wish to tell you that the purple haze exists, on the other side.

I can see my white face without the crisps and wrinkles caused by mere human emotions. I am not human, not anymore. I do not know what I am. I do not have a name for it. It is not necessary. Yet I know I have a privilege, which you didn't have. I can feel for you, while you could just feel your own pain, and perhaps grow more wrinkles. You cried and cried but no one seemed to understand or even listen. Whoever did, couldn't do anything to make you feel any better, the way I feel now. I don't have to cry, not for myself. I don't need to laugh, not on myself. But I would like to speak, just speak with myself. I would like to forget you, and everything yours. I am not fed up. I need a fresh mind. I wish to transcend into my other life, an existence which doesn't even exist for you. Blessed I am. You are not me...

Some unattended restlessness...

Never did I feel the slightest urge to scribble down anything all these months. Today I know I have to... Perhaps finally the stable equilibrium somewhat sedimenting on my life has started showing signs of unattended restlessness...

Let Go

You want to hear about me?

A head that's stained with cannabis patches?
Surreal seizures of insanity?
Obsession with every damn thing that's black?
The matchbox with red and blue matches?
Or,
My dream girl who looks like a crack addict?

Is that what you want to hear?

Life, tears and the smile
Have become the scratch on your burnt lips
They'll heal...
Only if you stop licking it.
But you fucking can't!

You want to hear more about me?

Sick veins, green blood...
Euphoria...
Rapturous insanity...
Deja Vu...

Parasites cling on to my white face
They're all there,
All over my fucking face
We do live to die, ...don't we?
So just let go!
Fucking let go!!

Creepers with claws like barbed wire
And cold drops of ecstasy
Play ping pong inside my head.
And then the slut knocks on my door
Now, why? Why do you hold yourself?
Just let go!
Fucking let go!!

Some things don't need no question
Neither do they have no answer.
"Speak up!". I won't.
I won't if I don't want to.
Just don't cling...
Like parasites clinging on to my white face.
Let go!!
Fucking let go!!!

It's not an insect that's in my head.
It's just a sting; some poison.
It won't heal till I want it to.
Listen to the beats that don't rhyme.
It's noise. It's splatter.
It's without an end...
Why do you hold yourself?
Just let go!
Fucking let go...!!

The black rubber band across my fingers...
It's getting too tight
I don't feel it. I don't want to feel it.
Pain is sweet. Pain is warm.
It brings a rush. Makes you feel.
It turns you on. Yet,
Lone walkers keep walking lonely.
they don't know. They need to know.
They need to get here.
They need some pain, some real pain.
They need this rush!
So don't fucking hold it no more!
Let go...
Fucking let go...!!

I stand in front of the mirror
I see myself
Yet I see him
I know he's there.
He is the king.
His blood oozes the colour of life
Not red
Not blue
But black
Black
Like an obsession
It drips in drops
And I let it flow
Don't fucking hold
Just let go...
Fucking let go...!!

The holy smoke from the peace pipe
Creates serpentine figures
And the little sparrow dances on
With tiny timid hops
It tries for innocence...
Innocence, is that a word?
A person? A book?
A feeling? An emotion?
A what???
I would only know if I had wanted to know!

I can write lines
And make rhymes
And draw signs
But,
Will I ever be what I want to be?
Can I just let go?
"You have to."
Let go...
Fucking let go...!!

Sometimes I just get blown off!
Off the track, off the shelf,
Off the world, off my fucking head!!
I just lose it.
I love to...
Be what i should be!
Without any hook-ups or hiccups...

No one cares a fuck what dogs have to bark!

Just let go...
Fucking let go...!!

Peace Rests Among Us...

P rEparE tO gO iNsanE, ...blOwN, ...muNdanE !
E acH draG brinGiN' eteRnitY a li'L cloSeR ;
A lthO' everY puRplE droP oF blooD begS foR meRcY,
C harreD seNseS makE teaRleSS zombiEs oF crippleD meN,
E verY singlE straW of flesH shRiekS froM heLL, likE GoD...

R uineD pieceS oF mY rusteD minD

E ngulF foRgotteN desiReS oF thiS pitifuL souL...

S oaRiN' dreamZ hidE beneatH tE sulleN clouDs, ...anD,

T imiD minDs don'T stanD a chancE nO morE...

S ilhouttE oF mY nailS makE lineS iN veRmillioN gorE !

A ll comeS, aLL goeS, leaviN' nonE but nothiN' behinD !

M ightY mazeS thaT mesmeRizE, tE joY ain'T wortH tE paiN...

O verwhelmiN' mY poweR, mY strength, ...tE TrutH !

N inE liveS foR tE velveT caT, lyK He playS thiS rutHleSS gamE...

G ivE mE ThY wisdoM, thO' i neeD nonE tO indulgE iN thiS bliSSfuL shamE!

U topian depthS oF darKneSS keeP hauntinG ouR minDleSS headS...

S tiLL, wE fathoM noT whY... peAce restS amonG uS...