Talking to self the other day

The smile is old yes
I can see
The invisible mirror
In the darkness
Shines brighter than the full moon

My tears are new
On this damp chilly night
Nurturing a warmth
like a pearl
feeling safe in the embrace of
a ravaging ocean

The world looks like a ghost town
Under a starless sky
Where upon I walk
An Adam yearning for his Eve
I run my fingertips
over my ribs

Can’t get her off my chest.

The absurdity of convention

When I was a school boy I read somewhere “ Education is a way of life. Not a preparation for life.” And listening to some of the elders speak all these years I have come to the conclusion that education breeds ignorance. What education teaches us is nothing but how to disguise our real thoughts. It teaches us to conceal rather than to reveal ourselves. There is a significant difference in being educated and in being learned.

Unfortunately, there have been only a handful of men in the history of mankind whom we could really call learned. The fundamental organ for real learning is not the head but “a heart”. A big heart. A heart that beats the loudest. A heart that sings. A heart that suffers and cries. Not for oneself but for the whole of mankind.

But most times when we hear our elders speak, I feel as if they still psychologically belong to the animal kingdom but instead of barking or howling use language/words to communicate. How often are we true to our words? Does words really communicate what exists in our mind?

We use words as a weapon because as a race we are cowards. And our ego is born out of this cowardice. Like a little boy who sings loudly while walking through an empty dark alley.

Schools condition us. Socially. And this comes at an expense no parent ever calculates. It comes at the cost of the innocence of childhood. It comes at the cost of replacing imagination with intellect.

Now what is an intellect? Its nothing more than an accumulation of fixed thoughts, ideas, rules,regulations founded and derived to control an individual. It’s a hub of data. Nothing more. One can be in awe of the intellect but can’t be moved by it.

And what about individuality? The individual is forever lost. Like “dodos”. Killed yet there is not a drop of tear in anyone’s eye. We no more believe in ourselves. And there in lies the source of our misery. We believe our parents, our relatives, our teachers , our friends…all except ourselves. How is it possible that two human beings can have the same experience? Yet we are taught life as per the experience of others. And like a retard, we follow everything taught to us. Its only a few realized souls who understand life per se. Most do nothing but mimic their parent. And they call that life! In the world of technology, it would be called “photocopying.”

Our lives are nothing more than a photocopy. We are born. We get educated. We fornicate. We marry. We fornicate. We work. We fornicate. We eat. We fornicate. We sleep. We fornicate. We shit. We fornicate. We breed. We fornicate. And yet…sex is a sin.

The other day I witnessed a couple of women in my colony throwing stones at a pair of dogs who were copulating in the middle of the road as these friendly animals often do. Their children were with them. But how can one justify these women’s fear of answering to their kids giggling questions about a biological phenomenon with this act of violence? Isn’t that what is being taught here?

The breeding ground for present day terrorism is not the “ madrassas” or fundamentalist islam, it is the fundamental/genetic flaw in all of us. Its merely that the terrorists are men of action. How may of us have not thought about killing or blowing off someone in our thoughts? The degree of cowardice vary. That’s all.

Nobody is taught to love.

Everything else is taught. A sense of belonging to a family. To a community. To a caste. To a religion. To a state. Self centeredness. Greed. Ambition. The significance of money. The significance of power that comes through money. Everything is taught.

Except how to love. Conventionally, love is but a need in today’s times. I remember a girl to whom I was attracted to once telling me that she would prefer a guy who would need her than love her. I still remember her for her honesty.

And I still love her.

This lack of love is because of the rising popularity of reason. Love is beyond the realm of reason and hence not understandable. One can reasonably philosophize logic, mathematics, language but love???

To understand love one needs the grace of divinity. And that divinity is to be found in a child. A child that we kill in our quest for bondage.

How absurd are we humans? We have freedom within our grasp and yet….

Long live tradition! Long live ignorance! Long live cowardice!

Zarathustra's Roundelay-by Friedrich Nietzsche

O man, take care!
What does the deep midnight declare?
"I was asleep—
From a deep dream I woke and swear:
The world is deep,
Deeper than day had been aware.
Deep is its woe;
Joy—deeper yet than agony:
Woe implores: Go!
But all joy wants eternity—
Wants deep, wants deep eternity.

Thoughts at dusk

A pandemonium of vehicle sounds
A gust of dust
An “azaan” that pulls the strings of the heart
A plate of hot kababs
Policemen with hanging bellies
Goats readied to be sacrificed
Onions and “pudina”
A dash of “Sprite” and a pair of “paav”

Moslem men with Moslem beards
Other men with other beards
Women in “burkas” women in skirts
Beauty parlors for gents and ladies
Ogling rickshaw drivers
Lampposts and prostitutes
Non discriminating wine shops
And an “azaan” that pulls the strings of the heart

We live in times when we
Human beings have all the answers
I suddenly realize I have none
And feel relieved
I have no questions too
Since I learned to have faith
In me and
In God

It’s the strength of ignorance that corrupts
Making us live in an illusory world of sanity
Reality is madness
And the power of love
Like the “azaan” that pulls the strings of the heart
And the crescent moon on the night sky
I kneel at the junction humbled
And build a mosque

Disconnected

“ The Vodafone number you have dialed has been temporarily disconnected.”

