Flying

If only i had wings
flying would be so much easier.
I have always wanted to poke a tiny cloud.
I have always wondered what would happen if i did (poke).

Life would have been so much better with wings.
I am almost certain of it...

Half and Half

Every moment is as beautiful as it is forgettable.
The paradox is funny in a cruel kind of way.
That we are all doomed is certain.
That we have all been or will be in love at one point or another is also a fact of this life.
So is it okay to cry and brood about the loss ? It is.
Then this weird thing called life happens and we forget.
About love lost,the friends and the dead.Everything, it's that easy.
Like snapping fingers.
The pain of losing somebody,the sight of the poor.The helplessness of the whole situation.
All forgotten.
This mind,the way it works.It is magic.
Because you can always dig up and retrieve whenever you feel the need.
Forgotten but not completely.
There but still not there.Divided and breathing through life.

?

There are so many questions left to be answered.
To be asked.
Dreams that have not been dreamt and those which will always be that.
Babies that have not been born and seeds that have not been sown.
Games yet to be played and a life half lived.
What is the meaning behind all this ? And can it ever be known ?
How does things matter ?
The why of whys and the what of whats.
They are all there and yet we live as if they are not
haunting us every second,eating us up slowly and relishing it as they do.
And they will continue to torment us ( these things,these questions,the nameless whatnots )
until ...  

Of Writing and Bleeding

He picked up the innocent pen in his cold hand
and sat down to write in his diary,a list of important things he planned to do the next day.
Suddenly out of nowhere- out flew a poem.
It was almost magical.
His heart was in control and not his hand.
The brain was in a hyper active mode.
Everytime he would write a word,his face would become red.
He wondered how writers did it night after night.
How did they write about painful things without feeling it (the pain).
An act of suicide,the death of the soul
letter by letter,word by word.
A pen or a sword in disguise? Who can tell ?

Things Not to Remember

I tried not to remember anything unpleasant.
I tried my best not to look back.
Everything failed.This guilt.The pain of carrying it around for a million years.
Fists clenched and lips pursed, i tried not to cry.
After sitting for uncountable hours on the green bright bench,i finally got up.
I could feel the heat coming out of my ears like a steam engine.
I could also feel the rude stares people were giving me as i tried walking steadily.
This is what hell feels like.This is hell.
The burden of the past,the blunders of a seemingly okay person.
The horrors of reliving the ugly memories.
How am i still alive?

  

Disjointed

Turning over the morning paper frantically,searching for nothing.
A little tea and am too lazy to go for work.
I go back to bed,thinking whether it would be okay to skip.
It is nine in the morning.
The door bell rings,it is the milkman.
It rings again,the house helper.Thank god for her.
"What should i cook for breakfast?" she wants to know.
"Anything you like", i say.
I am new at this.
The sound of utensils clashing against each other before they hit the sink.
The smell of the half cooked food.
I am late,too late.
I call in sick at the office.
They understand that i am faking it,in their hearts they know.
They don't say because i am too good at what i do.
I hate my job and my life.
The phone rings,it is my father.
That is odd.He never calls at this time.
"How come you are not at work?"
I feel brave and stupid.
So i say," Did not feel like it."
Silence.No one speaks.
Feeling braver still, I lie that i have to go to the loo and i hang up.
Nothing makes sense but somehow everything does.
When did i become this person?

A Sad Day

They came.They met.They laughed.
They cried.They talked and teased.
They smiled and fought.
They missed.They lived.
Their luggage,they dragged behind them.Heavy and unwilling (to move).
The wheels of the suitcase,stuck to the ground.A mighty push.
And then they left.