Cracked mirrors and empty houses…

Cracked mirrors and empty houses…
Searching for someone who has left long ago…
Looking for footprints….
Thinking which way to go…
Broken bridges and mountains to climb…
Buried long ago yet digging deep to find…
Untended roads…talking, shouting…till I turn hoarse…
None to listen and none to reason…
Leaking roofs sharing the grief…
Letting the sun in
This room filled with emptiness and no one…
Party to my sin…
Torn spirits and low on patience…
Losing life, losing the essence…
Looking for a new opening…
Anticipating…
Sleepless just to rise…
Mirrors and homes and bridges and roads all come at a price…
Looking forward to it…
Still sleepless just to rise…

Monster Flight

an ugly monster you have been

changing faces and changing names

to remain unnoticed

to remain untouched

lied at will

cried to hide

kept silent and spoke out loud

all was the call of the time

a staged drama

a farce personified

took care to be pampered

was cajoled and loved

all the while

scheming in the darkness

sharpening your fangs and claws

sweet smile

deceptive smile

feeding the monster inside

keeping it alive

you are not for real

you, the only one who knows it

have been putting up a flawless show

you would say the truth aloud

and still only the untruth would be believed

an ugly monster you have been

and you the keeper and the master

controlled its rage

kept it hidden in a cage
monster of masks you have been

monster of many names and feelings

a monster of manipulation

but I know it's now hurting inside

the monsters’ gotten bigger than you

and is twisting and turning inside you f

or its outward flight

can’t take it any longer

i can see

you have become the monster

the monster once controlled by thee

an ugly monster you have been

one of its kind

but left out and the only one

mighty strong

self destructive and blind

too far into the path of being this monster

an ugly monster you have been

the keeper of the secrets

not desired any more

but you have been cursed

as a monster

to always be buried under the floor

an ugly monster you have been

and one you shall always be

no outward flights and angelic sights

an ugly monster destined

this day

by you

shall never be seen
An ugly monster you have been…

Stolen Colours

I feel this pain that is indescribable; it tears right through me…my skin and bones…
My naked soul exposed to the world, tormented and tired, grieving and crying…
Nothing I do makes it heal…no amount of nursing makes it smile…
I identify with corners, dark and dusty ones…the corners of a home in which even memories have quit to reside…
Alone it roams, alone it floats from room to room from one moment of time to the other…
Followed by the burden it took on itself…now bent under its own weight…
It is getting too heavy…to look up…eyes too hazy to recognize colors…
Everything around seems to be painted in black and white and grey…no light escaping through…
No prism of glass to break it into a spectrum…to fill these dark dusty corners with the seven colors of a rain bow…
The bones are white…the soul is grey… the skin is pale and the tears are colorless…
Alone floating from room to room from one moment of time to the other…
Spirit and zeal vanishing in vapors…the colors evaporating in a hurry…only the warmth of the tears on my face and the chill of the bones keep acquaintance with me now…
The soul dying a thousand deaths…the colorless being pushed into an abyss…
Dark and deep like the dusty corners…floating from one moment to the other…
Being tormented further and further….

