Some fragments of your fragnances.,!!

Saturday night..!!

it has been a month since my eyes and thoughts had agreed on the same fact : your beautiful face...and of course your beautiful heart.. Since that day, some fragments of your fragrance, which you gifted, unintentionally, can be seen in every nook...
tonight, once again the same feelings, have started to emanate..the thoughts, to know you properly, to understand you properly.. Thoughts, to come out of the labyrinth and puzzles of some too simplistic gestures..
they know that you are tough, it is tough to be with you., but they also know that it will be tougher, to get away from you..to part from you... I might be just a letter for you, but you are the complete poetry for me..
there is a slight chance that they(my thoughts) consider me good for you, but they definitely know that you are the best thing happened to me..
Yes it is true, and you must accept it that you are beautiful, in fact most beautiful thing happened to me..
O Life! You are beautiful... !!

When I was alone, in my dreams..

Sunday Night..!!

You were roaming through my mind, flickering my thoughts, waiting me to sleep so that you can influence my dreams. I think that my thoughts about you are getting jealous of you.. They surely know that you are the one who will be in my dreams, and that those thoughts, they are only limited until my eyes are wide open and as soon as I start to doze off those thoughts become a distant spectator as You acquire the place which they considered as their birthright..

But I pity on those thoughts that they felt inferior to you.. I think they forgot that, situations may change, but people, they remain the same..

Misery of History or the Mystery of the Future..!!

Today, once again She tried to reconnect.

But as soon as She tried, the connection got embedded, and somehow His impression got carved on the wetlands of Her heart, soon to be turned into rocks. Impressions, which were going to last for an eternity, enough to make Her lighter, enough to provoke Her to fly higher and higher until He is not found in the crowd, scattered underneath. But hey! It’ll be quite inappropriate if one says that He ‘needed to be found’ among them, as He stand tall from the rest, allowing Him, to dignify and signify Himself.

With the every passing and flying moment, alike the tiny bits of invisible dust, capable of affecting the normality, She started to get soaked in His persona. Those mysterious eyes, those crumbling lips, unseen beauty of His unchalked territory, were enough to ravage the ‘Inner’ Her.

Suddenly, with the grace of ‘Omniscient’, the time halted, forcing Her to take Him out of the imaginative world, created by Her Heart, where only She and Him existed, and to introduce Him to the outer world, the real world.

Indeed! She did the same and obliquely introduced Him.

“Hey wait! Did I say that She introduced Him?”

Mistakenly, I did.

Silly me! Precisely the opposite happened. Yes! The opposite happened. It was Him who was the introducer, notHher. He introduced Her to the world, which resulted in Her existence in the real world.

But, that introduction led Her to the aphasic mode. As She was supposed to utter some words, some beautiful words. But, the one who claimed to be a sorcerer of words was short on Her tricks. Not a single letter escaped.

Ultimately, as a cover up, the silence did the entire hard and tricky job, which the words could not do, of course due to their absence. Oh Stranger!! Even silence was not able to define You and Your  importance, until that long cheeky smile came on the chariots of red cheeks, resulting in the “act of Blush”. Yes! The writer of Him  was blushing! Consequently, it did the remaining work.

The silence with the blush was enough to His introduction to the real world. Oh! The fragrance was to be uncaged, it was to be dispersed among them. The wings of her “idiocy” spread to cover the whole Her, to over shadow Her presence.

Look, what She had done! Everyone was more delighted by His presence than Her, eventually that ‘every one’ included Her too. Oh Fragrance! Amid those delicious gestures, the bitterness of the characteristics of fragrance was continuously prodding Her heart.

 "Will it be a long lasting aroma, or will it be a short lived odor, which fills with mesmerizing memories and then leaves for eternity to agonize in the pain of its cravings, only time can tell."

Still, She hopelessly hopes, the history doesn't affect the future, even if it makes an everlasting impression. The hold of future must be so tight that only some lessons can be learnt from the history instead of getting delved into it.

"Oh History! I’m not ready to be buried in you; instead I’m ready to fly with the future..!"

Chasing A Dream......!!!

