The Eyes

Full many a path had I tread

Till the edge of the dark forest

And each time overwrought by the mist

Would I return morose but hopeful

Those gloomy recesses had stirred

Within me an unforeseen desire

To venture into the uninviting depths

I had only but myself to overcome

Till finally stung by a grave wrong

I plunged fearlessly into them

Heedless of even the great Medusa

No mere gaze could now turn me to stone

And then at last I beheld them

Those twin pools of gray-green

Seething with gravity yet full of mischief

Dripping with sorrow yet kind and inviting

The most beautiful sight I had ever seen

All my woes suddenly seemed forgotten

I only wished to stare at the misty depths

Even Father Time seemed vanquished

I emerged a converted believer

Change is ephemeral

Curiously enough there is little discontinuity in life. It potters down familiar paths, looping and winding along with very few surprises springing up. Always? Well maybe not...

When Romulus founded Rome he is supposed to have made a remark when he sighted 12 vultures in the eastern sky that Rome would be the most powerful empire for all of 12 centuries. But then it would lose all its' glory and fall. And fall it did reeling after one barbarian attack after another, toppling away, burying the decadence of its' people. So did the proud Incas and Mayas, so did Alexander, Egypt...You name it.. history is littered with failures..one to match every glorious triumph.

Some call it the law of averages. Others the hand of destiny. I guess one never knows. But there are these fundamental changes which wreck life apart. They can alter everything. What you believe in, what you desire, what you are proud of. As if your past form never really existed. Like Christ you died and got resurrected all along. But something got messed up and you are now a fundamentally different person with not even a mere shadow of the past to linger along.

Whether for the better or the worse is a pointless question. Change is fundamental and inevitable. There can be no philosophical tag attached to it. But change can certainly overcome you. Evolution demands sacrifice, sometimes when you are least prepared for it.

Conflict, pain and angst are the favourite agents of change. Often our own actions lead us down to the threshold of change, as if inadvertently we seek pain. Doesn't sound likely does it? At least the sense of adventure remains, again I guess it works only when you emerge on top of the wave. But one really doesn't have the luxury of choosing not to change.

The Death of Heroes

I am leaving now. I simply cannot go on. Its’ too painful. Every step hurts. With every step I get scared about my future. I am racked with self-doubt and defeat. And yet I am not brave enough or stupid enough to kill myself. I want to leave all my cares behind me and walk away while I am still sane. Leave every vestige of the last world behind me, as if it never existed. I shall take no money, no material possession except the clothes on my back. I shall forget everything that I have learnt, every useful skill that countless others have laboured in vain to instruct me. For I believe that all of this is useless. I need a new identity, a new reason to exist.

I have failed my life. My hopes, aspirations and dreams are dead now. Of what use is a man who cannot dream about a better future? An existence without a purpose or desire to dream about a better tomorrow is pointless. It is better to stop existing.

I go to my death. My body shall survive…. in a way. But my spirit and mind shall never walk again. I shall shed every trace of my life behind me. I shall forget every friend I ever made, every relationship I was ever part of. I shall walk unfettered and unburdened free of every obligation which I ever walked into. No desire or hope is strong enough to stop me or even persuade me to ever change my mind and return.

This may not be a suicide note. But really is there much of a difference. This is the last time I shall ever read or write, the last time I shall attempt to ever lead a normal life. I do not want to be found. I seek anonymity. I even leave my name and identity behind me.

I may be a coward. I may be spineless. I do not care about the memory I leave behind me. I do not seek an elegy. It would be pointless now. The only thing that I know for sure is that I am weary of the struggle. I cannot stand and face everything that comes against me.

Heroes are for children’s fairytales. Life definitely isn’t one.

Where it all began

A child clambered down his school bus. Skipping literally. Kindergarden school is a horrible thing for a 2 year old. Bullies, sadistic teachers, stupid little furry toys, forced mealtimes where some self-styled popular chap steals your food just to see you cry. Well you get the picture. No wonder he was glad to escape from it all.

