Ode to Sleep

I love to sleep.
It keeps the demons away.
As long as I'm safely tucked in
They won't get their way.

I love to sleep.
For dreams give me wings
Even in a nightmare,
I always find my way.

I love to sleep.
It's the best thing to do.
Better than the crying, the anger
The pain of seeing you.

I love to sleep.
It's the only thing keeping me sane
Forever healing,
The wounds you inflict by day.
Every day.

The day I stop loving sleep
Is the day I stop loving life.

Negative Bank Balance

I did not know it was possible to have negative bank balance till I joined Advertising.

The Pigeon, The Statue

Accept that while some days you might be the pigeon, on other days you will just be a sitting Lamborghini.

Loving in Oblivion

Seems like yesterday

I was a kid growing up.

I said 'I love you' hoping against hope.

And you said nicely, 'Thank you'.

Through the tears I laughed.

You were funny alright.

And I had thought we'd be just fine.

Damn free will, I smiled.

What had I hoped for, after all?

Then my best friend, my confidant

Fled up the farthest wall,

When I told him it made me jealous

That he got involved with another girl.

Other men I have liked, 

But dared not express.

My affection comes off as rudeness

As I die to escape.

Their gaze.

Their presence.

Their very touch.

The sound of their voice.

It just gets lonely here sometimes.

Lonely and terribly cold.

I hope I don't stumble into the darkness,

I have worked so hard to be free from.

Because the darkness, it unleashes

The demon I shelter inside.

The Heart, The Brain and The Stomach: A Conversation on Love

On a windy wintry evening, under the shade of the smiling sun, she fell in love, once again.

'Oh boy', the brain observed, worried.
'Geez, I hate these butterflies', the stomach said giddily as the heart hoarsely sang, 'It's a love story, baby just 'yes'!'.
'Grow up', her brain said, in an authoritative Alan Rickman tone.
'Like, really. I can't have butterflies no more', her stomach groaned.
'Grammar', the brain corrected sternly.
But the heart had already broken into an impromptu ballet, 'I love you and that's all I really know...'
'Fine, but don't come crying to me again', the brain said, annoyed. 'I can't pick up your pieces everytime. Why can't you be smart in love, for once?'
'What's the use of all the smartness in the world if you can't be stupid in love?' The heart danced.
'You stupid, stupid heart', the stomach was sick to the core. 'You have any idea, how many butterflies have flown inside me till now? I refuse to participate in your games. Mutton, chicken, fish, I can digest. A bunch of flying colourful butterflies, straight out of a Disney film- no man! I refuse.'
'And you are still injured from last time', Rickmany brain observed wisely. 'I advice you to take it slowly'.
But the heart was already doing sprints in rainbow-land.
'How can someone so logical in life be so stupid in love', the brain sighed.
'I agree man, the heart's lost it again', the stomach said, lighting a cigarette.
'I'm not your man and we are not friends. I am the most intelligent organ in the human body and you just clean the gutter', the brain replied coldly as it blew off the cigarette. 'And that stuff is not good for health'.
'Chill man. Who put a stick up your ass?', the stomach curtly questioned.
'How dare you...', the brain fired up.
'Guys, guys, relax. I am fine. It won't be like last time. I promise', sang the heart in a high-pitched octave.
'Well, at least, it's not a Justin Bieber song..', whispered the stomach.
'Oh really, so this guy has already said he loves you', the brain said sarcastically.
'Not exactly', the heart quietly replied.
'So you have said you love him?' The brain interrogated.
'Not exactly'.
'So what exactly did you tell him?'
'I liked his Facebook status!', leapt the heart in joy.
'I want some antacid. I am not feeling very well. All those butterflies...', the stomach said weakly.
The brain ignored. 'So let me figure this out, you expect him...'
The heart cut him short. 'I don't expect anything from him, okay? Stop being such a stuck-up'.
The stomach giggled amidst glares from the brain.
'Let me tell you right now, the next time you come to me, injured and crying, I will tell you,'I told you so'', it declared tersely.
'What's new? I can't stop falling in love because of the fear of getting hurt', said the angry heart.
'No, but you can at least try to be intelligent about it'. 
'I'm not a brain', laughed the heart. The heart's laughter always calmed the cynical brain. Taught it to have faith. Even though, in the end, the heart was always injured. Somewhere deep inside, the brain believed that one day the heart would find happiness.
'You talk like a 16-year old school girl', the brain shook its head, exasperated.
'And you behave like a 60-year old Grandpa', the heart laughed heartily.
'Well, someone has to be the grown up...'
'Guys, guys, I hate to interrupt this reunion, but could someone please help me with some antacid', begged the stomach.
'Hand, mouth...', ordered the brain.
While they got busy, the brain said thoughtfully,' I don't think this is going to end any differently'.
'I know', said the heart. 'But we do not give up trying, do we?'
'I hope you find what you are looking for', sighed the brain.
The heart smiled. 'What we are looking for'.

