Six Months Ago

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Running around,
Screaming around <in my head>
With no questions to ask,
And all pain and guilt.

<Six months ago> You made me wipe away my tears,
<Six months ago> You had me smiling again,
<Six months ago> You had me listening to metal!
<Six months ago> You taught me to love…oo oo ooooo….

Love, love, love, <love, love, love, love, love>
Some mystery it is. <How it happened>
You’d know it all better. <Sure you do>
It’s easy to mistake,
But then it never is.

<Six months ago> It all changed.
<Six months ago> You changed it for me.
<Six months ago> You, you, you happened.
<Six months ago> And your cycle became my eternity.

Words, little words, ran out of mind. <my my, my, my, my>
Some mystery that is. <How it happened>
You’d know it all better. <Sure you do>
It’s easy to mistake.
But then is it?

I plead guilty, <I am I know>
But like all crimes, punish me. <Oh, don’t leave me alone>
You cut me off, like I’m made of paper.
You turned away, like it’ll undo the last six months.

<Six months ago> You spoke a spell, <or something like that>
<Six months ago> If you’d remember, we had something to fight for.
<Six months ago> Six months have passed, and it’s just hurting now.
<Six months ago> You killed us but then there’s the ghost of our laughter…

Taunting through the day and haunting the nights,
You’re out there, soaring up on sunny beaches,
With the tides and the sun, while in silence life leaks outta me,
Caught in the perpetual ice storm, you and life conspired to put me in.

<Six months ago> I wished to die, and fade,
<Six months ago> What I feel now.
<Six months ago> You came in and that changed.
<Six months ago> Now you’re gone and won’t come back again.

All I wanna apologize for is,
I really do miss you.
Baby, you were all the good things,
I believe life ever had to offer me, that I will miss.

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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Buried in the Heart of the City

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Agrasen ki Baoli, an old monument hidden in the bowels of the skyscraper encrusted heart of the city of New Delhi, Cannaught Place. Not known to most people, this is a protected archaeological site, an old step well. With 103 steps completely immersed in water, this used to be a storage house of water… The visible parts of this historical step well consist of three levels. Each level is lined with arched niches on both sides.

From an architectural perspective this step well was probably rebuilt during the Tughlaq period. However, the oldest existing Baoli in Delhi, the Anangtal Baoli located in Mehrauli which was also known as Yoginipura, was built in the 10th century by the Rajput King Anang Pal II of Tomar DynastyAnang Tal literally means reservoir provided by Anang Pal of the House of Tomar.

Regarding the name Agrasen Ki Baoli it should be stated that in 1132 AD an Agrawal poet named Vibudh Shridhar mentions, in his work Pasanahacariu, a wealthy and influential Agrawal merchant of Dhilli named Nattal Sahu who was also a minister in the court of King Anang Pal III. Rebuilding the old Baoli would have been within the means of a wealthy Agrawal community.

Although there are no known historical records to prove who built Agrasen ki Baoli, it is believed that it was originally built by the legendary king Agrasen[2] during the Mahabharat epic era and rebuilt in the 14th century by the Agrawal community which traces its origin to Maharaja Agrasen.

Water temples and temple step wells were built in ancient India and the earliest forms of step well and reservoir were also built in India in places like Dholavira as far back as the Indus Valley Civilisation.

(courtesy, Wikipedia)

Recently, I went there, with an unique friend of mine. Here’s a poem I wrote about the rendezvous. This is an important part of my life. This place, was already special since I’d already been there before a lot many times, from the first visit, last October with my best friend. And now after this recent visit, I have become quite sure, it has become one of those things in my life, that I cannot give up deliberately. This was already beautiful and now, it’s become special.

 

Through the many nooks and vents,

Wings of feather dart and flap.

 

It is a maze, through which,

I do not want to escape.

 

Through the topmost window,

We watched the sun slowly dying.

 

I felt your hands untying the knots among my thoughts,

I felt your lips burning through and through my stiffness.

 

I just wish the wheel of time would never have restarted,

From how you’d stopped it for us to intertwine and breathe…

 

Oh, there, right there, will I go back every time.

Because you showed me what real love could be like.

 

I would never have known.

And died and faded away like that.

 

You showed me that doors aren’t always needed.

