Falling temperature

             

                  Winter came creepily; initially they didn’t bother to notice it but then the mild change in weather came to an extent which was affecting their routine life potently .Temperature was falling, so does their relationship. They couldn’t sense the little numbness; the little cold in their relationship may lead to end of a beautiful story. Promises of spring froze in chill of winter. December doesn’t come abruptly, it came after passing through October-November, and they must have sensed the changing temperature, changing priorities.

            
                There may be many reason of monotonousness in a stable relation (stable perhaps exaggerate). Thing lost its value when gained, dream seems beautiful till when it’s not achieved,  once you catch it, it become reality and reality no matter how enchanting at distance is always different when close.
                    “Work is the death mask of its conception”
someone said, which is indeed very true.

             Year end is a time to introspect all the good-bad deed of whole year,  people regret of their harsh words  which could be certainly avoided by smile but the problem is now people are forgetting how to smile.
Perplexed, helpless both, introspecting where did they took wrong turn, but failed to identify their flaws because both were wearing eye-wear of Ego. Boy lost in his thoughts was thinking from his frame of reference , in quilt he was not feeling warmth but he knew that’s  not the reason of his uneasiness ,something else was bothering him. Year will in end in couple of minutes and he will have some regret of lifetime. Restless he opened his diary and tried to pen down his agony, in hope writing will help, it will make feel better but words deceived him, hands refused to write .he felt like something was slipping from his hands, with the freezing temperature something else also freezing .

                     Only three pegs of scotch were left and it was too late to go outside, and he was not even willing to go. One large peg “on the rocks”, couldn’t help him much but somehow increased intensity of thoughts. He checked phone, many messages but not from the one whom he desired for. He made another peg and gulp it slowly and lost in thoughts. Phone beeps; He checked no any message from her yet, lot of messages from others. People wishing happy New Year in advance but for him there was nothing like to celebrate. He remember Amir khusrow couplet and smiled fakely
                 “jis saawan me piya ghar  nahi aag lage aise saavan ko”
Then he typed a sorry message, or last message of year, but didn’t send not because of ego but because of guilt. Phone beeps; he ignored this time, without checking the sender and put phone on silent mode and made final peg gulped in a single sip. Lost in thoughts, blurred images,  smiling face, broken premises, good-bad all memories of year, with heavy head he fall asleep.

On the other hand girls was lying on her bed, outside people were busy in welcoming new year,  sleepless she was turning her side , frozen temperature, chocked voice , phone in hand. She checking messages, no one from him, she thought of typing but something inside resisting her back from texting .finally she put some courage and typed message, no any reply, she waited for some time. Glared at ceiling, watching the chandelier she felt it will come over  her, it made her little frightened.  One more message she typed, blurring hope, no reply from other side. Heart sinking,  she picked phone , fingers ran across dialing pad and called after sometime,  tear rolled down  her cheeks no any response yet, cinches fists , lump in throat ,  she tried to stop her sob but couldn’t stop for long.
She then cried, cried a lot and finally stopped when she felt it’s light from inside now. She took a deep breath and glared at chandelier this time it wasn’t freighting her. She turned off her phone. She dumped deep the guilt and make herself believe to be strong like a rock.

Next day newspaper was full of news how worldwide people welcomed New Year, with news that thirty first was the coldest night of the year past, temperature dipped to new low. Every news were there but not with the news that somewhere for two souls it was not time to thank past year but to curse , that temperature in relationship too  dipped to low.

Time pause

It took me a long time to pen down this new blog post.

Though, its rough draft was completed long ago, I could not find the energy and enthusiasm required.
Whether the world has really changed or it’s my hands who are not allowing me to write.

There are some things that go unnoticed. We are blind to it because they are so ordinary. And we miss the tremendous beauty they possess and the immense life they have.

This story is about an ordinary college going couple, perhaps I should say, a post-graduation college couple. This is the time when the maturity arises and the divinity of love struggles with the practicality of life and the other mean ideas.

