Final Stand

Silently we sit, staring down at the menu on the table,
The gaze is firm, but the mind is not yet stable,
In one quick scoop, our hands desperately grab,
Holding down the menu, I let my modesty take a stab.

Your vision begins to blur, when the tears form a cloud,
And every single drop, is an unspoken word, crying aloud,
We finally manage to order, the first mutual conversation,
Sadly, the words brought back memories, void of expectation.

But today, we both decide to give our emotions a voice,
A chance to correct the consequences of a wrong choice,
Sometimes the words just need to be out in the open,
True communication begins only when the heart is open.

So we let the words out, in a torrential flow,
Neither of us caring, to allow the tide to slow,
It is only when neither of us is able to follow,
That we pause to question, why they sound so hollow.

We found nothing that really justified the hate,
And nothing that revealed love’s unfortunate state,
With every thought laid bare, there only remained the distance,
And so we decided, to try and dissolve the resistance.

We both came alone, for this attempt at reunification,
And left together, each, holding the hand of separation,
Wondering whom it was, that we came to meet, us or separation,
Now all that is left, are the morbid formalities of reparation.

There isn’t a future for us, only a future for you and me,
But that night at the restaurant, we first saw the meaning of we,
People say distances can only be bridged when both the hearts are open,
We laugh in retrospect, some bridges are accidents waiting to happen.

This is one for the Gazebo, because i guess i will never see such a day. The poem is a versification of the restaurant scene at the end of the novel ‘Lightning‘. Although the novel has a happy ending, have changed it to a KB one because the novel’s ending cheats/disguises the actual KB ending with a happy one. So either ways, this one is about a couple who meet one final time at a restaurant to agree to separate.

Leaving Neverland

It never ceases to surprise, the emptiness that makes up the inevitable,
It teases, taunts, it makes a mockery of everything that is believable,
And it never goes away, morphing into a vacuum that feeds into itself,
For, the soul can only be torn away once, from this body, the self.

It all seemed a dream, since I never really woke up,
Woke up that is, before this charade of a game was up,
Funny, how these seconds steal their minutes from you,
And each minute conveniently forgets to remind you.

Times when you get so attached to the things that made you grow,
Are when you least realise, you love them more than you know,
So much so that you never really learn to accept the reality,
And resign to acknowledging separation as a definite possibility.

The first step, they said would always be the hardest,
I thought they were mocking, when I found it the easiest,
They were probably seeing it the wrong way all the time,
Because it was the last step that gave me the hardest time.

When the foot that is lifted, stubbornly refuses to fall,
In that fraction of a second when I take the final call,
I realise there never was, and never is, any hope of going back,
Every time that determination questions the courage I lack.

While the eyes are busy herding the crowded tears,
I am left alone, to confront new and unknown fears,
Fears of leaving the certain, venturing into the uncertain,
Fears of being unable to cope, unable to bear the pain.

And then it happened, my worst nightmares came true,
Though the signs were clear, miles before they became true,
I could never retrace my steps, as there was no turning back,
So I stand, in the battlefield, not knowing what to attack.

This one is for the Mirror. It deals with my apprehensions of getting into a ‘professional’ job and letting go of my reckless freedom. Not everyone notices that after you have placed your first foot in a new venture, there is still the last foot left in the previous venture. This poem is about that last foot, one that doesn’t want to rise. The one that makes change the hardest.

Songstress

For the first sunrise that heralded our day,
And showed us the future of a pair,
Let us carry that sunshine along our way,
And show it the future that we share.

For the first warmth that sprung from every word,
And made us fight for long over its true meaning,
Let us follow those words to when they were first heard,
And fill them over, with a whole new feeling.

For the first full moon that filled our night,
And took us for a free ride into fantasy,
Let us always move slowly within its sight,
And let it drink from our cup of ecstasy.

For the love that gave us both a chance,
And took us to places beyond this world,
Let us give that love another chance,
And bring it back into this forlorn world.

For the tears that cleared your vision and mine,
And made us want to wash away some memories,
Let us give those tears their own sorrow to divine,
And help them find their way back to those memories.

For the separation that introduced us to fear,
And made us experience the pain of being apart,
Let us prove to it that we are too dear,
And acknowledge how well it has played its part.

For the life that brought you to me,
And made our relation a reality,
Let us live it like it was meant to be,
And sing an ode of thanks to serendipity.