To escape, we could just come out…

 

Leaping out from one of the many windows.

But this is a maze I do not want to escape.

 

I’m happy and so let me sing your praise…

It’s always been my choice, don’t make me sad.

 

It’s how it’ll always be.

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My Promise.

I’ll always love you.

I’ve always loved you.

And I will always love you.

Others will come into my life, like every morning is new, and we try new things, every other day.

But every night, like I put on a different set of clothes, to sleep away the lonely, tragic hours,

I drink you in like an exotic wine, some magic potion…

that erases every thing and rewinds time back to the day we met.

The day, I traded in my soul to the devil,

That I may remember you as the only man in my life.

And then I remember everything.

Oh, and with love…

Breaking Free

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Had been locked up inside my own mind, as if,

Tied by rusting chainmail to the icy castle of night.

So, didn’t even have to  really struggle, to get out,

My spirit, unbound, just by mere thought, broke free

Like a canon-ball of shiny metal set to blaze,

Just shot out of sight…

 

Dashing past the clouds of mist and ghosts from the past,

Unholy things, those were, by inches, couldn’t touch my light.

Everything burned along the path I trailed in my way,

The purest form of energy, like fire, now flowing through me.

Firmly ridden on the back of the mad, mad wind,

I reach for the haloed sunbeams pouring in thick abundance,

Through distant holes in the wide blue-white sky.

 

My quest for peace, finally sated for a while,

I wait at the gates of heaven, to open up.

I haven’t seen my God, and it’s been quite some time.

I’ll be Me, and You’ll be You.

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It’s the fact that it’s you out there, is the only thing that keeps me going.

I don’t know how else I could’ve gotten past my laziness and thought of all the good I can do.

All I could do by myself was sit inside my warm room, indulging like Hypnos himself,

Or flutter around settling my scores with all the people who wronged me, like Nemesis.

You took that from me forever, with the gifts of humility, forgiveness and patience.

With your persistent rejections, you filled me with stronger determinations.

I’ll be Artemis – I’ll hunt you forever, and You will be Apollo, in your blazing chariot.

Racing across the skies for all of eternity, and though I know, you’ll never be mine,

I’ll be content to see you for once, every day, at dawn…to start my day with.

IN LAMENTATION: SONG OF THE DAWN

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The moon spends her last moments for the day,
Watching, mournfully, her forbidden lover, the sun
Heartbroken at their most lamented, transient union,
Even the winds of heaven moan…
Beauty lies bare, tears refuse to quell, stay clinging to eyes which empathize…
The only solace which is lost upon their grief.
For eons they have travelled an eternity, distraught, barred from love,
Yet facing each other every day for a little while…
But who’s got a say in this unfair judgment…
It’s written, forsaken is their fate to create our dawn…

Sunday Morning without my Glasses.

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Through saffron washed shades,

My sleepless eyes peep at the bright Sunday sun.

My familiar green purse with my stock of change,

I set out from home, this Sunday morning,

Without my glasses, my weekday eyes.

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The damp trees all stand, towering over me…

Smug and sated after drizzles for the last few nights…

Like a witch’s prickly hair and pointed hat,

The willowy branches seem to point at me.

Forming black curves against the whipped blue sky.

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Colourful paper squares soar overhead,

Tied to invisible cords spinning from spindles,

Held by unseen hands, all children out of sight…

Hazy lines of gleaming pinballs come rolling down,

The flyover down the road that draws towards town…

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Something special is happening  today–

Some kind of campaign, some race-like procession.

Horse drawn carts racing along with motorbikes;

Car windows shooting out overgrown men,

Scarves tied on the heads, flapping behind.

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Signboards I cannot see, my eyes are not with me.

But logos, and symbols I can make out.

I see the big M of McDonald’s, ’coz that was my destination,

As the hot aroma of butterscotch pancakes hits my sense of smell,

I cannot delay, my empty stomach affirms in a grumbled rebuke.

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Hmph! Again a queue, this straightened out morning!

Probably BPO employees were out now, for dates after shifts,

I fake an accent, to pull the attention to me, a lonely visitor…

Only later did I notice, by far, I do not look anything

But a plain, fat, native, DU student out on a morning stroll.

.