-

Her tastes changed in past few weeks. And so did her mood. Once, a cheerful soul now turned into a stoic behavioral sedate. Though this change was not in her nature, she thrust it upon herself. The artificialness, killing her. A Scotch lover, turned a teetotaler and hot coffee lover. Agatha reader into a Kafka admirer, a rap listener to a NFAK fan, listening qawwalis (if you know what I mean).

She shared her apartment with two other girls. They were nice to her. They all were psychology students. But, studies can’t teach everything! Somethings are to be learnt only from experience, betrayal or maybe both.

Hot coffee was prepared by one of her friend when she was detangling the cord of her earphones. As if, by doing this she would be able to 'detangle' her entangled relationship. Hope is fatal disease. And she was very much 'suffering' from it.

She was browsing the playlist anonymously. Suddenly, phone rang. Her eyes sparked as if she was waiting for this call only. Holding her breath, she picked up the call. Conversation started happily but soon moved to same prosaic topics. None of them was speaking what they really wanted to or what they should have, in order to save their drowning relationship. Rather, they were speculating how happily the other one is living.

No one was to blame. Blame should be on time only. Both wanted to say something but they were resisting themselves.

           

                     अना (ego) बा-जिद है के रूठने वाले को जाने दो

कोई अन्दर से कहता है के मना लेते तो अच्छा था

Both were expecting 'the three words' which would melt the coldness of their relationship. Sometimes, by speaking few words one can free himself from guilt. The burden of unspoken words cant be borne for long. Freedom is close to silence but it is not the silence itself.

Meanwhile, the coffee lying near her was getting cold. She continued to detangle the cord but now with some agony. There were days when she use to play with cord with her fingers smilingly, while talking on phone but this times she was neither playing nor smiling. Monotonous talks continued. Both were tired of bearing the burden of unspoken words, so they preferred to remain silent.

The last thing I remember was, one of them uttered the three magical words (which you should speculate by yourselves). And finally the “Ice melted”. There was silence again but this time, it was the silence of peace. Silence of completeness. Time stood still. The time period in which the coffee turned cold and a severely entangled chord detangled and the snow of relationship melted was all same.

They were breathing fast. Time stood still only for these two people in the entire universe. The world was same as before but the two souls were not the same.

The call was disconnected after sometime. A friend of her asked for earphones. She thought for some moment and reluctantly gave her earphones. When she came to her senses, she tried to figure out why she took time to give earphones. The time pause in which some memories awoke was the time she took in passing earphones.

A friend of her reminded her of coffee that got cold. She asked her if she should prepare a new cup for her. But she denied, saying “yes, the coffee is turning cold because the snow melted”. Giving her earphones she got up smilingly.

Other perhaps couldn’t understand what she said but we do perhaps. 

Those whom we like

   

"Those whom we like, we never get courage and strength to write about them."

It is a line written somewhere in my draft posts. Which is, well, very true (atleast in my case). I never write about Those whom I like completely. Why? Firstly, I feel that their beauty will shimmer, if ever I tried to describe them through my writings. I don't possess writing skills which could portray the special people of my life. Also, If I write them out completely, then what would I think about in my gloomy days?

Some torments should be eternal I think, so does some memories.  There should be some space for thoughts. Some memories unwritten or some memories not shared with anyone, but just placed in a deep corner of heart, which some day strikes and we remember a past shared with a special person, a sweet bitter smile of unrequited love or may be a laughter shared with a close friend. Yes, life is always present in those memories. It never dies.

Life, always a one way road, we can’t go backward, sometimes close ones are left behind but we move forward (we have to) with more pace or they leave us in mid way but journey have to completed. With or without them. What kind of journey is it? What is the purpose of such journey when we don't have our true, desired or prayed companions beside us? Full of compromises life is! Wouldn't it be better if those people, for whom our heart has a special place, should always be present with us in our life long journey? But does it happen? NO! a big NO!

People come and go and nobody else can replace anybody else. Our heart is huge, very huge, it has a place for everyone, but always a special place for a special person, it never replace, it never vanishes, (if not you then your memory will reside there eternally).

