Bouquet

What if I handed over to you a bouquet of flowers? Would you keep them by your bedside, and look at them once a while? Would you water them until they die, and wish silently that they stayed forever, now that I am not there to take its stead? I don’t think so. I have a feeling you’d rather forget me and get busy with your chores and affairs of your daily life, making me only a reminiscent of a candle that once existed but has now outlived its purpose. Bouquet is a collection of five such posts where I have tried to bring to life my innermost thoughts. They are not outstandingly good articles; they are just what an average guy would feel and write when his mind is full of different thoughts when each of them are at war against each other to gain the maximum amount of space in one’s mind.

The race between thoughts and the conflicts of the mind, and the way they affect us is what Bouquet talks about. How an array of emotions can get beaded up into a string just by the force of thought, forgetting the limits of space and time, of continuum, and of life itself, is what makes thoughts and dreams such an important part of our life. Bouquet celebrates dreaming and urges you to dream more, so that you can achieve more. It talks of love, and it talks of grief. It talks about success, and failure, and how they can coexist.

So without much ado, here are the five posts which I have collected in this small collection. They are
1. Jasmines
2. Lavenders
3. Roses
4. Lilies, and
5. Tulips

I hope you have a good time reading them as much as I loved writing them, and that we might understand each other a little better after all this is said and done.

The Parting

Always there is something. There is something that makes you take a step back even when you’re absolutely sure the only way to do it is by going forward. There is this feeling somewhere deep down in my gut and although I knew this day was to come, now that it is here I would have liked it to never come at all. For today we part, and that is the only thing that I do not want in my life. No, don’t get me wrong, I do not want you in my life such as being there forever for I know that is entirely not possible. But just for the sake of the moment, let us assume I could have had you forever, which is very absurd because that is not what I want, indeed, I do not want that and you must believe me for in this moment if you don’t then in the very next moment I won’t believe myself either for this is it, this is the last straw on the camel’s back. I know you aren’t here today, and it is just a mere coincidence, but what would I give to just see you one last time?

You know what, I have always thought friends are friends and nothing else and that there can be no reason to feel sad or happy about it for friends are just friends and they are just people and people are meant to come into your life and go away just like the days and nights and new mornings and seasons and fashionable clothes. But you, why did you come, you knew that this was not forever, I told you that on the very first day; you know I had to go, you knew this was not forever, I told you so, yet somehow what happened? Now that you aren’t here when I am going, and by the time you will be back I won’t be here; isn’t that just great, because I am sure I would have become teary-eyed at the last moment and all the drama that I have put up about being a stoic and not feeling anything would have gone to waste.

Always there is something. There is something that you have of me. A part of me to be precise. No this is not a love note, and I don’t want to tell you that I love you for I don’t love you the way you deserve to be loved and I loathe myself for that for I can never become what I want to, and that is because you are not what you are and I am not what I am and this world is not what it should be for us but what do I care and what do you care? I could give up entire worlds for your smile but I do not know now that the moment is here if I will see you anymore. Will I? I really hope I do for you right now, mean everything to me. I have never known a passion so raw, and I have already loved many and have been hated by many and put down by others and thrown out by more and kicked out by lots and spit upon by the rest and yet I have been loved by some as well and yet this is entirely different and I know you wouldn’t understand what I mean for this is not what I have shown you I am.

Oh, the night draws close and I close my eyes and I can only see your face and your smile covers my entire brain like a blanket; oh what should I do now? I desperately want to get rid of your thoughts, no don’t get me wrong but I need to live and to live I need to breathe but your thoughts are suffocating me like water filled up to the brim of the buckets which might overflow even on the slightest movement. Oh how disjointed my thoughts are, what am I saying? Did I just confess my undying love for you? If I did, consider that a lie, because I didn’t intend to and I don’t want to, and I don’t want you to know that I love you, because in fact I don’t love you, or at least not as much as you are worthy of or as much as I am capable of. This is an unfinished story. I want to write more. I want you to read more, but I don’t know if this story will ever reach a proper end. This time it ended so abruptly. Oh no, I will definitely come back, come back to you, and give this a proper end. For I cannot live with this thorn in my heart which pricks me in the night and my heart bleeds and blood fills my gut and yet you can’t see for what man can see inside another when both are so parted away?

Pinnacle

There have been times when I have thought,
That this might be the end to all,
I am falling behind the rest of the crowd,
Hold me someone, lest I fall.
Yet somehow, every single time,
I have managed to get up,
Dust off my pants, cover up the bruises,
And run again in the race.

So then what was the point,
Of feeling low at times?
It’s important somehow I think,
To feel low and upset sometimes,
Because that is the only way,
You can try to reach the zenith again,
And touch the pinnacle of happiness.

Well, if that doesn’t make sense,
I do not blame you,
‘Cause I am really sleepy,
And I don’t know what I’m writing.
But this is what I really meant,
That yes, you must, you should,
Be happy and cheerful,
Whenever you can,
But then, you must remember,
Being sad is not that bad,
Did that line rhyme in itself?
I think I’ll grow up to become a poet.

#3 – The Maid

Perhaps all my mistakes cannot be simply attributed to the fact that I lived at Aunt’s. I used to make a lot of social mistakes, about which I was given long lectures every evening as to what I should do and what I should not. For example, while I thought it was normal to go out and say Hello to people when Uncle threw a dinner to his colleagues, I was taught that I should not barge into the drawing room, and that no one was really interested in saying hello to me anyways. I was a quick learner, and the next time people came, I didn’t go out at all, and was later reprimanded about the fact that I turned up late at dinner and had made the guests wait at the dinner table. Life here was confusing to say the least.

