Monday, 30 July 2012

A nobody, restrained.

A question, I asked,
Replies were naught.
I whispered a query
Silenced, I was.
I had uncertainties, doubts and suspicions
But I wasn’t allowed, even to ponder.
I had discoveries to share
I was hushed.
I raised my hands
They were cut.
My wishes were,
Scattered and ignored.
A nonentity
More unknown than dust
I was to be doused
Even before I could levitate.
I was nothing,
They fed to my brain
A faceless existence
Never to be named.

Friday, 27 July 2012

Crazy Ramblings #4

Lately I have been reading a lot of suicide posts on different blogs and hearing such stories. It's mostly them or goodbye posts. Like the other day; I was going through some blogs and most of them had just goodbyes. I wonder if it will ever happen to me.  I hope not. And then there are the suicide posts. I don’t know why people even consider it. They probably consider it because of people.  Whoever had the thought of suicide occur to him or her and who is reading this I want them to know something: nobody is worth it. You'd be sacrificing your life for them but there is a 90% probability that they wouldn’t even care, they'll go ahead with their own lives and probably hurt a few other people like they did you. So it's better just to hang in there, regardless of the hurt and betrayal. It will obviously pain you but sooner or later you will come to terms with yourself. And if it's crucial times that have caused you to think of it, I am sure life hasn’t disappointed you and has done better for you, and in times to come it will do the same. So don’t consider suicide, consider moving on. Smile. Deny your life the hurt and pain. Be strong. Face it. Stand up. You are worth everything good that has ever happened to you, and more. Be happy. Be crazy. I am crazy. I know I am. 

Monday, 23 July 2012


Often wind whispers and calls my name,
Filling me with fear of the dreaded halt
I frown back and tell death to wait
The wind cackles and sighs ignoring my case,
'But for now it's not coming your way,
It's just a reminder for you to be played
Because when it will come all will stay
You won't even get a chance to complain
Beware is all it wants to say
For there is an eternity past these days.'


Friday, 20 July 2012

Crazy Ramblings #3

I have had the pleasure of having a couple of brilliant friend, each unique in a distinct way and some exceptional than the rest (and I am not even being modest). They have been there and always there for me, for quite some time now, so much that I seem to have forgotten how to make friends. I guess it comes naturally but I have been having this craving to let someone to know me; someone who knows who I am but doesn’t know me. I restraint myself to a certain level of frankness but this time I am willing to surpass the barriers. I don’t know why. I don’t know how. I want someone to come up to me and tell me they want to know me. Again, I am not sure why.  I know it's useless since it will be up to me to open up to them and that is a very difficult task, for me at least. It's not that I am not at ease with my friends, I am, but I have this weird craving to know someone better. I am probably crazy. I know I am.


Sunday, 15 July 2012

Crazy Ramblings #2

Sometimes when I get too angry or tired or sad or just unsatisfied, I go in the kitchen and I open the door of the freezer and stand in front of it. I just stand there and make an effort to not think and concentrate on breathing. And at one point I realize that breathing in the cold freezer air is difficult because it hits your throat in a weird way. I don’t know why but it happens every time and the thought just hits me. Even when I know it's going to pop into my mind when I stand in front of the freezer, it still strikes me. And when we are angry or tired or sad or just unsatisfied, we just need these type of weird thoughts to tell us that it doesn’t matter. Everything is a random silly thing that somehow makes sense and it isn’t really important to understand it. I think I get high on the cold freezer air. I am probably crazy. I know I am.


Friday, 13 July 2012

Crazy Ramblings #1

If you stare at the clouds long enough you'll realize they are moving. But they do move and everybody knows that right? No, everyone knows that they move but not everyone wants to watch them move. But if you sit quietly outside sometime of the day or night and look at those cotton like wisps of clouds for a certain interval you will see them move, and then your eyes will follow them; sometimes patiently and sometimes edgily. But at one point they'll be moving and you'll be watching them move and then you'll feel all this peace and tranquility inside you; because at that moment you'll know that it has to move, everything, everyone, so that you are filled with the peace at times. Sometimes when there are no clouds I crave for these serene moments. I am probably crazy. I know I am.


Monday, 9 July 2012

I cried...