After all home was in an idyllic little forest, miles outside the small smelly city. All green and beautiful. You should have been there when it rained. Pearl like drops clambering down every vine, every flower. The child stayed in a rambling place amidst oceans of sheer garden. Sometimes he would just sit in the little porch and watch it rain. Sigh...

There were roses, and poppy, colourful marigold, sweet smelling jasmine, heavenly tulips and those huge fruit trees which he loved to climb. And well there always was the TV and those delightful scissors which he could use to snip off everything around him when he was down in the blues.

He had no friends around him - nor did he need any. His father, a genius of kinds had made it big in life quite early actually. And hence he got to stay with people so much older than him, whose children had already left their parents. Soldierly old men and fat miserable aunties surrounded the kid. And still all was bliss.

Pottering around the nooks and crevices of the endless patch of the garden was fun. Sneaking around butterflies, exotic birds, an occasional mongoose or two. Oh yes and his little mite of a sister. Could things get any better?

Sometimes those horrible relatives of his father turned up. Oh your mom is too uppity and so are you. Well the kid could be mean when he wanted and he paid back in kind quite often. Boy did he have an awful temper.

Sometimes he got to go to the sea in his mom's place. Freaking out in the old library attic, poring over the Sherlock Holmeses, Agatha Christies, Treasure Islands and all the golden stuff. His imagination would steal away. If only he had a pirate's cutlass what a swashbuckling figure he would cut. Everything in life was a glorious adventure, waiting to be unravelled. Chasing after the countless monkeys who clambered around grandpa's terrace and to sliding down the ledges and literally unreachable nooks. Those indeed were exciting times. Need we mention mutton chops at the beach when he got to sit by the shore amidst sand castles watching the waves sweep past his feet.

The happiest years really.

Pondspeak

My poetry is pathetic...Well I believe that. Its' indivualistic, it wallows in self-pity and yes its' unnecessarily depressing. But do I really care! My writing is a means to express myself - to let out my displeasure, my pent-up sorrows. Would I kill myself if I didn't pour it out? I guess not. I am not brave enough. I hate myself. Why am I such a spineless worm? Why do I always have to apologise to every Tom, Dick and Harry? I cannot even stand up to my so-called friends, leave alone enemies.

I was the success meant to be. A child prodigy waiting to be unleashed upon the world. Someone who was supremely confident to stop the world if need be. Nothing could check me. St. Stephen's at 17, IIM at 20, Goldman and Lehman fighting for me even before I turned 21. The world at my feet and I waiting to trample all over it.

Today even my closest friends whisper behind my back. He has no committment. He's a drunken loser. He doesn't know anything, He's a contrarian. Just follow the opposite of what he says and you will make money. He's a hypocrite, a self-conceited confidently wrong shallow person.

I haven't smiled since ages. I haven't been happy since a really long time. And well I am truly alone. How did it come to this? I feel all this is a really bad dream. I shall wake up the next moment safe in my room in Anga, shake my head over the utterly unrealistic dream and go for the Ecosoc meeting. Wish life was that simple. Wish I hadn't screwed up. I wish I wasn't such a simpleton, such a dunderhead.

A drowning man clutches at any straw that he can grasp. I find only twigs, weak feeble ones, which only flatter to deceive. One moment I think I am out of the mire and the next I sink again into the bottomless depth, sputtering to breathe. I really wish I could swim.

The dark age is upon us.
And it is before the dawn of our time
That the doom of my life is upon me
How did it ever come to this?