The Gazebo seems to be getting the title of the most crowded page ever since i joined a particular company. Wonder why this is so? 😀 This one is for all the things that bring two people together, and what those two people can do to repay those things.

Corridors

Walking away from today’s corridors devoid of light,
My chances of fully breaking free seem but slight,
Finally a flicker, the sunrays begin to draw myriad shapes,
While my mind is busy scripting one of its greatest escapes.

Although my shoulders sag, bogged down by ruthless time,
The heart hangs on, knowing memories are never past prime,
The anxiety, the anticipation only add to the confusion,
As life leaves me to wander, in search of an illusion.

Decades have passed since you’ve forgotten their meaning,
And so you decide to take a walk back into the beginning,
You take the first steps forward towards going back,
Wiping away the grime, whitewashing the memories now black.

As the black becomes whiter, and the uncertainty lighter,
The credibility intensifies, but hope grows no brighter,
But there is nobody beside to recollect those years,
To bring back yesterday’s laughter and share its tears.

The past walks through the window grill, mocking my desertion,
Bringing back haunting remembrances, attempting a diversion,
Challenging me to prove myself again,
By going barefoot through these ravines of pain.

Today the corridor is filled, with many more like me,
Playing the sunlight, played by sunlight, just like me,
Right behind the nearest door, my redemption looms,
While those still alone, peep into the empty rooms.

They find a clean blackboard, devoid of words,
Awaiting a chalkpiece, to etch out new worlds,
And those empty chairs of a hundred bygone dreams,
Where others will sit, to create tomorrow’s dreams.

This one has me stumped with a dilemma. Do I put it under Beacons because I was inspired by somebody, or under Mirror, because I experienced it myself, or under Gazebo because many others are experiencing it? Quite an amount of history this one has. To begin with, this one was yet another one that came to me, during those endless waits for employers to get free enough to interview me. However this happened not at the employer’s place but at the consultant’s place. I was sitting in the Dewdrop office waiting to be sent for the Dell interview when I had to wait for nearly 2 hours. As is the case I had brought my book along expecting such a wait.

The first thing that struck me was about a guy(my senior in college) who was in love with this girl, during college, apparently things didn’t go well, and atleast she called it quits. One year later, this girl came to the college to give her Wedding Card to a few lecturers, and co-incidentally the same day this guy also came to the college on some work. You should have seen his face when he heard about it, whiter than a blank sheet. I was in the class that day(yes, I sometimes did such a thing as sit in the class, when I got bored of bunking) and happened to see him dragging his feet along looking into one classroom after another, tears welling up, remembering the old days.

It would have been fine if this story had ended there. However a few days back I happened to go back to the college again on some work, and happened to walk past the classrooms, out of curiosity, out of nostalgia, I just looked in, and at that moment, that day flashed back in my mind again. Funnily it made me look back into the classroom trying to rewind my cassette of the same rooms, and I found things were different only at a very superficial level. More than anything, for me it was about those dreams that we all dream, of becoming somebody, of doing something, of getting somebody, and how after a while it mostly all fizzles out, probably doused by a liberal shower of reality. Yet those in those rooms never stop dreaming, probably because they don’t yet know, and maybe because dreaming is such a good thing after all. Perhaps it is the only thing that is ours to change whenever we want.

That about rounded off the story of how the concept came about. But the story doesn’t quite end there. What had happened in the Dewdrop office was merely the concretion of the concept and storyline itself, the actual lines and their interplay had to wait  for a while. Yesterday due to  sudden torrential rains, there was a power outage and by the time I got home it was already nearing midnight.  I don’t know why, but I got a wild idea, and decided to try it out. Probably because I wanted to complete this one and found myself ‘power’less,  I remembered those history textbooks I had read which said people like Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar studied under the streetlight and  cleared the IAS exams and so on. I decided to try something on those lines. But unfortunately even the street lights were out, so I had to settle for the next best alternative, vehicle headlights.

I was sitting with the book in my lap in the busstop, and whenever a vehicle passed by, I would get to write about 3 or 4 words a line. The rest of the time I would spend thinking about the continuation or the next line. Just when I had got a portion of some line, a vehicle would pass by providing just enough light to put down those words. That was also fine until the clock neared midnight, and the vehicles got very scarce if any at all. So I packed up, came home and with the last bit of battery left in my cell brought it to a conclusion by getting it out of standby every 10 seconds that its backlight went into power-saving mode. No sooner had I finished it, within 5 minutes, the power came back. Guess some things are meant to be out of the ordinary.