Incoherent Mutterings With A Stranger - Incident 2

I witnessed a dog being run over by a truck today. He must have been 5 or maybe 6 years old. For a dog that is the prime of his life. His time of youth. Never mind for this chap though, it was wasted. He was wasted. I saw him being hit. Heard a faint whimper. And then he just lay there. His body shaking and jerking. The tremors first shook his legs…the hind or the front I can’t recollect. Don’t care. Honestly it did not matter. Should it…he was dying. I think that was the all important event taking place then. Fuck which part the tremors started. I remember it as I saw it. There I was walking around. A thing I do normally, only there isn’t anything normal about a person walking around on the streets in the middle of a scorching summer afternoon. The heat can eat you. Literally. It can sink its teeth into your brains, soon shriveling under the heat; it can claw and tear your flesh with its razor sharp nails. So yeah, like I was saying, I was walking around. A thing I do normally. I can’t remember the reason for it now though. Perhaps I did not have one. Like always. But that isn’t important either. The important event is the dog dying. I was walking and I hear a soft thud followed by a faint whimper. I looked around. Found the deed. I stood there transfixed, looking at the dog jerking and going into spasms. I think it was a head injury, can’t be sure though because there was too much blood everywhere. I eased out of my trance like state, lit a cigarette and found myself a corner to sit so that I could witness the eventuality. I distinctly remember the reason for me deciding to do that was I wanted to feel empathy towards the dog. I would have forced myself into feeling that if I would not have felt that mechanically. I mean, how could I not feel empathy, witnessing a heart rendering scene like that. Isn’t empathy the base on which humanity is based? I could not deceive the ever concerned mankind by not putting up a decent display of the human empathy. So I sat there, smoking, making an occasional smoke ring or two, filled with a feeling of empathy through out, mind you. It was in one moment while I was watching the dog dying that various thoughts flooded my mind. The first thought was and I remember asking this aloud to myself “ What age do you think, the dog would be if it were a human…what are dog years, when converted into man years…or human years…or whatever the term is?” Isn’t this what we human do? Isn’t this what describes a human best. Forcing things, other objects – animate and inanimate things within a human dimension. Everything has to be from the human perspective. Otherwise it wouldn’t be a perspective at all or even if it would be it would invariably be wrong. Yeah, as if animals, plants, trees, oceans, the wind, birds, the soil could ever have a method of thought to them or their existence! So anyways I could not figure out what the dog’s man years would be. I once again concentrated on its last movements before his inevitable vision of the pearly gates for dogs. I don’t know if animals have a heaven or hell based on their status in the food chain. I mean how a lion could not mind being boarded up with say…a dog, whether in heaven or hell is a different question all together. Yeah so the movements, I saw the dog shit himself. He was covered in his own blood mixed with shit. The stench. Oh the stench of it! I would have loved to know what the dog was thinking. I would have given anything in the world to be in his head right then. Would it be thinking “Why did I have do die so young…why now…I have hardly achieved anything in life… It was just three weeks back that I thought, I found real dog love…now it would never be mine…I would never have my puppy kids…any family… I lived alone…Im dying alone… just when things were looking up a bit for me… I will die a death… a death punctuating a life punctuated with absence of love… care… attention even…Hey c’mon… I am a street dog… I should have known better than to believe that all the good things could have happened to me… and now when I’m dying I can see it all so clearly… all that was never meant to be…some dogs are born just so that they can pass through life and not actually live it like others… I know this now… I am at peace… Bring the white shiny bright lights on now!!!” Would it be thinking all this? Or would it be thinking something completely different like say…a leg of lamb… or the cat that got way last week. This I would never know. Just then my hands involuntarily moved to my breast pocket. I felt the now soggy touch of paper. “Ah! Her letter. She had sent it 7 years ago…I think it was the last one from her…can’t be sure. Infact I think, I am sure…since it was the only one she sent”. Words in the letter floated before my eyes now. So clear, so distinct. I could touch the words and the indifference in them if I only stretched my hand. I didn’t. I was scared. At that very moment I looked at the dog’s eyes. I think it was looking at me. A clear, non hazy pair of eyes. Not a hint of fear. I saw peace there. I found peace in the eyes of a dying dog. And then I saw my face there…with the body of a dog lying in the middle of the street…covered in my own shit and blood. The dog shook once last time. I shook involuntarily with it as if my life was biding goodbye to me. Of course, I mean that only figuratively. Death will come. Just not yet. Not so easy. I coughed. The same old hint of blood mixed with my spit. This has started being a companion to me lately. I spat the blood mixed with spit or spit mixed with blood in my hand and stared at it. The blood looked so much at home mixed with the spit, as if it was meant to be there. It was serene. I wiped my hands. Dusted my trousers. Crushed the cigarette butt. Got up. Left. I did not look back at the dead dog. But I am sure all the people passing by, would atleast look and feel empathy for a dying dog, now dead, if they all weren’t so busy.

