i wake up one morning and see a pile of things:
the xerox copy of my french note, my so-called
diary which i have not touched for one whole year,
a butterfly look-like blue hair clip with white polka dots,
a book called 'great political thinkers:east and west' with a
dark blue cover, electronic wires, a greyish sky through the window
and a chair wooden chair right in front of me.All in one trapezium box.

Memories gushes down,a timeline since
my birth rather. I remember the names
of all the persons i met,all the people
who i have acquinted with in my
life for some or the other
reasons, some i hate,
some i love.
My childhood friends,
high school friends, college
friends, all are in the collage of my 

white life. My blood relations,  who i
haven't even heard of, but related somehow
and often wonder who all are related to me. I
get up and sit looking straight and feel the monotonous
blue breeze rising up from the blanket twisting and wriggling.
i feel nothing. i feel absence of something, absence of everything.
i feel bored, i feel sleepy, i feel like yawning. Apathy, boredom, anxiety, ennui, suicide.

My brother

She was crying alone. I went and gave her a hug. I was crying too leaning on him. His shirt was soaked with tears. Then I realised he was death. To let go of him, he scared me giving me a weird smile and started to enlarge his eyes and teeth. Then I beat him on his chest, gave him a slap and started running though I was not able to move. I was running, it was too tiring. My legs were all stuck on the ground firmly. The ghost started to haunt me and chased behind me with his hands trying to get hold of me!!!

Beyond

Over my father’s shoulder

I could only catch a glimpse

Of the lump of hills,

Irregularly edged glittering glass plates

And lots of small unshaped boxes.

Belong

I see the pillows,

I see the curtains,

And tried to sort out.

But in vain.

Nothing  makes  sense.

I see the change

And feel the pain.

I know I belong here,

Amidst the smoke and the mosquitoes.

But, I know I belong there also,

Standing on the road

Where the  cherry blossoms began to fall

Guided by the buzzing breeze.

                                                                  May 8, 2011.

vendetta?

I’m standing on the balcony,

Listening to my favourite song from

‘The graduate.’

It’s  9 o’clock.

I just had dinner.

Starting to drizzle too.

One, two drops touch my left arm.

My right touches the left arm and

My left touches the right arm.

I hold myself and shrugged a bit.

He swoops down from the mango tree on my left and stands beside me singing me a lullaby.

‘You, soporific bastard.’

Another comes up from down the stairs

 And touches my shoulders from the back

Whispering me words of love.

‘You, worthless. Any other guy out there is better than you.’

Don’t kiss me on the neck.

Don’t kiss me on my lips.

I’m fed up of everything.

I just want to listen to the song.

                        06.07.2011. Wednesday ,9:00 pm.

My Afternoon Dream

 I just had a beautiful dream while I was sleeping this afternoon. It was so awesome. I wish it was not a dream. But, anyway, it will remain just as a dream whatsoever. So, it doesn’t matter much. I only wish it were not. I was talking and enquiring and discussing about everything with this very person as if I had known him for years and years like a good old friend who used to share everything before being separated by some unknown force and who has just been reunited again. He was holding my hands trying to get some comfort among all the strangers staring at us. He hates strangers staring at him for no reason at all. But that’s what people do they just don’t have anything to do these days, they stare at people for no reason.

            The memories come gushing through into my head. It’s starting to come to life like a phoenix which got burnt down to ashes. We were not really that close when we were together I mean when we were in the same school but I kindda liked him. He came to school when the teacher almost started to teach, was often late but not too late just like me. Most of the teacher liked him though he never ever did anything of worthy just because his mother was one of the member of the association which established the school. I would have taken him as a dumb guy if I had not started to talk to him for one simple reason, my mom was also a member of the same association and they both used to work together. So, most of our classmates thought we both were somewhat arrogant. But, he had so many friends when I first moved in as a new comer.

            He never read or study, his mother used to study for him and he had such a bad handwriting that even a chimpanzee can do like that. It was horrible. I still have his handwriting in one of my notebooks. That day he was copying some notes from my book when he had a fight with a friend. Fight in the sense like not a real fight but just for fun. While they were having fun, I lost a slip of my notebook. He told me he was sorry that he’ll copy it for me again. I don’t remember for how long I’ve been standing there when I saw them throwing my books all over the classroom but I clearly remember saying alright to him.

              It was a small school with kids and small children everywhere. It was a torture for me. I felt like catching each and every one of them and get them deported to a place where there is no kids and couples who are dying to have kids. That would have been actually better for those children. They wouldn’t have to wear those dirty smelly clothes everyday which had never been washed properly by those young immature parents who just want to get married as soon as they started talking too much on the phone. It’s all weird. How can they even imagine to get married if they can’t even wash their children’s stuffs properly for even once. One of my friends actually got married when I was 15. I wonder whether she is doing the same thing.                

              I loved watching the fruit laden tree just outside our room with the little red round fleshy fruits on every branch. We would shake it during the break until the fruits fell down so hard that the chowkidar would come there with a stick on his wrinkled hand not to scare us away but to help us get the fruits. It was fun. I often thought about all of us being separated one fine day though m not fond of them much. I have no idea how we become friends. They used to talk to among themselves that he liked me but he dint act like he did. May be he might have but I was not in the mood of attracting guys wasting the precious time so I dint bother to think much about it.

