The rain kept pattering in the dark.
The silence of death broken by its shrill; yet uncoordinated whispers,
as if it is retelling a secret...
Can you hear it?
Do you see the stars in the dark night sky?
The ones to tell you that the day shall come.
And you dream of a future,
with a smile on your face.
Lost from the broken reality that haunts;
Your day, your every breathing second. The more you try
to escape, the slower you run.
And yet listening to the pitter patter of the rain,
you smile to yourself.
Thinking this time around you can make it through some.
While some shall fail, some more shall give in.
To the pressures of the pathos, you pray with all your heart.
That faith of yours which you have polished with care,
Each evening, every day, standing
at the threshold of your dreams
where they were brokem.
It all still lies in vain.
For the one has left the building.
The Angels no longer care.
Your dreams and hopes of a new beginning
lay there at the pier like a broken man's cry.
They sound, but don't matter.
Changed but can change no more.
And yet you stand here at the end of the beginning.
Asking yourself, if you can hold your faith some more?
Can you still hear the pattering of rain?
In the darkness of the night, while life breathes no more?
Sakhi
For those who have read the Mahabharata or are even remotely familiar with the tale shall know that Draupadi was renowned as the ‘Sakhi’ to Krishna. And Krishna? the effervescent ‘Sakha’ to his Panchali. Over the eons of years, all that we get to infer from the term was ‘friends’. Krishna, the ‘Sakha’ or the ever-present ‘friend’ to Draupadi. But does the word ‘Sakha’ only mean a friend?
The first time when I had read the tale of ‘Mahabharata’, I was intrigued by this very thought. I pondered vehemently, who was my ‘Sakha’ then? In this world, where every acquaintance begs to be names, renamed and identified, who exactly is a ‘Sakha’?
Can it not be my family like my mother? or my brother? or is the term ‘Sakha’ that effortlessly bypassed that they imbibe no more than a simple definition of being a ‘friend’ or a ‘childhood partner’?
Is that all there is? When faced by this question, I was merely dumbfounded. That answer lay right in front of me and yet not in sight.
Are we born for relations or because we are born that we form a relation. Am I a ‘daughter’ because I was born to my parents or rather, because I was born, I formed a relation of daughterhood wit hmy parents. Because I was born, I went on to become someone’s friend, sister, mother or even lover. Someone’s identity. But then, did I go on to become someone’s Sakhi? A lost wisp of childhood benevolence and good wishes or just something more than that? And if not, then why?
In this world of platonically physical relations, where the name exists as long as this body exists, is it really not fragile to say that the relation of a ‘Sakhi’ and ‘Sakha’ are only bound to the mortal realms?
Or maybe it is time to redefine the name and in term the relations a bit. ‘The one who is a part of my happiness and grief’ or rather, ‘the one who greets me to happiness or Sukh’ is my Sakha? Maybe then I too can say that I am the Sakhi to my mother, my brother, my father, my friend, my lover and maybe much more or much less.
Maybe that is what Krishna was to his Sakhi Draupadi – everything. The embodiment of her happiness, love, peace and identity personified and yet nothing at all. Not bounded by the mortal definitions of relations.
Who has been your Sakha / Sakhi in your life? Let me know in the comments.
Dear Love
Why could I not kiss you?
Why could I not feel your lips? Pressing against the cold soft skin;
The one guised behind a smile like a lisp.
Why could I not look into your eyes and moan;
The sweet relief of love; Of moments treasured!
Why could I not feel your breathe?
Heaved between your release; As you moaned your freedom.
Why did I keep looking into your eyes?
Searching for a semblance of the emotions I felt;
And yet could not simply close my mind,
And kiss you till the time forbade?
Why? Oh Why? Did I fail to adore,
The present over feelings;
The real over life!
The one who lost since the beginning;
Still standing alone in the dead of the night.
Why could I not pray your name?
In the blissful darkness as you called mine?
Why did I still keep waiting for you to give in
Knowing that there was no way to come back alive?
Why did I not stop my heart?
Play the needed role of charade;
Feel the thrust of life?
Why could I not kiss you again?
Why did I keep praying for your eyes to show the same love as mine?