I managed to become friends with Esha when I was ten years old. Her mother worked as a maid at Aunt’s, and sometimes when it was a Sunday, she used to bring her daughter over to our house. Aunt would give them some food, and they would thank us and go home after the household chores were done. It was a strict no-no for me to befriend the maid’s daughter, but she was with who I felt the most comfortable. We shared kind of same thoughts. We both thought it was really cool to talk to strangers, because otherwise how would we ever make friends? We both wore clothes that weren’t new, and had been handed down from someone else. Well I used to do that before I came to Aunt’s, but she understood.

So it was that every Sunday we played in our room for hours. I did not have many toys, but she had some which she used to bring over. She was the best ever. She told me how she wanted to go to school, and that her mother did not have enough money. I told her how school was really horrible, and that she should be happy she never went. She wouldn’t like it one bit, I knew. The other students would bring fancy things for lunch, and would mock her if she ever went there. It had happened with another student one day, I remembered. Once she brought a Snakes and Ladders board, and we spent an entire day playing the game. When Aunt came home at night and asked me what I had done the entire day, I narrated enthusiastically about Esha and her board game.

Esha’s mother lost her job as a housemaid when Aunt learned of the new budding friendship between Esha and me. I was slapped in front of Esha, and told how wrong it was on my behalf to call her to my room and let her sit on my bed and use my toys. “Are you mad? Don’t you even slightly care about what I say?” she asked. I did not want to infuriate her any further, but I could already see tears tricking down Esha’s eyes. “Sorry, memsahab,” said her mother. Her mother reprimanded Esha, saying that it was entirely her fault and not mine for one, and that she would correct things and never bring her to our house, but please let her continue with her job, else how would she feed her family? Aunt rejected the offer almost instantaneously, and that was the last time I saw Esha and her mother. I learned that day how so many lives could be devastated only by small gestures of rich families. She would find a job no doubt, everyone needed a maid at home, but would that be easy to find? I did not care as much about that as I cared about the fact that I had lost my only friend forever.

So I went back to my regular life. Aunt asked me ever so politely to help her with the household chores for the time being until she found a new maid. I helped her enthusiastically, trying to wipe off the red marks, the bad impression that she had formulated about me. I kept helping her for some time, until I realized this was just a ploy. Aunt never got a new maid, and I never went back to school. It worked good for her both ways. I learned that day how even kith and kin really only care about themselves.

Abyss 6

Written on May 3, 2015

I sat by the river,
Goosebumps on my skin,
Talked to you,
For an hour or so,
Did you listen to me?
Because I did feel,
Once or twice,
You were probably
Replying to my questions.
You were murmuring,
And I could not understand.
But when I wept,
The Han wept with me,
And I knew it were your tears.
You did miss me,
As I you,
And in spite of the fact,
That so many years,
Have separated the two of us.
Deep down,
You have filled,
The abyss in me,
As I you.

The sun went down,
And the moon peeked,
Through the grey clouds,
A tide rose,
The water lapped against me,
Were that you?
As it retreated,
I realized,
I had lost it again.
Never the waters,
Could I keep with me,
Lest a part of you,
Would stay forever,
In me,
I wish.

For the abyss is but deep,
And within us all,
Only sorrow fills it,
But one day,
Oh I am sure,
Things will be better,
When on the other side,
Of the world,
Where you reside,
I will come,
And they will too,
And we all, would be,
Together.

Who Cares?

I am liking this 20 words a day thing. Though I need to really struggle hard, mostly because I need to really strive to take out the time to do this. I will tell you why. I wake up in the morning, and then everything is in a hurry because almost every day I get a feeling I will miss the bus, though I never miss it. Then once I reach the office at 8.30, I need to start with work. The work is supposed to be for nine hours, which usually should be cool since it is supposed to get over at 5.30. But more often than not, the work is so much more that we need to wait until eight in the evening. By the time I get back home it is 9, and post that I have my dinner and complete my chores, taking it up to ten in the night. By this time, I am already so tired that I can hardly sit down with a fresh mind to write something. Today for example, is a weekend. And therefore I am writing. I will be honest; I have not yet been able to keep up with the 2015 promise, but I am still trying hard. I hope you help me through this motto.

You’ve decided to keep quiet,
Silence your new weapon,
Wanting me to figure out,
Whatever’s wrong between us.
Do you know me yet,
No, I don’t think so,
You think I care I hurt you,
You think I might apologize,
But let me let you think as you wish,
And later laugh away,
To see your misconceptions shattered,
As the wind shatters the glasses of the open windows,
You might think I sound evil,
But that is only cause I am.

The Smoke

The smoke rose endlessly from the pier,
Suffocating the child whilst the held the fire,
He was only five, then why didn’t he,
Sit at home unaware of this?
He knows not what he does,
He knows not what he loses,
He cries because his eyes are sore,
Knows not why the others around weep.
He sees a kite flying in the air,
Wishes he could fly the one at his home,
But he can’t leave the others here,
He’s sad that others cry,
And asks one if he wants a kite too,
The other looks into the sky,
Sees the clouds huddling together,
Soon the rains will come down,
Wash away the fire lighted in front,
Wash away the fire in each one’s soul,
He sees the clouds too, sees a cat in them,
And sees his father’s face in another,
He hasn’t seen him for a while,
And feels he is somewhere around,
He knows not what he burnt,
He knows not what he lost.