My phantasmal lover

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No matter how dark the clouds are,

You’re always there at the back of my mind…

And when I see no light, nor picture a silver lining,

I picture you before my closed eyes,

Standing there next to me on my window sill,

Looking at me, love brimming in your eyes

And I can smile again as widely as I can’t…

Turning the dark clouds to fluffy white.

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Strangle Me Softly

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Resting on his shoulder, listening to the sound of our strange hearts beating softly, I exhaled my worries out for the last time. I tried to recall the words he’d spoken before and a few other things, but eventually I found that I couldn’t keep up with the side of me that was insulting me with the humongous issues that I’d so violated by thus lying there with him like that. I was aware, wholly aware of all of them, and yet there was no guilt.

I looked at his sleeping face, feeling his strange breath on my mouth. Only now I was finally getting to understand how very different we were physically. He’d warned me about it many times and yet neither of us seemed to have paid any heed to it. Our closeness now attested to the choice that we’d both made, a decision that we were meant for each other and neither of us would have it in any other way. I knew the future of this would be a difficult one, but we would have each other to take care of together. One last breath and I would wake him up and we’d pick up on what we’d left off before, and that I was sure of.

He would kill me. I knew it, that very first time I laid my eyes on him. I also knew I wanted him to. If I can’t have him, I’d rather be his memory, a delicious thought, a fantasy he would live with forever. But now I have him and he has me. It wasn’t just any situation, it was a simple, satisfying love that brought us together, in a way that I knew there was no other I would rather be happy with, than with him, in this way.

He was once my best friend, and I loved him then. I love him now, in a different way, which is all the same. Falling for him had always been easy. It could be explained to be as simple as a child’s stubbornness of not parting with her favorite toy even though it’s broken. She keeps trying to fix it, often failing, never caring that it doesn’t quite work in the same way. She just learns to love it in her own new ways, and it doesn’t matter to her – because for her, it never broke. She loves it, she’ll love it.

It was the same with Dusk. His internal world was just as complicated as mine, and maybe that’s why it makes it all too easy to just love him. He isn’t my prize, I didn’t win him. Again it was just love, the plain old kind that brought us together. Watching him sleep now, I can’t help letting go of any remnant guilt, and just breathe, and feel like suddenly we were just two kids finally happy of having won their prize.

The Lotus and The Dragon

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The lotus cloud soars overhead,

Sailing across as if the sky was but a foaming sea.

Then follows the great dragon, flapping its brazen wings

Its talons reach to snatch the lotus flower.

Breathing out its nostrils full of flame.

There’s a battle going up there. Of chaos with peace.

Of the beast that tramples innocence.

How many battles must have been fought thus?

What of victors, what of who’s been paying for it,

No answers, my mind is already somewhere else.

Wanderings. Road bumps. Glimpsing back.

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So, the thing about curses is,

When they are cursed, they learn to love

They all love out of suffering their eternities –

Merely out of desperation,

Of having known misery.

Living with cursed people offers you the bliss of being surrounded by the grace of good hope.

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I know you, you’re my mirror self,

My soulmate. I have not given up loving you.

You know it too. Maybe not yet.

You’re arrogant not to admit it thinking of me just yet.

Years will have passed, you will have returned home streets.

With your fancy dollars and shiny tipped American boots

You’ll think of what happened to that sad little girl who thought, “she loves me!”

“Is she so even now?” you’ll wonder sarcastically.

Last month her new bestseller was criticized about being too vulgar? Not too hopeful.

You’ll decide, you’ll have to remember to meet some very old school-times friends,

And remember to drop in a line in between some fancy quote,

“You know the author, was she that vulgar back, you know, at school?”

Then add a little modestly, “You’ll all will know better…classmates after all.”

“Classmates hardly. She was this sad little kid trying to pretend of being brave,”

She sneezes into her napkin. Then nods curtly. Gracious.

Your buddy tugs at your arm. He means, you’ve got to nod too.

She’s his old school darling, and you nod, remembering.

Your beer is slowly warming up. You rarely do beer anymore.

