As my lashes fall...

As my lashes fall at the end of every day, 

I ask you, "Why did you leave, my love?"

I wish I had a diary...

As I walk alone in the streets now, I feel like that 8th standard kid, dad, who was always ready to block a blow or take one...  Always, guarded and alert. You used to send me for martial arts training then, remember, dad? I haven't smoked for the past eleven days,  Dad! You know, it is the first time in last ten years! I think I started to feel power again, all over,  like that 8th standard boy!  Here, I feel equipped and I acknowledge you...  Dad, all my way, I thank you! Looks like I am becoming good!

I wish I had a diary like I used to have.

Note: I am perfectly in my senses...

Béatrice Dalle... a charismatic mess!

"I knew I would never find another girl as good as Béa," Everett writes, in his 2006 memoir Red Carpets And Other Banana Skins. "She was perfect. When she was with you, she was with you. She had faith and you could do no wrong; until... that attention would be switched off, like an electric light. It had happened to her husband. It would happen to me. No one left Béa."

(Felt like copying it here...  what Everett said about Béatrice Dalle)

If the bad man prays...

After all his prayers to God, he said:
"I can settle for anything lesser than just asked, as a person. But, as a system and a phenomenon, I won't settle for anything lesser."

The reap

I am sowing all those beautiful dreams in my fertile soul. 

I hope to reap the best...

Adversities can't affect my reap yet again, for I am immune to a handful of calamities over the yesteryears. 

I hope to reap the best.

Alive, yet Dead

I used to live naked-
Devoid of any armour.
I was wounded,
Kissed by disasters.

But, I was alive and soulful in all those times-
During all the magical rises and brutal falls...

Today I am guarded.
Devoid of any fear.
I am safe, but, as in the cellar of the dead.
I remain lifeless, my soul is in despair.

Cactus

In those inhospitable deserts of my heart, I wonder-
How am I nurturing your soul with this innocence?
Perhaps, this helplessness!

Is it that you grow best during the hot and dry winds in my heart?
Like the cactus grows that has thorns?
I feel pain, dear.
You or I? I know not who sow your soul within me!
But I am sure that I am reaping all the pains with loyalty.

Moses, me & YOU

Like the Almighty who elicited against Moses's desire for a glimpse of the divine essence,
YOU came to me. 
Like Moses then, I also couldn't withstand YOUR lustre, 
And like the Almighty, YOU too disappeared in the blink of an eye. 

And then, I fainted.

Ode to the gone!

The bushes, I remember, have been there in the tales of my love!

The breath, the tears, and the aura of virgin forest -

The art, the sighs, the darkness, the motorcycle, the roads, the unending journeys, have been there!

And, the unending waits, too! 

And then, there was desperation, and urge to enfeeble the weak!

Whatsoever, power is immaterial while being in love... 

Like my love, I was flowing.

Rather, my love was flowing like I was.

I took in; all that you gave me... dear Love!

And then, there was Malena.

And as I passed my boyhood days, there was Hannah.

Some time later I realized that I was still that kid, the Renato.

I never grew up in love! I never grew up!

In my love, there was one more person - My dad!

Like the honorable chief guest of some rare occasions, he walked in, to reconstruct me.

Rather, I surrendered, shedding all my pride away.

And, I acknowledge him. I was wrecked before he came.

You are there in the tale of my love, dad!

Yea, and then, there were power failures,

There was sweat that I have breathed in the limited permitted minutes.

I do remember, I have always been in a hurry...

Maybe forefathers would have farsighted my premature death while being in love!

Yea, they were there... My great grandfathers were there in my love and the history of my heredity.

The unpaved roads to my ancestral home,

And the derailed, unmarried man who walked in there -

While my grandmother was sitting on that pyol of my legendary home, probably chewing the betel leaves.

Everyone was there in my love...

I shared my history, my sensual intolerant present, and sometimes my ambitious future...

In the tale of my love everything and everyone was there...

I spared or saved none or nothing... But, only a little well received!

And your tears, those seen and unseen -

Regarded and disregarded.

I have seen it and felt it. I admit.

And what else? Oh... I see nothing now. I only feel events, I don't see anything.

And there were rented homes, I remember, in my love!

And, there was wilderness when I was allowed to intertwine being there!

And there was also five minutes of nap under permissible conditions!!

I remember, I was an obedient boy...!

And, there was your uncompromising morality as well, in my love!

And there were some beautiful words which only we too would understand and smile...

Words have been there in my love... Tremendously flooding words...

The vocabularies… Oh, my love! Those poetically beautiful vocabularies...

Like our children - the future, we also gave birth to wonderful vocabularies.

  

Yes, there were dark ages when I was lost irresistibly when you were gone.

My poignant street rides, knowing not the destination,

Amid my wandering days, there was a breastfeeding woman in a car upon whose sight I started to shiver...

And there was rain. Nobody knows... nobody knows...

Oh God! I would be glad if you really exist!

Yes, there was rain... The rain was there every time, blessing me and my soul.

Amid those motorcycle journeys in rain, God, you gave us shelter as well.

Your design of my twenty-five years is hereby admired with gratitude.

Yes! I have cried for your refuge, cursed you, and sometimes warned you. 

But, you were there in the tales of my love, dear God! I admit your irreplaceable presence...

And, my journeys were dangerously swift in a way that none can ever imagine.

To take control of the clocking time, I was driving for her...

There is no record of those miles I have traversed through the roads that reach her...

