The Evening Train

Take me home on the evening train…
Where I can hear the laughter
And the song of the road again

I have long waited for oblivion…
Blissful…peaceful…
Flying on the night bird’s wings

Maybe, I waited for too long…
But, I was walking all alone…
And, listening to the man who sang of trains…

Perhaps, I make no sense…
Like the foggy winter morning….
Of cold coffee…tears and rains…

Yet, I know I am tired…
And, I have hurt you, my dearest one
But, am coming home to make it up to you again…

I hope you forgive me…
Hope you know I lost my way…
Lost my soul to the man daring to say Imagine…

Can you tell her I am coming home by the evening train?
Maybe, she will look out of the window
For one last time….again…

Rain Messenger's Diary 16...Letter to Annie 5

Dear Annie,

I created a new mail id today. Nothing special or out of the ordinary and I realize it doesn’t really make as impressive an opening line as “Call me Ishmael” but I never claimed to be Herman Melville anyway. However, such exercises can sometimes be an amazing experience albeit completely unexpectedly. When I clicked on an innocuous looking option which allowed me to link my previous id with my current one, hardly did I know that this would make me embark on a journey that was cathartic as well as blindingly painful at the same time.

What that simple looking innocent option did was draw all the mails from my old inbox, from the oldest to the latest, to the new inbox. This was at a very slow place I might add, allowing me, jobless as I am, to read some of those mails from the dinosaur age.

You might by now be wondering that I must have run of things to say and out of sheer desperation am writing about something as mundane as creating a new mail id, you are not completely wrong I have to admit, but fortunately there is another aspect to it which hopefully saves my face a bit. The idea behind this letter is to ask how exactly do we deal with these shadows called memories? As, has been oft repeated and famously stated, boxing with your shadow while might be a good way to improve your boxing skills, is not very fruitful if you are looking for a result in the match. The point of this letter is to pose a question to us as to what do we do with these pieces of our lives, which are a part of our being…part of who we are and where exactly do they fit in into our future? How exactly are you supposed to react when after almost three years you suddenly see an old picture that was mailed to you by a friend and at that time had seemed to be the greatest gift to you, but now it’s too heavy for you to bear or when you read a mail that a love-struck you of yore had written confident in the knowledge that finally you have found what you have been looking for or reading a mail from her telling how you mean the world to her and realizing that they have all been lies.

Once again unfortunately I find myself writing a letter to you full of unanswered and perplexing questions. I am not sure why, as I am not about a lot of things in my life, so guess that is not a surprise to you.

There are times I feel we come at a place in our lives where we believe that we have left certain things behind us, yet, there they are separated by a thin veil waiting to disrupt our new routines. This uncertainty is disconcerting…it’s like discovering a rotten skeleton while looking for treasure. Yet, that is nostalgia isn’t it?

I write this letter with the hope that memories haven’t darkened your brow and your heart is not heavy with the past.

With all my love,
Rain Messenger

A letter for you

I would like to say I miss you…
Maybe, even that I love you…
But, the dawn is foggy and you are far away…
And, it’s not the time yet

I wish to say you swept me off my feet
One thin little wild gypsy beat…
Tell you, that I drowned in your eyes…
Yet, I know I would only scare you away

What if, we had met before…
Perhaps shared a coffee or a few words…
What if I could have said this with my eyes deep in yours…
What if…

Time changes everything and covers old wounds…
Till we forget it's still raw inside
Now, it’s blown wide open…
And, all I have is a letter for you

I wish I knew what to say…Wish you felt differently…
Wish I was not so afraid of losing you…
Wish you knew how I feel…
But, here I am guitar…letter…me

Her Song

She sang to me…
From the corners of the night
Slow…Deep…Scared…
She called out to me

There was pain that forged her…
Music that cradled her
And, a veil
A long black veil…

She sang to me…
From the depths of my soul
Like the lover, professing his love…
Tentative…Frightened…Brave…

A life that was…
For, a rose that trembled
Rain that embraced her
And…a love…

She sang to me…
From beyond the shadows
Freeing me yet binding me in chains…
And, she sang…about the long black veil