The Edge

Faltering steps to the top
Past rocks and brambles and prickly vine,
Until at last he stood all alone
Staring into the abyss of death

The very picture of despair and ruin
It had been ages since he had smiled
Mired in his own mediocrity
Robbed of every aspiration, every dream
A fate worse than death he had undergone
Starved of love, care and any affection

Alone and friendless as he stood there
A grave temptation bore upon him
To let go would be child's play
A sudden rush into the dark
A moment cowering in pain
And the weight of every burden ever borne
Would never plague him again

As the images of his life flashed past him
He pondered if anyone would even care
Here and there a few copious tears shed
A soulful elegy or even two
On the blank face of a nameless tomb
Even the rocks beneath seemed more alluring

And then when all hope seemed lost
He shied away from his horrible fate
It was fear that stayed his hand
Or maybe a passing thought
For death is more miserable than the meanest life

The Chariot of Fire

Tradition I spite thee in thy face
For thou maketh slaves of free men
What right do thou possess?
To govern the desires of rational men

Thy reign is cursed
For in rehashing a forgotten past
And in stubbornly rejecting
The winds of change that sweep past thy lands
Thou not knowest the finer virtues that men may boast of
Freedom, love and choice are denied to thee
Only the emptiness of honour and duty
Ring across your vast expanses

Has thou ever lain underneath the starry skies
Without a care in the world
Or tread barefoot through a rainstorm
Mounted the tallest peak
And wondered what it would be like
To sprout wings and fly

I turn my back upon thee
And go to make my own lands
Riding out on the chariot of fire
Far from the sorrows thou has inflicted upon me
There where no edict of a byegone era
Will rule my destiny
For in choosing to become my own master
I am blessed

Believe

Wherein lies the power to win
To scale mountains
And brave storms if you may
Struggle to the surface
Choking on huge mouthfuls of air
When everything within thyself impels thou
To close thy eyes
And to a dreamless sleep descend.
To push thyself against every gale
And sometimes even against thyself

What inspires men to shoulder arms
And fight against a faceless foe
Searching deep within
To eject the demons from their very soul
To follow a new path day after day
Even if stood they
At the very ends of the earth

And therein lies modern education’s gravest flaws
For it obscures what a mere child might understand
Faith can lend wings to any purpose
It can let thy soar
Till neither the deepest gorge
Nor the loftiest peak
Might dare defy thou

But in the quest for success
Thy faith will stand the ordeal
For between here and the gates of redemption
Full many a corpse thy might discover
Of those who did not believe
Or merely gave up.

The Tear

The Tear

The single tear that caresses my cheek
And drops lightly to the ground
Yet the agony of my heart it doesn't relieve

As I barely struggle to my feet
Awaking from a timeless stupour
Which I never believed would end
As close to death I could possibly feel
All I desire is to cry
To let my emotions pour out
The torrential rain that sweeps aside the dry earth
Like it never did exist

If I could only cry and erase the past
Wake up like a new man
Alive in all my senses
Believing that I could achieve anythig
Having banished all my ghosts of self-doubt and pity.

But from the disease-infested ruined innards of my soul
Only a single tear escapes
As if to mock the miles that separate me from her
And the vastness of the abyss confronting me
Which I am too scared to cross

As I silently wipe it away
Some half-baked truths do I realise
I cannot cry because
I do not repent for any of my sins
Save one that makes me thus weep.

Apathy

Apathy

How do I capture the listlessness of my soul?
Or the langour of my heart
Or the apathy that my mind surrounds itself in
I must not belong here
Is it a supreme sense of self-contempt
Is it a frustrated attempt to reach out to anyone who offers sympathy?
Or is it just a craving for pain and sadness
For my sake I hope I discover this on my own

A single tear runs down my cheek
And trickles down unassisted to the ground
As I contemplate the shambles that lie all around me
The harsh breeze rustles past my hair
Hurting my face
As slowly my misty eyes to fail to see the ruins
Utter silence surrounds me
I long to hear any human voice
Or a shoulder to lean upon
Or one friendly squeeze of my arm
Or a single word uttered in sympathy
Is it the end of the road for me?
What would I not give for a single companion on this unfriendly path
Alas I shall never know
I shrug my shoulders and move on
Only time shall tell if I get anywhere

