Of Rains and Afternoons

The naughty rain…

And, lazy afternoon silently watch…

As, you breathe gently on my neck…

And, we ride on dawn’s chariot…

Unbridled…free…

While, the world stops around us…

And, we move as one

Afraid…Happy…

As, waves of emotions wash over us

And, rain falls…

While we soak in it…drink it up

As, if there is no tomorrow

And, we hold each other…

Afraid to let go…

The old, lazy afternoon…just smiles

Dusk

Changing with time… slowly morphing…

As, my flesh gets ripped off on barbed wires

I move forward…bleeding and bones…

While troubled waters keep flowing under the bridge

The pen refuses to move…

As, too many words block its path

The blinding pain…giving way to cold numbness

While, I close my eyes…and let sleep embrace me

But, in my waking dreams and lonely sojourns

I have searched for solace in your arms…

As, the sands and winds have left their marks…

I stand unrecognizable…battered, but strong

I have picked up my pen again…

To dance, with my rain

And, feel coffee’s bitter kiss

With the forgotten half-burnt cigarette on my lips

Rain Messenger's Diary 18....25th April, 2012

I have almost forgotten when I last picked up my pen to write something, or in this case typed something in Word.  But, a long hiatus from penning my ramblings is not what perplexes me, what astonishes me is I didn’t really get the insatiable urge to write. The search of a livelihood and the whole deal of growing up perhaps steals a bit of you from you.

Suman has sung some of my favourite lines, one such being “E Sahar janey amar prothom shob kichu, palate chai joto shey ashe amar pichu pichu”. It has always intrigued me how we keep trying to run away and avoid our past yet the more we try to forget, the harder it gets to do so. I do not know whether am running away or just don’t have the time to stroll down memory lane…but I do miss my madness when it rains. I miss, being able to simply walk out and greet the rain with open arms and closed eyes.

In a daze, I walk on doing things that are expected of me, a non-descript life of a non-descript human-being….one among teeming millions whose absence or presence is equivalent.

I truly have lost the touch…I seem to have lost my words…I guess sometimes we do lose our lives in search of our livelihoods

Winter’s Embrace

The winter crept up stealthily behind…
Like an old friend…
And, embraced my weary soul
Embalming my wounds in its chilly blanket

I have wondered about this winter…
In my waking dreams
I have wrestled with shadows
Wondering about my being…

I have questioned relevance of life…
I have run for miles…just to feel tired…
And, I have waited for this winter…
Enigmatic…cold…inevitable…

Torn apart with questions
I have sought solace in unlikely corners…
I have traversed lonely boulevards of my mind…
In circles

Elusive peace and elusive answers
And, an elaborate sham of civilization
I have been a part yet apart…
But, now finally I surrender…savoring the winter’s embrace

Age

The curtains part…
Making way for dawn’s silent footsteps
Sentinel of a new day…
Testimony of another day’s end

And, life walks on…
Chained by contradictions…and misunderstood fears
Just some wrinkles, mute witnesses…
Of passing time

She looks up at her slice of sky
From her verandah…in her lonely apartment
And, watches the vast unknown
With a half drunk coffee by her side

She watches the fog roll by…
Hiding her familiar view…
By her loved window…she closes her eyes…
And smiles…It doesn’t matter even if its time…

Of Journeys and Destinations

I stand filled with restless thoughts
Like the wandering wind…
Looking for a place to stop…

Watching the rain from a speeding car…
Hurtling towards inevitability
With a half burnt cigarette in my lips…

Stripped of all illusions of control…
I stand quiet…Staring blankly outside the window…
The coffee…untouched…cold…dark…

As, I wonder about purpose…
I feel a familiar hand in mine…
I close my eyes…maybe, it’s worth it all

What have I got to say?

What have I got to say...
Is it simple…or perhaps, convoluted
Is it worth a thousand words…
Or, a silent smile…

Will someone hear it…
Amongst the din of people dying
Amongst agony…hunger…lust…life…
Should I be heard?

What is it that I am saying…
That hasn’t been felt before…
Insignificant words…for an indifferent multitude
Who cares…

Yet, I fill these pages
Waiting…to find that word…
That stirs the water under the bridge…
And, reminds you of rain on a dark night

Like a blind traveller…
In the boulevard of words
I feel each word with awe…and pen down a few…
Someday…someone…will find a meaning…I just keep writing