Pigtail

'You look beautiful', he whispered softly as he helped her to the chair.
Their first date. She blushed.
Settling down, he asked, 'So, what would you like to order? I hear the pork belly is awesome'.
She flinched a little.
'Just a..a salad please.'
'As you wish', he smiled as he motioned for the waiter.
'You know.. Your hair looks lovely, I bet you would look gorgeous with pigtails'. Women liked his candour. Or so he thought.
But she went pale.
'Ex..excuse me...', she rushed up from her chair and dashed towards the ladies' room, leaving him wondering if he had been too forward.

Inside the spotless white washroom, she stared at the mirror. Did he know? How could he know? No it was impossible. She had taken every precaution.

Instinctively, her hands began tracing the outline of her satin silk gown. The smooth neckline, the flawless waist, the perfect hips. Her hands rested.

Inside, lurked the faintest trace of a bushy pig tail. Of course, the dress hid it well. But she could never be completely sure.
She stared at the mirror, ashamed, sweating like a pig.

Out in the restaurant, he waited. Finally convinced that his forwardness had put her off, he left.
Inside, the ladies' washroom grunted in agony.

I hate rains

Rain makes me sad. 
It reminds me of afternoon drizzles by the window; when droplets of creativity played in puddles in the rigorous Math copy.
When every bit of lecherous mud was avoided with trepidation. Sometimes unsuccessfully.
The waterlogged moments of love. Unspoken yet immortalized in words.
The congested umbrellas in shuttle taxis gasping under strangers' sweat and rain water. Or perhaps, they were crying. 
The heart is, but a mausoleum of memories. Rain washes down its strong walls to reveal the undergrowth within.
I hate rains.

Curse

Oh Lord of the Land with your arrogant belly
You are no better than the bed bugs silly.
Greedily feeding on my toiling blood
Like a parasite, you suck and suck.

You'll get a taste of your medicine, loon
Justice will be meted to you pretty soon!
You will die a dog's death
Burst by shrapnel, torn to shreds.

Your family will be forced to beg
In hell, you will weep and crave
The same craving that I have now
To get out of the hell you bestow

Mark my words, you filthy little man
My wrath curses you, see what it can!

Walking on a Tight Rope

I walk a tight rope

Towards a dark invisible goal

Thousands of cheery faces urge me on.

I look below.

Small skyscrapers

Scared I stumble

Nothing to hold on, nothing to fall upon

The abyss looks up at me.

Like the mouth of a hungry beast.

But with nothing to hold on, I fall down.

Another Boring Post..Gee so Gay!

I don't love you
I don't like you
I don't care about you

I don't already miss you

I don't write about you

I don't secretly cry for you

I don't....I don't.

You think too much. People tell me all the time. Paranoia coupled with insecurity. Mistrust. A friend is leaving. She is self-obsessed and stupid. She thinks she has a bad temper. I think she can be stupidly passionate and is nothing like the way she projects herself to be. She believes in this projection. I also think she is a darling. I think she is a good tempered kid. That's because I have a bad temper. I want my close ones to stay with me when I am having a bad time (which is literally most of the time now) and when they don't (because I am a loner), I blame, cry, screech, shriek, throw my limbs up and down and point out how bad they are. 


Anyway, this can be the subject of research among psychology professionals. But enough of me. This 'friend', this girl I am talking about, I don't think she considers me as her friend. She is like a Barbie with her own set of flying angels covering all around her; she can go on and on for hours talking about how nice her friends are. I am not jealous.