Hunger

The night calls out to me
From the voids of the great unknown
Slow…seductive…silent
I walk…I keep walking

Hunger burns with renewed fervor
Burying all else beyond comprehension
I look around hoping to see light…
I see the night…I look for food

I refuse to return to reality
I walk in a haze…somnambulating while awake
I look to buy a smile on my mother’s lips
I wonder what to trade for the right to survive…

The mind wanders…
Like the restless wind lost in the concrete jungle…
I see neon, music and a drunk world heady with success
While I look for life in the leftovers

I sit for a while in the pavement…
The parched lips finally wet with my own blood
Slowly the night takes me in its arms…
Sleep…Silence…Peace…

Early Morning Flight

The bejeweled night silently sighs…
Tired of being a silent spectator
Of glorious uncertainties…
And a maze called life

The sun slowly rises…
Over the foggy, winter morning airport
Promising to be bright to light my way…
As, I prepare to plunge into the unknown

There is precious little I leave behind
There is not much I look forward to…
Yet, I am afraid to lose this pittance…
Impatient, Restless…looking for answers to unasked questions

As, the clouds kiss the wing tips
I remember the warmth of my princess’ lips
I wish I had held her longer…
I wish she had not let me go…

I am scared we will run out of things to say…
Afraid that you will need me no more…
For I know not why I can’t resist you…
Unsure why you chose to find me

The seven horses of dawn pull away…
As, morning takes its place
And, I bid you adieu, mi reina
In a hope you will understand my love someday…

The Stranger

The last dregs of coffee...
Drained from the lonely cup…
And, as I get up to lose myself in the world, again
I stumble on the threshold of her eyes…

An eternity passes between us,
While the world measures seconds…
I hang on to every inconsequential syllable…
Hoping to hear some more

Walking away is hard yet necessary…
As, I bury hope, trying to forget the stranger…
But, she finds me
In the mess of an electronic mesh

The unsure, tentative steps…
Lead to long late night chats…
As, we talk of life and chrysanthemums...
While, welcoming the birds home

The future’s uncertain…
The afterglow of the setting sun…
Burns like fire..
While I wonder, does it mean anything?

Turning 22

The sun signs off for the day
Benign and magnificent in its parting glory…
And, we let it go…for they say…
If you love them, set them free…

The wind comes out of nowhere
Threatening to blow all away…
As, rain rips apart the evening sky
I take a walk…

As, the rain encompasses me
Things become hazy and hard to see…
Yet, things have rarely been clearer…
I have seldom been so free

All is still…as the world seems to reflect…
Life and crossroads…death and wisdom…
All is quiet…as the world seems to listen…
Fury and peace…rhythm and rain…

The walk continues…as does age…
Another year of decay and growth…
As, I walk towards maturity and death…
Life…a tension of opposites…continues…

Buried

I seek not to redress or purge
I seek not revenge or retribution
In these lonely sojourns…
In my yearly visits back to life

The age-old rituals and sound of dhaks
The smells, sights and sounds…
The familiar warmth
And, the feeling of being home again

Time and time again…
Tilottoma in your arms…
In crescent moons and fleur de lis
I sleep…I cry…I remember…

The dark room and old roads
And, trying to explain where I stand…
Tearing apart those who try to reach out
Pushing them, hurting them…till it hurts no more

I know not why I write…
As, I see the sun rise from the early morning flight
And, I return to the world burying you deep inside…
But, as much as I try Tilottoma, you are buried but never forgotten.

Rain Messenger's Diary 15...Letter to Annie 4

Dear Annie,

Today, I spoke of love. Not anything or anyone in particular, it was like love, people and relationships in general…if at all they can be generalized. You know how I get sometimes. It was raining. Delhi has not seen so much rain for the last 30 years. It’s amazing how sometimes some irrelevant statistics get stuck in your head.