Love is like a radioactive substance it can decay but never vanish completely. Just depends whether your love is uranium, which take thousands of year to decay or carbon isotopes which take few days to decay. But indeed “first love is like uranium.”

Writing after a long time, just second blog post in this whole year and perhaps last of the year.  Though, there were some reasons to write but I didn't. Had no courage, no strength to write. Hopelessness is bad, But thanks to people who like to read (me). Some promises, thus writing, some people, thus writing, some torments thus writing, some memories thus writing.

Adieus to 2013

                                 "जाते हुए लोगों को रोका नहीं करते, साल को भी नहीं"

Looking ahead! Adieus to 2013, its bitter memories and some sweet ones too... This year also shall pass, and especially this year “2013” should. I don't know why we think that if a year changes, our problems would also change or vanish? Does it happen really..?  Perhaps no. But I want to sound hopeful this time, so I am assuring myself falsely. I can remember vividly, for 2011-12, I wrote “Past year was Dickens-ian (the best of time and the worst of time)” but I cannot write this for this year. Not for 2013. There should be a year for making mistakes, loosing grip over life, defeat, survival and conflicts… And this year was indeed full of these.

Again… realizing how unpredictable life is, I hadn't anticipated a year that could be such a waste. As if I just woke up from a deep comatose and a year passed and I could do nothing.

"Idleness makes hours pass slowly and years swiftly

Activity makes the hour seem short and the years long…"

as said by Cesare Paverse in a poem. Well,  I shouldn't label this year as a complete waste, got much awaited degree this year, learned some lessons, although that would be consider learned only if I don't repeat the same “mistake” again.

This year, I met some new people, some close ones became acquaintances, lost some old ones, and yes, a conflict ended or can I say, I gathered enough courage to accept the end. An end, to years of waiting for the dreams to become real. An end is always painful but what else could I do?

“All that” was supposed to end someday and that someday was in this past year. For how long one can dwell in the past over the same thoughts? And after all, I believe things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end. And at times not in the way we expect. But they do come certainly. So I will wait.

Ups and downs are a part of life, I shouldn't disdain any single person or a thing, everybody have their own different role in this unscripted drama called life, where nobody is protagonist but all act in a chorus. Every person have some blank spaces to fill in. And, it is up to us what we fill; happiness or sorrow. But, the point is, we should keep moving, despite every obstacle. I tried but I failed.

Then I lost hope and I sat idle. And that is the reason I am cursing this year, I tried but was caged in my own thoughts, conflicts. They say taste of victory is sweeter when we’ve just tasted defeat. So I hope I’ll see good things may be this time.

       Introspective time is quite painful and embarrassing too! So I’ll stop it. And now I am feeling like this year wasn't not that bad or a waste (well, after writing all this). I can say finally;

“Enjoy yourself!

 These are the "good old" days.

You are going to miss in the year ahead

Amen!”

            

Grave of memories

        There should be a place where we can bury all over our griefs, all our problems, tensions or should be a place like black hole , you know black hole, a celestial object whose gravitational field is so strong that  even light cant came back from it,  where once entered there is no escape,  some people  are also like  black hole ,whom after meeting we forget our identity or they forcefully snatch our's.

     "Kuch ghar aise hote hai jahan ek bar koi chala jaye to wapas nhi aata "

      I  am in search of that house ,whenever i will found such  i will bury some of my memories ( of your's) , but what  if those memories start fighting within themselves , every memory belongs to different person but would be placed in same places, . Achha, do tell if any rivalry person's grave are  at same place do their soul live in rest or they continue to fight , we always says rest in peace, do they really rest in peace or their peace already snatched away.
      Will your memories live in peace with someone else's or will you fight with them, i heard  kinship may develop even in enemies if the faces same atrocities but you are quite diplomatic i know it very well,  you always pretend like everything is fine or you not aware of the convoluted things.The day when i will left your memories with her you would promise me that you will live in peace but i know you wont , and very soon i will be aware of it, you know why , because at that time I would also there, a part of mine would be there, resting on pillow of your old  memories, tough tormented .
Addiction could be of anything , could be of dwelling in past too , can pass morning to evening thinking on same thought  because its never ending  I know many thing faded with time, but still lies something somewhere in dark corner of heart, this 300 grams muscle called heart. It have something, it have entire universe in itself , it have single person's memory to a whole world's .