No seriously, I'm not. I have considered at least thrice in my life to severe all ties with her. And I did. But every time, she comes around with a sunny face and starts anew. I have told her that every time you cannot have a new beginning. Yet she refuses to give up. Her optimism, her willingness to try, compels me to look past the negative experiences. It's like she calls me back every time I leave. No one has ever done that before for me.


'Sugar and spice and everything nice', I am suddenly reminded of this rhyme.


I experience emotions in extreme. Either I love someone or despise someone. If I am indifferent to someone, then I don't care about that person at all. This, despite of my peaceful demeanor. May be, expecting her to always comply is wrong. But I am incredibly possessive of my friends. I once told a friend that I did not care how many girlfriends he has, I wanted my share of time to be given to me! He understood. She does too. But somewhere I feel, I don't have any right to even feel that way about her.

She herself has told me about her priorities in friendship, with other people scoring top level positions. Huh. I was always the top scorer in school and college. Therefore, it becomes a competition. And I don't like losing. Scoring in studies is easier. Scoring in life is more difficult. Therefore I retract, carefully, steadily, pretending I have better things to do. Inside however I am dying. Because when I like someone, I want that person to myself. And I want that person to like me as well. 


And also because I don't like losing. Losing, as if it were, is a sin. Ironic, coz I lecture this friend all the time, how everything in life is not about winning or losing. Other things are pretty important too. 


Where was I? Oh yes, so she's leaving. For higher studies. And one evening, she harmlessly changed her FB profile pic, I looked at her face and wrote a poem. Another time, I read a post on her blog, out of which one line she had spared to saying that she would probably never see her home again. Byas, I began to cry. Faced with emotional anguish at times like these, I did what I do best- ran away. 


From her, from the pain. So I had forgotten everything. Found out a thousand faults with her (and trust me, I did not have to work very hard for it). And became busy with my life, as if I don't have anything better to do! As if she is the busiest person in the world! Miss Popular. With her entourage of fans. Bloody Show Off. As if I care!


Miss Happy-Go-Lucky called me on my birthday and began crying about something regarding her boyfriend. Like the generous and kind-giving listener, I tried to hear her patiently. As the Knight in Shining Armour for the Damsel in Distress! Gee, that's so gay! She hates being called the damsel in distress, so I might as well call her that. Damsel in Distress, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, Barbie Doll! Hmph. Latest: Paris Hilton! Serves her right. 


Six months again, we hardly talked, mostly did on chat and sometimes on SMS, but now that she's leaving for higher studies, she had this brilliant idea of meeting all her friends before she left, from kindergarten to barely known acquaintances (all are her 'friends' according to her).Queen Elizabeth is signing her name on people's hearts! Hmph. So me, who was cursing her all this while and told her that she wouldn't meet her, had to meet her. 


Well, of course she didn't gag me, but I had to meet her. How could I say no to her? I never could. Plus I kinda like it when she tolerates my temper tantrums and even after that repeatedly keeps on coaxing me. Woah, some patience that kid has!


Which brings me back to my first point. She is an extremely talented kid. And a good tempered one. She has the ability to look past errors with a new optimism. I don't believe in hero worship as some of her friends do! I can't go on and on about how exceedingly charming her boyfriends are/were. Goodness, if anything I hate them. And I hate anyone and everyone who has ever mattered more to her than me. And I hate that place and institution where she's going because it is taking her away from me. 


In a desperate attempt, I told her, "Don't go...". She thought I was asking her not to leave for home. But I replied, "No..don't go..to Noida.." She just rounded up her already big round eyes and looked at me. True, that's like the stupidest thing  I have ever said to anybody. ( And I have done some pretty stupid things, specially regarding guys I have liked. To one guy I gave him several reasons not to like me, and to another, I recommended other girls he would look good with!) 


As if I wouldn't have gone! As if I would think for a second time when it came to ambition versus emotion. As a matter of fact, I have always urged her to come out of her comfort zone, and see the world, struggle, get a taste of real life. And now when she's going, somewhere, I find even tears futile. I try to cry because that way the pent up anguish would come out. But something chokes my throat. The water in my eyes dry up. 


Nobody is indispensable in my life, I proudly say. And it is true. This too shall pass, I shall be alone once more. And this post is just so gay. Eeks! I have better taste. But if I can spend post after post hallucinating about guys who don't even deserve to be anywhere near my blog, then hers is a place well deserved. 