Anyway, without doing what I usually do, get lost in my own maze of words, let me tell you why I am writing to you. You know love reminded me of you. Don’t be worried I don’t love you anymore…sorry perhaps, that sounded more like a consolation made to myself than a statement to you….but still, it’s true. What I meant by love reminding me of you, was a fleeting thought that I had as to why I loved you or why I would love anyone for that matter. You know, it was not because you understood me or because you actually managed to like me in spite of my idiosyncrasies. It was not because of all those walks in the rains or the hurried, awkward kisses in the stairways, empty lifts or when we are lucky in empty movie-halls and during windfalls in empty rooms. It was perhaps because of the way you looked when you woke up from sleep or perhaps just before you woke up. It might also be because of the way in which you could crave for the smallest of things at the oddest of hours. Remember you once made me run around half the city for like hours early in the morning just because you wanted candy floss and just had to have it…it makes me smile now, to think of it. Or, perhaps the numerous other odd things that used to make us unique…like the way I always had to give you the same chocolate every day I met you.

It made me believe somehow we don’t love the people we love for all those things that we think matter but we love them more for those small little things that we never think will matter or even for things that perhaps irritate us a bit. I once heard someone say, “no, my love was not perfect but in the end, it was all those small imperfections that made her perfect for me.” I don’t think I understood it then, the way I understand it now. It’s still raining you know.

The sky has turned dark and the world seems different, as things seem to have slowed down, even the wet dog in the street seems least bothered and is happily getting wet, lost, even if for a moment, in the infinite beauty of our finite lives. However, these moments are increasingly becoming hard to find. Is it because the world is changing or is it because I am? As usual, I think I have puzzled you to the extent that you are thinking why I keep writing these letters to you…now after all these years, when, perhaps, you are happy, you have moved on, married, had kids…who knows…you must be wondering. Don’t worry as usual, I don’t expect a reply nor do I hope it will reach you. It will be posted like the others…to the wind or perhaps, this time to the sea and it will reach you, when it reaches you. These letters are written more to me than you…ah, that makes you smile….ya, you are right I remain as selfish as ever. These letters are perhaps an acknowledgement made to myself, that something inside me is still alive…something which is untouched from my forgotten past…it’s so ancient that even I don’t know what it is. I know you don’t mind me being alive, so I am hazarding a guess that you won’t really mind the letters and maybe, just maybe, these letters make you smile or be exasperated or just simply make you feel enough to look forward to them as something that breaks the clutter of your everyday existence.

I still enjoy the little things of life…a coffee and a cigarette, while it is raining is still my idea of a perfect evening. I hope I can love again for the same reason…the little unimportant things…the oddities that will make us unique, for if I find a real reason for being in love with a person then it is not love, is it? You see, with you I never had a reason, I just had you and perhaps, that is why these letters still find their way to you. I hope this letter finds you well and happy wherever you are in your new life.

With all my love,
Rain Messenger

Timeless Wishes

The passive green beside your name…
A hidden desire and a chosen barrier…
I wish I had seen you naked…
Your thoughts rather than your body

Time decides to play havoc
Dancing an unknown dance…
While the river swells…
Threatening to wash away all insults

Tremulous…tentative…
I look beyond…telling my story
Through endless words…
But, ending up saying nothing at all…

I wish I could have told them…
About the stolen kisses…and broken dreams
And, the vain search for your arms
And, the warmth of your face against mine

Yet, I am away…I am far…
I am dead while alive
And, you still serenade to broken stairways…
While I listen to life in the silence of the rains

May you soar…
May there always be wind beneath your wings…
While I pursue my purpose
Prove to the wind… “I” means something

Through the window & beyond

Green flashes…the occasional whistle…
The faraway engine and…
The incessant rumbling of rusted wheels
And life…stolen in glances at the faraway horizon

It’s amazing how everything feels so still
Even, when I am moving so fast…
And, I look around…
I find…gray hairs…and lost eyes…

The journey rarely felt so significant
Yet, the music tries to slowly pull me back…
I don’t want to be held now…not today…
In the distance…today, let the music be in the distance

The rain keeps me company…
A sheet of haze…
Blurring my vision, washing the green clean
While, I purge my soul

Flashes of decay…
The unavoidable circle of life…
The birth of new hope beside the barren…
Death…and you…

You come back to me…
In drifting clouds and flooded fields
But, I move on…penning my random ramblings
Watching my life fly by…through the windows of a moving train.