A Prayer
Oh Holy Mighty High my Lord
Placed above the world so tall;
Can you shed your light down?
Hear the screams of the crowd?
How is that kind love of yours?
When thousands cry forthe loss of love?
When children die without a tear?
Before they can ever see the world?
How can that faith of your stands true?
When the world is busy in tearing a new?
And people no longer believe in life;
Their hands no longer shake in crime.
Oh Holy Mighty High my Lord
Placed above the Heavens all.
No longer can the Hell now choose;
For each soul is now damned by fools;
Whose lives are chosen by your Angels few?
To be saved forever for the Heaven's due?
When does your justice stand those to blame?
No longer when a child can be named?
Or when no longer does the rains come due;
It's only red that fills the hue.
Is that when finally you answer a prayer?
To be the Lord of the Holy Grail?
Then no longer is your faith required;
A bed of lies, its no longer trailed.
SO the Holy Mighty Highly Lord,
The one placed above so tall
No longer do I cross my heart;
In your name, on my word.
And no longer do I bow down my head,
For now I know the truth instead;
War
Oh how i wish that the day was over! The soldiers could then walk back to the trench. The sound of the empty shells gone sober, It would be the time to go home, my friend. And yet the land still burns, with the last vestiges of the war; A promise to draw blood, by the keepers of the Dark. And everybody seems to have forgotten, the small daisies smell; That still grows in the war land, unknown to the dangers that dwell. But for the sounds of the booming tanker, and the drumming of the guns; That paint her little petals red, like the crimson rays of the setting sun. Oh how I wish that the day was over! The soldiers could then walk back to the trench. The sound of the empty shells gone sober. The lost shall finally go home, my friend.
Things We Leave Behind
The empty rooms, the blank walls, The unwashed dishes, some unfinished verses, The sun rays peeking in through the blinds; Simple things that were left behind. The red lamp, the black diary, A coffee mug that was a dear gift, A call disconnected without any reason, the silence of an afternoon while; Simple things that were left behind. A friend living two floors down, a mate angered at a thousandth mile, Some hidden letters, the favorite jasmine tea, The coffee beans roasted in the grind; Simple things that were left behind. The fruity shampoo, the marked spot, The rack of unread books, the line of cassettes unheard, The collection of cola caps in an old pouch hidden from sight; Just some things to remember by. Simple things that were left behind. A side of the cupboard, the top drawer of socks, The other set of house keys, All these regalia, count to be too much. A half of a life left alive, Simple things that were left behind.
In search of Divine
How do you know the God?
In me.... in you.. the residing few;
How do you cherish the Divinity?
Cherish the Light deprived of rigidity?
How do you realize the moment, when you see a Miracle come to be?
And not ignore another accident, born out of consequences to be?
How do you let the Faith burn like a live fire, mightier than all?
And not let the gleam disappear, let Hope take the call?
For when I stand here tonight, having lost all that I cared for,
A broken being, a shadow of the former life,
I call upon with folded hands, the Divinity to save my soul,
From me, for I have lost the will and even Faith that had led me through,
And now only the rage remains;
Does the Divinity still come for me too?
And pull me out of this despair, forego me of my sins in blood.
Let me breathe in the same air, as those whom I had cursed and loved;
Does it still count me in their children?
Spare me the rod and call me their own?
How do I know when it's them, how do I know when to let go?
Or does the day, when I finally breathe, the last sweet breath of life,
Will be the day when it comes for me,
"Judgement awaits.." - it will whisper that night?
And take my Soul to the Lands of Glee,
And Death will no longer block my stride.
For is it only then that I will be freed, of this despair that gnaws at me each night?
So how do i really get to know God?
In me... in you... in the ones born new?
How do i cherish the Divinity?
Cherish the Light deprived of rigidity?