Chalo, aj kuch to positive likha, bahut sikayte the pessimisttic likhne ki. See magic of your memories.

Random Thoughts

        Just for a moment, a gaze so firm ,so  furious, burning eyes, of agony,of  anger, disappointment too,  all together, this is what i can see right now. God forbid.  can remember Japanese legend writer  Murakami         "In a sense, I'am the one who ruined me. I did it myself"
     So life is unpredictable proving day by day ,every step of mine like speculation.  Today writing is just releasing   anger and stress and it should be like this, if not always then at least for some time. How therapeutic it is when writing without thinking of any reader, just writing like an open diary, never had thought i can  release stress with  punch on keys , this poison called anger.
     When fight is between you and only you, the toughest one, but this too was destined to do ,when anarchy isn't only outside but within inside , when chaos isn't just of images but of thoughts too,  conflicts  in every  thought ,but  this is transformation. This process makes you to survive in  more harsh situation, making you to believe  in unveiled strength of yourself ...
In book "The Alchemist " the Shepard  boy realizes real treasure wasn't  in far  pyramids of Egypt  nor in church or fields of Spain  but in the voyage , in pursuit of treasure all the obstacle he met , all the lesson he learn ,treasure was the memories of happiness and sorrow , the journey itself  was treasure,  same  true for all of us too , but sometimes we forget this or our gaze disillusioned .
Sometimes there is nothing called good or bad , right or wrong  all are just different aspects of same thing, all are just right in their own perspectives,  who we are to blame ,who we are to judge them , its only time"s work and right , time not just heals but it justify. People arnt bad they are just different from us and we make our belief on base of our prejudices. when frame of reference changes things changes a lot, might be what i always believe is entirely different from truth, and that's why it is said "Truth is eternal ".

So far these are some random thought,  anger which is releasing through writing, some conflicts within me, its good asking yourself questions then suddenly getting all answers , things never remain same when  any drastic  happen  but slowly slowly it tries to come  on  same path again, what we thinks   in childhood we found ourselves surrounding with same  in old age. because in end we again came back to starting point, as like in race it's end is the same starting point .its just circle, eventually we came back from where we starts. All Napolian came back to their roots, we will also, after wandering a lot, we  will also on same track perhaps at end. Till then just enjoy the journey. 

Abstract Of september

                 "Likhne ya na likhne ke confusion se bachne ka ek hi tareeka ho sakta h ; likh dena fir chahe kachra hi kyun na likha ho" .
 Same should be in life too , just take any initiative than to stick in dilemmas , might be  that decision turn adverse  ; nonetheless  take decision  it need  courage. Taking right step is best but even taking wrong step is  not  as bad as not taking at all and we don't get any straight choice, as  "Life ...the way it really - is a battle not between good and bad but between bad and worse " (Brodsky) .
                 khair ,  Fulfilling promise arnt that easy ...Don't know  what's happening with me but I am not able to write , why...,don't know "Perhaps liking/loving anything to such extent that even you cant get  that  "
life...There  is no any specific tool to require to pen down thoughts just a pen, diary (in my case register as i write in register )and isolate place. earlier at terrace i could pen down  easily or late night in room. Such time also came when i had wrote in crowded place like cafe shop, fly over, who cares when you around all unknown people. Yeah there  a restless to write but i am still stranded at a place where one part of mine feels to  write , but other one denying  neither body have strength nor mind have thoughts , poor me ...Ohh, whiskey you are really affecting my body CNS...trembling hands.
             Procrastination is a different thing ,but when heart really wants to write no matter how lazy are, you still gather some courage . There  should be any reason to write, else it got tough to pen down, don't know if  we called that as inspiration, that could be anything  nostalgia ,past dreams , regrets, some memories rest nothing  but needed.  there lies  a person or dream whom we can write eternally, you know why because we wont get them, we can only dream of them, Unrequited love are eternal. "The sweetest songs are those that tell that the saddest tales".
"Adhure Khawab ache lagte hai"  maybe life too,  someday we would like this , but wouldn't adopt it , accept it completely, there always  remain  a thrust for completeness which is unattainable, Perfaction is unattainable, things should accept it as like they are life too , person too.

