Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Yours Miserably

This is something that I'd written a while ago. I thought I'd put it up here, but for some reason left it as a draft and forgot all about it. I don't consider this to be the best, but its my first attempt at writing a satirical piece mouthed by a character largely inspired by T.S.Eliot's Prufrock. The miserable lover here is sad, weird, hopeless, and trying hard to reach out to the woman he "loves" through his words. He is surely one of those people who may creep you out in the first encounter, but is nevertheless that one person drowned in the crowd of many. At times, the emotions that he has developed for this woman may not seem sincere; but rather fragmented and all over the place. A perfect example of a man lost in the labyrinth of the post modern world! For example, the references to popular/contemporary consumeristic media, like "Apple" or "Hutch"; have been blended in metaphorically with the ideas of love, lust and form a part of the intertexuality that is a core aspect of post modernism.

But at the end of it all,  you don't have to think of it in this particular way, and just go ahead and read it as it is!

Dear You,
         You have probably seen me around. I am always around- you know, that man wearing a rolled up blue shirt with an ink stain on the breast pocket. I wear it everyday. It's my uniform. If you cant place me, then I am also the man with a bald patch threatening to encroach the landscape of his head very soon. If you still haven't noticed me ; then maybe there's something terribly lacking in my overt stalking skills. I may just be a mere mortal, made even more common by being a part of a monotonous job. I believed that I was a piece of refused furniture with no purpose in life. Until the day I met you. Well I didn't really "meet"you, but you did ask me to move, so I could let you pass up to your seat in the bus. You were the most lovely creature that I’d set my eyes on! That’s when I decided to follow you around. Don’t be scared. I’m not armed with secret video cameras or other voyeuristic gadgets. I just can’t help but be pulled towards you, irrespective of whether I’ll end up self destructing myself like a wicked time bomb.

        I thought I could get along well by myself. I still think so. Probably that was just for my own futile consolation during times when I felt weak. Even sugary and grease dripping food cannot make this weakness go away. But I cannot possibly deny the fact that there has been a change taking place within me. It was so gradual and so discreet in its approach. Just like a glow-in-the-sun-vampire,I was fascinated, but was taken aback when I came to realise the actual strength and capacity that it contained. It hit me hard. As hard as the ground that broke Humpty Dumpty’s fragile egghead. This weakness within me, this helplessness, I don’t know what to do about it! I try to bravely face it with my air shield and air sword. I want to ward it off, but it just refuses to give up. Also, I seem to crave for this weakness to get hold of me ever so often. I think I might be a closet masochistic pig. *Ouch. Oink. Ouch*

     I don’t know what else to do, other than look at you with awe and worship every fibre of your being to an almost pathetic extent. But you know what’s even more scary. I don’t care about how pathetic I’m turning. I want to keep torturing myself, keep wanting to be around and keep you happy. *Ouch. Oink. Ouch.*

     Oh Cupid! What games art thou playeth on me? Go playeth on the Apple gadgets like other “normal” people and, leaveth my heart alone.

     I keep telling myself. It’s stupid. It’s selfish. It’s almost capitalistic. But why oh why do you pepper my dreams, and haunt my nightmares. Why does my heart melt when I look into those eyes. But being the realist, that I’d like of think of myself to be, I have forced myself to pick out a few flaws in your character. But on the other hand, being the Romantic, that I’m turning into, I reckon that those flaws of yours beautifully complement my own flaws. You are flawlessly flawed my darling bud of May!

    Can I call this love? When I scribbled the four letter word down, it doesn’t seem apt at all. Infact it sounds pretentious. Like I’m declaring something and automatically obliging you to respond to it . You don’t even have to respond, if I do end up declaring it all of a sudden in one of those free alcohol parties that you keep attending. Yes I am there as well. How amusing and endearing are you when you are in high spirits! Anyway, you can just slap me right across the face, and tell me to stop listening to the bubbling golden something battling its hazy eyelashes before me.  In my state, I will go down on my knees or more likely pass out at your feet; and ask you to make me the…happiest person on this planet! And you’d probably just blankly stare at me and not say anything. I'm sure you wouldn't want to respond to a man like me! And I like a slurry idiot would try re framing my proposition whilst you just quietly move away and leave me swimming in a pool of drunken awkwardness, and not to mention an inappropriate joy of getting a weight lifted off me. But of course, soon I am facepalming and faceslapping myself. What a tragedy!

