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.

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 abled to save the name. Off course, I want to forget this  name!

Alone!

When I was alone
Nothing did shone
Along the fields that left me unknown;
When I was lonely
Everything did fly
Along the galleys that invite me unseen.
On the whole,
As an incurable faith
I was destined to live
Live a life:
Life of inseperable destitute
Amidst unbound fortune of trust.
When I was alone
I did promised a million servitude.
 

But,
Once I was left bereaved,
Those promises often tease me
Saying:
“A curse,
Of being loved
And a million trust”.
But,
Nobody knows:
I was alone,
Alone,
All these while.
Now,
I am still alone
Knowing that, “Nothing did ever tempted
Other than the faith
And the promise to live”.

Another Epithat On Life!

Shadows walking like simulated phantoms
And trails of never ending thirst!
How enduring a faith could be,
That asked for each soul to relieve the phantoms?
How fascinating a proposition could be,
That promised each shadow redemption?
It stop a while;
That stop a while.
Collectively they make a moment to cherish!
When you don’t know how to quell the thirst,
It certainly counts like a moment that stood still;
When the age-old promise withers
It may instigate the age-old believe of hope.
But everytime,
These shadows walked past me
I condemn myself:
‘Another epithat on faith’.
I know though
That was obviously unknown to me!

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!

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!

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.

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!

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!

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!