Incoherent Mutterings With A Stranger - Incident 1

It was around 7:30 8:00 in the evening. Well in a place like this, you might as well call it 'a night'. Nothing to do. The empty crammed room that I live in wasn't providing me with any inspiration to return home any time soon. "What do I do, to kill time (no companions mind you) and not look pathetic at the same time?" Hey c'mon, I am 26, young (at least I feel that ways), not too bad looking and I was alone this evening (like most other evenings) with no desire to go back home. I walked around a bit. I like to think that walking is an introspective act for me. It is. Sometimes. Today it was just that I did not have my vehicle. So, yeah, here I am, walking. I came across this coffee bar. "Hmmm...not bad" I thought. Decent crowd, young. "Ok, this looks like a lively place (as lively as any place could be here)". So I walk in, it was a nice comfortable sort of a 'young people hang-out joint', a small hut like structure in the center (this is from where they served the order (limited menu, cold coffee and cheese hot dog and if you are lucky, may be a 'vada pav). It was located next to a park, where I guess the more mature generation would have spent their evenings, walking, more like strolling, old couple who were more interested in the number of steps they took per minute than talk to their partners, walking with equal seriousness besides them. Honestly, after so many years, would there be anything left that wasn't talked about already?. A plain old stroll was good enough. That was then. Now the 'young people' had taken over this park. There were groups of guys and gals, comfortably sprinkled across the park, talking, sipping on cold coffee, smoking. And then there were couples, trying to camouflage behind the shadows as much as they could. They needed neither the coffee, nor cigarettes nor cheese hot dogs. Love was their diet. I understand. I wouldn't need any of it either if I was with someone. But I wasn't and so I needed all of the above edible replacements. So, I placed my order, picked up a plastic stool, found a nice, discreet corner, trying to go unnoticed, so that my 'alone and hence a loser status' would not flash like a neon sign board in this dimly lit park. So I am sitting there, smoking, waiting for my coffee. There were a couple of other plastic stools lying around, vacant, still warm from the conversations that the group sitting there a few minutes before would have had. Then he arrives. All 3 and a half feet, thin, puny, with a dog on a leash...a massive labrador, pulling the young chap with him, panting, all excited. Wow, at least someone had a reason to be excited that evening and in general. So what if that someone was a pampered, and I am sure spoiled with love fat labrador. So back to this guy. He couldn't have been more than 10-12 years of age. Cold eyes. What cold eyes. And mannerisms fitting a guy who would have to be much much more mature. He looked around. Then he noticed me. Or rather the empty plastic stools around me. Oh damn, I thought, there goes my corner. Why did he have to spot this place. Maybe the neon sign are flashing bright. So, we sat across each other. Both strangers to each other. He sat on the stool next to me. There were other stools empty, he could have sat there, he could have sat anywhere else. But as things stood, he sat next to me.The labrador comes to me with all the enthusiasm in the world, wagging its fat tail, its shiny body shaking from side to side, eyes bright and lit up, tongue hanging, saliva dripping. But hey! I love animals (except may be the socially qualified one). I patted the dog for some time, scratched his belly and under his ears. He was loving it. The boy, I wasn't too sure. He tugged at the leash and ordered the labby to come and sit next to him. " What a prick" I thought. Silence. We just sat there. Staring in opposite directions. I thought, "at least I looked busy playing with the dog". The dog must have had the exact same thought, because, he got up again and came towards me for some love. But then the fat labby got tired or I guess bored of me and sat back next to his 'master' panting and drooling. Gradually I thawed off and asked, looking in no particular direction "Naam kya hai?". The kid eyed me up and down. Ice cold eyes and asked me curtly "Mera ya kutte ka?" Ok. So he was feeding me attitude. Bring it on. I am not one to back off. Not against this tiny chap at least. I am 6 feet and athetically build (this I like to think and believe) I tried giving him an equally cold look, this I think, is my gangster look. Don't think it worked. And then I asked him "Terko pucha k kutte ko?". I think my retort did have some impact. He looked at the ground, at the blades of grass crsuhed under his rubber slippers, eroded on the sides and then he said "Sonu. Mai pucha kiska kyuki zyadatar logo ko iss kutte ka naam janne mai interest hota hai, mera nai." I just looked at him. Nothing to say, I just turned to my saviour, my cell phone. After half a minute or so, he took out his cell, a higher end one than mine. I gulped my pride, pretended my work with the cell phone was done and put it back in my pocket.Couple of minutes passed. Silence. I asked him again "Itna bada kutta, tu isko ghumata hai ya yeh terko?". He looked at me. Right in my eyes. I could see a counter-attack building up . I was already bracing myself for the impact. And then there it came. He said "kapde to acche pehne hai...kaam se aye?" I nodded. He continued, "Aap naukri karte ho ya naukri aap ki kar leti hai?". Damn. He was good. Formidable. What a comeback!!! I smiled. I had to. This was too good a reply. Touche' I said to myself. And then a strange thing happened. He returned my smile with one of his own. I asked him "coffee piyega?". He did not hesitate. He spontaneously replied " Haan, lekin thank you, vank you nai bolunga. Aapki garaj hai pilane mai. Kabse dekha mai, ek ghante se aise alag, akele baithe ho!". I smiled. This kid was smart. He was something else. I shouted out "Nawaz, do cold coffee lana". The kid smiled back at me. nawaz got us coffee. Sonu took a sip, looked at me and said "Thank you." I said "Nai re...thank you". Sonu looked long and hard at me and asked "To bolo...akele kyu baithe ho." I was taken aback but did not show it. I lit another cigarette. We looked at each other briefly and both smiled...silence....momentarily.