           Life  don't know what exactly it is , what day add in it, what night, what rain, what memories, person;  this blend is too complex . To understand furnace of God is not easy , so let it be as it is, engineering don't teaches every manufacture process.  I afraid very soon this blog will turn into an open diary of mine, as nothing to post special , anything different   , just posting old  written work
but

"We write to taste life twice"

Micro Fiction

              

1. Letters:
                  There was a night when i wrote letters to you, it felt like soft hammering, as if  with every word a hammer was  striking .I coudnt complete even a  single letter. But In morning i found a heap of uncompleted letters.

2. Body:
               Those days when you were exploring my body and i was stupidly dreaming you to love me divinely.
I lied, those days never had came.

3.Vanish:
               Some characters from my life have suddenly vanished in thin air, silently as they came they leaved . Now i search them in my old writings.

4.Praise:
               One day someone praised of my writings, i felt proud and  tried to write more  better. Since then i coudnt write anything good.

5.Darkness:
                    I sit in the dark, and it is hard to figure out which is worse, the darkness inside or the darkness outside .

6.Washed letter:
             While i was writing a love letter in chalk on your house wall,  you  came with your lover. Suddenly rain washed all writing .

7.Permanent:
                     I f anything was permanent  ever that was the admiration i did years ago, without knowing you.
Thus i don't wanna know you.
             
8.Remember:
          She: do you ever remember me.
          ME: I only remember you in the days sadness and night of insomnia.
But coudnt tell her every night of mine is insomniac and every day is sad.

9.Answer :
                After struggling for 12 years i finally gather courage and tell her, I have crush on you.
when i look for any answer  , she said i knew it from first day and have answer from that day. "You and I are cannot live together, not because of you , not because of me, but we are just beyond time."

10.Voice Echoed:
                             I was sitting in the park and reading a fiction novel, slowly failing in love with the characters . suddenly they appear across me, i tried to touch them but they disapear .A voice echoed then "we come like this only, and disapear  "
Next day, when i was at her home, and stretch my hand for handshake , same voice echoed. since then i never touched her.

11.Outfits:
                 She said: Good outfits, looking handsome.
                 I smiled and said i look pretty wearing cloth of sorrows.

12.Vicious circle:
                           It was all over, but one day someone met,  our gaze fixed to each other, she was smiling and i was afrading. She read that in my eyes and ask why you scaring.
I coudnt tell her that , again vicious circle of dreaming, insomniac night and writing have  starts.

13.Rain:
                 She exclaimed cheerily- Wow...! its raining.
I looked into my teared eyes rather then outside and said exhaustively- Yeah, raining here also.

14.Lie:
            One day she was reading poems from my diary, she asked for whom you write all these.
I looked in her eyes for a moment and said "No one"
and lied that every writing of mine belongs  to you only.

15.Curse:
               When we last meet, she cursed me that i would forget every memory of her.
I was smiling on my intelligence that  i have already written a lot about her in my diary , by reading them i would reconstruct those memories.
At night when i picked up my diary, it was empty.

PS: few are inspired.

Day of leaving writing.

