Ramblings of my dilapidated soul....

KITE

2008-07-14T10:52:00.000-07:00

Waiting for the winds to change the currents in its way,
Flying past the plains of clouds that smiled at its sway.
Oh! The child with the twine, fly it past the cosmic gateway.

Praying for those mean dark clouds to clear the skies,
Convincing babies to believe that it’s a bird that flies,
Oh! The child with the twine, launch those collaged kites.

Flying stars with its thread are those dark gray clouds,
Suspended beyond the nebulae and emerging from ruby shroud,
Oh! The child with the twine, see them race for the abode.

Twirling the manja to breach our enemy’s defense,
Cutting the threads of aggressors with magical offense,
Oh! The child with the twine, see your kite clear the sky’s fence.

Deafening silence was your friend when your kite was felled,
Gusts carried it to the badlands where you have never delved,
Oh! The child with the twine, don’t you cry for being beguiled.

But what will you do when the wind stops blowing,
When your empire on the skies starts vanishing?
Oh! The child with the twine, where is it flying?

Tasting this loss makes you know when the current is right,
Falling down paves a way to gain the force to get up and fight,
Oh! The child with the twine, sun is never hindered by the night.

The Girl in the Glass Tower

2008-03-23T04:57:00.000-07:00

Shiny gloss spread over her lips,
Silky robes wound round her hips.
The little girl, she ran all over the place,
The mirrors, played with reflections of her face.
Transperent walls exposed the world outside,
Her face turned red for she was on the wrong side.
The stairs were mazes, but all led to a final door,
And it was locked, serving a defeat at fore.

O! she’s the girl in the glass tower,
Who is searching for a new power.
She’s the girl in the glass tower,
Who is shining but a bland flower.

Her prayers answered, the doors were unlocked,
She ran to the other side with her flag unfurled.
Chains were cut loose, but truth was naked,
This world was always drenched with the wicked.
The ground beneath loved to subside,
The ways were all blocked and she couldn’t hide.
Sucked into this muddy pool of woes,
Where fear of freedom only grows.

O! she’s the girl escaped from glass tower,
Whose fortress was shaken by the demons.
She’s the girl escaped from glass tower,
Stung by the bees that made lust.

The flag she wavered was torn,
She returned to her world called forlorn,
You still shine like a bland flower,
There will be a day that turns you sweet.
But the bees of lust, hungry to fill their combs,
Hover around for pieces of your petals.
What can you do with your minute power?
Glance from the creeks of your ruined tower?

O! you poor girl in the glass tower,
Broken mirrors are your lovers.
O! you poor girl in the glass tower.
Prisoned in this gaol for loners.

This poem/song is a metaphor about the way women were made to lead their lives in our history ( even today the scenario hasn't changed as greatly as our media brags). This is the first time I am actually deciphering my own work for the readers. It basically talks about how women get tied up at home, get minimal freedom etc. Secondly, when they get freedom, how they get ill-treated by the world around. Well, different interpretations too can be drawn from this piece, I was able to picture too, I am leaving this for the readers.

The Beach Boogie

2008-03-11T07:52:00.000-07:00

O! it was a Glorious day,
the sun shone like it was his last day,
don’t you worry about the next day,
because it is always just another day.

Everyday the sun crawled down,
So we danced till we went down,
Let us not let these fires die down,
Your love for her should never crumble down.

Our mother always moves around,
These fires make us move around,
The gents twist their ladies around,
There’ll only be love all around.

These guitars air a stringy tune
My harmonica settled for a windy tune,
The sand wavered to the watery tune,
We always jig to the nature’s tune.

On the beach, a surfboard found,
Breezes had a coolness found,
Thoughts had a calmness found,
At here love isn’t lost but found

With the sand castles the children play,
After the dusky skies we see the stars play,
With the waves of time our memories play,
Under the fire-lit night you dance to us play.

Sand Castles

2008-03-11T07:47:00.000-07:00

On every dune she wrote his name
but life was a bittersweet game,
her love for him wasn’t lame,
his ignorance was all to blame.

On those dunes she drew her heart,
But those waves tore her love apart,
He watched from the rampart,
Grieving about what he had to part.

Each sand grain thirsted her tear,
Sound of death made her fear,
Only his repentance could get them near,
He felt that he doesn’t belong here.

He arrived like a bullet from the gun,
Closed her eyes to conceal the dying sun,
She acted like he made her heart run,
Every finger came off revealing the rising moon.

Echoes of his love for her were grand,
Together they built castles on sand,
Burying those shadows that made their life bland,
Along the shoreline they walked hand-in-hand.