But these old school reunions, so irresistible, drinking beer isn’t silly looking anymore…

You remember the conversation going on. You ask her, “You mean she isn’t brave?”

“She is now.” Big eyes. “Oh well, she changed. About after the time we all left school.”

Oh, her friend said. She brightens up. “She wrote me down on her list of acknowledgements.”

“Well, there are a lot of rumors.” You clear your throat.

“Being a woman and writer at the same time doesn’t mean she’s a lesbian, alright!”

“Oh oh! Defensive!” This was a three way argument. You spectate.

“Well, I remember she was friends with you for a while, isn’t that so?”

Sharp cuts on your memory, refreshing the old wound.

“I don’t remember her very well. Barely used to talk, you know…” Your neck arches.

“Hmm, maybe.” She sniffles her nose. “Maybe.”

“But she wasn’t a bad person. Maybe, just unheard.”

“That’s an understatement. I think she was just stupid.”

You gull down your thought, yeah she was, she trusted people blindly.

I know you’ll want to know it more now than ever. If “she really did love me?”

You’re my shadow self. You’ll rise to find what happened to her. That girl.

That insolent little girl who promised so strongly of being different from the others,

Ending up doing the very same things. You were frustrated and gave up on her.

Now you feel bad. You weren’t any bit generous with her either.

For causes which are null and void in your head atop.

The night you drive by your old house one last time,

You pass by the spot you had come forward to drop her by.

The sun was in your eyes, you didn’t want to go further.

She’d turned back to look you in your eye, asking you to come further. You chose not to.

She kept going on. She was silent and shaken, like a whimpering poisoned lamb.

It had been the final straw, but you never knew. She gave up believing that she can love.

You want to stay now, find her and ask. But she is the hardest thing to find. Everyone tries so.

Rumors also say that she lives at some hermitage, and some say in disguise.

So many of these you don’t know what to believe. You may never find her.

But you won’t forget her even. She will be this question in your head.

Despair not, you’ll meet her again in your next life,

You’re soulmates. You are meant to meet eventually anyway.

You’ll wonder “If she really, really did love me, she should have told me so!”

But did you ever question, from what little you know of her, do you think she knew it

Well enough to know what she doesn’t want to covet something because she likes it?

Weren’t you making yourself look too good to be out of her league and all?

You knew she was buying it all. And yet you sold her some more.

You called her paranoid. You called her schizoid to live in detachment from civilization.

You pushed her away and yet she was so loyal, so nice all the time, wasn’t she?

Oh, you thought it was all just a show for you, didn’t you?

You thought she was just another bigtime girls convent bitch!

You walk up the hill, she used to talk so much about before,

Jokes about going jogging around the peripheries, in new Reeboks.

Oh, those exaggerations of hers, and she thought anyone would buy it.

You catch a little boy whistling a very old song somehow still familiar.

The author asked you to listen to it, once ages ago,

And the ghost of the song stayed stuck.

The servant boy was going shopping for his owners.

The list showed a packet of Gold Flake lites.

You had to ask now. And yeah, here lives the author. No coincidence.

You let the boy pass. You stand at the door. And wait.

And wait.

You are my shadow-self. You won’t wait long.

In my case, I wouldn’t have.

I’d probably just walk away.

Knowing we have eternity together.

Thoughts, ramblings.

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3.50 am | 11 Oct, 2013

I don’t see any point in what I am doing right now… So there is no point in anything anyone else does in an attempt to be happy. Some people work, some people play. When they all know happiness is always momentary and rare is the case that lovers die together. I don’t know where my endeavor would be categorized. It’s been a few days or so it feels. Some seventy days it’s been, like a whirlwind. I have felt time like a companion, strolling along with me, running, stumbling, leaping and loitering aimlessly while I sought to pursue my happiness that he makes me anyway. It’s wrong, I know. Hoping and waiting, but I do anyway. With everyday he makes me fall for him a little while falling out of it a little. The throbbing heart just waits to see him again. The pulsating little light behind his form when I see him, sets my heart at unrest. My nerves are on fire, and deep inside me there is this all consuming desire, just to put myself out there at his mercy. I hate myself for it. I’ve had this before, and I don’t want history repeating. I don’t want to become another Meera, waiting for Krshna to be hers. My mornings became my nights and midnight my dawn, and yet desires are never ending. The wait is always there. So much is at stake, just so much, and yet he is unaware of it.