         Reason of not writing is not always lack of inspiration, but fear also. Fear of completeness . For those who haven't words but always have relentlessness to write, inspiration matters but not that much , for them it doesn't matter how bad their grammar or how rubbish there piece of  writing is but  it is essential as its always therapeutic .
For them writing is not just merely pen down some thoughts  , but  like a meditation and why not  as they forget everything (sometimes even themselves) while writing , or it  may be healing a object , even in their rubbish  writing you may found some jewels or may be not.

         writing is  necessary as like breathing but what when  some people deprived them from it, what when the only thing they can do for themselves  is hurting others. How could they so mean , when there writing is hurting to others why they still writing , ... no they wont, they would leave that.
Day will come , they will lost inspiration , some people too, though life is about moving on, (as Churchill said, "If you going through hell, keep going " or ) but they wont , they found themselves sticked upon some people's memories only, (as those people long moved leaving them).  Loosing people  is not a new thing,  but loosing own part  would leave a silence not torments like earlier, silence of solitude .
           Perhaps a day come, they would leave there work; writing , not because of people or lack of inspiration but because they cant do that anymore, they would choose to not to write ever, they will slowly loosing themselves too , they would start a process of  killing  themselves daily, a part of them would die daily . The soul  who urges them to write would stop responding then ,or they just wont listen ,  that would be finished. They won't lost everything but would lost that part which was there own thoughts of reflection , but that day will come, if not now then someday.
 

Their soul will mourn that day so loudly even universe would scares from that cry , their  regretful eyes would wound more painful then ever , that fade smile  turn into sarcasm, own shadow would give condolence to  lost writing , epitaph would be without any words and may be for some moments poetry would be unemployed  ,doom's day for a soul that day.

       Tears wont roll down cheek that day , heart wont beat slower but for a person his inner life would finish since then. What they would do after that day, how they would survive , would they celebrate this solitude or live in comatose but surely they wont remain same person.
        Nobody is eternal in this fragile world, not words , thoughts , everything just live their destiny and passes away , just leaving  marks of them and memories.

"All our lives are merely one painful, laborious search
for our own graves"

Come someday

          Come someday , i would  be found in any empty room thinking about you only,  come  swiftly like blowing wind and touch me so gently but even in that touch i would feel you, come someday like cloud  so that i can hope for you or come like rain & heal me, come some night in my half awakening  eyes so that i can dream for you , of you, come like fiction characters of most melancholic novels for whom i am yet shedding my tears, come out of the music i am listening right now so that i can see the masterpiece in reality.
         You came in dream , but the space you left was reality, I am still , for this moment, time is running world moving in its natural pace but here i am stand still , stopped for this moment. While writing you, thinking about you how could i be in this world. when i am trying to compose our own world (sorry, of my own world, you are far away in reality i am in illusion ).You may come now , i am beyond this materialistic world till i am writing this, i am in crowd  but still isolated.
             You and me contrary to each other both trying to filling our own world , you have colors to fill. i am having only black & white shades to color my life, but this is perfect blend , this is how it should be. Dont complain, i wont  work hard  for a bright future, may  be i cant or i just not willing to do so, (since its good to have some regrets of life don't need  to have all happiness of life) but i can promise , i would daily compose a new poetry for you , by those words you can adore yourself as jewel, i wont afford any Audi but will show my dreamy eyes (sometimes regretful ,as not  providing all joys of life)  where you can have happy ride, i cant assure you of worldly pleasure  but can assure you of my faith and love which would not fade, atleast that would be time immortal . I am not Gabriel Garcia Marquez  who promised his love Mercedes that right now i am nothing but but after 10 years i would world's renowned writer , no i even cant be that good in writing but   i would be renowned  for you only, what i have to do with this world.

              I am not good in many things, not practical enough to deal with world , sometimes may be found as mad or behaving like child, but i cant bother what people thinks of me. I may found in a  traffic point  resting on floor and writing some new blogs or any high altitude fly over in evening struggling for words  to compose a new poetry to heal myself through writing as its cathartic  for me but this is all i do, or only thing that i can do.

                   I assure you whenever cloud will come & bestowed their wishes by rain , i would be also found raining by words in this diary.  Come someday not like now in dreams, but come some day in reality also,i would be waiting...