Restless Dreams

I search for a soul
Waiting for a known train…
To take me to an unknown destination
While I search…I sing…I live…for a change

As, sleepless nights slip by…
And, passing days leave its mark
In graying hairs and crinkling cheeks…
I seek to break free

Travelling alone on lonely alleys…
Hearing the night whisper its secrets
I seek to be accepted within its fold…
To be given access to the dark side of the moon

I know not where I tread
Is it real or a dream…
I, however, keep walking on the edges of sanity
Flirting with life across the line

The smoke hangs thick
Adding to the haze
Lonely, lovely, dark silence…
The seductive black’s beckoning

I stand alone…
Bereft of fetters and desires
I die to wake up…
I die hoping to be part of the black soon…

A Tear

I cannot remember what we fought about…
I hope it was important
I can’t remember why you made me cry…
I hope you had a reason

From the depths of dark, unknown bowels
Of misconstrued and messed up emotions
Travels a solitary tear…
Carrying the burden of my sorrows

I seek solace from a friend…
Hundreds of miles away
Finding warmth from a hug
By simply reading the syllables

And, a lonely tear…
Makes its journey to the threshold of my eyes…
While, I search…
I search for an answer to the elusive why…

And, you remain…
In the sounds of silence
And, forgotten lyrics of oft-heard songs…
While, the heavy tear dries itself on my cheeks

A Small Wish

A small message…
Lost in the pathways of the electronic jungle…
An unexpected reply…after ages…
A faltering footstep of trust in an untrusting world

I remember these…as, the first drops of rain
Wash the dawn to welcome you…
I hear the tune of early morning ajaan…
And, every syllable sings of you

May, the morning bring you happiness…
And, evening peace in its arms…
May, life give you strength
And, humility to accept it all

It’s a long road and it’s a hard rain…
And, you have left a bit of you at every bend…
Time…and time again…
And, it’s quiet while you look ahead…

I slowly take your hand
And, walk with you for a while…
For, I know you will keep walking…long after I am gone…
For, I know I leave you love and a wish….Happy Birthday, my friend.

Lost

The sky finally spills over…
While, I sit with a cup of coffee on my solitary verandah
Looking beyond the greydom
Into the distance…through the rain, through your eyes

A melancholy tune wafts in…
While I lose you in this world
I had let you down, yet your eyes never accused me…
I loved you, yet I let you go…but you never complained…

Time moves on…but, times like these…
As, I watch the empty streets…
And, the rain drenches my soul…
I miss you…yet, I cannot reach for you

It was a strange act…
Caught between eternities and fleeting moments…
Your arm was reassuring but I was scared
Your presence was calming, but I was restless…

And, then you were gone…
Like the restless breeze lost in the meadows…
Maybe, I never loved you enough
Maybe, I never knew how to…

I hold the cup tightly…
As, the rain lashes my eyes
And, I shut the world out…
Waiting. Despairing. Hoping. Despairing.

Rain Messenger's Diary 14...Letter to Annie 3

Dear Annie,
They say I have learnt nothing. Nothing, from the pain and tears that I have been through. They say I am still a fool. A fool, who does not deserve to live or belong in this world.

Yet, Annie I love to live. All that they curse me for or scream at me for are the only things that I hold on to in my darkest hours. They are all that are the best in me. How do you deal with it when you are hated for what, you think you should be loved for? How far do you have to be pushed before you go over the edge?

Do you remember our late night chats constituting random nonsense and whispered fears and hopes? There is no one who wants to listen to my silence anymore and I’m afraid to speak. I am moving on, leaving people behind. One by one they all have forsaken me or perhaps I have forced them to forsake me, whichever way, I am lonely.

