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.

The Fenced Wood (First Draft…First Installment)

Time stood standstill, yet the desire for the eternal servitude drives the lost soul for a lifetime. It was late in the night and little early for an early morning walk; she was alone seeking company in the mirage that reflects in the far away firmament, for she has never been part of it. A sudden rupture of emotional outburst compelled her to take a hiatus, a break from the daily routine of self-assessment. She did perform all sorts of self-awakening exercises, indeed, to reaffirm herself that she is still alive. That very moment, she wishes to halt a bit so that she could nourish her soul, again, so that she could count another moment as her own.

My dear, life, when it seeks unknown reasons to testify the living, many a gratitude seems minute and irrelevant to count. There, she was alone counting every single second and letting the moment pass by for the grandeur that we called life. In fact, she wanted to thank few. She wished to express her gratitude to all. But there were none. At times, it seems shadows were all she could communicate with!

And the usual glimmer that she got to see in the far away realm of fenced wood, looked like her lost companion. Though it has no definite shape yet it reflects an image that her heart yearns to see. Sometimes, the very sight seems forbidden for human senses. And it is only the heart that knows the recluse. Whenever got the chance, she tried hard to make a glimpse out of the outline so that she could conjure up her favourite image that she desperately wanted to see. But it was like imitating her lost faith. It hovered there, just a glimmer. May be that was the only glimmer of hope!

The fenced wood, that divides the gap between two lost worlds of her solitude and unbound prospect of companionship, never allowed her to settle down. It’s not that she didn’t try to make it more profound, but it never happened. Every now and then, the thirst for the unseen quest drove her inner self to becalm the senses; it was like embalming the decease and asking the body to react at every single thrust of the incisor. She was confused.

She still remembered the first meeting. She wanted and even tried to forget but the first meeting is first meeting, always. It lingers too long for a lifetime. It was indeed the flame that burnt her world. And she was still there among the debris, collecting bits and pieces of the past. And of course considering herself one amongst them! No complaints though. She knew it well that she allowed it to happened; and happen it for the worst. But deep inside her heart, the pain that culminates from the constant reminder of the separation resides heavily. It knows no sympathy and she knew no compromise. May be it played its part yet asking for more.

That day, nothing extraordinary happened. Morning was calm as usual and everything occurred to routine. May be extraordinary was waiting for its chance. While composing a note on the daily chores of being a lonely girl, she wanted to take a long walk and talk to herself.

Time was 5:00 in the evening, perfect for a lonely stroll. She did. Happy she was with herself, thinking a walk and little soliloquy will do wonders to her rather mundane life that barely produce sparks. The beauty of a burning flame and the occasional sparks that poke out randomly, that’s the sight she always wanted to see. A bonfire, she thought would be perfect for the evening and susurrus of falling leaves in the backdrop. Life, when alone, needs sparks and rhythm of heartbeat to rejuvenate it. Yes, the lull, the gap, the break, it all have their say. But what is life without occasional turbulences. This was how she consoled herself. And in her case, turbulence was, most of the time, not within her control. Now she was alone; being alone is also a form of turbulence that might engulf better part of the life. She talked to herself. Fire needs fuel. The very next moment she was collecting woods and unknowingly she was collecting fuel for a fire that she might not be able to douse in her lifetime. The moment was ripe and she was alone.

Something struck hard in her forehead. It was bleeding. It cannot be just another fortuitous accident. Blood cannot bleed by chance. Something has to disturb the flow, external or internal. Blood can ooze out, it can drain or even it can just drip. The rate may vary, but it’s for sure, the life giving fluid is leaving her at its own will.


(Will Continue…)

Now and Then!

Then,
I was a small kid,
With many a wish for playful evenings!
I had time and
Saw the Sun goes down
And the twinkling of stars;
Just before bedtime.
It all happened in a moment,
And today,
I am in the brink of another childhood
And wonder,
How long it will last?
Yesterday night;
It leant on my back,
And I did posed like a chiseled statue
In its pursuit for eternal recognition!
Much to the dismay of its own stature,
The seesaw
That saw children grow up
And withered with time,
Was leaning on me
And was crumbling by itself;
May be my childhood was tumbling again
Onto myself,
But not to sure about the changes it had brought upon,
With the changing of time:
Now,
The seesaw wants another shoulder to lean on!

