To a mother

As a part of your own reality begins to exist
In the guise of another existence,
In the language of another world,
Luring you to follow it
You do...
Elevated by the place it creates for you
In your own life
Through its own...

When the glow overwhelms;
Reinforcing your potential:
A woman
Adding infinite purpose to your existence
Marking that much sought after difference
Between futility and meaning.

Time will never come in the form of a day alone
When you come to accept it wasn’t for you,
And proud memories are all you’d be left with.
As he grows up to be able to explain who he is
And about the love that will remain...

This moment his eyes may not tell so
But look into them, they are learning
And making base and space for all that will come
He is preparing to fly,
To go so far ahead one day
That he can look back, and reconfirm the purpose
He once added to your existence.

The Night Before Last

Tonight is not like every other
Wanting my insides to play,
Change.
A storm within, I need
For calm to spread on my face

Riddance from tonight, and I need more
Discussing needs- sick indulgence
I stay; and let the time speed backward

A despicable, strong thought overpowers me
About all the good things I let happen to me
Depth, blankness, blackness-
Someone pulls my hand, to take me some-'where'
The hand keeps growing longer and I don't move.

We'll leave it for that place in space
When I come face to face with who I am
If... I am.
Tonight is not like any other;
Tonight's poetry longs to remains in the mind...
Wishing it weren't coming down on paper.

Tonight's when a segment of thread
Threatens to discuss my existence
Tonight's when I'll bring my existence
To break down part by part
By talking about itself.

When tomorrow will bring another night,
I will put this up for all to see
And feel glad about
The few that would laugh at me...

Documentary of a random dream
So eternal, shapeless, slippery
To top it, my attempt- ha!
Saying I'd like to believe I believe,
Doesn't it somehow bring me closer to believing?
But somehow never close enough?

Somebody look for the colors
You! Look for reaction
Are you the one for me? Right
My innocence is genuine...
Defense-
Am I waking up from the dream?

I'm better off as the background
To absolute combination
Comparison
Contradiction
So I can be; and just so.
So no one would require me to lean.

It's the music and body numbing sleep, by the way
Oh laugh at me
And a new thought will get magically chained
As I fight sleep and wakefulness at one time
Not letting either win over me
One of the most pleasant battles
But how long could I go on...

The next moment could be manipulated
Into my whole life time.
That's your cue, yes, laugh.

I long for finality?
Just question-marking myself.
But before meaning begins to surface-
But wait, it cooks itself up
Not itself
Itself- but not without your existence or mine.
That disgusts me.

How are the words coming though?
Because they know they shouldn't.
There's always that thing about the least deserving
Seem complete in themselves...-
______________________________________

The above piece doesn't end here. But when I read it next morning, it was too heavy for myself. Done in a sleeping position, lying on my front, eyes half closed, I wrote.

Pausing To Turn; Leaving to Return

Time to wrap this up. Nine months back, I began using this space to write what and when I wanted to. Last week, I found me telling myself that my last post was on 2 July, that I must write. And so it's time I do this.

I'm gathering my focus on something larger, and hoping to discipline myself. I'm writing something that will get long enough to be called a book.

A lot of the most beautiful bloggers I've seen are spontaneous writers, unlike myself. When I write spontaneously, my work turns out to be very incoherent; and random to the point that it sounds meaningless. But when I do write logically, simply, and in a well sequenced manner, I miss the whole point I want to make.

So writing, for me, needs some planning. The whole process includes thought restriction, channelization, a lot of concentration, and some motivation. Writing is expression, and I'm of the belief that we write to be read, to be understood. I don't write for myself, and I don't see why one needs to.

I'm suspending my blog for an indefinite period of time. However, I want to do a post or two occasionally, and be here.
_____________________________________________

I'll never stop reading some of you...

Meghna Naidu - is the the answer to the question 'Why ZLAEK happened'. A woman of rare intelligence, and with the ability to comprehend at all levels. (Writing skills and such things are secondary) Though I wish I could call her great,I won't; then that would would equate her to others in this world who've been called great.

Mikimbizii - the most honest person I have or could hope to ever see. Path-breakingly creative, intoxicatingly fresh, gifted with a killer sense of humour, and strictly correct all the time.

Quicksilver - I'm awestruck at her emotional capability and poetic skills. She, like Meghna and Mikim, helps in making living appear to surely make some/slight/a lot of/I don't know how much, sense.