"Shadows crawl,
In every direction of yesteryears,
Confiscate
The hoardings,
Of clustered conclusions.."

One fine day while watching out of the window he turned his head to his room!! Outside there somewhere, some people were cherishing their happiness as India won the world cup!! Every one present in there, was hoping for a glimpse of that parade!! But for him, it was nothing but a vulgar crowd which only causes disturbance!! It was not the case that he isn't a cricket fan!! It was just the matter of moment that he didn't want to look outside the window in a world where you don't exist......with him!!

So, here he is once again.... Once again toped with the thoughts that whatever may happen in the path, regardless the journey, you will accept him finally!!! Once again, slumbered on the thoughts that only thing that matters in your life is the love which has been forbidden!! Enough to get him high!! Pity him!! Still living in the imaginary world which places you on top of his priority list!! Which hasn't even mentioned any other thing in the list!! But one more thing he surely knows is that it is not going to happen because that world is nothing but a creation of his caring mind whose only goal is to see him happy, and that by any mean!! But that pity mind has no idea about the world which exists in your imaginations..that your imaginary world doesn't even care about him, about his feelings.. It doesn't know that in your world not enough places are vacant, and those which are...aren't meant for him.,, it doesn't know that he doesn't have a place in your world whether it is imaginary or if it is the real one!!

Meanwhile, He still gets to see those dreams where you and him, exist together!! Where, he still gets to hold your hand, where he still gets to feel your words, where he still picks your frizzed hairs, where you still rest your head on his shoulders, where he still get amused by the warmth of your breath..!! Alas!! They are all imaginary!! They all grope him with their expanded hands and that they don't let him leave that place!! That they incinerate his feelings and dreams!! 

He had done so many things to get out those impregnated feelings!! So many times he tried to make them understand that you and him together, isn't possible..even in the distant dreams!! Those feelings behaved as the free bees which are destined to transfer only venom!! As the scorching sun rays of summer!! 

They say that they aren't waiting for you  but, are hoping for the goodness of him, so that the dreams don't be left as stoor!! They are so determined that they don't do any thing except hope, because it resembles your face!! Yeah! You got it right, Hope resembles your face!! Someday, in that dark tunnel of ignorance a ray of your acceptance will bloom.!! Either in this birth or maybe next!! An optimistic imagination!! .

I don't know if this will be enough to pillage your attention!! I still doubt if that imaginary world will ever come into existence!! And if it does, will the time be same?? Will the conditions be same?? Will the world be same?? Will the words be sane?? But as Albus Dumbledore once said, "In dreams we enter a world which is completely ours!!" He is satisfied that no one else can own you, in his dreams, which is solemnly a creation of his!!

"My dreams,

Look,

For the real thing.

And my reality

Chases

A dream.."

-Deepti Naval (Black Wind)

The Cemetery....

Tapping of feet, clapping of hands, whispers of wind, melody of anklets.. Just another day and I would have ignored... But that day, it didn't seem to be possible.. Neither it was a bad day at office nor in the way... I mean no quarrels, no fights, no debates, no arguments, no teachings and preachings to walkers on social issues.... Quite a good day..! Though it was a peaceful day, yet calmness of mind was absent and seemed that it had flew away somewhere..  As I went to the cemetery after the office hour, which was at the nook of the street where I used to take the bus for my home, which is also have been declared a Heritage site by the Archaeological Survey Of India.. Don't know why but I couldn't coax myself to drag myself home.. Due to the interest in Historical place, perhaps.. The blatant mood of mine, forced me to end at the cemetery.. As soon as the philosophical part of mine, preached that it's the ultimate destination..the final one... I decided to have a glimpse of the place which will be going to be the last destination, the final one..

Those curiosities housed in me and forced me to have a sneak peek in the cemetery, as there was something, something which was prompting of its presence.. which was attracting me towards it.. Though I knew that if I convinced myself to go there,   I would definitely find myself late at home, yet that something posed more attractive and got over my worry of getting late.. So, I decided to give it a try and to experience something new, as I had never visited any cemetery before.. Well, usually no one does.. But there is a saying that some people live in world which is nothing but a creation of their own.. And I think I'm definitely one of those who do believe in the creation and existence of their own world.. Also preferred to visit it, as I had never felt the atmosphere of a cemetery.. As I had never felt my presence among dead people.. Or maybe because I too belonged among them..as somewhere deep inside I was also not alive, Me in myself was dead.. So what if I hadn't visited it before, there is always a First time for everything.. It's always better to regret for results than for not attempting... 