              Why I dreamt about it after almost three years, I don’t have the least idea. I slept too late yesterday that I slept after class for like 2 hours. My body was totally exhausted, as soon as I came back I lay on my bed dead as a log.

she and him

I saw him every day sitting on the high swivel stool inside the café alone. Every day he would drink up the beer very slowly and quietly like a snake drinking water in a sparkling river of a deep silent tropical forest. I could clearly see the movement in his throat as the liquid went down after shimmering for a moment inside the glass. Then he would place the glass on the table without making the least sound.

There was something that made me feel all weird and creepy every time I saw him. There was something in him that was too similar with me. My mom, she told me never ever talk to strangers when I was a kid. I obeyed her all these years but suddenly as soon as I saw him I wanted to talk to him so badly that I went straight towards him and sat on the next stool the first day. Apparently, since that was the first time I saw him I couldn’t approach him but sat silently listening to the sound of the flickering water in the glass. I sat and sat for a couple of hours till he left the place.

My mom used to tell me to neglect those people whom we meet either randomly or purposely until and unless she tells me to talk to. I couldn’t differentiate between one person to another. Whatever my mom said, it was the truth. And that only I trusted, nothing else. She said she didn’t cry at all the day my dad left us. He didn’t tell anything, he just left and never came back. She didn’t cry because she was a very strong woman and that i should be also like her.

I never relied on a guy my whole 19 years of life, like asking for help or any sort of thing. I hardly talked to my friends and my so-called neighbours because I believed in and trusted her only. She was the only one I had. Only she existed in my life and no one else.

But the day I saw this guy I was totally different. I felt as if I had just found something which I had been looking for my whole life. Gradually I started talking to him. That day I asked,'You like hanging out here?’. 'Yes’. And that was the end. But a few days later I made another attempt . He was a nice guy and he loved lemon juice so much. He made it every day and had it for the past 15 years every morning. He was so good to me and even said he saw me stting near the window alone looking outside through the thick glasses every day in the evening. Thus, soon we became close. As each day passed we became closer and closer. Once it rained so hard. Every drop of it hit the roof so hard. As usual I was sitting inside the café when he popped up from nowhere when I lost all the hope that he would come that day there. He said he had a wife and left her some 19 years back and since then been alone regretting his whole life why did he ever leave her. I felt a sudden beating in my body which was so hard I almost showed off the associated expression to him. I thought to myself, that’s something which happened in the past, why can’t I give him a new life instead of just sobbing over the past. He said, if he had a daughter she would have been of my age. Suddenly I got up and went outside. I came back and told him I don’t  wanna continue the conversation anymore. He saw my mom standing on the other side of the road silently through the glass and the clear raindrops holding a blue umbrella staring at him with an indifferent look. His eyes were glistening.

Numb

       They can’t feel anything because it’s just smoke everywhere. It just passes by like those random people we meet on streets and all. They can’t see anything because it’s all hazy and shadowy and confused. Time slows down rather quickly.

       I felt all numb and, to hell, my whole body was aching when I woke up. I tried to grab the parts in my trend of thoughts and pick it out one by one. But, I couldn’t find it at all. It is like a chain where you tie up the trivial little incidents of your life tightly so that you can undo it and see how it was whenever you feel like. Last night I could not probably tie it up tight enough that it got lose. So to say, I could not remember clearly anything that had happened. But, of course, I do remember. The only thing is that I cannot figure out if it was a dream or if that actually happen for real.

                                               _______

I was aching to try it out so much that I tried it last night. It’s totally believable that I tried it out because there is not so much of a deal about it. And, anyway I always loved to experience new things which I wouldn’t get if I were at home. I took a long deep breath, exhale and put my lips on the opening and inhale deeply. It gushed through the tracks and to my lungs rather slowly but steadily. After the second puff, I felt funny. I couldn’t get up. My body started moving down and I was almost lying on the bed flat. But, somehow, I managed to stay put and brought myself together. I didn’t move a muscle. It seemed like it’s gonna creak any moment if I move. So I did not. Then my eyes stated to burn like hell but still I got a pleasure out of it. It started to pull down itself. It was becoming too heavy if I keep my eyes open. So, I closed it. Currently I could hear only the slow beautiful music and nothing else. It was floating in the air for a while and flew off the window. 

       Their voices broke down into pieces. The pieces, the broken syllables, were flying in the air like a puzzle which can’t be fitted together. But I knew what they were saying. So, I joined the conversation and could answered like a perfectly normal person when they asked me questions. Everyone was calm and peaceful. They lay on the bed motionless, like lifeless dead flies on a stale smelly soggy biscuit. Then out of the blue, I suddenly remembered  something which I have trouble recalling now. I had to get out of the place. I just had to. I got up, opened the door and left the place without looking back again.

Rain

One drop fell on my face

And then many of them all over the place.

They fell down like a terracotta army

Approaching their enemy.

When they hit the ground

They flickered for a second

And then gone the next moment.

They jumped from here to there

Everywhere.

As if in a game.

They sneaked inside the crakes

Like in a game of hide and seek

And disappears as the warm shadows started to chase.

My Life

It’s like a

P    H   U   M    D   I

On the Loktak

Swaying from

              North

West        to        east

             South

Side          to         side

Again     and       again

Again       and      again,

So calm and peaceful

Without any tempest.

And so,

Dull

And

Lonesome.

Image

Suffocating glass window-pane..

Steady fan over the head,

Silent music outside,

Stationary buildings,

Slow music inside,

Tilted gift packs,

Hanging cards,

Piled stuffs,

Heaps of emotions,

Mountains of memories,

Faded blue Japanese umbrella,

The sun, trees, clouds and butterflies on the wall.

Half open door and window,

Empty water bottle,

Empty shelves,

Empty room…… 3 months.

                                                                    5^th May 2011.