Zero - shut her blog down recently, but nothing stops me from reading her work over and over again; her work is deep and brilliant.

Shamanth - is somebody I began reading only recently. He has his very own take on intangible things and I have yet to see somebody else who makes such great use of language.

T-Rex - A crazy writer, very erratic. I don't know if he writes what he lives, or what he wants to live, but he takes insanity flying up to another level, very casually.

Raghav Chopra - Generally an intense poet, he (unbelievably) says a hell lot in saying very little.

Isha (bondgal) - humorous, hundred percent free of malice, a complete entertainer, very bright and a person who makes the world and many lives happier and brighter. I love her!

Veda - an impressive lady, very bright and humorous, gifted with a cool head on her shoulders. Also somebody I'd love to know and interact with, offline.

vC's - amuses me. He writes carelessly, with direct and disjointed phrases. His every word screams that he's no writer. But interestingly, what he has to say is almost always shockingly good. The fact that he's perpetually confused, and the fact that he knows it, makes him and his attitude very real.

Diti Kotecha - has a beautiful photo blog. Here, I get to see unusual captures of my city which I usually miss as I'm passing by. She emphasizes on and gives depth to every small and big, tangible and intangible object.

Chriz - Consistently humorous, always new and always original. Reader, whoever you think you are, he can make you smile.

Some other really lovely blogs which are specific to one's interests/taste (mine, in this case) are Janie & Steve's Utah Trails, Janine's Sniffles and Smiles, The Girl From Cherry Blossom Street, The Things We Carried, Indrani's i Share, DPhatsez's eternal yappings, Parikshith's Nonsense Aplently., Raaji's Urdu Blog, Emaan's Blue Elephant

Prices We Pay

A quickly dissolving voice desperate to be heard
A two legged thing begging for direction, wanting to be led
A secret dreamer with a rapidly eroding faith and no path to tread
A near dead fighter, turning into strength every drop he bled
A battle weary life working his low way to get the wife the child, the bread
A somebody who was sleepless on troubles in his sleepless bed
A life-fearing man who lived on with waking up with something new to dread
An insatiate soul that perpetually desired to be he, in his stead
An earless human who spent a whole lifetime oblivious to all sang and said
A dying thirteen year old of cancer, holding on to the last left thread
A thousands still in their lifeless quest for life and living, on stomachs unfed

The quickly dissolving voice desperate to be heard
Won over he who won over direction but left with nothing ahead
The two legged thing begging for direction, wanting to be led
Won over he who won over life, wanting to be dead.
_____________________________________________________________

Acknowledge the existence of things beyond your reach. Don't try to acknowledge the very things.

Live. Life didn't come for free- we pay for it by living it.

You Could Be So Alive

Masquerading behind meaningless words,
Pausing to deliberate at every second thought,
Flashing a proud smile before the world
As minute by minute God's plan unfurled.
I lost a whole life time
Pretending to pretend I cared
I died without knowing I cared
I died as friendless as I was born.

What kept me alive every moment I didn't die
Was the faceless human that seemed to exist
Waiting to be released, I stayed tied up
But you know what, he never showed up
Hated falling asleep because I hated to wake up
It went on, my friend, until He said- Time up.
And so I died, 'twas a friendless death.
___________________________________________________

This post is dedicated to a few golden friends I've made over the years I've lived.
And folks, today seems to be a good day to surprise your friend... you know that the love you've left unexpressed is safe with them. It's funny how we know them even without actually thinking about them.




Go call, meet them... it’s time to do this. Tell them a joke you know they’re going to hate. Irritate them. Act gay. Do anything! It's time to go insane and crack up --
Without even feeling weird about it :D

Their Ways

Sitting back on her chair, comfortably, she spoke . His eyes were concentrating on her face and her mouth as she spoke carefully, truthfully, and with the kind of fluidity that comes with great effort- when one talks about things one knows, but seldom talks about.

"It's not about now or forever", he heard her say. "I'm not comfortable with time..."

Her gaze was fixed vaguely in his direction. There seemed to be a hint of frown on her face for a moment, and then she relaxed her eyes again. Her eyes looked as though they were looking at earth for the first time.

He saw her speak again. Her tone was stable and she was not in a hurry. She was not confused.

"I'm not lost." She looked at him for some time. She didn't know if he would understand if she tried to explain.