DEATH
Life is just a repetition of death every day; Being alive is just some moments that may come our way. Every day Death creeps in through the usuals of life; The usual waking, the usual sorrow, the usual moments of delight. They fail to makeus grow in some little way; Life is a repetition of death every day. We all run after the same goals; The same chapters of history! We are all running toward our death - To unravel the great mystery. The same dreams. The same chores. The same expectations from life. Death readily becomes a mate, When we say, "I'm just alive.. " It's in the only rare moments of courage and conscience.. When we don't let ourselves give up No matter the consequence; That one single second, When our heart skips a beat. On seeing someone desired, On feeling Love's heat.. When we let ourselves feel The small and inconsequentials of life; The smallest victory.. The change of season.. The forlorn cuckoo's cry... That Life takes a peak On our journey to death; And whispers gently in our ears, The secret of eternal time: Being alive is just some moments. Being dead is life
In Remembrance
So you committed suicide, huh? Ran away from life? Ran away from the existence, the breathe, the pathos, the happiness, The anxiety, the panic and the thousand other emotions That have forever failed to sum up the storm brewing inside you; Eating you up, draining your life, Making you question your very existence of your being, Letting you create your truth on a bed of lies; You took the easier way out - They said. Should have talked to someone - Some suggested. Should have still fought, crawled, craved, forced, Or at least yelled for help! But they will never know, you did just that. You did just that in your mind! But nobody saw, heard, smelt, anticipated or even assumed the bad, worse or even worst. They never assumed the truth behind your lies. You left behind some broken dreams too. You left behind some broken dreams, love, friendships, family, And maybe even a broken yet alive parent too. One that has to breathe even though his child has long stopped breathing. Has to know the truth, even though all he wants to do is curl up and forever live a lie. I bet you had dreams. I bet you had dreams, hopes, aspirations, goals, And maybe even impossible plans for your future, right? With your last breathe, did they too die? Did you take them with you, to the forever sky? But then, you did die. No matter what we say now. You have still died. And we could never stop you. We could never stop you, help you, hear you, ask you or know you, Or even have the chance to be there by your side. And you died. And now we keep saying, pleading, asking, Everyone that we meet, share, talk, love or know, To reach out if they feel depressed. If they feel anxious, panicked, deceived or barely alive. Reach out and let us know. Make promises to check up on more. But isn't that too little too late? For as we still continue the debate On how the illness continues to rampage; To maim, kill or injure the thousands out there; You still remain dead. Death has still triumphed Life. But still we shall keep trying in vain. Trying to make it up for with our efforts until the last breathe. Till one day, when you are alone again; And thinking of ending all again one night. A friend is there to reach at the nick of time, Hold your hands and let you breathe through the pain. Or call you up, incessantly, again and again, at the exact moment. Tell you that you're loved. That this is life. Knock on your door as a stranger or neighbor or both; And just let themselves in, share a real smile. And maybe then you would untangle the moose. Put off the thoughts for that one single night; Wait once more for the morning. The sunrise will help ease the struggle to breathe; And that day maybe, you shall not die. That day, Death shall be triumphed by Life.
THOUGHTS & NOTHING MORE
RIGHT NOW
Right when you are about to jump;
Up & above from the tallest fare.
Right when you’re ready to let go;
One final time, one final scare.
Every atom of your being feels broken inside;
You refuse to even look at your shadows behind.
The image in the mirror laughs back at you;
A bouquet of scarred dreams that came true.
Gained all but lost again, that’s how you feel;
Or never even was yours to begin with.
So you pretend now to care no more;
And try to hide your fears evermore.
And every second that you take a breathe;
You feel trapped inside your own head.
The lies you lived no longer make you smile;
A road to walk alone stares back in sight.
And so you’re standing tonight, on this ledge;
Preparing to take that plunge ahead.
Ready to let go for once in life;
Or let the fears chase you down the height.
Just take a breathe & close your eyes;
Step back for once to clear the mind.
For as long as you breathe, you still have a chance;
A chance to try to right the wrongs.
THE SOUND OF MUSIC
The Sound of Music carried through the night,
Piercing the silence that cloaked the citylights.
Faint thrum of strings to create a symphony,
That pained the hearts of the sleepless many.
Reminded them of all those that fell,
In the war that at last concluded with the day.
Their luck burnt out before another breathe,
The melody reminded them of those who were.
It seemed to remind the living few,
Their loss & tears, we’re still to be stopped.
For they had just gained a day, but ages remained,
Before they could hear the last call of war.
And once more be united with the lost soldiers,
The painful melody in the silent night a reminder.
Words From A Lost Soul 