Reservoir

ek nashe ki dukaan khol lee hai is monsoon maine
ek badi botal lee aur saare din nichod kar sharbat banaya
Fir ek khatte ras ki botal bharee, kuch shararaton se nikal kar
aise kaafi saara nasha ikathha ho gaya hai mere paas
ab roz koi ek botal chun kar zindagi mein gholta rehta hoon
kuch din aur chalega ye, fir woh aakhri botal kholni padegi
ek aakhri chhoti si botal, jisme saare vaade pighla ke daale the
socha tha, ye nasha to saari umra chalega.
Kal shaam jab us shishi ko ulat kar dekha to pata chala ki khaali hai,
Fir yaad aaya, us din jab woh jaa rahi thee to kaha tha usne,
pyas lagi hai aur door jaana hai tab woh mein hi to tha jisne
khushi khushi paani mein mila kar woh vaade pila diye the use.

Ab nasha bhi khatam hai, aur ye khaali botlein,
aur ye khaali botlein bewajah ki baaton jaise mujhse poochti rehti hai
nasha khatam kab hua tha jo ab nasha shuru karne ki baat karte ho

The speed of time!

wrote something after a long time, for once let’s share it with the world!

gulzar-o-ghalib ki bazmon mein khud ke nishaan dhoondhte dhoondhte
kabhi kuch purane raasto mein kadam bikhar jaate hain
poora mahine raat ko odh kar sone ka bahana karte rahe
wahin kuch sitare jugnoo jaise kuch bolne ki koshish kar rahe the
haan, woh waqt aage badh chuka hai uski ghadi mein
kuch zyada hi tez le chala hai waqt usko apne saath
mere paas to wahi dheemi ghadi hai, jo ruk jaati hai,
jo thami rehti hai, aur isi pal mein atak kar dekhti rehti hai.
Waqt ki aadat bigadna achha nahi rehta,
ye ek baar ruk jaaye, to sadiyon tak atka rehta hai.
Shayad ye mera hi waqt aalsi hai jo aage jaana hi nahi chahta.
Uska waqt to manjhli ungli ki us angoothi ke saath
agle mahine ki 19 tareekh par jaa kar baith chuka hai
ek mehngi angoothi hai, zaahir hai, meri to nahi hi hogi.
Mere to woh do chaar lafz hi the, jo uska waqt wahi peeche chhod aaya hai
kya kya aage le ke aata, un chhote haatho mein itni jagah nahi thee.

Fourteen September Two Thousand Six AD

Dangling on the threshold of the 3 minutes of alarm’s snoozes,
dragging myself out of the live sleep,
and dressing myself with the dead life,
I seldom realize that the transitions are tough.

We transit everyday in our chewing gum lives,
continuosly, unintentionaly and forecefully,
losing flavour street by street along the path,
and reaching the end, being all the same.

I am suprised by the impulsive energy spikes
when u start aiming for the sky
is this a trivial harmonic imbalance
or another fancy movie showing life.

And, by the end of the day,
a bed agin waits for you, warm, inviting
and it quietly utter in your left ear,
another day vanishes, like the rest of them
today’s movie is over,
its time to go back to sleep
its time to go back to your life

The Anatomy Of Vacuum

Finding meaning from nowhere
searching silences in the crowd
pretending to be you
suffocating my thoughts
its tough to breathe
in the air of uncertainty
and the globe keeps rotating
while my conscience shrugs
The eyes avoid the important
stick to the obvious, the illusive
I listen to the noise,
avoiding the words
and i leave life hanging, incomplete
to feel the emptiness, the inadequacy
the vacuum in my self,
in the soulless entities,
the hollow bodies in and around me

I leave it to get completed,
hunting accomplishment undefined
by itself or by force,
by force of lame imaginations
and it remains unattended,
to be forgotten like unread fiction
time and time again, forgotten

S….ca…tt..e……r….e…..d

This happened once back in time, so let me try to get back to blogging with nostalgia. Time to reflect on some past and ask, why and how?

