We hold on to images
Dark and bright
Seemingly unreal
They tend to suffice
They make up for what we dont have
They give us hope
Comfort
Peace
Sometimes it is better
To let go of the images
Than tarnish them
With the soot that is reality
A man and a woman
At the beach watching the sunrise
She lying on his lap
Their son on her stomach
It's gone.
Jigsaw
Monday, March 24, 2008
Song of the Heart
I stand at the edge of the river. A Godess comes out of the water and stands just outside my reach. When I stretch my hands to touch, I find I cant reach her, because my hands are chained. The chains are barbed. So the more I struggle, the more I bleed. The more I bleed, the more it hurts and the more I want her comfort. And I strugle to reach her even further. Slash and cut go hand in hand. I can feel the blood. I crave her. I need her. As my heart keeps pumping blood, I pray that I can touch the Godess so my heart can finally sing its song. And then........
And then the chains fall off. The Godess runs away when she realises I can actually reach her. I look at her, running away into the distance, with a deep sadness in my heart, and pain at my arms. Particularly my wrists. And then.....
And then I turn around and see everyone who loves me, and cares for me. And it's a sizeable number. I see a friend who had loosened my chains. I see other friends bringing me bandages and first aid. I see my brother getting up from praying for me. I see my parents crying tears of joy that I'm alright. I see a statue of Lord Shiva that I had missed completely although It stood so close to me at that riverbank. My closest friends encircle me and group-hug me, telling me that everything will be alright. And suddenly, my heart begins to sing.......and it doesn't stop.
Thennaadudaya Sivane Pottri
N
And then the chains fall off. The Godess runs away when she realises I can actually reach her. I look at her, running away into the distance, with a deep sadness in my heart, and pain at my arms. Particularly my wrists. And then.....
And then I turn around and see everyone who loves me, and cares for me. And it's a sizeable number. I see a friend who had loosened my chains. I see other friends bringing me bandages and first aid. I see my brother getting up from praying for me. I see my parents crying tears of joy that I'm alright. I see a statue of Lord Shiva that I had missed completely although It stood so close to me at that riverbank. My closest friends encircle me and group-hug me, telling me that everything will be alright. And suddenly, my heart begins to sing.......and it doesn't stop.
Thennaadudaya Sivane Pottri
N
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
The Guitar and the Glasses
This is something that I wrote on a piece of paper on Diwali day in 2007. I found it, and decided to put it up here. Read on.....
"The guitar. It's driving me mad. I look at it, and I remember the slender fingers that used to hold it. I look at it, and remember the tips of those fingers caressing my face. The guitar. It's all there. The wood, the finish, the strings, the frets. It's all there, but she isn't. The music from the guitar reminds me of times and songs I played for her. Even the music remains, but she's gone. In a vain attempt to numb the pain, I hug the guitar and go to sleep. It does not help. I wake up with a cut on my forehead, but not feeling the pain; as it is attenuated by the bleeding in my heart. And it's not just that guitar, or guitars in general. It's glasses. Every time I look at a pair of glasses I remember hers. I remember the time I broke it while we were together at a friend's place. I remember those lovely eyes that used to look through them to look at me. The eyes that shed tears that would stain the edges of those glasses, and flow down her cheeks, waiting for me to wipe them away. The tears that somehow called their kin from my eyes to fall with them. Guitars and glasses. They ruin me."
N
"The guitar. It's driving me mad. I look at it, and I remember the slender fingers that used to hold it. I look at it, and remember the tips of those fingers caressing my face. The guitar. It's all there. The wood, the finish, the strings, the frets. It's all there, but she isn't. The music from the guitar reminds me of times and songs I played for her. Even the music remains, but she's gone. In a vain attempt to numb the pain, I hug the guitar and go to sleep. It does not help. I wake up with a cut on my forehead, but not feeling the pain; as it is attenuated by the bleeding in my heart. And it's not just that guitar, or guitars in general. It's glasses. Every time I look at a pair of glasses I remember hers. I remember the time I broke it while we were together at a friend's place. I remember those lovely eyes that used to look through them to look at me. The eyes that shed tears that would stain the edges of those glasses, and flow down her cheeks, waiting for me to wipe them away. The tears that somehow called their kin from my eyes to fall with them. Guitars and glasses. They ruin me."
N
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Dancing in her orb, she mocks me
Knowing that I dread to break the glass
The sight of her stuns me to silence
Suffering is my only respite
I feel like taking a drill and using it
My cranium craves air supply
Only then will her thoughts go away
Only then will there be silence
How long will you mock me, girl?
In your glass world, all seems well
There will come a time when my due is paid
Not in cash, or kind, or suffering
But with love
For that day
I wait
My heart
Forever belonging to you.
Knowing that I dread to break the glass
The sight of her stuns me to silence
Suffering is my only respite
I feel like taking a drill and using it
My cranium craves air supply
Only then will her thoughts go away
Only then will there be silence
How long will you mock me, girl?
In your glass world, all seems well
There will come a time when my due is paid
Not in cash, or kind, or suffering
But with love
For that day
I wait
My heart
Forever belonging to you.
This is either one of my worst or one of my best. Deal with it.
N
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Questions
I just have a few questions to ask. I'm asking them to myself, you, and the rest of the world.
1. Are laughter and happiness the same?
2. Is there ever a truly selfless act?
3. When things go bad, are you the type that cuts and runs or are you the type that has the balls to stand and work it out?
4. When will we ever learn what love is?
5. Why do the nice guys always finish last?
6. Why do some tears come irrespective of how long it has been since that which we are crying for came to pass?
7. Why do human beings have an innate need to control their surroundings?
8. If there really was a completely selfless act, is it worth performing it?
9. When we introspect, will we find that we are all fundamentally flawed, or will we find that we were fundamentally perfect, but lost our way somewhere in life?
10. Does love ever really come to an end?
11. Why do people take love so much for granted?
12. When we meet new friends, why do we tend to forget the old ones?
13. Is there any humanity left in the world?
14. Where is the rhyme in our reason?
15. Why is it so easy for us to advise, but so difficult to empathise?
16. Why is man the only animal that kills for reasons other than mate, food and territory?
When I think of the possible answers, I feel queasy. What is it exactly that separates us from our animal counterparts? Why are we considered the smartest animals on the planet? Shouldn't we have figured all this out by now?
Signing off in deep contemplation,
N
1. Are laughter and happiness the same?
2. Is there ever a truly selfless act?
3. When things go bad, are you the type that cuts and runs or are you the type that has the balls to stand and work it out?
4. When will we ever learn what love is?
5. Why do the nice guys always finish last?
6. Why do some tears come irrespective of how long it has been since that which we are crying for came to pass?
7. Why do human beings have an innate need to control their surroundings?
8. If there really was a completely selfless act, is it worth performing it?
9. When we introspect, will we find that we are all fundamentally flawed, or will we find that we were fundamentally perfect, but lost our way somewhere in life?
10. Does love ever really come to an end?
11. Why do people take love so much for granted?
12. When we meet new friends, why do we tend to forget the old ones?
13. Is there any humanity left in the world?
14. Where is the rhyme in our reason?
15. Why is it so easy for us to advise, but so difficult to empathise?
16. Why is man the only animal that kills for reasons other than mate, food and territory?
When I think of the possible answers, I feel queasy. What is it exactly that separates us from our animal counterparts? Why are we considered the smartest animals on the planet? Shouldn't we have figured all this out by now?
Signing off in deep contemplation,
N
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