Annie, are you sick of me cribbing? I am. I am tired of being vulnerable inside and also strong to face the world. I am tired of fighting the desire to be destructive. Annie, I am tired of asking questions to which there are no answers.

They have given up on me, left me for a used, washed-up, shell of a man. They mock my emotions and label me a cheap flirt, yet Annie, I survive.

Annie, I survive for I know that whenever the world is too heavy, no matter how far, my words will be carried to you. I survive for I know that I can always sleep in your arms and be protected from them. This letter is a wish, a wish that I don’t lose myself in the dust of the world, a wish that as long as I live, my letters find you well
With all my love,
Rain Messenger

Storm

The sky darkens…
As, the dust get wings
And, I watch alone…
Suddenly, invisible in the dust of the world

I stretch my arms…
Wishing I could ride on its back
Lost amongst our existence…
Running back to anthills

Time refuses to stand still or pass on…
As, the first drops hit my eyelids…
The lightning threatens
And, the sky seems dangerous…

Everyone runs for shelter…
I try to join them…yet…
I stand crazy…calm…
In your arms again

This is It

The sky looks on with a misty eye…
As, I feel the sudden rush of speed before the calm…
The ground hastily recedes
As, the propellers fly me away…

I look for you…
But, all seems so small from up here anyway…
And, it’s time to embrace reality, to be better…
To be more, than what you had thought I would ever be

And, hence its goodbye…
To old friends and forgotten follies
Adieu, to broken hearts and emotions that weakens.
It’s goodbye to you.

I know not what I seek…
Or where it is that I seek it…
Yet, I never despair…
I know my rain is never far away…

I draw the smoke in deeply…
Looking for a last embrace
But, guess I took in too much…
My eyes burn…and I cannot seem to exhale

The raindrops repeat your words…
As I look for patterns in the empty coffee cup
When, I close my eyes your lies still choke
Yet, I smile…

I emerge.
Burnt and free. A hardened actor…
Convincing enough to fool even myself…
You wanted me to be happy…this is it.

She

Happiness lost, in a vain pursuit…
The journey insignificant, for a glorified destination
And, a race of neon-addicts and marathon men
A caricature called life…

She embraces all…
With equal love or equal indifference
Sweetening the acrid nights…
Making mindless hate…

She leads you to her room and takes off her life…
To take the world in
Closing her eyes…to open them in a faraway land…
If only, Freud interpreted her dreams

She moves on through changing rates and changing times
Yet, her face is hidden…
And, the fight for the street corner is on
While, every night, she waits as they try to choose the best…

The lure of money, as the world seeks to invest…
She sways to the music…
Hoping, the make-up is loud enough
To silence the hunger inside

And, she wakes up alone…every dawn
The oldest profession denying her the afterglow…
Taking an early bath…
To wash away the tears for the rest of the day…

Futile Expectations

The light shone out…
A defiant challenge to the envelope of darkness…
As, the car cuts through the silence
Speeding towards an unknown destination

The mind races keeping pace…
Forming, destroying and re-forming images…
A bated breath anticipation…a barely concealed desperation…
An endless wait…to meet you

The flowers have to be mauled…
To capture its perfume
Destroying its existence, in order to preserve its essence
In our manic obsession for immortality

A mesh of complicated electronic pathways…
Sealed our friendship
Spanning distances…and human boundaries
Like a soaring eagle seeking to embrace the sun…

Sharing fears and hidden tears…
My memories flood the cobwebs of my mind…
As, I look at the slice of overcast sky through my windscreen
My journey continues…to meet you.

A shared defiance…
And, daring to be different
While the world threatens to overrun us
We do well, just to survive

And, after ages…and countless phone calls…
I come back…and the endless wait promises to end
I seek to meet you…but now you are busy…
With your appointment with eternity…it’s too late

A Walk Along The Lake

A long walk. A half burnt cigarette…
And the mute lake standing testimony to countless dreams
The dilapidated benches strewn with yellow leaves…
The only one who laments our absence…

The moon was always beautiful
When I looked at it through your eyes…
But, now it’s cold with a dead glow…
Almost mocking…cynical about my weakness.

