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.

        

Writing without words

             Writing is either tough or very easy, many times it happens great chaos in mind, stampede of thoughts leading a sudden urge to write but not having words,  at that time feels as a sharp thorn piercing in toe but i continue to walk , feels restless to write . Wish i could write without words, could have magical words just thinking , whatever in heart just appear as a picture acr  Felt like a toddler, who want to tell something but couldn't speak, that eagerness, that restlessness . But still try, shows his words through his hopeful eyes, struggling acts, not so differ from mine, same state.
                     Sometimes i wish i turn  toddler again, who tries to walk, fall, stand again, fall seven times  stand eight times, finally learning , walking , without support, conquering his fear. Here i am falling , rising, struggling, defeating, crying , but not having zeal to stand again and fight for survival  , as if something in me has either forgotten or deep hidden, not untying these knots .
Though living in own parallel world, as if lies another life, living in  my own dreams. This imaginary life and reality continue to travelling parallel, as like a river. won't meet but will remain till end, some thoughts will be also like this, will remain in eyes till end.

    Writing is always redemptive, more cathartic when dark phases,  must when wandering , as this fickleness sucking me, pessimistic thoughts of choosing between worst  & more worst , is it reality or melancholic thoughts forcing me to think like this, don't know. But one thing not other,s opinion but inner voice will vanish all these darkness, not any other book but own writing , own reading will help, to explore myself only, need to read own insomniac eyes, own deep silence.

Why I write

           Although  i am avoiding this question since a long, or just avoiding to write on this here that,
       "Why i write".
   A very simple answer of it is ,"It heals", yeah , it is a therapeutic , it is cathartic process for me, it  is the one which makes me free from sorrow for a while, console me when no one to share prob., preferably a shoulder to cry.
     Though i never write a routine  diary ,but what i feels only, thoughts,  only when i get disturbed, feeling melancholy, dejected , when anything happen which hurt me really or a crush. But Sometimes even-after feeling blue i don't write as i feel tired to write, at that time only i shed tears (only when i really get tired) lil-bit one or two droplets but sufficient to get relaxed. deep breath n little cry is the best solution.
      "I sit in the dark , and it would be hard to figure out
            which is worse,
       The dark inside or the darkness outside"
[Joseph Brodsky]

    I believe there shouldn't any reason to like things, passion, should be free from any logic, argument, just love love.We shouldn't have any reason to like someone, it just happens , occur to make us dream for hours, to live , exist.
    I can vividly remember days or night when i had specific person to write about, to dream . At that time all my writing belonged to them only,  whatever i start but end up on writing about them only. But now days are gone , she have gone ,but i am here lone. well  sometimes i felt i really like to write about her only, i found peace, hope , joy. For almost two years i wrote belong to them only, as like Italian poet Dante, who dreamed of  Beatrice, and wrote for years even when she died long go . I was in illusion of platonic love, that was in search of  "Anna Femore' (i remember as the Greek word for divine love). some day if i gather energy to write on this i would surely, but not now.
           read somewhere 
    "Alcohol is to writer, what heart break is to the poet".

   Things have drastically changed now, no inspiration to write now, not such harsh feelings which makes me to do so, but because of some special persons writing blog (rarely, since procrastination nature), no matter how rubbish it is, but still they read. thank to them.

theory of relationship

         what should i called the distance between you and me, how could i measure it. at least not from any means of matriculation system, can it be measure in meter's, .
         can theory of relativity tells me relative distance between you and us, when i am approaching towards you but you moving backwards. when i was statically waiting for you but moving ahead, leaving  me.  light's speed can be beat up by yours. Are you  traveling with speed of light, then why you  seems invisible.        while watching a short movie one of the character said," it takes time to forget someone, but also takes same amount of time to generate that for some one else.
   can time just be measure in hours, minutes or days or years. Is there is a different time when someone wait , take more time when we are gloomy. if it is not then why it seems time endless when we wait. Then for how long years i have to wait.
    Don;t know but today feeling like to ask Einstein about his theory  of relativity regarding relationship  to ask Newton for his action reaction equation, why there not always equal and opposite reaction , why some people remain silent , despite collision of thoughts, dear science you are still need to learn a lot from human heart, there wishes.
       "The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars but in over selves that we are underlings"
[Shakespeare, in Julius Ceaser]