She has been a kind and gentle loving soul, a caring 'friend'; she has been there in times when I needed her most. Yes, she has her moments of indifference and she can also be cruel, but she can also be extremely giving, understanding. What I like most about her? Her 'mothering' me. Her ability to look past my ego, my seriousness, see the softness and treat me like a kid. And her putting away all ego when she's dealing with an egoistic me. Goodness, now this is just all too twisted. I better stop.

Good Night and Good Luck. 

My Little Brother

You were the one who ever truly loved me. And I let you down. I am sorry. Forgive me.

“You never forget the ones you loved”. And I will never forget you. I promise. Every time I see a movie based on you, I fall apart crying. How could I not appreciate you? Fancy me getting vocal about how kind and giving animals are..how could I be unkind to you? When nobody cared, nobody bothered, you were there for me. I still remember the night of the load-shedding when I was deeply morose. I was sitting there in the dark blankly. You came and began calling me with your paws. I knew then that you loved me. Tonight I was watching the film, Hachiko: A Dog's Story. The film is about the true story of a faithful dog who waited nine years for his dead owner. I thought of you my little brother. All those times we spent together. We had so much fun. Everyday I used to look forward to coming home. You made my day. You made me happy. And then you started getting sick. May be we did not take proper care of you. May be we could have done better.I still can't stop blaming myself for what happened to you. You improved but then got sicker. And I got irritated with you when you messed up the house. But it still did not occur to me that you would leave us, dear brother. How can I ever forgive myself for having been cruel to you? And that too when you needed me the most. I don't like watching dog stories any more. Coz they remind me of you. I never found pet tragedies fun to watch but now they pierce me even more. Remind me of how cruel and insensitive I was. Even that night when Ma began crying out aloud complaining that you were not moving, did I not imagine that this was your last movement. I still remember standing aside when the doctor came by, you with your soft furry head on Ma's lap. My mother was gently brushing aside your fur; tears softly flowed from her eyes. The doctor was sitting on our bed looking downwards. And I was looking at both of them. Getting prepared for the worst. How hard could it be? Yes you were a part of life and in some moments, you would be there no more.... No I'm sure something can be done, my alter ego shouted. For once in your life, be optimistic. Nothing will happen to him. My pessimism got hold of my timidity and warned me. Get prepared now, or else.. I just stood there silently. I called up your mother and father and waited silently by the dressing table. I could see Ma sitting on the floor, the doctor sitting on the bed. But I could not see you clearly. Just a part of your black body. Once or twice I advanced to see your face.... And then went back. May be it was better this way. No attachments. Really? I know how I masquerade as brave and tell my folks to move on in life.....it's been years. But I still cry for you at the dead of nights. I have not given up forming attachments like Ma has or given up eating Biriyani like my sister, I pride on myself at keeping a balance. Seriously? A Balance? How I kid myself! I still blame myself for shouting at you when you could not get up from the bathroom. I couldn't take uncleanliness. And you just looked at me. You didn't shout, or even make a noise. You just looked. And I was taken aback, by that stare. You knew then, didn't you? But I brushed it aside and shouted at you for dirtying yourself. I'm sorry my little brother, it never occurred to me that I should not shout. I did not know you were in so much pain. I neglected you. How could I? You were the best thing that ever happened to me. And I just neglected you. May be it's not so bad that you left me. May be I deserved it. And as I sit here at my table, writing this post, I remember those brown eyes of yours. You were with us for only two and a half years but during that time you showed me love, you showed me that I was capable of being loved and you loved me the way I was. And how did I pay you back? Take care my little angel, wherever you are. You were always so inquisitive. Remember the one time when I was sitting with my back towards your face pretending to do something interesting and that intrigued you so much that you quietly crept up to me and actually pulled my arms out, so you could get a glimpse of what I was doing? Tell me, how is that side of the world? My sister always said, that you were some angel, who may be, was here on earth to do some penance. And after your penance was complete, you had to leave, like all the other angels. I find it hard to disagree with her. How else could someone explain the astonishingly perfect handsome looks? I know girls would have always sighed for you, you were such a heartthrob. My little brother was perfect, he was the handsomest man I have ever seen. Take Care, Little Brother. I hope you rest in peace, wherever you are. 