Revolving Doors

Life is but revolving doors...
people moving in...people checking out...
dont bother to call ... or ask them to turn around....
life is but revolving doors...
trapping me inside...
why is life this way...
i ask this and then i smile...
cos i think of you...
thinkin of me...
ten thousand mile...away...
the only person tht i need to stay...
our lives are nthng but revolving doors...
others may leave...but i believe...you and me...
we' l reach our magical shores...
the only person tht i need to stay...
im glad life is this way...
revolving doors...magical shores...
you are my bed rock...when the doors keep spinning...
making my head spin...
when others keep leaving...
u help me break down those revolving doors...
take my hand...and take me outdoors...
you show me the deep azure...meeting the magical shores
u the only one i need to stay...
cos if when i stray...get trapped again...
i need you to be my bedrock...when these doors keep spinnin...
making my head spin...
i need you to hold my hand...tell me...
u there...for me...by me...within...
tell me life is but revolving doors..
but that does not need to stop us anymore..
take my hand and lets fly...lets soar...
breaking down these doors...reaching our magical shores
life is nothing but revolving doors...
people moving in..people checking out...
i smile...I'm glad life is this way...
cos u the only one i need to stay

Lechers United

We are a nation of lechers...mostly! So that way if you aren't one...you should not take this personally...or should you.!!!? I am not a lecher...honest (PEOPLE!!!...saying this is not the same as saying 'I ....am....hic....not drunk...hic... after 5 drinks...or was that less) Well, when I say I am not a lecher...I mean it. I am worse. I stay silent when I witness lechery. But what can I do ...right??? Its everywhere I go...every second thing I hear... but its not that it doesn't bother me...it does...a great deal... I get angry...my temperature rises... that I can say because I can feel the blood throb in temples...I grind my jaws...and then... I look away ...c'mon ...don't judge me as yet... I feel helpless... I have tried reforming people indulged in this, people I knew and people that I did not...

I am 'uncool' because of this. It makes me 'not very like able' to my peers... I'm glad. I think about this need to lech and where the urge originates from... haven't figured that one out yet. But one thing I know for sure. It has to do something with lack of respect for people... okay...women, more precisely... I feel angry at these men and I pity the women who have to share their lives with such men under some social compulsion...I would want to be anything...but, their wives, daughters, sisters... Infact, I would not want to be 'any woman' around them...but I can say that and do nothing about it because I am a man...I have the benefit of mere contemplation and perception on this matter...but what about women who have to face this every single day...everywhere...I often wonder...do they think... ' I wish I wasn't a woman'...and I know this for sure...everytime I think, some woman is thinking that.. I think... 'I wish I wasn't a man'...and then I think...my inactivity is proof enough that I am not one in the first place (not a man in the 'conventionally defined ways of manhood atleast :) )...not to say that these women need my help or anybody else'...they aren't dependent on anybody to do anything for them...they have fared well so far...but would it be so bad...if they did have some kind of support system... or are we...'men' going to continue to be 'Lechers United'...a union of those who lech and those who do nothing about it....just the thought of sharing that space...suffocates me...the choice is simple...breathe or die...the action that should follow the choice...isn't. It takes courage to stand up and stay there...courage I hope I have someday...