Two hearts moulded as one like clay,
Together they dreamed of their children play,
Their thoughts were now filled with gay,
It ain’t beyond the star-lit skies heaven lay.

A Paradise in Hell

2008-02-28T06:48:00.001-08:00

“ When the night befalls, you are my daylight,
When thoughts embitter, you are my solace,
When on the race to the sun, you stand like my flag bearer,
When everything is lost, I can brag of your silky embrace,
With a smile you bring out a coruscation of million suns,

I am coming straight to the point

Will you take my hand in yours,
My pleasures with yours,
My agonies with yours,
And say I will be with you,forever!” Danny whispered in Nina’s ears, pampering her head. She looked around, everything seemed spooky to her, those words haven’t struck gongs that threw the alarms out of the clock that bore her past, she couldn’t say no, neither say yes. This world is an eldritch place for those who commit no sin, it wrests its laments on poor beings whose inability to change the variables of time and life is exploited. Danny is the new victim of the vicious game that fate relishes playing on.

Dejection was writ over his face, tears seemed a worthless possession as they welled up in his eyes. Sebastian sighed and reminded Danny of the story that he had narrated to him couple of days ago. Danny’s thoughts now shifted towards Joan, his estranged daughter. Severance is an alien to the relation that existed between parents and children, he knew that somewhere in his mind it yelled of her presence, somewhere in time she’ll be waiting for the inevitable reunion. Thoughts have made his head heavy, a walk on the promenade at the Battery Park with lilting sounds of Atlantic would bring some weight off it.

Danny was strolling down the boulevard to have a glimpse at the world outside. The passer-bys they threw a smile and so did he, but they didn’t know that beneath his smile lay a heart-wrenching agony. He entered into a stationary mart to get himself a bunch of ball-pens, the salesman gave him the best bunch, but the salesman doesn’t know that behind the man’s pen lay a writer whose sentences generated tides of contemplation in readers. Danny walked down the boulevard a few more yards, gulped his Migraine pill which was prescribed to be taken at this time, the pill knew only of migraine and not of deadlier hemlock destined in his heart.

Slowly, Danny reached the Hospital and took out his diary “I am running towards a destination that unlocked the richest treasures ever heard of. Few moments later, I arrive at a place where there’s a ladder that takes me to the glowing sun and a promenade that promises me to gift the sun when I race towards the horizon. Which one should I take? Which one is faster?” scrawled Danny in his diary which is looking ragged out of rough use.

To be Continued...

Femme Fatale

2008-02-06T03:28:00.000-08:00

The fast train to Karjat passed through Thane station and then through a tunnel whose end revealed a beautiful peak, but I still haven’t found what I’m looking for. I got down at Nerul thinking about the naked beauty that nature has in its store, but I’m not satisfied. Through the passages in forests I walked towards the ends of the peak, I can hear nothing, not even my whispers because my ears wanted to listen to something else. Voices of the lady who promised me of living a dream.

I glanced at the mirrors that nature had installed in Charlotte Lake in search of her but they reminded that I was born a loner and am destined to be one. The signs pointed to the One Tree Hill, my limbs lit up at the sight of it , but the passage to it was twisted and my spirit down at the sight of ups and up at the sight of downs. I eventually crawled to my target and glanced at the beautiful tree that stood lonely but tall just like me. Thoughts revealed of some poetic tinges
“ I am the One man standing on the One Tree Hill,
Listening to the leaves clutter,
Answering to the wind’s whispers,
Wondering about your presence elsewhere.”

Tired were the limbs but not my will because I haven’t found what I’m looking for, I am lost in thoughts and also my way, Soubnds of horses galloping brought me onto the right track. I remembered that she was there, everywhere, gulped by the nature. My eyes were to blind to notice her presence. Glad to have seen this I returned to Nerul again with my thoughts bright.

The beaches have always been my heart-throbs with my heart attracted to them like an iron bar to a magnet. But on this day I walked alone, watched at children building castles, it reminded me of a song by Jimi Hendrix called castles made of sand, they eventually crumbled into the sea and so is my hope of seeing her. They dug the sands in search of shells, the bells of nostalgia struck hard in my head then. I gazed at the waves for a long time, they came near and went far and so did she.

How can I forget the way she had gone climbing the stairway to heaven never to return, sinking my thoughts into oblivion never to float? How can I kill the fact that the mirages in which she lives are digging daggers into my heart? How?

She seems to be so near but yet so far,
Your illusions seem to be so gorgeous yet so short,
This pains seems to get more uglier and stay long.

