Thursday, October 17, 2013

Moving Out

The carton seems as if it has gorged
On all my feelings,dreams and my moments alone.
As I struggle to duct tape it
A few whispers escape
Hey.. remember the time you looked around
And thought this was home sweet home?

We won't make it easy for you!
Sung someone in a naughty voice
Shed a tear or two
Or else we won't lighten your burden!

Sighing..I sat down for a while
And stopped avoiding the rush of feelings
I was afraid to acknowledge.

I looked around.
The walls smiled back at me.
They were the canvas of my thoughts
The floor nudged me gently
It was squeaky clean today
And not littered.

The empty cupboards still hung on
To the fragrance of my clothes.
Let me be,it said
I am slow at letting go.

The curtain less windows
Looked naked and skeletal.
They looked at me accusingly.

Breathing in my last afternoon
I tried to capture everything
Eyes frantically trying to keep up with my mind.

Here is where I used to sit and have dinner.
Here I used to relax ,reading a book.
I stubbed my toe here many times.
And here was where I first made love.

I caress the walls one last time
Scrunch my toes on the floor
Look around the now empty home
Feeling its warmth once more.

It is uncomfortable
Like letting go of well worn clothes
For new, crisp ones.
It sure is uncomfortable
But everything eventually
Always falls back to place.

Wednesday, October 16, 2013


What legacy would
You like to leave behind?

Won't you wish
To leave behind some goodwill?
Fond remembrance, and some jokes?

A wholesome family
Fine sons and daughters
And the genuine love and respect
Of your brothers and sisters?

Why, of course you would love
To leave behind
Many happy memories
And a comforting, lingering presence.

Or instead a grieving family
Some questionable principles
Few broken dreams
And hurt friends?

A bag full of notes
Some legal papers
Maybe a few gold bars
Even some diamonds maybe?

A relaxed foe
A rejoicing hater
A disappointed critic
Or an indifferent neighbor?

Don't you rather wish
To leave behind
Something safer,
And inspiring?

Then oh man!
Why do you fight and compete
When one day
On your deathbed
You want to leave
Something beautiful behind.

Sunday, October 13, 2013

Life, The Con

The biggest con of all
After all the struggle and hopes of eternity
All you offer is death.

A cunning magician you are
Dazzling with choices
Tempting with rewards
Yet hiding the sacrifices.

You are such a sweet talker
With a forked tongue
Keeping us sedated
With promises like a never healing wound
Always there, but with bitterness.

You are the deceiver
Who said life is beautiful
Even when all we saw
Was the naked dance of evil.

Life... You are the shameless one
Without a conscience
Why else would you keep playing
Even after we know the truth?

What Do I Miss?

Sometimes I wonder, is it just me or others too feel more nostalgic when we are down. I used to feel guilty when I think of my place only when I need a safe cocoon to rest my mind. But now I have realized that my nostalgia towards my birthplace is constant,ever present. It is in my every complaint of climate or road conditions or language barriers in a different place. Actually these are not complaints at all, this is just the mind subconsciously missing the familiarity of the place I grew up.

Some people ask me, what do I miss the most? My parents, my school, my friends. Actually it can't be compartmentalized. Childhood memories are a whole package. From the loving care of parents, to the commute to school by cycle, knowing all the bends and potholes of the road , drawing on the wooden desks with our compasses, to the teachers whose house we used to know and visit during festivals, everything comes back and slams you on your chest.

It is one thing driving your car through a busy street on a metro.But it is completely different cycling your way on a almost deserted road, a little submerged by water, potholes here and there, wild shrubs bending over from the adjasent drain. Given a choice, I would switch to the cycle any time.

Sometimes I wonder what dreams I am chasing. I am not living in the place I love, not with my parents whom I want to care for. I know what I want but I am unable to do it. Fear of money maybe? I am afraid to find out the answer.

Saturday, October 12, 2013

The Menu

The eyes are bloodshot
The mouth, full of stench.
Smacking his lips
He asks through a mouthful of congealed rotten blood
And decaying meat
What's on the menu tonight?

Ah, says the innkeeper
You are in for a treat today!
A whole fresh body
Flash fried, with the soul still trapped inside
It's a suicide case.

And? Asks he, who is forever hungry.
Let me see, says the innkeeper, rummaging
I have got several aborted sucklings
Some well aged meat full of drugs
And a hell lot of tidbits.
Blast victims, he says
They taste well in a hot pot.

I got some raw bodies too
Murdered.But I don't think you would like them
One has the intestines spilling out
The other is missing brains.
Still warm though.
By the way, do you like it kosher?
I have a couple with their throats neatly slit.

It's getting easy for you, innkeeper
Growled he
With them doing half the cooking for you.
Well, yes , sort of.
In fact, the humans are my inspiration now
I am just confused
Whether they are better or worse than us.