We have a high roof in the lounge, higher than that in other rooms, so sometimes I lie down and stare at it, and I think. Last night, I stared at it because sleep wouldn’t come to me and I cried. I cried because I had lost friends. I cried because I knew I was losing the rest. I cried because I had no idea what was going on. I cried because I didn’t know the path of my future. I cried because I forgot what went on in the past. I cried because at that moment I forgot everything and I cried because I was lost, not known when to be found again. I cried because I was unhappy. I cried because my unhappiness made others unhappy. I cried because some people suddenly just stop. I cried because I wasn’t sure if they trusted me that moment. I cried because I was alone, because I was sad and for some reason guilty. I cried because sometimes nobody understands. And I cried because sometimes they understand too much. I cried because I misinterpreted people. I cried because everything is just an illusion. I cried because there really is no perfection. I cried because the end is always too close. I cried because it all made sense but then I cried because I was confused. I cried and cried and then I fell into an uneasy slumber. I hope nobody cries like that.


Friday, 6 July 2012

smoked cigarettes

Staring into the eyes of the little girl in front of her, she was abruptly pushed back into her own childhood where these eyes belonged to her; full of fear and loneliness, craving attention and love. 

She stood at her bedroom door staring down into the hall of the great big mansion. The mansion, even though her home scared her; it was too big and too delicate, the opposite of a cozy home. She looked down on to the open hall her eyes skimming through all the people who looked similar to each other till her eyes landed on the one person she wanted to see. There were a lot of people surrounding her but she was nothing like any of them. There was a striking aura around that particular person that captivated the young child. Her eyes followed the figure careful not to lose it, she knew she'd loose her with just one blink and her eyes were already drowsy from sleep. The swollen bloodshot eyes that dominated the pale little face darted from figure to figure as she lost her mother in the party crowd. It was then that she realized the smoke from all the cigarettes and cigars was getting to thick, irritating her eyes and throat. Turning her tiny self away from the body she coughed and went inside, closing the door shut behind her, she opened her window and sat on it, wiping away her watery eyes and looking up into the dark sky she said a little prayer like every day and then called her dear old nanny.
'Would you call mama to come and kiss me good night?' she asked.
'I am afraid she's busy my dear!' the nanny replied gently.
'But won't you try, please?'
'I shall' she said although knowing that the mother won't come and the poor child would drift to sleep waiting.
It's late, very late, and almost time for dawn but she's awake sitting on the big arm chair gazing at her mother as if she was a diamond encrusted statue. Her mother though is unaware of her presence as she lies on the couch with eyes closed, smoking a cigarette. The little child doesn’t go near her mother afraid she'll push her into the table like the other day. She loves her but she wants her mother's love. She needs it. She looks at the carpet scattered with ash and ash-tray filled with cigarette butts. Her fearful eyes follow her mother's figure as it gets up and walks away leaving her behind alone. The poor child shudders at the hate she feels wafting at her!  She brings her knees up to her chest and rests her chin on them, letting her tears paint her cheek wet. 
Time has passed now but the scene is more or less identical. The endless promises she made to herself to not become like her mother have proved futile. She is the same as her mother, hateful, selfish and torn.  And the dear little child with exactly her eyes is her daughter, who even now sits before her with glassy pained eyes and rosy cheeks staring at her smoking a cigarette, very much like herself at a very distant time. It's another generation yet much the same. She has been ignoring the innocence of that child's face and she will be the one to make her like herself. As if hit by a revelation, she suddenly drops her half smoked cigarette that burns right through her beautiful sheer silk wrap that is lying on the floor and her white plush rug, normally she would have not let this go, even if her own fault, but right now it goes unnoticed.  The room is dark and dotted with candles, like every day. Light seem to burn her eyes so she lights candles in the whole house. In the dim light from the candles she can see as the tears slip past the six year old child's eyes. Involuntarily she, herself gets up and stands before her daughter, reaching out and grabbing her hand; holding on tight she gently wipes the tears  with her free hand and drags her along, walking the whole house with her. Blowing gently on the candles and saving that which should be saved, not just a candle, but an innocence for generations.


Wednesday, 4 July 2012

Battles & Armours.

The winds clashed and howled with rage,
The arrows were shot, the swords raised.
The bodies scattered lifeless and grey,
The buildings lay all shattered and frayed.
The peace had misplaced as the war was waged.