Ask for more

I don’t want to be logical. I don’t want to be composed. I want to be unreasonable and ask for more. I want to be idealistic and impractical. I want to be consoled and empathised. I want to know that someone, somewhere gets it and is unconditionally supportive.

It would be a really boring life if we were to settle for mediocre. I don’t want to ever wake up one day and say to myself- Is this all there is?

For Brooklyn

​Among the subtleties of human predicaments, I often like to imagine, is a lie that they had us believe. A lie- or a truth gone rogue- that was fed to us to keep the darkness away, which now ironically forms the very basis of it. 

The fundamental error of our lives has been to let that lie settle into our souls, to place our bets on the belief that- purposeful things cannot end into nothingness. 

By My Side

​If you are a wise old man
Who can tell right from wrong
Someone who knows about life
And, everything else beyond.
If you are someone who can cherish
The beauty of nature and its sounds
And, can love endlessly,
Without being love bound.
Then, know that I look for you
To come and give me hope
For, my friend, I am troubled
And am unable to cope.

But, if you are young, naive
Like me, as is fated
You are tired of life and death
And, all things related
You’ve left many things behind
And, some things have left you
You spent your life collecting memories
And, now that’s all that’s left of you.
Then, know that you’re not alone
And, we can still get through life
Be my friend, I am troubled
For even that will suffice.

Memories

Memories are worse than bullets
This is one of my favourite quotes. I wish I had written it or at least, something as magnificent as this. It is fascinating to see how it captures so many emotions in a single line.
You are going in a local train and it stops at a particular station, you had once got off at with someone. You get off at it again, though it is not your station. You get off because you are suddenly overwhelmed by nostalgia and you just cannot, not go there again.
You sit at the same spots where you used to sit together before. You eat at the same cafe, you buy things from the same store. You climb the same stairs where she had almost fallen down on once before. And, you just look the other way, smiling a little.
Now, you look at the gate where you had left her. You imagine her looking back at you before leaving. She turns around slowly, like she had once when you had called her name for the first time; the first time you had met her. She turns around and she comes back to you running and hugs you. You ask her to stay, but she just has to go.
And, she goes. And, you? Years later, you just stand there, imagining her coming back.
Memories are worse than bullets.

NaPoWriMo Day 27: Dead

Silence
Speaks the
Most powerful words

In response to, the optional prompt for NaPWriMo:

And today’s prompt – optional, as always — comes to us from Vince Gotera. It’s the hay(na)ku). Created by the poet Eileen Tabios and named by Vince, the hay(na)ku is a variant on the haiku. A hay(na)ku consists of a three-line stanza, where the first line has one word, the second line has two words, and the third line has three words.

Episode III: Radio

“The next song” he would say “The next song that the radio plays would describe my future life.”

A declaration based on the notion that everything, as insignificant as the next song on the radio and as little as his declaration of these words, happens for a reason. Everything is connected and interrelated. Our souls aren’t floating in a space of boundless infinite serenity of chance, but are closely tied together by reason and fate.

“The next song would describe my future life” He would say.

————-

He spent his entire life, or what was left of it, tagging an immensely sullen song as a happy, cheerful one.

Was his life sullen? Or happy?
Depends on what we mean by happiness.