I look at the receiver and dial the number once again.
This time very cautiously. Pressing the numbers harder than the first time.

Once again I hear the same message- “ The Vodafone number you have dialed has been temporarily disconnected.”

I hold on longer and hear the same message being repeated in hindi.

I hang up.

I look at the phone. I smile.
And its my smile that pinches my heart.

I sit down. Recompose myself by ordering a cup of tea.
I walk towards the work area of the bakery. See the boys working there listening to an old hindi film song on the radio.

They look at me and smile. A tray of fresh cookies surfaces from the oven.
A fresh tear from my eye.

My heart – Fahrenheit 451.

My smile like a nagging wife reminds me that this love is going to consume me.

I look at my phone again. Feel sorry for it. It had its day. And not so long ago when it would receive and send messages to her. Then there were other times when it had been courted by her sweet “hellos” and mellifluous voice.

All that now seem like “ Once upon a time…”

Old loves do not end up at archeology departments. You find them first lying on a psychiatrist’s couch and later sitting blankly in a mental asylum.

My wifey smile with great effort reminds me once again that right now I am sitting with a blank look on my face.
I close my eyes and see cookies and biscuits baking inside of me. I open my eyes and my tea arrives.

One of the bakery boys comes over and hands me a cookie. I thank him and take a bite.
It tastes like my tear.

I look at her number on my phone.

“ Should I erase it?”- a question arises.
Like she has erased me from her life.

I decide against it. At least I have her number. Her old number. Her defunct number. Yet her number.

Sometimes all that would remain at the end of this journey might be this number.

A defunct number that connects to my heart.
A disconnected number that rings up my dreams

I return to my smile. Finish my cup of tea and sing along with the old hindi film song being played on the radio.

“ Woh shaam kuch ajeeb thi…yeh shaam bhi ajeeb hai…woh kal bhi paas paas thi….woh aaj bhi kareeb hai…”

Tenderness

How fortunate is the morning dew
to see the rising sun
how merciful is the sun
that sucks her into his rays

One is happy to kill
The other happy to die
All in the name of love.

Think of the destiny of the morning dew if the sun had left her alone?
And how could the sun have quenched his thirst for his heart to burn?

The sun is not there to illuminate himself.
And the morning dew dies for the sake of her beloved.

All in the name of love.

I have been so wrong

I have been so wrong once again.
And to think that this time I was so sure that I was right!
O my ego! O my conditioning! O my past!
You have been misleading me for so long

The path that I tread is slippery
If at all I am hanging on is ‘cause am quite kind to myself
Or else I would have long disappeared into the black hole of self pity.

I bite my nails and fondle my crotch
See, my hands are full

I need to wash my hands off for a resurrection.

The gift of void

Strike me dead, my little princess, if I trespass into your memory.
Strike me dead, my little princess, if my heart whispers in your solitude.

Like a snake I have coiled around all memorable moments we shared
Strike me dead, my little princess, if a word ever raises its head.

Holding the moon in my palm I had traveled towards the sun
Strike me dead, my little princess, if the moon fails to light up tonight.

I kneel and pray but my prayers do not have wings
Strike me dead, my little princess, my infidel heart sings!

Every moment like a mirror reflects your face to me
Strike me dead, my little princess, if you ever pass by me.

I have painted the walls of my house in the colors of your smile
Strike me dead, my little princess, if ever a tear drops from your eye.

I have stalked love like the night that stalks the day
Strike me dead, my little princess, and free my love today.

Zone

I find myself in a strange zone
Where I am happy to be alive
And yet
would be happy to die too

In love even moments cease to exist.

A little love
A little kindness
A little hug
A little magic

She gifted me the universe on a platter.
She gifted me my eyes
So now I can see myself

In pain hides the soul of happiness
Burn –
Jump into the fire and burn!


One does not have to always swim to cross a river.

Jump!

And be happy.

The bottom is the zenith

Drown!

And be happy.

In love one cease to exist.

I love those nights

There are certain nights which are brighter than the day. On such nights instead of the moon I see your smile on the sky. I love those nights.

I love those nights when the stars wither and fall off like autumn leaves from the sky. Or like snow in winter.

Those nights I swirl like a dervish intoxicated by my own singing veins. And my heart echoes a hymn I composed for you the previous moment.

Those nights are so bright that my lips turn into the reddest of roses.
The nightingale yodels and breaks open its centuries old cage and flies off like a meteor from the earth and soars and soars defying gravity.

Setting a new record in flying.


I love those nights because your memories seduce me and encourage me to make love to that beautiful moment where my heart touch my soul.
And my imagination like a rudderless ship sails into an ocean of a fairy tale.

I love those nights my little princess. I love those nights when you kiss me good night and you are still a thousand mile away.