First Book Published

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It’s been great, after all these months of painstaking juggling between college life and the hassles of getting published, that finally it’s all over and I’m past the phase I used to be a closet poet and novelist. The journey though has been filled with difficulties, I have no regrets, and it adds a little more credit to my patience that I didn’t give up halfway and back out of the deal I signed when I had dared to dream of reaching out to the masses with my thoughts, ideals, dreams and words in print. It makes me immensely happy that finally I’m almost there where I had envisioned myself to be, and exactly at the right time I had wished it to be.

It had always been a cherished childhood desire to be like my grandfather, Tarini Kanta Bhattacharya, one of the most revered men in my life, a noted figure in the literary scene in Assam, where I come from. In my teenage and late adolescence I took up the pen to experiment with poetry, and failed a lot many times. And this year, 2013 being his 100th birth anniversary, I’m overjoyed to dedicate my book to the beloved legend, who never got to see the garden he had planted so long ago, flourishing so late, as me, a granddaughter he never got to lay eyes on, lives her life on principles he had once taught to his little children, which he himself believed in.

My wish to have a successful career in the world of science was in shatters, when I realized more than anything I’m an artist at heart. I was born to write, and I don’t know from where it just came to me, the desire to write about beauty, and love and anything that draws the soul to question monotony. Dreams, that’s where it all began. And harshness of the world, and still beauty that tore through all that. The complexities of human life, and the organism, that can think and yet with unthinking brutality, like just an animal indulges in savagery in the name of civility and all things holy.

By the time I reached my teenage, I’d seen enough, even at my home, the presence of a different kind of love other than the kind commercial Indian movies portray, but quite understandable by now, and petty squabbles. Even reading different story books and observing fellow friends in my school, made this desire grow, and gave me a silent voice that could be recorded only on paper. I wasn’t very good in my English lessons in school, and used to be despised by my teachers for tormenting them with my dullness and non-responsive behavior, and as you probably guessed, I was never a bright student; always average, at the corner, like a spectator than a participant.

In the romance department, I was worse than the advanced kind of disappointing. My fellow friends would be talking of their boyfriends and I would be pathetically eavesdropping on their chatter, creating in my mind, judging, contrasting, modifying on the basis of the existing kind, a new kind human being, who, as a lover would make up for anything anyone has suffered in their lives, the lack of adventure, the monotony of always doing the same thing, and following the same roads that lead to the grave, having no newness to the institution, and that guy, that kind of guy, I had in my mind, that I wanted for myself, actually never existed.

Then there’s a very famous writer, my idol, Joanne K. Rowling, who spoke through the fictitious Professor Albus Dumbledore, in her book, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, “Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?” and that just changed my life towards the path I finally decided to take. This moment that I took up writing seriously, the year, 2007 also being very significantly important in my life.

Fanciful were those days, and also so memorable!!! Naive as I was, and pure of my unadulterated heart, foolishly I happened to stumble into the student activity room in my new school, my eyes opened to a sight like I’d never seen in my life so far… In the far corner of the room there sat this young boy with funny hair and the most carefree laughter scribbling on a desk with a couple of his friends and that sight, and with a glimpse of his eyes and smile, and my heart hasn’t been whole ever since. He fitted the mental image of my perfect lover, that I’d had so early in my head, with whom I’d begun writing my first story…the image of Dusk, and ever since I’ve never seen any other sight lovelier than that stranger boy sitting there laughing off with his friends, his entire guard down.