"But when you find yourself," she continued, "...when you understand the things happening to you... and it ends abruptly... it's left behind like just a chapter, while a complete story is what it was meant to be. Everything I thought I'd be till my last breath and my ways... don't seem... relevant.

"He always got the best out of me. You know him. But I can't thank him. It wouldn't be fair... on me... You know, I understood his most bizarre ideas. I could always make sense of his irrelevant speech. It was his way. His genius amazed all. His ways perplexed all, except me. And he knew it.

"He knew it... I know that. He told me how to come to a conclusion, and how never to tell yourself you came to one, and just act. Act.

"I, for the matter, thought. And he acted finally. Finally he left me behind... perplexed."

At this point, she was looking straight at him. He was grasping all that she said.

Her glance seemed to ask for answers. But he knew he had to let her speak. He remained quiet as she looked away, slowly.

"Everything I have with you is so direct. Sometimes I wonder if I'm all wrong" she said calmly.

"Look at this," she contemplated aloud, "I could never say these things to him. And though I have nothing to gain or lose from him any more. But look at it. Do I want to be understood or do I have to be understood? Must I understand simply or must I claim the Gods talk to me? The perfect silences of other realms... It was the best way i knew.

"But may be now i know better..."

He seemed to calculate. She looked at him again. He thought there was longing, not in her face, in her eyes. Something that was not meant to be seen by him. But he grew more sure of it when she wouldn't take her eyes off him, however unknowingly.

The simple look on her face spoke very little. It was free of malice, and very uncomplicated. Her body was relaxed.

"What we can do with words, we can't do with anything else. That's who I need. And I... should be needed in that way. I'm doubting this. Alright. But I'm telling you I'm doubtful. And that's what I need."

She looked at her own lap and was frowning. Barely half a minute. She was soon looking back at him. This time, really waiting. He stayed. The controlled intensity on her face was inducing intensity in his own self. She very simply hid all the longing behind a composed, easy look.

After some silence, her eyes felt heavy, and she closed them. Some time passed. She could sit that way forever. In his presence. To her, it felt more easy than solitude. Some more time passed.

He got up looking at her, walked a few paces and went to stand behind her chair, his back towards hers. After a moment, she turned behind, and looked at him with the same blank eyes. Her eyes followed his eyes that were fixed at hers as he walked round the chair and carefully took her left hand into both his hands. He paused, and then bent down to her. She closed her eyes almost immediately and lowered her face.
His grip over her hand was surety reassured. He knew who she was. The leaning figure that disturbed the air around was imposing to her mind. She felt his body incline towards hers, approaching it. She heard him breathing close to her own face. What followed was a firm kiss on her cheek. He then withdrew. He looked at her, fully, and said, "You'll find him one day." And he went away.

Sitting back on her chair, she tried to figure out if she was living. She was falling asleep. Her body was relaxed. She was all wrong.

Unite

Turn around to look at the walls
Look for some faint mark that reminds you
Of some diagram, an instruction, a direction, a motive.
And if it's spotless,
Stare...
And understand the finest form of consistency.
Uniformity.
Particles playing on both sides of the standard human size...

Shift the focus of your vision from the nearest opaque
To a layer nearer
Air...
What light does, gives,
The favors you can never return
To the anonymous creations, concepts
Left to us without a factor of recognition
So that we fail to acknowledge, or to appreciate.
Realizations that maim our being
But that keep us going...

That we can abstract
That we can generalize
That we employ, brings us to feeling good.
Building from base to air, without losing its actuality
Is useful.
If belief is placed in purpose,
Air is no good.
Decide.
Or decide that you can't.
Does anything come between or beyond the two?

Rest your chin in the cup of your palm
Stay till your eyes droop
Let the web of thoughts remain
As you fall asleep in your own silence.

_____________________________________________________________

They say, such thoughts are a result of lack of things to do in one's daily life. But, without missing the point, I repeat, such thoughts exist. What the thoughts express, exists too. We rely on the tangible, without giving anything else a chance.
But as Mikimbizii aptly explains how "it suddenly appears and sinks through the gauzy layers of consciousness", making her long to drop everything that she's doing and "plunge into that mysterious chimerical realm", it is something as inexplicable as it is real.
I believe it's a different way of dreaming.
Take a break from being who you are daily. Mix yourself with the universe. Unite.