     But anyway, this hasn’t happened so it’s quite safe in saying that the above piece of incident was fictional and has never happened. I was so contended with this stalker-stalked relationship, but my shrink said that its best if I wrote it all down. It hasn't helped me in any way. I think I will go and shred this letter or something. Anyway before I destroy it, I just want to tell you that I love you my darling!

Yours miserably,

Sunday, October 23, 2011

The Fall

Without greed, without envy, 
hoarded memories,
plucked away,
in an abyss, 
by the tumultuous hand of time.

Bare as a cold branch,
kissed by an icicle,
as the chaotic wilderness dances around
beating its chest, tearing its flesh,
my eyes wide opened
but blind to this rage

Hot spring under a sheet of ice,
tears collect at the feet,
A Surge of pain
bellows within
urging for its release

I drown
washing away my parched love
I drown
Reticence wrapping me,
in its lifeless bosom
I drown
just to hear
the last whimper of truth.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

C'est Bon!

Bon Iver's new album, 'Bon Iver' was a real pleasure to listen to! The songs, each named after a town or city that singer Justin Vernon visited, describe his own interesting thoughts tied to those places. The songs seemed to beautifully flow into each other without a strain! Here's one of my favourites'. It's called "Perth".

Monday, July 4, 2011

The Vagrant

One of my first proper attempts at writing fiction. It may be a bit raw and amateur-ish at certain points. I've tried my hand at experimenting with a few techniques. So here goes - the first chapter of "The Vagrant". :-)

  An empty house - The air smelled of rancid breath which had been repeatedly circulating within the tightly sealed domains of the 400 square feet damp space. There was nothing but an uncovered bed, yellowed with time, at the centre of the hall. The kitchen was untouched and unattended to. Spider-webs threatened to gobble up the entire ceiling with their delicate silvery webs. The bathroom bore a similar air of negligence, collecting grime and dust of the years’ bygone.  Deep green moss had begun to worm their way around the once abundantly used ceramic fittings. A small balcony attached to the hall overlooked a construction site next to a kids’ playground. The semi-circular mosaic tiled balcony was propped with a lusterless solitary wooden chair. The hall and the balcony were separated by a sliding glass door. The smudged dusty glass panes bore greenish white stains of dried bird droppings, presumably due to the once lived nest of twigs and plastic straws in a hollowed space just above the window.

  Carried away in describing this match-box of a house, I forgot to mention the pale figure of a man lying on the lone bed, covered only by a thin cotton blanket. His thinning hairline made his high forehead appear almost clownish, as it clashed with his otherwise what one may call ‘petite’ features. His eyes were firmly set in his face like tiny round marbles. He possessed an equally round nose and a mouth with lips so thin that they almost seemed delusional. He had been there since dawn broke out. The flimsy door-lock of this abandoned house easily gave way with a single tug.

  His face was white with a feverish glow and his frail body quivered and coiled beneath the useless sheet that covered him. Two half-eaten apples, now browned beyond the stage of palpability rested beside him. A blue water-bottle lay on the dusty marble floor, encircled by a halo of a contrasting patch of marble, cleaned by spilt water. An abrupt and absolute silence prevailed after the constant hubbub of the construction site had been stopped for the day. The only sounds that could be heard was the slow, uneven breath of the desolate man, and an occasionally buzz of a restless fly trapped on the wrong side of the window.

