A flashing vent.

Last night you appeared before me; nice and calm,

Last night we chatted; we chatted long.
Two muddled strangers, with nothing in hand,
But you knew me, and I knew you,
You get me?
Last night we aborted, everything we had.

Of rainbows and unicorns,
Butterflies and nightingales,
We peeped beyond the constellation seas.
Last night you made me catch up with every reverie I ever longed for,
Every rant I ever fancied to moan away.
Everything we loathed,
And everything we yearned.
Every pipedream we were never able to shrug off,
And every diversion we always wanted to get immersed in.

Last night, we experienced euphoria,
I know, I did.
I synched within your tornados,
And I let your Vulcan pierce his hammer within my bones.
But now that you’ve fled away with Cinderella’s crystal shoes,
Her words and her mirages, I wonder,
O’ dear me, why did I chat?
O’ dear me, why did I chat?

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The avid moth flew and sat next to the horrid toad and asked, ‘what next?’ ‘The crocodile tracked me down the hill top and with a sudden thrust jumped over my left limb, I stumbled and fell.’ The apprehensive creature stepped a few steps back silently, for she knew what she was dealing with. ‘He was one hungry hound and I was a petrified dejection, I ran and ran hard with that bloody limb and sought peace behind a big stump. Peace with that bleeding limb and cyanotic skin. Peace with losing a part of my existence’, he continued. She kept asking the exasperated creature sitting next to her leaf for more but he remained mouth-sealed after that.

‘What if the predator was haltered out of his prototype?’ the desperate moth suggested him a reason he was never looking for and that’s when he smirked and she knew the suggestion was as dumb as her appearance. ‘If prototypes were everything, there would be plausibility of nil, honey, now buzz off or you’ll get to see my prototype!’

But she was not one to give up so put forth another dummy, ‘I disagree. Nobody asks whether the tar wanted to be rolled over with road rollers before getting dried, the mortar wanted to fill the unsymmetrical gaps between the stranger stones and if every ground spice wanted to get crushed to powder before it satisfies your taste buds. The genes, the past, the prototypes are exclusive of free wills.’

‘What about the man who wipes out an entire ant colony out of curiosity, the rented murderer who secures his necessities at the expense of someone’s life, the monkey who is made to dance through the thin lanes of this city without having a consent form, haha? The thing is there are borderline cases and then there are paradigms, you need to dissolve your pathetically soothing approaches to realistically brutal ones my friend and you’ll have your queries answered the better way’, the exasperated toad fed her up with another shut up call via another repulsive gaze.

Ironically, she took a step nearer to the bursting volcano and made yet another desperate attempt at the Placebo Effect, ‘There are borderline cases and there are chances to push that line onto the right side too but it’s not always clear whether that push is in our hands or under the abstract fallacies of our minds. You cannot entirely blame a rapist when he’s experienced his whole life his father bantering his mother with cute little slaps of relentless vulgarity.’

‘Percentages, my friend. There is always room for percentages, I know. State something less obvious. You think you can act as a psychologist and make me feel empathetic when you and I both know very well how words would mere be words and phrases would be nothing but nauseating alphabets vomited out for the spur of the moment.’

She smiled without further ranting about anything. He leaned forward and she didn’t fly. He settled down his limbs like the hunter holds his gun after getting no food the whole day and desperately starts firing for any trifling prey he was never interested in the first place. She shut her eyelids and took a deep breath. The slimy, loath filled tongue caught her right in her face.

But wait, why he tastes only a single wing? ‘She didn’t fly because of one wing or she was too desperate to prove her point?’ he wondered. Or maybe the ‘free will’ got transmuted with the prickly ‘prototype’. Either way, vengeance had been well served. And oh, of course cold. Haha.

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Perpetual Delirium.

The road was bumpy and night was bleak. I looked up and saw the petrifying storm approaching. But something was weird, there was no sound; of the roaring clouds, the rushing birds or the mad trees. It was suffocating. I looked back and saw a man running towards me. He was clamoring something, bursting his lungs out. But again I couldn’t hear him. He approached me, whispered something in my ear and vanished. Something about somewhere I was going towards. Some kind of warning I couldn’t understand. I wanted to ask him and hold onto him, for it was one spooky night. But he just fled leaving me in that mist. I started running like a wild dog. To find something. Anything – a flee, an escape. But the road never ended. I stopped for a while to catch my breath and saw two aged, calm, pacific faces indulged in some conversation. I ran towards them, shouted my heart out but didn’t get back a single notion. It was like I was invisible to them. I wanted to wake up but couldn’t. I wanted to cry like a baby but couldn’t. It was like a maze trap. So I just sat beside them and watched them to calm down my nerves. The sight really was soothing and accommodating. There came a moment when I thought this was going to be over now, so I closed my eyes and let myself elope in the feeling but right then, the couple disappeared. Just when I was sure of finding my escape, they left me all alone again.

