Songs of Solitude #1

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Her spirit that flows along the currents of a dream,

She sings songs usually unheard of before,

Flows the unimaginable depths of her soul…

Sometimes her boat harbours at a shore,

Sometimes the wind blows it towards the open sea at uproar,

But I know, one sunny day, she’ll find her own territory.

A virgin one. The land where her indomitable spirit,

Finds a meadow as vast as itself, to run wild,

And free.

Airy Dreams

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I share a different bond with air.
It unleashes the fire within me,
Releases the sleeping immortal being,
From the debris of inevitable human disappointments…
Under a starry sky, illuminated by,
The thousands of city lights so down below.
Suddenly a kite soars overhead,
Stealing my mind to the vast universe lying out there.
Which will take into its heart of darkness, my passions laid bare…
One bright star there, or three more.
I can never touch them, but nevertheless,
It makes me dream, someday, someday,
I would want those dreams to come true.
This earth disappoints, maybe another wouldn’t.
Winds took the kite there, the dreams took me…
Winds never did leave me.

Live, Again

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I love the present, with the waters and its flow.
Not knowing the unknown shores I am heading towards…
Sometimes it will thrash me on a beach,
I will explore it, the sand too will cleanse my feet,
A staff probably will keep me company,
The bushes, sometimes the rocks will offer me refuge.
Then one day, the dams will break again.
Washing away my home.
But now I know how to swim…
I’ll come up again, again to the sun’s grace,
A new home, and a new life.

The Winds of Difference

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Little houses, two, three stories, some tall,
Unsymmetrical blocks,
Leaking out light through little bullet holes.
Glowing with dark sinister light from selfish motives,
For a wayfarer to stumble and bleed.
The wind rustles, making a branch knock out,
Their spirits at midnight, during public blackouts…

One big hut, in the middle of winds and sands,
Water, borne from that dry well miles away,
Lies abundantly in a little pot infront.
The vast mud porch stands starkly illuminated,
In the haunting night, by a dirty little earthen lamp.
A wanderer lost in the desert finds a world in it.
Though alien in tongue, and money,
Dirty the oil lamp, but the effort never goes amiss.
Judging by the shadows, thrown on the old, painted wall,
A friendship weaves in a new bond,
And the light of the lamp resurrects a dead emotion.
Reminding and warming.
Symmetry lies in the human heart.

PROLOGUE : Dusk’s Diary

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My wife has always insisted that I should write about my life, the time I have had to spend without her, about the numerous adventures and misadventures I’ve had. She herself is an amazing writer, but she says she gets bored with her writing and that I leave her alone a lot, which indeed is true, and I am really busy at my work. But right now, since I have decided to follow her advice and take up the pen, I am coming up blank. I mean there isn’t really much I can come up, because when I wasn’t with her, I wasn’t exactly living.

Right now, she’s exaggerating the non-truth, like, I write really well, but then I have to tell her, flattery really isn’t going to be of much help.

But you, know, she’s as persistent as a Virgo. She tells me artfully, as if it was nothing but the truth, “Even now, you know, I have the only letter you wrote me, preserved. The reason is – it was really beautiful. Your fans would swoon over it and you know it. It’s an art you have – your writing.”

I tell her, “I know how I write, okay? Now…urgh, seriously, stop it. All the blushing isn’t helping my nerves, and I haven’t been in touch with a pen for more than seventeen years! Now, I might even drop the thought of giving in to your wish, and pull you right back into my arms and make you forget what you wanted me to do with the pen in the first place.”

“Oh, really?” she teases me from our bed, smiling wickedly, her deep blue eyes crinkling like they used to when she was a little girl. For a moment I thought she was going to extend her hand for me to take it and…no more talk about pen and paper for the night. But she surprised me again, “Now, you know you won’t think about it. Besides, you know, I know how to resist your charms, Mr. Scott.”

“Since when?” I asked trying to sound confident and flashed the kind of smile I knew she liked the most about me.

“Oh, you know since when… You’re married to me and fathered my three little children! That fact’s got to make you a more sensible man…” she was smiling. Such nerve!

“Well, if I’m insensible, I have to be something… I mean, you did marry me… So, a person, as sensible and wise as you must have found some likeable quality in me…”

“You just had to say you don’t want to tell me your story. I’ll assume, you didn’t even miss me, when I wasn’t with you… I thought you loved me!”

“I love you, I do. I just don’t understand, why I can’t just tell you. Why this sudden need to sit stiff and write? You already know the only reason I disliked school was because of the exams, they made us write. It was a different thing that I fared well through it. But I disliked it.”

“What do you want? I’ll do anything to make you write. If threatening is the only way that’s left, fine. I’ll make you sleep by the pool for a week starting from tonight. Okay with that?”

I fight back a groan. I already get to spend so little time at home with her, the idea of having to continue living away from her, yet being in the same house, was downright disagreeable. Alright. “Fine. I won’t harass you anymore by not writing. But whatever I write, you have to accept. No teasing, no funny looks or anything, later on. Agreed.”

She flashes me another one of her brilliant wicked smiles which I like so much. “Deal. Only if there is no me in your story.”

I say, “Now, that’s unfair… I don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

She sighs while I watch her flabbergasted. “I’d meant, your story mustn’t contain any exaggeration about me,” she rolls her eyes. “Since, I wanted to know what your life had been when I wasn’t there, like asking for something I don’t already know, I don’t want myself interrupting your account at the various interesting climaxes.”