  Evening had approached. Whatever little remnants of murky sunlight that managed to make it’s way into the apartment was groped away into the fast approaching darkness. The man didn’t rise from the horizontal state that he had positioned himself in. He uneasily twitched in the bed and gave out an occasional coarse, dry cough. Not even once did he open those little eye lids. They were tightly shut, as if he feared facing the starkness of the deathly situation that engulfed him. Altogether, he very well bore the appearance of a man with no identity and no place to go.

  A tramp. A homeless, dying tramp. That's what one would call him.
 With a sudden jerk he shoved the blanket away from his body. His skeletal feet peered out of his unfitting worn out pants.  Greenish blue streams of veins threatened to tear out from a thin layer of translucent skin. Just above the ankle on the left foot is what appeared to be a tattoo. An ace of spade conjoined with an ace of heart. Two tiny playing cards inked for eternity.  

Sunday, June 26, 2011

To May

Here's a little ode that I had scribbled on the pages of my favourite "Little Green Book" a while ago. It's dedicated to a month which somehow always manages to withstand and ward off the harshness that the other months seem to bring!

Sweet May! Your short-lived journey concludes at last.
Leaving you behind; with her sweet sun kissed body,
Nature enters the wet chambers of the days yet to come.

Dear May! You have always brought such bliss,
Not a tear was ever shed on your sunny days. 
Sweet sweaty children sing summer songs,
birds constantly cheep from morn to night,
the breeze carries their tune across many a mile.
Lovers passionately entwine under the canopy of trees,
Venus basks near the glistening park fountain, 
an air of contentment dances around her.

When pragmatic duties are replaced by indulgence,
when long days brim with ecstasy,
when scented balmy nights whisk me away from sadness.
Oh merry May! Now you're gone.
A dreary wait is what it will be,
till you arrive in your warm merry cape yet again!

Friday, March 25, 2011

Chutti ke din!

Another year comes to an end for me. My second undergraduate year has officially finished it's term. I haven't actually 'planned' a to-do list to accomplish for these holidays. But I have already started doing things that I love. Firstly, I cleared away all the traces of academia by packing my college books and keeping them in the depths of my cupboard. I got my painting kit out and made a few canvases! I got new earphones to replace the broken ones for my i-shuffle! Went for a few evening walks around my area. It's the only time when the weather maintains a pleasant head and it gets surprisingly breezy. Also, met my grandmother and a few cousins. It was good to see them all.I also took a lot of photographs. Here are a few.

Time to get the colours outta the tubes! 

Painting 1- I love random patterns!

Paniting 2 -A gloomy day for the city

Good music for company!

Street at night

Bonfires - Pre-Holi night

The fridge magnet!

In the freezer- a summer escape? 

Monday, March 14, 2011

FRANKIE my Dear, I do give a damn!

The past couple of days were moving at a slow pace. Not exactly the "mellow and contended" kind of slowness, but that of the "painfully stretched" kind. The lanes of imagination were "out of duty". Everything was viewed with a grey spectacle. The world seemed drab and was in need of an urgent coat of paint. Existential questions about my purpose in this world were hovering around my head, hitting nothing but my hard skull. Thinking equaled to blanking out. Brain activity seemed sterile. I was a pile of hopeless mass. Nothing would stimulate even an ounce of excitement in my nerves. I passed the hours, sitting with a futile hope of encountering that wandering gypsy, called "happiness". It seemed like it didn't really want to "hang out" with me. But it could just pop in for a while you know- for tea maybe? 

I was in for a pleasant surprise when all of a sudden "happiness" did turn up for tea. And today, it adorned the cloak of a crisp paged magazine called "Frankie". It never fails to enclose within it, oodles of love! It's like a warm, familiar hug from an old friend. My very own thoughts, my very own dreams are housed within that little piece of joy! My eyes brighten up and an effortless smile stretches across my mouth as I sup up the words and pictures laid out before me.I love Frankie and I love the way my thoughts shape up after reading it. The new issue has already found itself a permanent place in my bag. A dear old companion is what it will always be!  :)