of walks

A very close friend of mine talks about a walk he had. Wonderful words, adorned with so much of love and longing, smacking of that sweetest fragrance, nostalgia. I am not much of a walker. But those lines take me back to an august summer night. The night I had that walk. A walk... yeah I had one too... must have been at least half a decade back. The moon was high and the sky was clear, the summer wind was comfortably cool, and the lake was still as the night. I had a walk that night. Sandwiched between the woman I loved and my best friend ( or so I had thought)... one slow, soft, calm, relaxed, unwinding walk, down that path, round the lake. I wonder what could we have been thinking, what must have been going through our minds then? It feels like another lifetime. but then, what else could we have thought, what else could we have wished for, than hope that the night would never end! Looking back now, I know what went wrong. I understand better why things have come to this point. And I am not angry anymore. Because I understand it now; we don't have to judge each other for falling apart... we just have to forgive ourselves for growing up

Of Traps and Tribulations

So I read the R Trap. Nicely done! "More often than not, we are likely to find ourselves in a labyrinth where the factor that proved to be the foundation of one relationship turned out to be the undoing of another." Indeed...how very true. But I can't help thinking that possessiveness, and the urge to deny that you are with , well for lack of a better word,someone "used" is at the bottom of it all. If only we accepted that all yesterdays come from some tomorrow things could be better. What keeps surprising me is for just how large a majority of us, 'faithfulness' is such a hyperbolic and super-inflated concept. And in strange ways too! Every single one seem to have his/her own definition of faithfulness, and moreover a mere disagreement over the definitions is enough to have you tagged as a person both undeserving and incapable of faith, 'the unfaithful'. You can most certainly avoid being tagged but at what cost? How do you prove your faith? Being faithful to one person, at least by this definition of 'faithful', will essentially mean being 'unfaithful' to a large number of others. Being faithful to you present will essentially entail a complete rift from your past, that necessary portion of history which makes you what you are.
"...the months and weeks that have spanned these two years have found me doing a variety of two things, which I have realized, people (especially men) who are out of a relationship do - returning to places which bring back memories, re-reading the couple of emails or text messages left, trying to remember sweet words of yore over a couple of drinks or three and so forth."

Being faithful to one aspect of your life, say your 'relationship', will demand marginalizing all the other aspects of it. For under this strict and uncompromisable definition of 'faith', the object of 'faith' must come second to none and nothing, irrespective of the circumstances. Thus your old friend might have had to witness a parental break-up, but you are not supposed to talk to her, because the object of your 'faith' demands that you contemplate the beauty of the moon, and make plans about children to come in approximately a decades time(if they at all do). You might have a test to take next morning and yet you are supposed to stay up the whole night, or not resent being woken every half an hour, discussing the quintessential features of a successful relationship. All for 'faith'. For if we don't have 'faith', how are we different from the animals, right?

I have walked through darkness and uncertainty, pain and doubts for six long years. And I have never once resented that. Never asked "why me". Every time I came close to something that nearly broke me, and yet didn't, as if to leave me for some sport for next time,I emerged stronger, clearer. Each time it answered some more of the questions that crowded my mind. But in the end, it doesn't even matter. No one gives a damn what you've been through. They only expect you to be strong, to go through it, to use it as a learning experience. And then, once it has been learned, you are supposed to pretend it never happened. When you emerge stronger, you are not supposed to use the strength to pursue anything. Pursuit of Happiness is just some idea of Benjamin Franklin, to make movies about, to weep when you see Will Smith at it, but never to follow. The moment you pursue, you are not being 'faithful'. 'Faithfulness', essentially, is something static, something stagnant. Like the surface of the still lake, you are not supposed to send ripples through it. It's like a big, happy house, you get in and close the door on the world. Lest some of the happiness slips out. You throw out all the old clothes, divide up all the pictures, cut the old people out, sell your muscle car, lock up the old stamp book, and pretend that there never was any 'yesterday'. All for faith. Else you're a 'fallen'.


Angels are bright still
Though the brightest fell
But how do you know,
He lost any of his brightness in falling?

===D.H. Lawrence===

gone with the wind

It's Death again – He's always there –
Watching, waiting, with a stare.
Every time I look behind,
Or reach to pull the window blind,
I catch a glimpse of grubby hood –
A little clue to where he stood:
The glint of light that caught the scythe.
Perhaps if I could pay a tithe…
But oh, no use, he'll never go –
The adamant phantom – don't you know,
He will but wait until it's time –?
For me to hear His fateful chime –
The toll that's only meant for me,
To say: 'You're next, it has to be…
And anyway, why do you care?
She is long gone;
Let me take you to a better place'

when the fears subside... shadows still remain

An underlying sense of counting down –
A rhythm deep: enteric thuds –
Each another year to fret and frown
About, wading in the claggy muds
Of trial – to here, the blackened life.

A glint of blade had caught a baggy eye,
Sparking thoughts to jump the fence.
Could I grasp the handle – was I shy
Of what I had to do and hence remain
Enshrined in overwhelming strife?

The metal winked at me again
To beg the possibility
Of halting once and all the pain
To relish an eternity

Of rested shoulders,
Peace of mind;
So here, my wrist
For ‘quick and kind.


* mark slaughter

ask not for whom the bell tolls...

Suicide
It's all i think about
Suicide
Can't get it out
Suicide
So hard to resist
Suicide
resist the urge to slit my wrist
Suicide
wishing i had a gun
Suicide
all i have is a small razor
Suicide
so i drag the blade across my legs and arms
Suicide
wishing to do myself much more harm
Suicide
and i wake soaked in blood
Suicide
cuts all over my body
Suicide
and im still somehow alive
Suicide
deep and long so much blood lost
Suicide
how am i still here?
Suicide
I really need a gun
Suicide
one day... one day
Suicide

live n let die

Death is in the flower's heart – don't
Ever cry for life of any petal

Death in purple ink of weary pens: the
Written yearnings on her scented paper

Death is laughing in my head; the
Beating heart disclosing from a sleeve

Death ignores the plight of any purity – He
Doesn't care or seem to be aware

Of what the dewy eye desires, for
Death beckoned: 'Embrace the jar! '

And yes, I shall – for Death of course.
No other woman can open up these chains

And greet me with a kiss, so
Death became my bliss.

Confessions

There... you've taken the only luxury I had; fading into oblivion... death. But I guess, word spoken is a word given. DOn't worry honey, this time around, I'll do the right thing... no matter what!