                  "Out beyond ideas of wrong doing and right doing
                     there is a field, I will ,meet you there"
              [Rumi]

New Boy in City

              It  was not that this city was new for me. I use to come here since when i was in second or third standard, every vacation we cousins gather here and spent vacations. Past days those are . But coming here for job prospectus is quite different , first job matters a lot. There are very simple things but matters a lot for the person who have this, experiences first time , like first date,  job,  marriage , motherhood etc . Though daily  happen with millions of people but still special for every individual , a life time treasure of memory for them sometime not.
               Ordinary youth's story completing graduation, unemployed , tired of sitting jobless, then someday for a try going for any big city, little struggle of life but worth. And  me, first interview that even on birthday (Giving first job interview on birthday that also a special experience) but rejected felt really bad  but found an unknown person suggesting to try for a another company and giving there's address. Again interview selected this time , that word "Congrats, you have been selected" echoed for a long , my ears were not accustomed of listening good news. was on seventh  heaven , still vividly  remember that rain .But still i left  that job  for further preparation , a risk for which i am not working hard.
               Then another dilemma came , to stay in this city or not.I couldn't  fix to any decision , what come in morning changes by noon, then in evening and night too or changes with every opinion  of friends. That fickleness of thoughts was itself kind of torment, sufficient to give excess stress.  Taking any decision is better then to suffer in dilemma and even right decision after passing time, turn into wrong one. so taking decision matters, time itself would turn them wright or wrong .I afraid of my decisions, firstly i took too much of time to take any and worst is even after taking too much time they mostly turn wrong one.
As Shakespeare's "To be or not to be" sometimes seems that poets/ writers already felt everything which we facing now or could be. Is imagination have to do with experience or not how could 'Harivansh ' wrote 'Madhushala' when he never consume alcohol , don't know. some questions shouldn't be answered , and after all i should search for good questions , may be in quest of good questions i would found  some good answers, which were veiled earlier
                  During  those days of fickleness i have nothing to do but sitting whole day in a single room , whole day with only a cell phone and  just an outing  in evening . And on name of outing that was to  observing people, breathing,thinking , viewing from a high altitude place nothing else. One evening i felt i shouldn't turn as a coward  ,  as an escapist, afraid at least this time. Afraid of loneliness or dreams but as i rise my gaze i found whole sky is mine , i am not alone here, whole night is mine with random thoughts, with some novels, a companion, my  diary  with whom i can say everything. Choose any place in city where your can talk to yourself, shed tear or laugh , observe people or introspect oneself. I have a purpose in this city (though really need to realize this). 
                     I know my decisions are weak but that can be make firm by working hard on that, have to overcome some fear, have to do some struggle for sake of survival , have to live here, conquering the fear  & to win. Ohh too much to do, this city is with me till i have confidence to dance with it and to  run together, with same swift, have to do, if i resist it would leave me. Have to love this city, before people i have to love this city , explore this.                      

Desire of that GIRL

         When two women desires for same men ,or  loves same then the heat of their fury can even  burn sun, moon fails to calm them, wind and sea also fails but they still live in them only to protect their love. They burn with every action of others , nothing could be redemptive at that time . Still there lies a sense of moral in them . A bound of possessiveness lies, there animosity tie them together , somehow making them to pray for each others survival. 
        Either its   from Khalid 's "A Thousand Splendid Suns" or movie on Italian poet "Lope De Vega" the women character were bound together in a relation of jealousy , that's start from their animosity followed by abuse , quarrel, fights   but later  leads to a relation of mutual understanding  which isn't even  called friendship,   something different  beyond these terms. That relation which which make them to  face life together , problems & survival of their love together. Like in last days of Chilean poet Pablo Neruda his wife Maltida accepted his new love. But these happens in fiction novels , art movies or rarely in some poet's life but not in ordinary people's. Like with this girl who was not able to accept a new person in his love-life,  she could die but cant accept this.
       
