Sunday, April 26, 2009

All That Matters


I held you in my arms
As we watched the last plane take off...
From the lonely airport
And in my embrace lay hidden…
A thousand words of hope…
For your future

And as we woke up early
To welcome the white steeds of the Sun
I held you in my eyes
And in my gaze
Lay a thousand apologies
For the unkempt promises

I had discovered you
At the end of a journey
As you entered my life
Like a gust of wind…
In this sweltering heat
And made me smile again…

But, the relentless Sun glared down…
And sucked your kisses out of me
Leaving me dry and lifeless
And, though I feel you in my arms
I am blinded by the sun
And can’t see your smile

Nothing is as bleak as the future
Except maybe for the past
And, I lie content in your arms
In the cool shade of our present
As the world burns
In the merciless heat waves

Is it Nature…
Or the fire within?
As, I burn the question haunts me…
Yet, under the bough of the gaunt mango tree
You are still here in my arms
And that’s all that matters in the end.


Note: This poem owes a lot to the conversation I had with a friend of mine. So, I dedicate this to her and her gift.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Rain Messenger's Diary 9......Fulfilled Desire…a short step away from Disaster

A journey has to be completed and, no matter what romantics say, the finishing line decides destiny. Ironical, though it may be we compete with even the ones closest to us.

In this unending perennial race of existence and in our desperate attempt to prove Darwinian survival of the fittest philosophy, we refuse to slacken our pace, or maybe we cannot. If we accept this as the desired way of life with the rejection of Camus’ Meursault, then we may as well judge its virtues objectively and face it with fortitude to be able to win. Even though cynics or romantics (whichever way you see it) may tell you that you still remain a mangy rat of the rat race, what is the harm in being the winning rat?

The greatest hurdle of a winner it is said is easy victories as it brings forth along with the black pestilence of complacency which pushes anyone, no matter how great, to the brink of disaster and sometimes even over the edge. Bertrand Russell had written in his book The Conquest Of Happiness…
"The human animal like others is adapted to certain amount of struggle for life and when by means of great wealth homo sapiens can gratify all whims without effort, the mere absence of effort from life removes an essential ingredient of happiness."
We could easily add to it and say that this absence or lack of effort, when one gets what he wants heralds doom as it leads to incompetency and vanity which are merely escorts to the gate of ultimate downfall.

Life is not always a bed of roses and thankfully so, because if we did not have the thorns we would not have appreciated the petals. We would be ingenuous enough to take things for granted, for complacency is not always a venial crime. If you are born with a golden spoon in your mouth or you inherit one, it usually breaks a man. It makes you forget who you are and then you want to be far from the “madding crowd”, but we forget, that it usually is the society that decides our destiny, it is the society who makes or breaks a man. As, Camus said, if you do not play the game by their rules you are an outsider and its disastrous, you are condemned with blasphemy.

As, the sun rides low on the horizon, it is ultimately the extraneous challenges of life that grants us the masks to survive, the necessary skills to steer clear of the infinite abyss of disaster. “We have the knack of choosing precisely those that are worst for us.” said Albus Dumbledore and we see the curse of complete fulfillment of every desire is something we all wish for but should avoid like a contagious disease, after all it is the final undoing of any man…his Achilles’ heel.

But the question remains, whether you play by their rules or yours...
What do you choose dear reader Meursault or society?

Saturday, March 21, 2009

Soledad


Time came and passed me by…
And I watched her eyes
With the guilty pleasure of desiring
What was never mine…

And as the wind blew…
We took flight on eagle’s wings
Just for a short while
In the land of lonely dreams

Regrets, there are none
As the world brushes past me
And I run along…barely keeping up
Yet waiting for the promised summer

Somewhere in the restless slumber
You beckon me
Waiting for me to draw near
So that you can draw blood
And I let you…its better than my soledad.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

A page from the Journal of a Soldier


Did I tell you “I love you”
Before I left you by the door,
Our baby in your arms?
Did I tell you that you are the best in me,
And the one you hold is the best gift…
I can’t remember
The sound of bullets don’t let me think.

Another day.
I have survived.
To see the next day
When my luck may finally run out...
As somebody else’s did today.
The blood made me puke
And I puked…as I shot one more down.

My love
Politics or policies I know not
I fight for the man next to me.
And you. And our cherub.
Orders have been given.
So we go on…
Into the night.

And one more falls.
No one’s a hero
All a fallen son.
But, then again, they are heroes
A forgotten star on some wall.
Yet I don’t give up…
I can't forget your face by the door.

I can’t remember how long it has been
Since, I saw you last…
These bullets don’t let me think straight
But, I fight.
The man next to me. You. And him.
Is all I remember now.
Tomorrow I go again…

So, remember to kiss him for me
And, give yourself a hug
I don't recall whether I said it before
So, I say it now
I love you and him.
And everyday’s fight is to survive
So that, I can see you.

Friday, March 6, 2009

Confined


The storm came silently
Almost apologetic
As if trying hard not to intrude
And…wreaked havoc.
So, came love.

And waking up in the aftermath
In the land of blue skies…
Pure and free
Silent, sparkling raindrops
Words graced me.

And, then there was life
Begging to be discovered
At that time,
When I reflected on a lonely bed…
Sick and confined.

And the cliché fell flat
As time refused to fly
And I went to sleep
Waiting…
For the storm to come.

Friday, February 20, 2009

By Candlelight


The ticking watch
Reminds me it’s late.
The match flares to light the candle…
The flickering flame
Of a nervous heart
And the darkness hidden in the heart of hearts

I take your hand.
As the shadows dance on the opposite wall,
We drown in a violent tide.
The blood rolls down its sides
And the pain is numbed
By the light

Your face rests lightly on my chest
As my fingers lose themselves in your hair.
And, we listen to a distant train
Ripping the night…
While the white sword
Promises to remain bright.

And, as our lips meet again…
I draw the strength from your tongue
And the candle flares up…
Before the final plunge into shadowy nothingness
We lock each other in the eternal embrace
As, the blanket of night watches over us.

Choosing To Live


The road bends beyond my sight
And I am stuck again…
The dangerous but irresistible pastime
Lures me to forget the ill-begotten pain
The sunlight peeks through…
While I wonder about the flight
Of a lonely eagle over the green mountain

The candlelight flickers…
And as I watch it burn out
I light a fire from the dying flames
And I choose again to take the road oft taken
Just to show it can be walked a different way
And I wish I could make all my mistakes all-over again
Just to get a chance to live through them.

I smoke on…
Till I burn my lips
And as the remnants of the smoke swirl around
I keep driving…
On the endless road to ecstasy
And the old music
Presents a new escape

I finally move the stone
From a rotting sorrow
Letting the sunshine wash my tears away
I await salvation…
On the unnamed street
In the sweaty room
Of a faceless prostitute called life.