The cigarette burns up to the lips…
And, I finally stub you out…
Yet, I wonder whether you still look at the same sky
Through the gap between those two forsaken trees…

You used to dream of a graveyard full of roses…
While I tried to hide you from harm
You sought a shelter…
But, never found one…you were afraid of imprisonment

The music rings out from the old piano
Like coffee on a rainy afternoon
And, I listen to my life…
Slowly, trickling down glass panes

The light threatens to burn out
And, leave me darkness again…
I embrace it as your gift to me…
While burning my feelings to keep me warm

Unsaid words linger around…
Like a long black veil
While I keep walking
Discovering the oft treaded roads… all over again…

Silent Screams

Tender, tentative steps…
Unsure, short breaths coming as gasps…
She looks around…
She is born…

Time had wasted her…
Flushed her down the gutters
Like unwanted furniture…
And, darkness, her friend had found her…

Screams. Kicks. Bloody lips. Silence…
As, another spirit was broken
And, the wild west was perhaps tamed…
While, she waited to fight another day

She kept no count…
The endless procession of ageless rhythm
Meaningless passion and spewing hate
And, the fire inside keeps the ice outside from melting…

She waited for no knight…
Or, a fairytale police officer…
She did not expect a life
Just survive…

Then, life came calling…
Like the least desired always seems to happen
A primordial stirring, from some ink-black darkness
Deep within her womb

The silence shattered…
And, the imprisoned tigress woke up…
And, the fire, kept the life warm
While, she fought and felt born again…

But, life comes with a price tag…
In the dark alleys of civilization
And there were…Screams. Blood. Silence…
And, this time it wrapped her in an eternal veil.

Rain Messenger's Diary 13...Letter to Annie 2

Dear Annie,
Do you ever feel lost? As if, the one street light that was supposed to somehow show you your way in a dark alley also went off?
Perhaps, you are wondering why I always write you letters full of questions, whose answers will never come. Or, perhaps you don’t, you know me too well. Annie, does that bore you? Knowing someone so well that you can differentiate and interpret their silences? Isn’t that boring? There’s nothing new to expect or any anticipation.
I know I keep losing you, somewhere in the everyday smoke of existence and stench of life. I lose you to the harangued auto-rickshaw man, the interactive computer screens and the homecoming birds. But, it is better this way, it makes it so much more worth it when I rediscover you, in some corner of my mind, shining as I had left you, as somehow the dust of age never seems to settle on your shoulders.
These days everyone seems to have a broken feeling. Or, perhaps Annie, everything is broken, but no one breaks them, they just break anyway. It is like this wind chime, we had once seen, made of sea shells. As, the wind made it dance, it rang out beautifully yet there was a melancholy note, as if, it was sad at being so far away from its nurturer. Annie, remember, what you had said to me? You had said I was a flotsam and could never find an anchor, yet the world seems to be floating around and I seem to be static. The world moves too fast these days, doesn’t it?
My letters to you always find me whining or dreaming or just being me. Through these letters, I find myself as if, seeing me through a glass of scotch. Perhaps, that is why I don’t write to you often. It is not easy to frequently see ourselves in the naked light.
If you have read till here, you will know why I asked you the first question. I feel blind, floundering, feeling my way about and banging off walls. Yet, there you are a blinding flash of light, peace between the frothing breakers, life in a wasteland – I hope this letter finds you well
With all my love,
Rain Messenger

Sin

I seek thy hand…
A moment of weakness
A world without cares…
And, thy breath on my neck

I have saved all my fervor…
For this day when rain will come calling…
And, the dilapidated windows of the attic
Will rattle with unbridled passion…

And, we will sin, the ages old sin…
While the sun plays hide and seek
Timeless. Ageless. Shoreless. Endless.
We will float…or drown in it…

You will envy my pain…
As I take you to a distant heaven
And, you will mark your territory
While my limbs will bear the scars of war