So, finally I stepped in with those rigorous thoughts... On the gate there was an old man who had got the responsibility of guarding dead people.. I don't know why it's necessary to guard dead people.. I mean "Come on!! Are they going to come out of their graves and going to run away...?" Anyways, that guard cautioned me to not to enter at this time, as it was 7.15 pm and the surrounding was getting darker.. He even stopped me for a minute and wasn't allowing me to enter... But after impugnating him, and having a logical fight with him, of course in literal form, he permitted me with the advisory caution that I must return back quickly and should not go deeper... Once again some questions popped in my head "What if some of those deads come out of their graves and start to run, will that guard be able to stop them?? If not, then what's the need and use of that guard..? Isn't people living on streets are more important to be secured and guarded than those who are residing peacefully in their provided shelters and are dead..?" They were same as my feelings: dead.. But when some of them manage to get out of their graves, all they do is make chaos and start to devastate..

After getting the permission and stepping in the cemetery I came to know that it was a Christian cemetery and that it used to be governed by some Christian Board, but now under the protection of ASI.. There were almost thousands of graves and gravestones, which were so old that they seemed to be terraced in British Era.. Some of them too beautiful to be called gravestones.. It would be more precise if one calls them 'Sculptures'.. Each of them eager to narrate their own story and eager to listen to mine.. But ruins and breakings of them were prohibiting them from doing so.. They were in bad state, demanding for renovation.. Most of the Shives of their plaster were also missing.. It resembled with that poor street boy, whose clothes get torn and his bare skin can be easily seen, yet they fail to decrease the cuteness and the innocence of his face.. Those graves were also depicting the same sombreness and beauty despite of their unsound condition.. I never found anything so attractive before, maybe because the tendency of loving the state of brokenness, had clouded all over me..

Anyone else, would have thought those hillocks as mere exaltation, which are only meant to, cover the cover of some English putrid flesh... But for me it was like my own story... Those graves were like me... Left alone in the middle of the city by the closed ones, broken and having an untold and unknown story in which no one seemed to be interested... Anyways I observed that each of them were erected beautifully on the bossom of the Earth.. After observing it closely, I found that they also had got carved some writings on it.. Perhaps name, or some quote.. Thousands of graves, but among them was one which was attracting me most, was the twin one... It were two graves built so close that it seemed to be one.. Seemed to be of someone who were meant to be too close to each other in their life and who tried to defy the death to separate them, even after their death... The mound of which were rectangular in shape and were wrested orthogonally as two smiling lips have been merged to make one.. I tried to read the words which were embossed on the stone.. Unfortunately, it was quite hard to read, as they appeared to be forgotten in the time.. The way they were covered with dust and leaves I can assure that no one had visited them in a long time... Seemed to be left alone for many years.. Though tough, yet I tried to read the words, failed to read the English letters but succeeded in reading the numeric ones.. After showing a full attention, only thing I was able to read was, 26th September, 1912.. So, one thing was clear that the stones were raised on 26th of September, year 1912.. There was something strange in it.. Both of the stones had same date.. That helped in depiction of the correct scenario.. That they died on the same day..

I sat close to it and tried to part the covering dust and leaves so that it could become easier to read the names written on it.. As soon as I touched it, I felt a hand on my shoulder... My fingers started to tremble, heart started to beat faster, vision blurred.. And as a normal mind would've reacted, my mind too started to shape lots of equations.. All the stories I had read about graveyards and cemeteries, started to flash before my eyes.. And before I turned to see who it was, or what it was, I blacked out.....

............to be continued

The Calamity....

“I dreamt of a poem,

I dreamt of you,

Each of us with our primal poems,

Each held by moist alphabets..”