Waiting..Once Again

It's late at night and I know "normal" people might be sleeping. What am I doing laying awake at such a time? I have college tomorrow. I have my work. That's right, I have a life to lead. But the wait..it's killing, it's making me restless and it's painful. Remember my last post on "waiting"? Ah well..here I stand at the close of another year, writing a similar post once again. Acronyms don't matter, I don't even care any more. The timid me, who once was bothered about what people will think has become so restless, so tired of pretending that I have shed all covers. I don't care if people know, I don't care what they say..Hell...I just need some peace. And If they can't bloody well provide me that, they have no right to poke their noses in my private matter. And you know the best part, I don't care even if they do. I don't know how far it will stay, I don't know what I should do to relieve me of this restlessness, I just know I am tired. Hell tired. And I can't take it any more.

Teddy (continued)

I do not know how to continue from my last post about him. Teddy was a ball of fur; soft, black and sparkling. He was the handsomest devil anyone in our neighborhood had seen before. He belonged to the mongrel breed but he was so beautiful that people almost invariably asked us whether he was a Labrador. And well, yes we felt very proud when they complimented him like this. He hated the water like most street pups. Warm water along with Clinic Plus Shampoo was needed to bathe him and three of us- my sister, my brother-in-law and my mother were needed to push him to the bathroom. Phew! As I said in my previous post, he sure was a handful!

He was a good tempered puppy initially but then I used to irritate him so much that he began to lose his temper with me. Lols. I don't blame him. I have a penchant for trying out people's patience to see how much they would be able to tolerate me. I and my mother used to irritate the hell out of him by rolling him out like you roll the dough to make chapatis. From the next time whenever he saw me and my mother, he used to scurry below the bed post.

Teddy used to be very curious. I remember one day I was working over something barring him from the view of my work. He could not see what I was working upon. I saw that and pretended to be more readily engrossed as if by something absolutely interesting. He came over, peered over my neck, pulled one of his paws over my hand and tried to move it aside to see what I was doing.

Such was his curiosity.

At one time in the darkness I was sad about something. The lights had gone off. There was no current. I was unhappy. He came over to me and called me with his paw. I hugged him. I have yet to find out someone else who would understand my feelings without my saying anything.

But good things are for short periods only. He fell ill one day. He had some sort of an infection on his mouth. Mother called the doctor and he suggested an antiseptic. In the midst of this, he fell down from the bed one day. He could not regain his balance. We called the doctor. He came and concluded that he had been running a temperature for the past few days. He was not able to give a conclusive proof of what had really happened. But right then, in front of our eyes, Teddy let out one final gasp of breath and left us.

P.S: We took him to a cemetery in Behala where he was buried. Exactly ten days later, my sister's pup, Pipi who was suffering from many days owing to old age and distemper also left. He was also taken to the same burial ground, Karunakunj.


The First Part: http://sojournoflife.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-was-in-midst-of-writing-another-poem.html

May Be...

Tears crawl down silently by the side of her face. She is hurt, like the so many times she has been before. Hopelessness, depression surround her like long lost friends. Her face is salty. She is lonely. Nobody has seen her cry. She cannot let them see the soft tears beneath her tough exterior. She argues, she fights. She slams down the phone with inexpressible might. She is rude. But deep down, may be she is just hurt. Deep down, may be she is just scared of being left alone, of being rejected by her loved ones. Deep down may be she cannot stand the injustice meted out by others to her loved ones. May be, deep down she just curses herself for not being able to fight back.

Does she not try to overcome this? She does, doesn't she? Then why suddenly she behaves like this all of a sudden? Why is all this poise just a mask to cover up her delicate balance which borders on the verge of sanity and madness? Why do people take her to be a proud vain snob when inside she is being torn apart by their sneers? Why can't people see her sensitive heart?

May be because she does not want them to see. May be because she is too scared of getting hurt. May be because if people come to know of it, they might hurt her even more. People think her to be strong, they think she is a very gutsy lady. She speaks her mind out, she goes with her head held high. But they never see the fear within. The fact that she is not one of them because she is scared of being rejected by them. She speaks her mind out, apparently but that might only be the half truth. May be she is just too scared of speaking anything at all, afraid of all the jeers that she might have to face. May be she is afraid to behave otherwise, because that is how people have come to know her- a snobbish little girl and she is scared even to prove them wrong. May be...