I thought it was death. So I decided to resume my journey wondering it might end somewhere, somehow. Moving along the way I noticed a group of people of my age. But I couldn’t recognize any of the faces. And so again I was the invisible one. I sat beside them and cried my bellows out. It brought me to peace. I do not know how but it did.

They vanished just like the old couple giving me my next stop, a beautiful woman with two children. They were laughing and playing and teasing each other. I smiled. It felt like I smiled after years. I sat quietly near them on the ground. I wanted to grasp every single moment of this stop. I wanted to be a part of their play but it felt like I was a late player and they wouldn’t allow me to be a participant. I closed my eyes to soak in those chuckles, thinking I might get some sleep and it might get peaceful again. But right after I closed those eyelids the laughter stopped. I opened them with a sudden thrust. I didn’t want to loss this one. ‘No!’ I shouted. But the picture was gone now. All gone!

I had become so exhausted and wanted to catch some sleep but there wasn’t any. I started walking again, thinking I might get this kind of sight again at my next stop but it was hard to even walk now. I couldn’t feel my legs. I slowed down to little steps now. I kept telling myself it was going to be okay. I’ll find the last stop again or any of the other ones. Engrossed in those thoughts, I saw an old man with a cane walking towards me from a distance. He looked right into my eyes. It was a little scary but I just wanted someone around me. He came near me and smiled. He stretched his arms for me. I didn’t want to embrace him but I was so tired and desperate. I was frightened but I wanted peace. He was a stranger but I wanted someone to at least hear me out, recognize my existence. So I hugged him. And all of a sudden, I was finally at peace. And that’s when I finally woke up.

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Haltering Chains.

‘Okay. Let’s just get this over with. I’ve got work to do’, she said in quite a carefree manner. The meeting was at 3 and she was there right in time. Maybe that’s how it was at hers. I got my questionnaire out and set the recorder. First there were the introductions – the early life, usual grounds. But she was reluctant and I didn’t dig deeper for I knew what I was doing. Then, I asked about how she managed to get settled Bano Araa? And she burst into laughter and I knew it was again a stupid question to begin with. But then to my surprise she became serious and started sharing phrases -Incomplete, yet with full stops. ‘I’m used to spend my spare time in this airy, brightened room of the top floor from where only I can stare at people and no one can gawk at me. Gazes – never really liked ’em. One time I spat on a client’s face due to this and…(she laughed again)…I got a gift of two extra shifts.’ Then, there was a pause and I kept receiving blank stares. She was doing the exact thing that she’d just mentioned she loathed, rubbernecking in the dark corner of the room.

I gathered my culpability and got to my next one. This time I asked her about getting vamoose and there she caught my sympathy. But this time she didn’t laugh, she just smiled at me and then, again started the staring. Time was running very fast and even though the room was airy and brightened she seemed a little suffocated.

“Two times…no three times have I tried to escape from this suffocation…”, still staring, “and I had to pay a fine of four nights.” This time she laughed again. How many promises, how many hopes, how much counseling fed by God-knows how many customers all brought her back to this airy, brightened room again- Deceits delusions, she later explained to the numb soul sitting beside her.

“Anything that brings a little comfort to those scary bellows inside you?”, and I knew I was getting another sarcastic answer again. But she tackled it beautifully and smiled in the air again. “The balcony outside gives me a view of the next two blocks. Every morning, I rush towards this balcony to see children going to school. The sight soothes me in ways I can’t explain. I wave at them but not a single one looks this way. Maybe they’re told not to by their mothers. Mothers.. .’ She remembered something and this time I saw a little ice break and it was comfortable for me to catch up.

“That’s it”, the clock struck seven and she knew it was time. “After all, time is money my friend’, she uttered as an eerie silence settled in the air while giving me her final goodbye.

                               “How desperately I want her to stay and listen to my every single screech, my every complaint, and to give me some phony hopes. But..”, she wondered. The dusk was near and the air in there was getting more and more chilly. The sun was setting, drowning her hopes in that crimson awe and the birds going home betraying her yet again this evening. And there she was in the trance where she always used to find herself in the duo of trial and penalty and come back as a runner-up every night. The knock on the door woke her up. It was time. She started wearing her sandals again. She had to get her makeup right. She loathed every single color now. The door knocked again. It was duty time.

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Swooning Reveries!

The shadows had started to settle around the corners of the horizon, and there he was on his way back to his terminus. The signal turned red and like every other day, he started comparing the two kinds of life his eyes had always lugged. The kind of life he’d adored and the kind of life he’d loathed. In that clamor of polished, fancy cars, he used to find his silent pedals congenial and sometimes, it led his exasperation to a limit he couldn’t bear. May be it wasn’t because of his harmless conveyance, the reason was his own being – his vexed, suffocated days and nights among those deluxe cars, embellished castles and their residents, of course.

