It's Diwali.....

It's been a strange day today... there has been this air of festivities all around me and i still can't wait for this day to be over..

Deepawali... the brightest day day in the lives all hindus... and though i can still identify with this day somehow the brightness has me dazed... Is it real? This joy all around me... or is it a momentary euphoria destined to die out by dawn?

I watch from my workstation as every one in my team is dancing. they are all excited, they are all smiling, most of them are in fact, laughing. It feels great... makes me smile... It's such a treat to see them all bouncing off the walls... all that joy...  but that really doesn't matter... For some of them I'd still be acting pricy or showing attitude or acting weird... I'd still be kept at distance...to be handled carefully...Cause i don't feel like dancing... cause i can't identify with all this or be a part of it, it won't matter how much i appreciate it. Some though might simply let me be... none though would be appreciating me (I mean my choice).

What is it with our psyche? a country of unity in diversity and if one of us fails to do what everyone else is doing that person is kept next only to an out cast...

What the hell ever happened to individual choices...

Have we all become so used to of living as a mob that now we need to be part of one if we want an identity.

Was man always a man?

Or was it a moment?
That so described,
his being,
bound his faith,
to this sudden fate,
of living in aversion,

was there ever glory?
In his deeds,
or in his words,
when pages by pages,
he wrote the greatest sin,
dividing himself,
by religion,

was this what he wanted?
when his uncouth self,
made him feel revered,
amidst all the ugly deeds,
still an animal,
so caught in his own version,

was there ever a man,
or is it just a story,
of lives laid waste,

For the love of glory,

Was man always thus?

Caught in the ruptures,
of a bleeding civilization,

was there ever a man?
who looked into the mirror,
and what he saw he could stand?
Was there ever?
A man,

or is it just? A delusion...

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This Looping existence....

It's hard to understand why we do certain things... It's harder to understand why we want to do certain things...

but the hardest of all is to understand why despite wanting, dying for and crying for certain things we don't even try to do them... 

we sit at the window and watch world go about in circles, just like we do all the time and the thing i hate the most about circles is - they never end.

And you keep looping around your own existence.....

If a circle is what my life has to be... let it at least be of my choice...let me choose the color if not the circumference, let me choose the speed at which i loop if not the direction in which i loop... 


And i will cry,
If i ever could realize,
what the words would cost?
when spilled on paper,
and left to accumulate,
some wet and rotten,
some hidden between the lines,
Still dry.

and tell me why?
should i not forsake,
this bleeding existence,
that has me chained,
reduced to an invisible wound,
Aching to be destroyed,
in the face of my dreams,
another lie...



 









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(
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 India License.)

 

So this is what it's like,
to live a dream in this life,
Walking through the haze,
of your visions, blurred
by those untold lies,
that keep floating in your eyes.


so this is what love can do,
and you have to see it yourself,
even though you knew,
where the shredded pieces,
of this life will fall,
for you to pick up and sort,
trying to make a memory of it all,

so while you say your goodbyes,
I'll forever close my eyes,
let life be what it has to be,
its color holds no promise for me,

damp memories I'll have to find,
strewn in the recesses of my mind.....


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Applies to the text only.

The mirror

Unrelenting...
on the walls of
my imagination, it sat,
Its gaze unwavering,

determined every grain,
of my malignant existence,
resolute not to look at
my image, that kept shattering,

the mirror of introspection,

undeceived uncorrupted,
painting my conscience
with the strokes of guilt,
tainting my tongue,
with the truth of what i had done,

it left me stammering....


 
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