Where do I fit!

Where do I fit? I often wonder, thinking about a place for myself in this world. I have grown up observing this world and the people in it. I am not different to them. I have had my share of love, hatred, betrayal, joy, sad; everything a human being could experience in a lifetime.

But something is still amiss here.

I don’t know what am I doing here? Even worst, I don’t have an alternative. Its not that I hate taking the chance, but the amusing facets of this universe incites my arrogance to hold back, may be for another lifetime. What conspires in my mind, against this proposition is: what else, weren’t these enough, are there any further feelings that I am yet to face! Simply, put this way: I am not afraid of death, in case, dying is the only alternative to this life. Change this life. Live a life, different to this life. Can it be another option? I don’t think.

Anyway, where do I fit?

As an individual, I try to evolve myself as a better human being. I don’t how good a person I have become in these two and half decades. But, in these years, I have able to conjure up a world for myself, of myself, with no complaint. It has no pain. Yet, my world is far from being perfect. It has no place for me. No place for me here too!

Some birds, some trees, some friends, they aren’t enough for me as long as I am not a part to myself. I have become a misfit to myself.

Ok! I should have asked this question to myself.

Birthday!

This post was to be posted on 5th September.

Blossoms! Life is a flower.

Every year, this day arrives with so much fanfare, I can only deny the occasion. Somebody called up unexpectedly. It can be counted as a gift. I took it as a gift. Gifts galore, but none like it.

I have a small world. Every part of it can claim the whole as their own, irrespective who the real owner is! This has enabled all of us to celebrate life with many occasions thrown in. What else? I was happy like all of them.

Somebody wanted to celebrate my birthday, the way she wanted to celebrate. I deny, like any other occasion. For I hate crowd. It is not that she will gather a whole populace, but I fear what if it happens so. You never know. My small world can turn into a pool humanity, known and unknown, guest and intruders… I think everybody wants to wish a birthday or two in the pretext of fun and off course, as a well-wiser. I won’t be able to accept their hugs and kisses.

My birthday happens to fall on Teacher’s Day.

[ Oh! The funny part on having a birthday is; I have three Date of Births, the first one is obviously the day I was born, second, the date my class teacher filled up in my Matriculation Form as my actual date of birth, and the third one, my date of birth recorded in Electoral Voter List. All of these dates are different.

Let me tell you, it’s little worrisome for me to decide which one should be given the priority! I know, I was born on a certain date on certain time. That’s my birthday. But I live my life as this-much-aged person reflected in my Academic Certificate, which in fact becomes my actual birthday, and this date ever so slowly swallow every sphere of my life. I am only 20+ years old, in cognito and accepted.]

Yea, she called me up and wished me “Happy Birthday”. I was happy. It is such a happy feeling, a very happy feeling. One call, one wish: I wonder how could I cherish it whole life long!

Next September, I know, it will be different.

Clouds and Images!

Something caught my eye. I am a bi-spectacle. But, it didn’t hinder my view and the image clearly obstructed my view. This was how it caught my eye. In fact, I wanted to see something else. I have no surprises. I knew it too well; this is life.

Nothing.

My mind goes back to something else... comes back with an unknown knot that bound the view rather unsympathetically with my eyes. This time, I wanted to know what it was. Her eyes blank, her skin pale, her hair un-combed and she didn’t moved. My head wrested on the shoulder and I thought it was heavy. Life is a burden if you can save yourself from the views that our senses forbid. I was not uncomfortable but restless. Where did I stand? No, I was in a moving cab.

What a loathsome imagery!

I was all there, all by myself. I couldn’t count on my fellow cab mates. I can’t just say what happened like it. But all the stories of seeing freak and random are rather prominent in the long drive home, in the dark, in the night. It seemed something will just poke out from nowhere. What we come to know better is; it is disgusting to think about it. After few days, everybody stopped by themselves. But the glint of darkness and scare were left unmoved in our minds.

Oh! I was talking about what had caught my eyes. She was beautiful. She moves next to us. It seemed to me, a glance would not be enough. I looked flat at her eyes and the cloud dispersed itself with the wind. It reminded me of my favorite children’s poem on cloud. Look at the clouds. They have all the images in the mind. Think of an object, and it was right there; laughing at you.

Now, the only difference is, I don’t have time to see in broad day light. And the clouds in the night are dull and dark. Even the most beautiful girl was breached with disbelief. And her image: merely a shadow in night.

Anyway, I don’t believe if belief. To be frank, I am scared to put this in words.

She will certainly ask: Are you still busy?

A shoddy image

A shoddy image,
The weight of isolation and some wishes.
Don’t look around,
You won’t find the shadow.

Her photograph; I scanned and it latched an overwhelming part of my present. May be it wanted back all she could have had, or may be it wanted to suggest that I can start all over again by taking a look around…may be because, it displays the life. This was a shoddy image with all the imitations on life and I (most of the time) couldn’t see what’s right in front of me. Her face!

Yesterday night, I was trying to keep a balance on myself. I measured my tummy. It’s fat. I rather gently pressed my wrist (I am recovering from weakness – a sort of illness). My pulse beats fast. It’s bad. Pretty bad! My first presumption was: I am crazy, a rather rude fellow; who knows nothing more than the self. All the deficiencies and her face, my pillow and how she would hold my hand...that was also a part of that shoddy image. Damn it. This maniac brain has to stop thinking. Or else, I will have to cover myself with all her images…pretty and beautiful, all.