               She was mad , she was ; not because she took excess of sleeping pills , pesticides once or cut her vein but because of the reason she loves a person so madly that turning her mad too. yeah she was jealous but it was her right, it was her right to be envious upon the girl who  is coming in her way of love.
      From surface in her talks there lies aggressiveness, but deeper a calmness , a distress voice ,  sense of insecurity.  Even in her every  dunked  talk that pain remains , in every abuse that dejection remains. She consumes Vodka  , sometimes neet but in months and when she touch the goblet it starts mourning, her glass afraid of her because she breaks every limit of hers , she use  to say why to do ordinary , limited , when we cross limit we get something more . Poor girl you are only getting  extra pain not pleasure . But she was capable to tolerate all these torments as she was habitual of pain . women have more endurance then man, they can sacrifice everything for their love , man in his ego cant . Whenever she consumes hookah , she burn inside and stared firmly in her man 's eyes  . A gaze so pure that it hurts , i fear of that courage of her.

As
                   "Those who cant find out anything to leave for,
                   always invent something to die for"
 She tried for suicidal  attempt  but  she still alive ; she forget something , fails to realize that  when  people daily pray for your survival you cant leave us  from any such attempts. Here are some people who daily make you to alive  in their every prayer, every dream.
Whole night in between conscious and unconscious state she uttered some unclear words , but there is one person who know what she wanna say.


PS: though this blog post is not good or like usual   but its for someone 's desire . I am lucky to have such a  chance , filling colors in someone's life.

when we make people happy or any deed of us , then the smile so come on our face is worth millions.  

When i lost her memories & shadow

          There was a night (i forget when) , we took a brief walk together; me , my shadow & her memories in late night of summer.We taking walk slowly but to my surprise i noticed my shadow was faster than me , i neglect that , soon my memories too walking fast leaving me behind, i just shocked watching them. Was not able to digest all this, just a moment before we all together .
           The dark shadow of mine was now turning whitish , with her memories. They walk for  a while then disappear. Before this i have already learn to breath and tolerate, but breathing alone was  not given to me , some torments with every breath were gifted to me. I was content in that i was having some memories but now she elope with my shadow. I had nothing then.
           I wish to transform myself in wind  so that i can catch them   so  ask for wind's help. She denied , she told she herself in search of her destiny , wandering  here and there, sometimes blow swiftly , sometimes hard. I then turn to earth and ask for help, she told that she have a huge heart, i can bury myself  there. For a moment i thought of it, it would be better to leave my body in hearth's heart , but then i leave this idea .As if i do so than i would be prisoner of my soul of cheating it, of depriving it from a body , i would culprit.
          Thus leaving this, wander aimlessly  for some time i came back to my place, without shadow and memories . Transforming      occurring, the diary in which i had write all those memories of her was now turning fade, when i was needing the most to read . i was losing one more thing, till then i believe by writing all these moments i would be able to live them again  by just reading them  but i was wrong, it was fading and vanishing.
then
          "I sit in the dark, and it would be hard to figure out
             which is worse, the darkness or the darkness outside"

I then look for my old fountain pen, empty that and washed that thoroughly , took blade and a  cut in vain , filling my blood in pen , i thought by writing through blood it would remain forever , won't disappear like ink. With trembling hand i was going to write what i lost today; the companion who always with me in my dark times,  my shadow ,and if not she than her memories , it was not just any tragedy but as if i lost something my own, long ago i come out of her life silently without saying any words but come with some memories of her, and today it lost that too. My hand resist to write ,it don't have such strength  to write all these then i thought to write any prosaic poetry, it resist that too , it just suddenly start writing an epitaph .
         What was happening was out of my control and endurance , i searched for morphine, it was something that i was needing, not the single malt whisky but morphin this time . I search , took and fade out. I waked but couldn't identify where exactly i was, on bed surrounding with some  unknown figure , at distant a familiar figure, with whitish glow , same old smile, fingers tucking hair seems known but was far of my sight, was not able to identify ,or it was one whose memory i lost,  was just thinking for some times and  fade out again.

        Since then i had dreams which i can't remember, every night i took trica and have sound sleep, some brief dreams , but all forget as i wake up, never remind any of them , except  a known stranger, little familiar figure, old smile, since i had lost my memories, her memories.