And, we will rise on every windswell
To be able to free fall again
And, thy lips will draw blood
While, I will listen to my life beating in your heart

Idle Dreams

Flying kites and improbable letters…
A global village and the all pervading web…
Timeless…yet bound by mortal lives
Romantic, yet cynical due to popular demand

And, we choke the dreamers…
While, Darwin feels proud in his grave…
Existence is all about survival and EMIs…
Yet somehow, lost in between, we live…

Some life got lost in the grounds of my old school…
Some life, with the girl who broke my heart…
A bit is taken by the long, winding road
The rest, I have kept safe for her

The pristine clouds and a late-night chat
While, I fight to justify my defence
The cold, winter rain narrates my story…
And, I struggle to explain why I cannot hate

Unanswered questions resound from my laptop
While, you look to me for answers
I am helpless…the answer’s not there
But, you remind me that once I used to ask the same questions

Times have gone by…
And, a lot of water has flown under the bridge…
Yet, the words of wisdom are still in subway walls and tenement halls
And…apologetically, unfortunately, defiantly…a dreamer I will remain.

Saga of the Last Support

Strangers have shared our stories…
Through directionless words and distant rain
And, every time I come back to you, my pain
I know not what binds us…love or hate…

Times have gone by…as I knew they would…
Yet death’s a luxury I can’t afford…
And, you seek shelter in my arms now…
While, you robbed me of mine

The black graveyard rose keeps calling
A distant song keeps ringing in my head…
Restless thoughts and a calm face…
Torn apart, yet I remain…

I run away…I run far…
Escaping emotions and barricading hurt…
I run hard and win…win…win some more…
But, still inside I stand alone…

And, I finally yield to the call…
Of the dark side of the moon
While rain has forsaken me
I await…I know not what…but I wait…

A smile. Innocence. Vulnerability. Fear.
And, a scary present seeks to bridge a cruel past...
And, you succumb, your last support stands strong
But, what if I was weak…someday….?

Godhuli - fire in the sky

Time slowly dwindles past…
As, I watch her beautiful eyes…
In the golden glow of dusk
And, the bride shifts her gaze…

The surreal light…
And, the chiaroscuro on her face
As, my kisses feel unfamiliar in familiar places
She, averts my gaze…

The eternal fireball benignly smiles
And, nature sets the stage…
With the warmth of the fire in the sky
The beautiful dusk and homecoming birds…asks me to seek love again

Yet, as our bodies entwine
I find you lightyears away…
As, I look to drown myself to find you…
I realize Tilottoma you have changed again…

The romantic fire gently glows…
Sages ask us to seek brides
While, it hits home…it’s been a while…
Tilottoma, you have moved on…again…

Crimson Sky

Let the directions be directionless tonight
And, the drunk breeze wild…
Death came to her in my arms
And, the crimson sky didn’t care that night

So, what if the tears are safely tucked away?
And, solace seems nowhere in sight…
I await the other side…
While the sky keeps burning my eyes

Your last, cold kiss…
The bloodless eyes…
And, the urn was all that was left that night…
But, there is still fire in the sky and I’m alright

The cost you paid for my life was too high…
I live, lost in the pages of your diary
While I watch the fire in the sky and think
I lost you in my arms and the crimson sky never cared…

Coffee

A lonely cup of cooling coffee
And, a half burnt cigarette dangling from burnt lips
The sultry summer catching its breath…
With the first shower of the season

But, he doesn’t notice…
The beauty…or, the mocking glances.
He has met his rain…
And, he keeps drowning

The dreamer struggles to break free
Weaving a hundred stories…
And…halting… hesitating…
He, drinks from her lips…

He fights to bury his obsession…
His addiction of her scent…of her presence…of her skin
While, he floats in her music and smoke
Sitting in a lonely staircase…

There were a hundred anomalies
An un-understood past, a scary present and an uncertain future
Yet, he craves every moment…zealous to gain her attention
Yet, insecure that maybe for her, he is a huge mistake.