I wished to know him better, but then I wan’t very good at making friends, and retaining them. Especially people, I’m drawn to so fatally. IT didn’t last, but over these past six years, I’d had enough, to know he wasn’t at all that much the hero I had in mind, because I wasn’t that image, he had in his. Nevertheless, that love in return blossomed me into a woman, enabling me to write of my passions, and desires, and of love, to the closest degree I can mimic. My book is complete, the first one that I wrote to describe that ideal boy and introduce the chief character of my very first story, that is still under construction.

I wished to do a lot of things, and I’ve tried a little bit of everything. And I have no regrets. I’ve got a life ahead and I will live it as long as my time permits, and will do everything that I’ve ever had a wish in my mind (well, not everything…specially not those which are illegal, haha) to do. Beauty has always been my companion and my strong belief is that it’ll always continue to be for me who is one Libra born, and I believe in myself above all else, that I’ll never change for me, for the world, maybe yes, I might seem, but for me, it’ll be just choices that I made, which in my heart I’ll always remember, what I went through to decide standing on a crossroad.

Dreams of a Dessicated soul

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Over that hill, there is a meadow,

It’s a dream, and that, I do know.

You’re here, and I’m here, holding hands,

Faraway from the world, this strange land.

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Riding on horseback, in the sunset,

Through the tall grass wavering,

Lightly in the breeze…

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It’s a dream, it’s a dream,

To whom do I tell this?

My life woven around it…

Like and intricate sculpture of art.

 

It was once a memory too,

You and me, riding together,

Through those summer fields of wheat.

Running and falling, climbing the hills;

Destiny had woven us with its eternal magic

On the loom of time, to be together forever…

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Then you were gone, and gone, and gone,

A hundred and twice centuries have passed,

And my abyss has been cold as death,

Life’s a distant memory – my sun hasn’t dawned.

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It’s just these dreams, subconscious,

Filtering through ice-cold water,

Like little bubbles of hope escaping,

Broadens up the light overhead.

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In this dream, today, I dream of you,

You’re here, and I’m here, holding hands…

And we’re here this moment and till eternity,

When you’ll come back, will I wake up.

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Otherwise I’ll never have let you go.

Moving Nowhere

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Chaos it is when I give it a thought,

As to where we’re headed, that fate has wrought.

Peace that I feel in they words’ embrace,

To think, it grieves me, our love for thee is just thy vehemence!

 

Delirious, moonstruck, blinded by desire,

I feel sacrilegious, accompanying thee,on this godless voyage.

Damned we are, condemned by fate to live in doom forever,

Infernal is the wait, to find that horizon, to bring us back to mortal age.
But the sun is not setting and the endless main of waters, ceaseless ahead–

What scares me is that, I don’t see a wish either, a wish strong enough,

Since the wheel is in thy hands and I’m just a guest on thy anchored barge.

But the sun is not setting and the sea is dead, no winds for the lifeless sails don’t bluff.

 

Moving nowhere, standing still in the ocean of utter desolation, scares me.

We’re trapped in this nightmarish reality, I have no luxury of waking up.

Maybe I don’t want to wake up, I love thee for all I know.

I can’t shatter all those cherished dreams for this one nightmare.

 

Knowing I have nothing to wake up to, except the fact,

To learn which, will shatter me across the ocean.

Knowing our love was just my imagination I indulged in,

Wishing and crying for slumber to murder my obsession.

It will rain and it will rain ♥

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The air simmers, blisters. Induced hallucinations.

The cracked open mouth of wounded earth,

Seeped with blood red and covered with rust.

Centuries and eons of memories clouded by dust.

 

The fragile lines were breached once long ago,

The tempest had once rushed into my shore.

It’s been long and time has swept away the resort

The floods and waves of tide haunted me to drown.

 

Then the sea is just a embittered memory,

And it was a heap of sand I’d leapt into. Not death.

See, the passion had been sung well to drone.

To arise and laugh back, when mirages mock.

 

It’s been long I’ve lived scared to scraps and bolts.

It, the post traumatic stress disorder in me craving blood.

But I’m ready to go all out again, for surfing in the sea of love.