Monday, November 20, 2006
S….ca…tt..e……r….e…..d

There is hardly anything i cant do,
There is hardly anything i can do properly,
I am all over the place,
scattered..
like a three year old kid’s lost marbles on the floor,
and most of them in the farthest corners of the room,
under the bed,in the glass pot,
out of the veranda,
scattered…
and these marbles will not be recollected till evening,
when someone comes, takes trouble,
cursing the kid, kissing his cheeks,
and returns him those marbles back,
only for him to lose them again.
He loves this process, his daily recreation,
I lose myself, I find it again,
itching the remote corners of my head,
its my life,its my sport,
my amusement is my brain.

posted by BlahBlahKid at 6:03 AM

Daybreak

Sun in the earth.. sunflower
Bird in the air …rain
Eye within eye… daybreak

Streets we have never walked on
Windows we have never opened
Hands we have never held
Dreams we shall never ..never see again

Lives we have never lived
Hopes ..we have never realized
Fires we have never lit
Loves… we shall never .. never make again

Sun in the earth sunflower
Bird in the air rain
Eye within eye daybreak

I hear those strange whispers again…..

- Hazaaron Khwahishein Aisi

And believe me, it sounds even better.

Image Source: www.deviantart.com

So what if we change

Mausam jo darakhton se patte chheen le

Mausam jo zameenon se paani chura le

Mausam jo baha de har gaaon har koocha

waqt, waqt badal de aise mausam ko bhi!

hum to fir insaan thehre.

darakhton = Trees

On the edge of horizon

I think I can do anything, absolutely anything that a man has ever done or has desired to, with supreme ease and perfection. I can write a great post and manage a wonderful blog, I can. I can do wonders at my workplace by solving all problems in almost no time with greatest efficiency. I can listen to all good songs ever sung and watch all cult movies before next to next Olympics. I can also read some great books, at a swifter speed and a good understanding of what I read. I can also visit places, lot of them, national parks and wild centuries, mountains and beaches, Mizoram and Tripura, Kashmir, Jharkhand and Kerala.

I can exercise, physically and mentally, I can, for sure, crack better jokes. I can become a charmer and can make a lot more friends, and I can keep them. I can decide what I want to do with my life, sooner or later and on different time lengths, and then I can start working on those plans. I can definitely play better cricket, football and few other games.

I can control my anxiety, my anger and my restlessness. I can control in inherent sloth that I was born with. I can increase my typing speed to 80 wpm and accuracy to 98. I can get my weight down to 65Kgs. I can identify an idol and I can follow him/her. I can pick up a guitar and start a rock band. I can shave my head and grow beard. I can marry a girl of my parent’s choice and I can perform all the rituals of a grand Indian marriage. I can dress well and go to all the parties, clean shaved and with polished shoes.

I can earn millions and I can help the needy, I can teach the poor who can’t afford a pencil and I can start schools for such needy. I can also spread awareness about female infanticide. I can join a theatre group, and I can wander around doing street plays, in rains and dust. I can survive without luxuries, laundries and Levi’s. I can join jnu for a part time course. I can learn 5 European languages and 3 South American languages. I can sell salvation to firangis stuck in their materialistic mid life crises and take them for a ride. I can fuck many of them and I can also practice celibacy for the rest of my life.

I can be a better person, overall, I can define my limits and I can walk on the roads I want to. I can be a better son, brother, friend. I can sew up relations, I can be all I want to be, all I have ever wanted to.

Demystified I stand on the edge of the horizon,

My eyes are tired and the sun is waiting,

I take a step and the skies accept me,

I get all I want,

And I wake up to fall asleep forever!

 

Thanks postsecret

This is the end, beautiful friend!

This is the end

Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end

Of our elaborate plans, the end
Of everything that stands, the end
No safety or surprise, the end
I’ll never look into your eyes…again

Can you picture what will be
So limitless and free
Desperately in need…of some…stranger’s hand
In a…desperate land

Lost in a Roman…wilderness of pain
And all the children are insane
All the children are insane
Waiting for the summer rain, yeah

There’s danger on the edge of town
Ride the King’s highway, baby
Weird scenes inside the gold mine
Ride the highway west, baby

Ride the snake, ride the snake
To the lake, the ancient lake, baby
The snake is long, seven miles
Ride the snake…he’s old, and his skin is cold

This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end

It hurts to set you free
But you’ll never follow me
The end of laughter and soft lies
The end of nights we tried to die

This is the end.