Ramblings of an Idle Brain - The Delusion

2008-01-23T00:23:00.000-08:00

The mists over the valleys feinted those steep slopes and threw out those groovy winds that whispered at the behest of lord who was housed at ‘delusion’. The sledge thundered down the valley down to the Pillars of Precipice. "PILLARS!" my mind yelled.

My naked eye lied more than it was true and so it was my soul’s eye that corroborated these images.

Pillars of Precipice,
Stuck out from crevices,
Stilettos fell shy of their sharpness,
Crystals fell low to their lucidity,
Ploughed were the fields of snow,
Hardened by the rays of sun,
Grown were those trees of hardened liquid.

Pillars of Precipice,
Killed the need for a remnisce,
I Swivelled on the altar laden with ice,
Spiralled like a child with a license to play,
Slid through the alleys showing youthsome blithe,
Pellets they fell from my warmth,
Bitter days, only dwellers of past.

O’ Pillars of Precipice,
Where were you hiding with all this bliss?

O’ Pillars of Precipice,
You can murder any grimace.

O’ Pillars of Precipice,
Your archs welcome my solace.

O’ Pillars of Precipice,
You are a Vagabond’s paradise

Over the summit you are placed like the God’s Arena.

Every pillar has its own charismatic oddity and at the same time an oblivious ferocity. It was on the passage to ‘dark delusion’, where one’s will was put to test. The car, it thudded onto a barricade losing control and with it my limbs, numb were my thoughts now and so was pain. The reprise- my mind woke upto the reality, the pain - effervescent, the reprise -agonising, the chemicals – tasted by my veins, everything for a moment seemed transparent exposing all my frailties and but the hallucinations redeemed itself as the God in my head as bright lights turned into halos and eventually promoted into darkness.

Oracles they whispered on the God’s bequeath. The blizzards, that have vowed to shake my perseverance. The passage mystic to the eyes, mysterious to the mind. Every wrong step leads to the stairway to oblivion, every right step leads to the summit. Whiplashes thudded onto the mountains, "Whence?" my mind yelled, it was the thunder, " Whither?" it investigated, only few questions have no answers and this is one of them. The voyage seemed eternal with days moving at the pace of deacdes. The peaks they appeared like cones of whey. Their serenity was just a nonchalance for they hid storms just like roses to thorns.

The Mountains of Whey,
Thoughts turned gray,
Lashes to which they fell prey,
My voices have nothing to say.

The Mountains of Whey,
Avalanches fell with fray,
Beneath the snow fortresses I lay,
Buried with thoughts that can put me at bay.

The Mountains of Whey,
My Will, to stay, I Pray,
I conquered with hay,
The piligrimage accomplished with gay.

It was a gruelling journey that almost went bedserk. A voice came from nowhere "How do you feel?" Flabbergasted, I was for a moment but my voices had hit back " One man climbed the tallest mountain but felt that he was standing on a deepest trench because the sky was taller and he’s yet to conquer."

The lever which controlled my journeys to ‘delusion’ and ‘reality’ switched to the other side. Liters of saline flew across my peripherals. The voices in my head they echoed again " Your soul is in a trance that ends only with death. But, it is deceptive enough to steal few delusions that picture its future."

The Unnamed Soldier

2008-01-09T04:42:00.000-08:00

Digging deep for the moments that pictured his past,
Counting the metal that ricocheted into his body,
Crawling away to the sun-shades that shielded his presence,
Planting the flag of victory over the crimson rivers,
Saluting to those whose ashes sanctified the glory,
Bowing sun brought him back to this world.

Digging the grave is the unnamed soldier,
Smiling at passer-bys on this unmanned land.
Digging the grave is the unnamed soldier,
Sweeping the dust of the unlaid stone.

Reminiscing the days of youth that were frozen,
Strolling away towards the never-ending horizon,
Chasing the dream of catching the burning sun,
Building a fortress vacillating over the billows,
Crumbling were stairs that led to his castles,
Creeping beacons signaled a turbulent dawn.

Shaping his tomb is the unnamed soldier,
Sculpting the curves of an unknown beast.
Shaping his tomb is the unnamed soldier,
chiseling the edges of his uncarved mind.

Maligning are the blessings that time had showered,
Aligning is his family in the skies above.
Turning to those pages that were tainted in his book,
Tearing them apart to lay them as his mattress,
Swallowing his agonies for pride that stood immortal,
Burying his past with himself in the grave.

Climbing the ladder is the unnamed soldier,
Dreaming his future in the unseen world.
Climbing the ladder is the unnamed soldier,
Warring with forces of unknown strength.
Climbing the ladder is the unnamed soldier,
Mirroring his pride from his deceased world.