Oh God! Those roads... Those roads were spread in three different territories.

I have covered them all like the seven skies Muhammed had to pass to reach God Almighty! 

I can't imagine how I made those long solitary journeys back and forth unto her those days...

Time! You just gave the best and worst for me.

You, time! You are noted.

And that time is gone.

I know, gone is gone forever!

No conclusions. I am clocking now.

The needles are under control.

My love is not... its wilderness is not.

They are subtly allowed to remain alive.

So, my love is, subtly, alive.

The brook is calm now.

And, my love has always been private... naked and pure...

My love was not enveloped in floral designs and placed amid scented candles...

It was raw and wild, yet sweet, I believe... at times, worse!

But, I gave it all while being in love... all of my soul.

I was "giving"...

And there were brutal sacrifices, inhibitions, and sometimes, submissions, of which there is no record of –

Just like the entire tale of my love!

In spite of the deep wounds you have caused, precisely, my love has caused my heart, I am thankful for time!

With due gratitude, I shall hereby quit the words to the gone!

...

Also, like you know, there were black moles in my love...

They are beautiful... They were beautiful...

They were beautiful like the so many "unlived" moments that I buried alive!

Maybe, I was a lunatic as Paul, the last tango in Paris, for which you have shot me to death...!

But I am not dead...

I know not about my "love".

The End.

I am armed!

Tonight I feel like I have become a one-man army, armed; but with no tangible weapons.

The island

I understand that certain scars won't heal over time.
I have tried a million ways, umpteen times, to bounce back to the one whom I used to be in my boyhood days-
Before the beautiful people merged with my soul in their short intervals.
Nobody stays.

I understand that certain people are born to be an island.
And, I am one of them.
Some accidentally reach the island...
Some other comes to conquer its resources...
They either suffer or nurture being there.
But, none stays.
An island is an island.
I am destined to be that island.
I thank those beautiful adventurous people who fortunately or unfortunately had spent their time on the island.
When they leave, that which they planted, grows...
None of the inhabitants remembers what they have caused during their stay.
They just moved on.
But, the island remains, with the scars on its bosom, and the grass on its shores-
Until the ocean roars one day and envelope all of it to heal itself...

The earlier the better, for the pain still exist!

The two people

One said to the other, "Did I not tell you not to stay alone, you filthy creature?"
The other replied, "Yes, but... I couldn't help it, brother."
The earlier said, "I thought I was heavily strategic to run you. But, now that I am failing to hold you. To guide you."
The other replied, "I tried to do justice to you, brother. But, I don't know, I am failing too."

"I know you are better. But, hold on to reality, please..."

Unfortunately, both lived within him.
Uncertainty, yet again!

Peace!

Hope the departed ones are sleeping in peace with their beloved!

Familiar stranger

I used to say to a familiar stranger, "It is tough to be me, and easy to be you."
The familiar stranger agreed.

The names

The rhythms, the names, you murmur today will be the same you used to murmur in your beautiful childhood.

No matter they are alive or dead.

Or they are someone else's!

The life is over?

Amid night, after being stronger for a little  while, tired and exhausted, I say to myself, "the life is over."
Then, I improvise, saying, "that life is over."
And, I see my eyes aren't wet yet!
I have changed.

Doctors, teachers and dancers...
I hardly see a magical tomorrow.
For, my past travelled with you, the present carried you, though I can only manage to feel comparatively little of your heavy weights now.
But, somewhere beneath, I say to myself, "the life is over."
I am trying to improvise...
Amid night.

Something within is not stopping.
Something within is craving for something.
I know not when it is going to be quenched.

I will improvise until then.
Hopefully, the half dead.
From, a distant land.

Nights are still dangerous!

With nights, waves, music, dance, and words, he used to make love! The night being the most dangerous of all! Having enveloped in the beauty and curses of the past for so long, he is not yet evidently free at the most honest hours of his life - The Night. His memory, his reels within, used to become insufferably garrulous at some nights... His reels, which he has been sincerely trying to detach from himself, sometimes trigger him to chase the lost, the faded; knowing not, the lost are lost forever! Yet, he remained a firm believer of his own soul; the soul that never seized him to death! He is still alive, though engulfed in a suffocating crystal. Even when there is always a probability of shatter, a massive self-destruction, he appeared calm. He, no longer feared anyone or anything, unlike the times in yesterdays. Yet, he sees within, a probability, probably a possibility, as Will Smith says to his son in "The Pursuit of Happyness". And, certainly, he fears not his silence.

Everything happens at night!
The reels he had to bury alive, are now moving.
The beauty of the bygone times overshadows the curses, the chaos!

Yet, he appeared calm,

He appeared calm, at times, as if he is in front of the coffin of a kid!

Nights are still dangerous!

But, he appeared calm!

Hope the dead won't appear from the grave!
He can make love with the dead, the beautiful dead; but he won't!
He appeared so.
Nights are still dangerous!
And he is beautifully calm!!!

MARCH!

MARCH!!!

On a 9th, you effortlessly took away my great grandfather before even I could figure out the legacy I have inherited!

On a 19th, you let me come out to this world of poignant uncertainties.

And then, on a 29th, you blessed a couple gifting a beautiful daughter, a soulful being; the daughter  with whom certain was my confluence, in this very world of uncertainties.

All you gave me has been taken away by yourself.

MARCH - the month of great births, and deaths.

I am failing to judge you, MARCH!

I am failing to judge you!

Yet, I am thankful to you.