Oblivion

Walking amidst the sights, I nearly felt myself lost,
Gypsies all around, selling trinkets at an enviable cost,
The sun was just beginning to rise over the last tent,
Such an aura of heavenly joy to this beautiful day it lent.

I strolled, from stall to stall, searching, expecting the ethereal,
Somehow, it seemed to me, nothing was any farther from the real,
Atleast I thought I believed so, until the moment I set eyes on her,
Frozen stiff, I wondered how people could pretend not to bother.

My feet pushed me, forcing me to join everyone in the play,
The more they tried, the more detached I got from the fray,
My mind couldn’t have been more still, in such a stormy water,
My body, just tiring, from a day that was getting slowly hotter.

She was looking at a curtain, seemingly admiring the intricate lace,
While trying to push back her hair, which was slowly taking over her face,
By doing so, she gave me the first complete glimpse, of her face,
Maybe this was what they called distortion of reality, of time and space.

I got so close, I could almost hear her, and her infectious laughter,
Whatever the reason, it was surely something my heart was after,
She moved on, leaving me behind, soaking in her fragrance,
Floored, somehow, standing as I was, was an effort in pretense.

Sometimes, I felt she might turn back, catch me staring,
But some reproaches, despite the joy, are worth bearing,
Sadly, happily, she just walked on, oblivious to the world, to me,
Years away now, her enduring smile, is the only thing I can still see.

History, they say, repeats itself. So here I am, back to Aparna, guess the while has again come a full circle. Guess these Beacons never give up. Although I would have wished that this episode was true in its entirety. It is however not so only on one point, there was no Aparna in it. That however is only what lets me take the imagination to the next level, everytime I remember it.

This was an incident that happened when I happened to visit an exhibition, and found one girl who kept smiling more as the day got hotter. All around her, people were getting more irritable with the passage of the day, and here was one woman, who seemed to derive more happiness as the day moved on, it was as if she drank in the day. Though I long left the purpose of my visit there and simply spent the day following her, just looking at her, she was, it seemed, oblivious to everything, specially the likes of me, lost in her own world. Hence the title. Makes me remember Aparna, everytime I recall that smile(since the event was long ago, I can no longer recall her face, only that permanent smile, so it makes it all the more easier to transpose that with Aparna.

Delirium

Silently through the night, her formless hands creep,
Searching, feeling for him, through the lands of sleep,
The darkness around, its not an easy rival to win,
So, finding him, she waits, for the right time to begin.

She knocks on the door, knocks on every window,
He ignores her and sleeps, but she just won’t let go,
She continues to bang the windows with her incessant silence,
And so it turns into a battle between each one’s patience.

She knocks, he sleeps, till even sleep deserts him,
Both sleep and his patience, they abandon him,
Left with no choice, he wakes up, and opens the door,
For, this morning, he has lost, he can fight no more.

Forced, beyond his control, he decides to co-operate,
How far she will follow, he cannot even estimate,
She is beside him, above him, around him, all along the way,
She prodded him, cajoled him, and kept him in the fray.

Every second she is around, is his daytime,
And without her, he knows not, any other time,
They talk, they discussed, they argued, all in silence,
Their laughter, tears, they know not the difference.

With every single footstep, she grows more younger,
With every single stride, his feet get more stronger,
Once arisen, he no longer has any sleep to forsake,
And unable to sleep again, is he ever awake?

This one is dedicated to Snigdha(another one for the beacons). Not for what she is, but for what she represents. She has such an uncanny resemblance, that seeing her laugh, brought back memories of two people whom i had last seen in March 2004 and March 2005 respectively. Though i know what they are doing today, and though i see  both of them whenever i want in my mind’s eye, just closing my eyes and walking with them, yet, seeing her laugh brought back those memories of watching those two persons laugh, the twinkle in their eyes.

Though this is one for the Beacons, ihave deliberately not put her photo for 2 reasons,
1. I don’t have her explicit permission to do so.
2. Just seeing her photo may lead many of you to realise the March 2005 person i was talking about(too much of a risk).

Although there were quite a few already completed and ready for posting like Icarus and Santorini, i decided that this must be a quick job, and went to work on it today morning. Since it is another of those zombie abstract styled ones, most of you might feel this as utter non-sense. If you feel so please let me know, will be glad to clarify. Because there are more than 3 layers to it, and it would satisfy me if such over-complexity simplified should not be understandable.

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