Slowly, the magic passes…
And, reality catches him unawares…
And, he finds himself shunned to the sidelines
With excuses and false hopes

He watches helpless…
While his rain stops raining
And, the smoke clears…
While the music seems far, far away

He doesn’t believe reality…
Hating and loving her…
Angry yet disbelieving her actions…
While fighting to find his lost soul…

And, he finds himself back…
Sipping a cup of coffee, watching rain…
Looking for her invigoration in acrid smoke of cheap cigarettes…
Broken stairways…clouds…and…pain

The Actor

The gentle sway of an actor’s brow
The sweat, the tears…and the fierce pride
The subtle hints and twitches
And, a change of mask…for faces often lie

The beauty of every role,
And changing lives like a costume
The romanticism and ugliness…
And, the pain behind the mask…for faces often lie

The desire to reach out
Be bigger than what the stage can be
The whisper carried over like a scream
And, the naturally prepared expressions of the mask…

Oh! The madness, the heroism of it all
The vanity of being the best…
The knowledge of inspired creation…
And, knowing life is but a performance.

Passion and the thunderous applause,
The lines running like blood through his veins
He is the actor and the world’s his stage
He is a mask yet a beautiful face…

A few hundred souls

Who cares for a few hundred ordinary souls…
Let them die in the rain…
Or, drown in the salt of their own tears…
While we worry about pride

Who knows…who lives or dies?
Who cares and who decides??
Oh, let them die in the gutters or blow up in a bomb
What is the matter with a few hundred ordinary souls…

Teeming ants, blocking every highway
Extermination is the solution anyway…
So, don’t bother let them be ignored…
It’s just a few hundred ordinary souls.

The rape of human dignity
And the friendly gun,
And, hate….
And, we all condemn it sipping coffee with cakes

It’s pointless to point out
In a land of billions
We will be insulted and torn apart… Yet, we will watch..
As, it’s not just a few hundred…all our souls are dead anyway.

Violence and Valentines

On a day leading to violets and valentines
On a night waiting for dawn to celebrate love…
And, a peaceful city celebrating life
Shattered due to violence and vendetta

The tremulous rose is silenced
As, I watch the rain in her eyes…
And, we all are aghast
While love seems to be full of lies

Time again for blames…
Time again for blood to be mopped up from the streets
Time again maybe to rise up…
To be beaten down again??

The scars of undeserved deaths
The blinding pain of open wounds…
While we wait for rain to embrace us
And, stand up demanding a change

The pen seems an unworthy weapon
But, the feeble words are all I have
While the anger boils in a billion minds…
And, my country is ravaged again…

Yet, tomorrow is a new day of an emerging country
The promise of a young nation
A promise of love…And a resolve…
To fly no matter what the odds…

Dawn

I hear a faraway melancholy ajaan
While sitting alone at a lonely night’s dawn…
Hearing, the quaint out of tune melody
And, the peace of a centuries old song…

An un-understood beauty beckons…
While the solitary sailor looks on…
The lighthouse beacon sweeps by again…
Yet, the rocks seem to summon…

She wanders in another land….
While I seek the out of tune melody
And, I succumb all over again…
To a rustic tune that moved mountains…

I have lost many…
To the calling of darkness
I have lost myself in your song…
And you will find me when the lights go off

She will kill to win
While I fight to surrender
And, I wait while the lonely ajaan cleanses me
And, music rushes through my veins…

The threshold of tomorrow
Unfolds with un-foretold beauty
And, I watch spellbound…
While far, far away…She sleeps in peace

Fog

The silent evening…
Stealthily arrives in the dark domain
Of a foggy winter’s dawn
While, life blunders on…

The blinding pain…
Of losing after having found again
Of seeing it all slip away
Down the same road of old rain

And, yet the maddening hope
Lingers on in the musty cellars
Of the torn down mansion
Full of old cares…

She says it’s all there…
Behind, the smoke somewhere
Yet, she throws me away
Revolted at the sight of my rotting wounds

And, my vain vigil continues…
Staring at the silent phone
Burning down another night
Waiting, to be understood.