-The Doors

What could be the muse, was it just the drugs, was it the woman, was it depression, was it the quest for meaning, was it the restlessness of his youth, the exuberance of the eternal source of power, was it some ‘chemical locha’ in his head, was it sheer exhalation from a timeless creative lunatic. Or, it was a hybrid of it all. James Douglas Morrison.

This is one of the most depressing songs I’ve ever heard. It will still play second string to heroin, which is the ultimate sedative or I should rather say a truck load of sedative injected in one go. I wouldn’t have become such a follower of his, if he had not been so drunk or high or whatever to write this particular piece of prose.

There isn’t much I feel like writing about this wonderful line of ‘code’, one can go over and over many times and read or listen to this song and feel tranquilized. What else, this is the end, beautiful friend. I hope the beautiful friend somehow gets to read this. This is the end!

I Welcome

Devoid of all the metaphors,
nothing left to compare,
reclaiming all that I died for,
today, i welcome the morning after.

I earned my daily bread,
dipped in depression and failure,
until I opened my eyes to myself,
and today, i welcome my chanting horizons.

rhythm of emotions, and glitches of magnetism,
held by sweetness and moon light,
i succumbed under the unseen surfaces,
now, I welcome the vibes from my mind.

faces, long and far, and denial of cosmos,
clocks, old and sluggish, printing history everyday,
disorganized breaths and expensive demise,
and at the end of it, arms open wide,
life comes to me and for once and ever,
I welcome.

Existential Confusion

‘Existential confusion’, this bomb struck me for the first time from an Amartya Sen’s book (ah, sounds so good to quote such names, although you know absolutely nothing about that book or that person and you just managed to complete it). He was explaining it in a very different sense, discussing about identity and violence and misunderstanding and the illusion of destiny (that was the title). The motive was to analyse how the world narrows its thinking while talking identities. You say the word farmer, and clap; you have that image in your head. You just tell someone about your profession or your geographical roots and in a couple of minutes a whole set up preconceived notions will be drawn around you ( arguably, which are correct seven on ten).

 

I’ve seen this term with a different understanding, perhaps as something which relates more to what I feel and what I see. We all live with this eternal dilemma that what is it that we are here for? This may sound futile and desolate to talk about the questions (time and time again) of the lazy, the questions of denial and disapproval, the whys and not the hows, and the sole how in the list would be ‘how does it matter at all?’. I have had the conflict within at times which entices me to disbelieve all that’s being said and all that’s being performed. If everyone is so unaware of the ultimate consequence, what is it that drives us towards everything that’s being done. The brain is a perpetual master, controlling the existence, making it all happen in such a subtle manner that all these bloody complexities dipped in the whys look so obvious and ordinary to us. Only if one can tame it, the questions would all be answered, i have a lot of self belief, and I truly know that I can’t tame it.

These days I’ve been bold, so I would pen another manuscript, ahh, it was 1200 A.D or something, don’t actually remember, but certainly nothing new or fresh, nothing as new as, ummm, what, don’t know!!!

In this world where objects move at the speed of sound,
Its surprising to see the entities swapping roles,
the human life ticks and the clock yawns,
I get confused just to verify my brain’s functioning,
and its ironical that it never disappoints me, I think,
may be I am confused, but I am not sure,
confused about myself,
my presence and my requirement,
5 cups of coffee, semi pressed formals with non-matching socks
and a pushover life,
did you ever come across such an existential confusion?
Did you?

Exhibit the vessels

I was going through some of the stuff I wrote more than an year ago and while I am still wandering the reasons for this penning I believe I can put it here. In these times when obscenity is a USP, I shouldn’t be ashamed of posting all I want.

 

Monday, January 29, 2007

Exhibit the vessels

 

And my imagination,

breathes heavily in nitrogen,

locked up lungs,

in roses and tamarind paste,

that image fiddles with my sleepy nerves,

I let it wander in my head,

the exhibition is on,

the fun of bizarre dreams,

it takes some time,

does some maths on the vacuum up there,

the formulas of philosophy,

of tender medications and

caresses the ambiance with nuts and bolts,

the image looks at the watch and the calendar,

twice, yet again, many times in a smaller time,

the study is done,

time for the exhibition to shutter down for the day,

the exit door calls,

and the image moves out,

respectfully stuffed with nostalgia,

and the nerves clean the vacuum all evening.