Smell Of Flesh!

That was unusual:
The smell of flesh,
The sight of charred bodies,
And the numbed senses;
I hate that!
Some glorified paths
That followed whims of unknown fanatics,
And the sermons of reconciled souls;
It seems:
Everybody sees it and
Enjoyed the chagrin
To the lamentation of each day,
It seems:
Everybody repents knowing enough
The forbidden truth
That we ought not followed!
Today,
As I pray a while
All the roads lead to the temple of the Sorrow,
All the souls cry a curse for jealousy,
And in the midst,
I see chariots burnt to chars
And the God being heaved for religions.
I hate that.
My heart was pure
And body pious;
But today,
While I was praying,
Everybody cried:
“Bloodied hands,
And soaked cloak”,
And I couldn’t bow.
I shouldn’t favour the countenance,

But my heart said:
“You are still a kid
And kids don’t pray”.
But everybody swears by God!

Ten Or Something!

“Ten or something”
Very fragile,
In perpetual hunger
And no dignity;
I saw thus!
I had the age of ten
I was once fragile with hunger.
And today,
Dust and fume
And hatred,
Thus he is fragile;
On the roadside,
I saw thus!
The canopy that hump overhead,
He sees an umbrella,
A shade in the heat of civilization
And he counts the feeble grass stalks
That stood with the soot
And compares in grudge
Every leaf with his tender finger”.
When the vehicle screeched,
His eyes galloped to my jaundice sight and
Representing both infidels
Asking the reason for the hunger,
Yet I was alone,
On my way to office!

Death!

I was single.
No shadow, nothing.
Today, I have a truck full of enemies:
Each one ready to grab my thirsty throat
And slit with the hatred that laughs
At my faith!
There will be mimicries
And hoarse complaints;
But I will be an imitation on life
And the faith will be a parody.
The conviction that preaches
The ownership of life and its purpose,
Sometimes paints the inevitable
And asks:
“Are you afraid?”
I have no answer.
I was alone and
Shadows will betray the faith.

Demise!

She came calling me
And asked about the parenthesis of life;
I had no clue and hugged her a lifetime,
The moment seemed an eternity.
May be that was a period.
There was a time, spent with laughter:
She was around and beautiful abound.
After a Period,
Everything was vociferous and without colour.
May be that was also a period.
I didn’t know that she was tired
And wished to rest a while,
I didn’t know that she was engaged
And wanted to live a while.
But I, as usual selfish and
Ignored her the shroud that shield her world
From countless wheels that lurk like time machines do!
I was cruel,
Not to let her feign a life
When she always wanted was love.
Her tired body and the eminence of engagement
Did release me from the whispers she brought
When I remember her!
But the cremation and betrothal,
They trussed my age in her shadow.
She came calling me
And asked if time will still stand still
When I wait for,
And asked if I will still clutch her
When she wishes to fly?
Now,
Time is freak and doesn’t wait for a period.
May be this is the full-stop;
The end of me
While everything else’s all her reminiscence!

Lyrics Of A Lonesome Soul!

Gazing the ever spreading night
And its deafening darkness,
I was alone…
Feeling the far reaching arms of time
And the consequences of being a conduit,
I was alone…
Few lyrics of a lonesome soul
Few drops of isolated tears;
And the night,
They all conspire in allegiance
Only for a life,
Less lived and compromised!
Illicit contempt
And scornful disgrace;
How well they portray the ally
Who stood inside the disdained mirror?
A committed opportunist
And a fragile coward;
How well they favour the scandal
That minced every piece of sermon?
Falling stars
And whispers of departed souls,
They disturb me “my sojourn”
Indeed the night is deafening!