Prometheus

Prometheus

Fire he stole for all of mankind
The gift of life he did deliver unto them
Defied did he all the Gods
Consumed in his passion for the greater good
In the self-consuming obsession with his own power
Mocked did he even the most powerful

So what did he desire?
Everlasting fame
The urge to hear that he was the noblest
Or purely the warmth that seeps through your heart
When you believe you have been truly selfless

But dearly did he pay for his apparent selflessness
Crucified was he at the altar of self-appointed morality
Did the Gods care about the greater good
Their rage at being affronted by a mere mortal
Did but make them forget their duty to mankind
Pride doth rule us all
Even the custodians of honour and absolute power

And did mankind spring to the aid of their ultimate champion?
Alone he lay chained to the rocks
Writhing in agony when his very flesh was ripped off him
Regenerated every night so that the pain could last
Hell would but last forever

What flashed through his mind in these moments of intolerable pain?
Regret did he his choices?
Mourn did he mankind's ultimate betrayal?

Flinch I would not even for a second from my goal
If I could do it again
But a small price pain is
For the change that I have heraldedMy strong heart within will never let me cry

Have you ever?

Have you ever?

Have you ever felt the urge to weep?
And smiled the next moment
Because a fair presence crossed your path

Have you ever woken up
With a wonderful breeze brushing past your face
Bathed in glorious sunshine your whole self is
And the whole world around infused in joyful song

Have you ever felt the warmth seeping throughout your body
From the core of your heart
Euphoria which you could never have known about

Have you ever felt the need to become a better person
To search within yourself and discover your truth
The overpowering desire to prove that you are worthy of her
And yet be appreciated for who you are
And not what you want to be.

Have you ever traveled the silent road
Trembling with every step
Dragging yourself as if you are Atlas himself
While she lightly danced beside you.

Have you ever sunk to the depths of a bottomless abyss
Surrounded by ruin and devastation
Ripped apart with guilt and self-pity
And yet dared to climb out of your misery
Because you heard a single voice call out to you

Have you ever ignored the deepest sorrow you could have come across?
Or treasure the tiniest ray of hope you could have seen
When her palm rests lightly on yours
Have you ever experienced love?

The Mystery

How can someone's smile be so tranquil and sad at the same time?
As if struggling with some inner devil
Trying to vanquish some monster from her past
As she tries to discover her true emotions

Her placid gaze can keep you transfixed
Her voice of reason can enthuse you
Dismissing all your pointless thoughts
Strengthening you
Ready to face anything
Yet the gravity in her gaze can reduce you to a blubbering idiot
Hypnotised by her charm
By her wild locks of hair

An air of mystery surrounds her
Shrouding her every move, her very word
As innocent as a child
And yet as cold and pragmatic an an adult
She's beautiful and yet she doesn't know it

As I sit back trying to unravel this beautiful bundle of contradictions
Only a few fleeting a answers cross my mind
Maybe I am not worthy enough to discover them
Maybe only she can understand herself
But its a small price to pay
For getting to stare into those eyes

The Journey

Long years ago
A dream possessed me
And try as hard as I could
The obsession did not forsake me
Till at last consumed it my did my very fibre

Begun a perilous journey I had
Through choppy waters and waves of wrath
Far from many a familiar face
My past a forgotten reality

Many were the tears I shed
Contemplated as I did the forbidden grail
And as I lay enclosed in my own world
Block I could not the sound of the waves
As they tried to batter down my retreat

Alone and friendless as I lay
Seeking a light that scarcely beckoned me
It dawned upon me
How I had turned my back on my former self

When at last the deck I strode upon
To breathe the winds of change that swept around me
And astounded was I by the sights around me
When in a flash of lightening it all dawned

Meaningless my dream was
If waited it did outside my very doorstep
Rob me it would of everything to live for
For in winning what I always did dream of
Only emptiness would it earn me

But in the journey to earn it
A new man it would make of me