-          Sharmila Ray (With Salt And Brine)

                                                

And here comes again, the ripped thoughts, which have reaped enough to be roped in the Blog.. The ultimatum which was given to the heart by the mind has been finally ignored... The Securities which were scrutinised to secure the "Self " has gone on the shelves.. The nerves which were pretending to be made of steel has ultimately proved to be hollow and consequently perished...

The writer who was lost somewhere, in the deserts of seperation, is keen enough to make his marks... To return on the track, to step forward, to move on to accept the bitter truth and to break the shell he was residing in... Finally on the verge to break that Mirage...

His journey from one spring to another is next to the remorseful, yet with a ray of hope that the Spring will be there once again.. And here it is.. The same spring which was left behind, is on the front, once again to lead to more heartious journeys, perhaps remarkable ones, this time.. Just as the Second's hand, it's not going to stop, until it falls in the clutches of time until it runs out of the enthusiasm to step forward with every breathe, until it runs out of energy...

From that day onward the wind which used to flow with the floral aroma, has now changed its course, flowing with the thorny pricks, to sting with each blow... The decorated gates which used to welcome every thought, has now become ignorant.. Even the healthiest one has been started to startle.. The balcony which used to be cheerful, has now gone silent... The bliss has lost somewhere in the mid oceans.. The thoughtfulness has blurred.. Just to make the journey more tough...

One day one of his thoughts, which thought of it as a close companion of the lost writer, knocked on the doors with an intent of being craved on the  pages of his diary.. It came with all the possible beauty one can showcase.. With all the sweetness and innocence on its face.. It started to sing in the melodious voice one can be enriched with... Just to seek his attention.. In which it failed..

Finally, when that thought started to panic the writer, when it started to devastate him, that clumsy writer picked up his pen and without a second thought, un-mercilly started to thrust it on the table... Seeing this, tears started to flow from the eyes of that Thought... And in result a verse of curse was about to escape its lips..for the one who was responsible for the condition of his mate...but it couldn't happen as simultaneously something else jammed it...

“What was it, only that Thought could know.. She hurt him more than he deserved, Yet he loved her more than she deserved.. How can be one so cruel and someone such a fool?”

With every second, with every breathe, with every sunlight, those thoughts started to suppress themselves... And finally started to get perished with every passing breathe.. There was no one left to admire the beauty of them... Even in these adverse situations, those cursing verses couldn't escape their lips.. Why? Maybe because She was the sole reason for those emerging thoughts...

People who feel pain, that's common. Someone who uses this pain to create is an Artist.. Thus, the Writer was born from that pain and so were his thoughts.. The pain of separation..

Even when one day those unlucky thoughts got lucky enough to be embossed, only thing happened, that they all got captivated in the Drafts... Yes, they really got carved, but only to be saved as Draft...

Someday, those crumbling thoughts would definitely crawl, from the narrowy gaps, to get rewarded, to emerge as a winner... But for now, one more draft has been saved...

Satisfactio

The crayolish rays were fully visible on the curtains of oceanic sky, turning it into a beautiful girl wearing a blue saree. The birds on the way, to their roost after a long and hectic day, must have been thinking to go and touch the face of the girl, but they were unable to do so, due to their tiredness and onus towards their family. Still, they were adding beauty to the dress as they seemed glyphs on the border of that saree, seemed embroidered by a reputed weaver. The wind was blowing mildly and with it, was blowing the branches of the nearby tree turning them into the hairs of that beautiful girl.. The clusters of clouds were enough to shape the perfect curves..
On the ground, there were some children playing.. Innocent faces, without a single crease of worry.. Among them, was a boy brownish in context, with an un-explainable peace on his face, who looked familiar. Don't know how, don’t know Why... The boy had a reel (charkhi) in his hands, and was flying a kite.. The way he was swaying his arms and handling the reel, the way he was keeping himself differentiated from the rest of the boys, just to fly his kite, the way he seemed obsessed with his kite, seemed it was his most beloved thing, closest to his heart.. It seemed that his kite was helping him, to measure the drapes of the saree, to measure the sky, with its thread..