Picking every single piece of paper he always wished to find a getaway, to far, far away. But then, the screeches of the bygones hit his cerebrum so hard, making him remember those last few days of tuberculosis that abba had to live, those overpowering repulses that amma had to swallow every day, Apa’s silver strands, Guddu’s childhood, that he always wished to be different than his, all of them and he used to lose every single day.

“Time changes sweetheart. Time does change!”, without wondering he used to laugh real hard at amma’s pathetic little conjectures. Sometimes, he would just find himself a dark corner to cry the bellows out. Just like amma did when one time while sorting the junk, a piece of glass cut through his right foot, and amma cried like an infant wiping the blood.

He never really got what exactly was wrong, confinement of people like him or the black tricks of fate. It was just mud after all, “them” and “them”, no? Yet it was not when he looked closely. What a disgustingly beautiful irony it was, he wondered.

He was still muddled in his eerie thoughts when the signal turned green and someone from behind honked at him and like every day he smiled back for that’s what it was, whether he liked it or not!


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Rising Sunsets.

‘Go away! I can do this by myself!’

He clamored while spitting a few abuses out his mouth and then eventually burst into angry, loathsome tears. Both the helpers wiped him and then left him with his only pal, the nostalgia.

‘Calm down dear! They know nothing.’

The soothing whispers echoed in his ears and somehow it helped catching his breath again in some weird stealthy way. Words are like steroids. Soothing yet deleterious, he wondered.

With his usual morning dose, some multivitamins and a steaming cup of tea he leaned back in his favorite spot drowning and drowning in his vague, unclear thoughts again. The warmth of the yellow ball was somehow more pleasant today than usual but the chill inside him was forcing him to be vexed enough in order to let his exasperation out the way it should be. Staring at walking zombies like him outside the window pane, he remembered how fervent he used to be.

‘Slow down! Let me be the winner this time please?’ And how harder he used to laugh at her whiny yet innocent pleads.

Flooded with the reminiscence the quivering hand tilted the cup a little and one of the helpers rushed towards him shouting. How his Visitor once spilled milk on his shirt, started crying and how he cleaned him while making fun of his rants… and unexpectedly he smiled in dismay while clenching an old piece of plastic in his hand.

So much different stories yet similar destinations, he always used to wonder while bloating his diary with all of them. So he filled his pages with some vague smudges in his illicit writing and gazed that old snap with utterly blank stares for quite a while today.

The day was longer than usual and the memories were clearer than usual, today. Either it was a blessing or a curse in disguise he had no idea so he preferred sleeping pills over conflict and went back to the limitless lands of his yearnings. A land where he had everything, his people, his hopes, his strengths.

The warmth went warmer to chilly and so did his existence. The clock struck 7 and the finally the Visitor came with a bouquet and some groceries. The wait of the old man was finally over and it was his turn now. But all the Visitor got was some tattered photographs, an old bogie of his toy train and a dreary diary with his last ciao, ‘You’re again late, darling’.

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Remorse in vain.

‘Obsessions – they destroy you!’

The words echoed in the mysterious, awkward silence around him. And once again, he quivered in the frosty, antagonistic chills of darkness. The glooms were nasty and with piercing shrieks of silences. It was exasperating for others but somehow he had made peace with it. After all, it was the only friend he was left with. When is the time to flee? When is the time to get my salvation? When would the time end? The only wonderings he was left with.

‘The worst you can do to yourself isn’t actually to wont your soul with humans. The worst was to get hounded  by your own soul. The worst was to get bounded by your vague urges. The worst was the sadist lying just inside you, ready to get an escape all the time’, he’d now realized. But things weren’t always this eerie.

The story started from a trifling neighborhood, winky faces by some whistling Dixie and endless strives for writing something that wasn’t destined to be written in his hands. Peeking from the balconies, trailing through the school lawns, boasting fake efficiencies summed up the teenage. Days over days, he was making moments over moments. Moments of false hope, moments of phony aspirations and moments of building beautiful conjectures. From letters to cassettes, from bangles to foot chains and from words to wrecking desperation, the magma was boiling into youth.

But sandcastles are meant to be fallen by the waves of life. He didn’t get what he dreamed and the dilemma made him blindfolded in the hands of ego. Turned out intimacy was overcome by obsession in an overnight’s span and temperament made a triumph over infatuation.

The blazing sun was out there and she was waiting for the college bus. A moment later love changed to revenge and hugged her right in her face.

The stature was out and with that melting beautiful face and flowing eyes she made her last eye contact with her oppressor, with uncountable queries and silent screeches.

He ran and ran after that, from him, from his words and apparently from his world. Two years of running but that last eye contact won’t leave his way. Her yelps followed his way to the gallows. HCl had not drunk her only it had drunk his life too and thus both the souls served its nosh.


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