And she has to come out too, the madwoman locked in my head…

 

The fighter in me. The rebel. The poet. The lover.

The unchained philosopher, her storm unleashed.

Night has finally settled bets with daylight

There right there, fate’s let my midnight sun dawn.

 

Now again the tempest blows ashore, from the east.

The distant roars of the hungry cranky clouds resound

After flashes of desire reflecting his heart and mine.

After a long time I know, it will rain and it will rain.

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Prologue of “The Return of the Forsaken”

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I have spent countless restless nights, waiting, waiting, wishing for the end of the world. Wishing however is not the right word for it, since the word doesn’t cover it, aptly enough, the sensation, the burning desire that has consumed the best parts of me with it, over the centuries (or should I say millennia?)…Hell, it seems I do have lost my count after all! Worthless, futile has been this life, I know, I shouldn’t be allowed to live this life. I shouldn’t exist! Reduced to this weakling, I await death to come personally to drag me to hell, if there exists one, and yet, the wait is endless…

Am I dead? Can’t be, I am talking…but who is hearing? Someone definitely is…otherwise how would you all know about my personal rumblings? Am I alive? I don’t feel so…I have been hiding from all the world, people who are the off-springs of my own bloodline, in darkness, in shadows, I have been creeping around like the monster I am, watching my people die – in my own hands, some passing with time as well, perishing in bodies, fading in names… Watching changes everywhere, new lives, new faces, all the while I remained as I was. A stone. Harder than granite, I cannot fade. I cannot die. Yet nobody remembers me.

I am a monster, yes, I am. Suffering a fate, I’d myself brought upon me, cursed for all of eternity. I’ve just dragged on…without any family left, no friends either – just time and darkness, who’ve kept me company. But, I’ve had plenty of them. I have spent eons in my wait for the end, but fate doesn’t allow it. I have sinned, I deserve to be damned.

No, I deserve to be damned.

Accursed

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Wishes to forget the past wounds wont bear fruit, I know.

Like hopes don’t germinate from wet ashes.

But thinking of you, I really wish, I could forget…

I shiver at certain thoughts, my wishes, some dreams.

Because, again to give it a thought, it’s impossible,

And can’t exist.

Like I’m Calypso reincarnated,

Cursed by the gods for all ages…

To live in an all consuming solitude.

The fates, ever so cruel have left me,

Absolutely no chance at redemption.

Now, as my saviour, they’ve sent me you.

But I know you’ll go away as well.

You have to.

But, I’ll always be here,

Not thinking, not hoping.

Scared to even give it a spare little thought.

Even fleetingly.

Terrified, I’ll ruin the spell.

The fateful moment has cast between us.

But I will never tell.

Like Midas I turn everything I touch, to cold metal.

Which, like statues, start dying on me.

Seeking thy Breath.

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Another composition. I was trying to write a rhyming lyric, here is the out come. An AB-CD-EF verse.

I will tear down the face of heaven and spread it around thy paradise,

I will steal all the stars to release them to roam in thy wake like a thousand fireflies…

The meandering streams of light will wash through the grassy meadows wavering in the wind.

The flood to the the fire, and all in between will merge and slake, when love overflows its brink.

The torments ending when fighting through the tentacles of time and snares of evil fate,

I will find you, your arms, your warmth and lips. And here, again, I wake.

This isn’t really nice or promising, but I couldn’t think of a better twist to it, than making it all a dream that breaks when the fantasy reaches it’s prime. Hope you all like it.

Have a great day ahead. 🙂

The Thin Line

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Life is now a stretch of eternal grey,

The lifeless transit tolls heavy on me.

The bones had just recovered

From the last catastrophic fracture…

When the glass was shattered again.

Life has gone into hibernation,

And yet something refuses to die inside me.

The metal window is dented forever,

After too many times the hammer beat on it.

However much I try to say otherwise,

My dreams had always been better than fair life.

That is why some people say, love is like walking a thin line,

Between insanity and gravity. Chaos and harmony.

It will bind you in, if you find your niche,

Or put you out to the mercy of the cruel world, if not.