"Doesn't the same happen with us? The one whom we love the most or the one who loves us the most helps us in achieving the highest feats, supports us in adverse situations and makes us believe in ourselves, makes us recognize our own capabilities.."

Seemed, the boy too was trying to touch the beauty of the girl with the help of his kite.. In the process, his kite was making a shape of bindi for the girl.. He continued to fly his kite, unworried.. He tried to touch that girl many times, tried to feel his beauty many times, but failed, due to the distance.. As everything has its own limits, so had the thread.. Though he failed everytime, yet he kept trying.

"Isn't it the nature of the heart to try, to try without thinking of the consequences. It doesn't bother about the outcome and the time it will consume.. Though all it wants is success, practically or philosophically, philosophical success is preferred more as it is a way to find the inner meaning, of which practicals are not capable .."
Those who prefer practicals over theories are the same who want to top in exams without having a proper knowledge of it!! Practicals are conducted by the 'external us' which can be seen and touched, but to feel, we've to be philosophical.. Some people may support my opinion but a lot will differentiate them from it because they think that everyone can't be philosophical.. But they should know that 'Philosophy is nothing but, one's point of view, one's perception, one's attitude, one's method of handling situations.. Philosophy resides in every one of us.. From the morning wake to Night's sleep, everything includes some part of philosophy... Well! Let's not go for the definitions..
Time passed and the crayolish rays first turned appricottish and then they turned more dim, with it, the glowing face of the girl also turned dim.. The blue sky was also turning into black, the blue saree turned into a black one, where some glittering sparkles and squinches could be spotted.. The wind became more mild and the birds had probably reached their nests and were preparing to dine.. Though so much changed, still it looked beautiful.. But it was only the external and artificial beauty.. Seemed she has concealed her face behind her hairs..
On the ground, the boy started to wrap things up, was bringing down the kite rapidly and in that hurry he entangled his kite in the nearby tree. It stuck in the branches.. Seemed the girl herself wasn't willing to leave her..
The boy tried to get it back, he thrusted all his effort, only to fail.. From the ground he was unable to get it back.. So he decided to climb up the tree.. He tried to climb but couldn't as he was not capable of doing it!! Yet he tried..

Climbed a little but to fell.. Climbed a little more but again to fail.. The more he was failing to get near the kite, the more desperate he was becoming.. More he climbed, the more he fell.. The More he fell, the More he progressed.. Everytime he failed, he progressed.. Ultimately, he got his reward, he got upon the tree.. He was on the tree, was clinging towards his goal. He went on the edge of the branch to get the kite.. Alas! As soon as he had the kite in his hand, a sound of crack happened and with it the branch broke.. And the boy fell down with the kite in his arms.. As, the boy was falling down, there was a smile and an expression of satisfaction on his face, instead of tears and fright.. The next moment he was on the ground to not to smile again, to not to measure the sky again, to not to get up again, but with the kite in his arms.. The boy was dead..
Instantly my eyes opened and widened.. Nothing in the sight, the sky, the rays, the birds, the trees, the children, the kite, the boy, everything disappeared.. Only thing present, was darkness, a dark darkness, a dark pitched darkness and a few drops of sweats on the forehead.. A river of tears emanated from the eyes. Was that a dream? Or a nightmare? Probably a dream, because it ended on a happy note.. Happy note? The boy died and death can't be reason for happiness unless it's of a devil.. True.. Death can't be a reason for happiness ever.. But we need to observe the other aspect also.. What about the satisfaction on the boy's face? His beloved in his arms? Oh yes! "Isn't it what we all want? Die smiling, satisfaction in our heart projected through our face and the most beloved one in our arms.?"
Glanced on the clock : 4.04 am.. Dawn it was. After relaxing a bit, thought about the dream, thought about the boy.. Oh boy! Now, i got why his face looked so familiar? It was no one else but me.. I saw myself.. It was me who tried, tried, tried and failed, yet succeeded..
Is it appropriate to connect ourselves with the dreams? Don't know.. It Is said that morning dreams come true.. Yes, I want them to be true..

"To have satisfaction on the face, smile on the face and the loved one in the arms, when I die.." 

But the biggest question Is :

"Will it come true?"