A Sausage McMuffin, French fries and coke combined,

I have a decent meal to name on the roll at last.

Cuddling couples stare, I stare back; they don’t know, they’re not my eyes.

Like coins in my purse jingle, their accusing glares bounce right off me–

Never leaving it, like change, just piling up more and more…

.

Sadly, now that the morning’s passed,

And without my glasses, I’ll have to return back.

Gems put out on display catches the light–

I look at the shiny jewellery shops as I go,

But no eyes here, to watch them shine.

.

It’s broad and harsh daylight now…

And I have to get back home, before,

While crossing the wide road,

I’m trampled by a truck or a van,

I mistook for a shiny silver pinball.

The Healer. The Seer.

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You were like October’s rain, rinsing away the ravages of Juno’s mayhem.
The last embers of a hissing fire, was extinguished with your shower.
With every step you took toward me, you made the crickets in the thicket fade away.
The something that used to corrode my insides, I was finally ready to give up.

Exhausted and lost, gasping for water, I had collapsed.
Hallucinating, probably, dazed I was, fatally close to the point of incinerating myself.
Though not a waterbearer, you shot an arrow from your quiver,
Through the rocks under my feet.

At your grace, upon your mercy, it was spring in mid October,
There sprang a stream, bubbling and splashing, abundant in plentitude.
But I did not lean down to quench my thirst;
Since there was Old Narcissus’ sad tale to note.

Then, passing away, seeing another in distress, you galloped away.
To quench someone else’s lips, to heal another set of broken wings.
You didn’t even turn back once, to see your magic peeling off undone…
That I am left alone again, left to go back to my October in mayhem.

The Park at “Spring’s Garden”

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Rusted leaves and brazen tree trunks,

Sooty boar tusks and fur dripping muck.

Cows walk amidst humans here,

Where squirrels too can give away a fright,

To scare off a big fat girl in red shorts,

To gather up her clothes and scream and run.

Then suddenly an old kite hunts down a lazy dove,

Relishes in with a cannibal smugness,

Its new prey’s flesh, while the rest of its flock,

Watches and flaps from afar, too dazed to act.

Then nearby, a girl with punk-style headphones,

Stamps her feet to the earth,

Puffing out a miniature sphere of dirt.

When I see her extracting a little red camera,

I figure, maybe, she’s an amateur photographer,

And she missed the most spectacular shot.

A kite tearing  out the entrails of that innocent dove.

I smile a little, wanting it badly to tell her:

Next time, leave your music at home or get a wireless.

More distractions for me. More people I see.

Here and there, somewhere into the deeper woods,

Where it’s too dark for the sunshine to peep thro’,

Show-off lovers fake their rendezvous,

Sometimes, holding, sometimes leaving hands.

Sometimes holding shiny, pricey techie baubles,

Tattooed with a half-eaten apple, which can’t even be eaten.

Faking the love, faking the passions, even their kisses,

Which is nothing but a pseudo status symbol,

Of some non-existent phase they think they’ve crossed.

I wonder to myself, these twosomes, threesomes,

Handsome people. How can they even for once think,

Turning a back to the world means the world won’t see you?

Well, it’s their problem, I tell myself, not mine!

Under the cover of the dry, barren trees’ shade,

Joggers, in their suits and tracks, slog around,

Hoping to water the dry, dry grass,

With their drops of sweat that fell on the ground.

The rusted leaves and the brazen tree trunks,

Remain standing, like they have, all along.

With no one to water them,

No one to sweep the leaves to a grave for once.

Parched in the want to be remembered and restored,

The old park stands firm in its wait.

Unlike the red humane benches of concrete,

Lives of the wooden trees can’t crumble away.

Maybe there’s another reason for this:

They’re green. Not red.

Yet.

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And I too cannot sympathize.

I am  as well dressed all in red. Inside and out.

So I just leave. The Spring’s Garden,

Like a winter’s desert, still gasping for a tempest.

SUNRISE

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Healing the night,

The dampened passions,

Washes the soil,

The trees, winds retreat.

Flapping into the blue,

New life starts, new strength.

Springing from the earth,

Leftovers too take a new heart.

Warms up the bony spirit,

A heat that doesn’t scorch yet.

Swipes away the bad memories,

And soured breaths, one day, you’ll forget.