“Now, that’s my story and because you wanted me to write it, dear Wife, I would write exactly what I want to write. And besides, the obvious point is, the story wouldn’t be a story if it didn’t have you, like I am incomplete without you, the story would be just as useless.”

Now, I see she’s the one blushing, the tip of her tongue pressing on her upper lip. “Oh, even after all these seventeen years, you haven’t changed a bit.”

I say, “Now, please if you keep talking like this, the night will be over, and I wouldn’t have completed half a page and I still would have an eternity to write because that’s how it was. My time without you was an abysmal sea, I couldn’t swim across, until the time I saw you again and you pulled me out.”

She pursues her lips. “Maybe, baby, you should leave the writing and come sleep. What would our children say if they heard? Or even the servants?”

I laugh. “They don’t understand English. The servants. Or did you forget it? And anyway, our kids are sleeping peacefully in their rooms. So, what do you say, love?”

She sits back against the cushions and watches me serenely her eyes full of love. “Not tonight, baby. And don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but there’s no way I’m gonna let you buy your way out of writing the story, Your Highness. You may be the king of the universe beyond these four walls, but both of us know, you are useless without me. Here I’m the boss.” She moves her slender finger in a little circle, putting me back at my place.

I take up the pen again with a groan. “But you’re not sleeping yourself!” I accuse. “Anyway what are you getting, watching me like this?”

There is a long silence. In a flat tone, she says, “I’m getting to watch you like this, Husband dear,” which undoubtedly takes me by surprise. She adds in an overindulgent tone, “Which I luuurve…about you.”

I smile shamelessly at the overdose of pride in her tone. I was surprised as it was one of the many surprises she was always full of. But I didn’t turn to look at her, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to restrain myself again this time, by what I would see. And in fact it was really only the two of us awake at this hour of the night. And both of us had everything but sleeping on our minds. Sleeping together was a different thing though. And I knew if I even so much got up from the floor, she would take an offence – again the threat of having to sleep by the pool, which I would never accept.

Finally I say, “Alright, but no more talking if you really want me to write.”

“Agreed,” this time she zips her lips as if we would be punished by some teacher if we were caught talking. I hold back my laughter at the irony. Earlier it was I who used to refuse to talk and she would always whine that I don’t talk with her. And now we had an un-expiring license to talk for all of eternity and she was acting like that.

Now, maybe it would always be like this, these mischievous adventures. I didn’t mind it so much, as her unconscious, maybe even conscious plots always end up making me livelier, leaving me with a more ambitious and zesty attitude. The challenges, the restraint and as a whole, the deviation from traditional husband-wife relations was what made the institution of marriage exciting for us.

Now, my wife had unofficially closed my access to our bed, just because she wanted me to provide reading material for her, wanting me to write and most silly was that she would be inspecting me! It’s like we never grew up. Or maybe it was because when we were growing up, we had been apart from each other.

Nirvana

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Feels free like nothing can hold you back. Nothing upsets you, but everything pleases you. All your wrath and anger just vanishes, and you get this new insight that helps you let go of the past and take up this new attitude that nothing in this temporal world matters. Love the world and the world forgets you. It makes you stronger, you know…

Think of the ants, the animals, the birds. They live their lives and reproduce. Life goes on… Their likes and dislikes don’t intrigue anyone, nor does anyone care to see. In their quiet communities they exist peacefully.

I am just another living being too, so it shouldn’t mean anything different in my case.

Frozen In Time

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Dearest December,
How do I tell you how much I miss you, all throughout the year?
How I long for your return, for the touch of your icy fires
Over my dry, long forsaken skin, cracked for the lack of mist…
I pine for the memories with which only you wash my feet.
The flush you usher inside my dulled heart, your winds do not torment me.
As you are what my soul craves, the perfect time, the perfect state,
For many others you are just another month on the calendar,
But for me, you are an inseparable part, my eternal rest, an oasis.
Time and again, you remind me of the lost parts of my heart,
Lost for all of eternity, and yet, somehow in your name, they breathe…
Frozen in time, there is still a part of me that will live on and on.
Without guilt, without fear, I will dance in your storm,
Your arms will hold me from falling and breaking, it won’t happen twice
Without gravity pulling us apart, we’ll race through an ethereal field of wheat,
Buoyant hearts, leaping together to finally attain their peace together…
Time will pass, but you will always be, for me, frozen in time.

FTW

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Tales that seem to begin with a dot,

Usually tend to go on forever.

Life is too short for holding back joys.

You should shout that out loud,

You’re in love with yourself and the world.

From the top of your one storey-ed house.

Scared of sounding goofy, are you?

But then, to hell with the people, the world,

Though knowing nothing at all,

Pretend to know everything so well.

Hypocrites.

There is nothing awfully spiteful,

About being rude, cocky and snide.

The ‘WORLD’ constantly judges you like that.

So say, to hell with the people, so the world.

I know what is right and what is wrong.

If I love more than one thing,

So it is. Not wrong.

It’s only about time,

A decision should be made.

But remember always, with love,

A dot which means, at all times, an end,

Two more after that can stretch it towards infinity.

Maybe it’s not the right time,

Our tale hasn’t reached its end…

ALiEN

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The earth grins wide, ready to gobble.

Wind fans in too much heat.

Water burns upon touch,

Fire, too damp, for warmth.

No place left to beg.

Nowhere to hide.

Anymore.