Against the wall, there is a calendar. I wondered what could each day say, or rather the anniversary! I do sure understand all the markings in the diary and each memoirs have all the glimpses. But none of us prepared. Both of us risked too much for comfort and I feel a little surreal to live in this emptiness called life. I took the plunge and the mistake was all evident in the photograph. It has become a ritual.

Yesterday night, I was a specimen
And the images of gifts and limbs,
They all scattered.
But, it was dark
And each moment were long
And my mask floats in the sky.
I wanted to sleep,
But the shoddy image
Caught the glimpses shrouded in the cacophony of loneliness.

No words for me!

Tonight, something isn’t quite right. Along the passages of unknown phrases, I wished to pour in some words. But they didn’t come up good. I couldn’t understand a single line doing me favor. It’s hard time for me…nights without dreams, and words without meaning.

I was thinking if we can meet again. And look, what has come up: irrelevant self; finds myself mistaken for someone else and seem lost off my fundamental expectations. I wanted to meet someone. I know I am too weak to pretend myself being happy alone. I can’t be alone. Living alone is also a form of decadence. It leads oneself to think that we are sufficient to self. That’s not so. Life will be a scurrilous song if you can’t include a line for that someone.

Anyway, let’s see if these few words can copulate.

Let’s meet again, for all that more. I have borrowed this line from somewhere. But couldn’t use much, anywhere! Let’s meet. It’s so simple a sentence to carry the burden of the aching hearts. Let’s meet; once did she promise me thus. But it’s yet to happen.

If I were to wait for the promise to fulfill, I should have also known that promises can also be broken; either way. Better for me, she didn’t recognize the subsequent meetings as me. And how do I consider it was fulfilled for she wanted to see me as another human being, not as me, I, as used to be. But, I was me as usual.

It’s dust.

An ordinary day:
It didn’t rain; only a brief sunshine with
Lots of dusts!

I walk an ordinary road, with
Lots of dusts!

I live an ordinary life, with
Lots of dusts!

In an ordinary day,
All the dusts in the world conspire
All the dusts in my world unite…

Let’s treat courteously;
Let’s all be evident to life:
It’s dust.

If I had only dreams,
You were all I could relate to.

In my dreams,
In specks, I see you.

May be that’s how dreams we see.

It’s dust.

I need somebody like you!

It seems to me,
I need somebody like you.
It seems to me,
I need someone other than myself.

All these while,
I cared for myself
And worried:
Will it pass like ungenerous fortunes?

It seems to me,
I need somebody like you.

Not always!

You know,
I was worried about my lost faith
And blame myself for the fool that I was!

But every time I see you,
I think I need you.

It’s like touching a nip,
It’s like a drink.

Little far away,
In the stream, in the shoal
My steps match yours
And I left them to settle in the cool breeze.

It seems to me,
I need somebody like you.

Thoibi, another name I want to forget!

After a brief hiatus, here I am again, with some blurts. What have transpired in between, that’s quite disturbing to ponder upon. But, as usual, the order has been restored again, with the coming of another summer. I do wonder about seasons. I do remember the order of life…the beginning and the end and the beginning again. Though, somehow, it may not conjunct with what we have wanted to believe it to be.

Anyway, this summer will be spent remembering a name. Thoibi. And who knows: it may be a name, nobody wants to believe in?
I am a habitual serotine. I am late. I am late with everything. It took me for so long, so long, to call a name as Thoibi. This is a name sprinkled with the essence of truth and beauty. This has been always a name with profound opportunities. But with so many artificial ambiguities, I could not have conceived more than a mere word that sounds like a recursive abuse.

And the order is, I have able to save the name. Off course, I want to forget this name!

In between…

In between, a mackled strip continues to exist…I could not imagine having lost the very sight of my existence, though the acceptance of the fact is very much a daunting task for the soul. Sometimes, bereft with a sense of loss (obviously unknown) and the restrained (don’t know what), I tried to provoked myself to continue living. There are enough of malefactors, its life! There is no dearth of chances, this is also life! So, I tell myself thus: “Beware of yourself! Don’t listen to its fickle proclamation that life is not worth a pain.”

Look at the subsequent menologies:

1. Today, I am writing this piece of shit,
2. Wondering about all the possibilities of reading this piece with new morning, each day, and
3. Here are strong chances that I will yet again write another medley of words.

Then, I will try to see if its all clear in the welkin. No clouds.

Dreams!

Having survived a torrent of inconsequential rumors about me being death, today I conspire to live another day. Those rumors were ugly as myself and my life. They made feel me rather useless. But, still, I don’t think that worst is over, for I know I am still alive.
Unlike a living day, my dreams have all the clues about life. There were hardly any dream that didn’t unravel the hidden theme of life. In my dreams, I see myself as a strong person, making all the sacrifices that I can make. There, the sordid presence of my conscience alarms me and no more I am in dream. I have always wished to make some sacrifices towards life. Sometimes it seems superfluous talking about life and sacrifices, but the fact is that both broth.