A Tribute to all those Un-named Soldiers who die a glorious death. I salute to you all for the amount of valor and fervor you show towards the nation, an amount so huge that any scale would fall shy.

The Totalitarian Democracy

2008-01-06T22:57:00.000-08:00

It was a day that a whole nation looked up for an arrival and when it happened, a city bathed in blood with over four hundred and fifty lives evaporated into the salty Karachi air. The protagonist – Benazir Bhutto, the villian – Islamic Fundamentalists and extremists and President Musharraf. Liberalist ideology is a Sacrilege in Pakistan and hence Benazir happens to be the one who is cursed. She happens to be one amongst very few in Pakistan equipped with high Academic acumen and being educated happens to be ominous for many politicians there or atleast for Musharraf, for his supremacy is at stake.

It is not for the first time the Pakistan People’s Party is faced with the scenario of having a Young Leader leading the party as Ms. Bhutto herself was unanimously elected as the chief after her father’s execution and she was in her early twenties then. Now, we have a 19-year old future Oxford Pass-out, Mr. Bilawal Bhutto Zardari as her successor. When I heard this decision at first I personally felt that it was ludicrous, but then Young Blood will never go wasted. Where can he take the party now is the secondary question as the elections are fast approaching and his influence will be minute.

During the late eighties and early nineties when she was elected to be the Prime Minister (1988 and 1993 to be specific), she was ‘Daughter of Zulfikar Ali Bhutto’ (she will be forever) and her vision of liberal Pakistan was welcomed by one and all. But, things took a turn after she arrived in october from self-exile, she was pictured as a newly baptized daughter of USA by many politicians as the big nation lobbied for the concord between Musharraf and Bhutto.

The Election-mongers blew their horns for the new general elections but violence knew no bounds after her arrival. She got staunch opposition from the Fundamentalists who knew not of humanity and strongly opposed her relation with the United States. With nearly a thousand lives succumbing to the attacks starting with Karachi Blasts, Musharraf felt that it was a great oppurtunity for him to stamp his authority through emergency and so he did. He imposed emergency mid-november, Removed Chief Justice Iftikar Chaudhry, who was bugging him to shred his uniform, appointed his minions in the Judiciary. Pressures from his best ally exhorted him to shred his uniform during early december and also revoke the emergency mid december (15th to be specific). During the period of emergency Mr. Nawaz Sharif, Pakistan Muslim League Chairman and contender for the Prime Minister was allowed to return to Pakistan. I feel this move by Judiciary could have been influenced by Musharraf as he wanted to show off to the world that Pakistan is having fair elections.

I personally feel that Mr. Musharraf and Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez are sailing in the same boat. Mr. Chavez who was elected for the second term in 2005 had supreme lust to be in power and so he made an amendment in the constitution that enabled him to be President for life, the only difference between these two is that one constitutionally immortalized himself and the other is calmly hunting down his aggressors.
Coming back to Ms. Bhutto’s assassination, It was believed that Ms. Bhutto prior to her return to her homeland sent an e-mail to Mark Siegel, US Diplomat stating that if at all she gets killed in Pakistan, Musharraf must be held responsible for it (veritability of this statement need to be proven although the media had aired/reported it). The security provided to her was miniscule and it is quite unusual that after many requests from the Bhutto’s contigent to tighten her security, the Musharraf Government had neglected it. Ms. Bhutto had partly done herself in with her habit of waving from the sun-roof of her car.

During the time of emergency the terrorist/extremists had ample time to sketch different plans and once it has been lifted, they executed all their plans. Did Musharraf work in tandem with these Terrorist/ Extremist/Fundamentalists? provides a sceptic answer but cannot be ruled out because Ms. Bhutto was stronger than he was and her presence as the head of the nation will put an end to his supremacy. It can be taken for granted that she would have won these elections had she been alive, with ease.

Let me put myself into the shoes of those who planned her demise. Our plans to kill her in the past backfired but now lets make it count. We all know that this emergency is going to last within few weeks and then we can have a go at her few days after the emergency ends. Few of our men have been at all her recent meetings and have perfect knowledge of her security cordon. The security for her is only single layered, which means it is easier to trespass these cordons. After every meeting she has this habit of waving to the crowd from the sun-roof of her car, which makes it easier for us to recognise in which car she’s going to be in. Firstly, we need ten teams comprising for ten members each consisting two suicide bombers, six guys equipped with shotguns and two men who should monitor their units. One Suicide Bomber should go off in the crowd distracting the police from her after she had got into her car and waving through her sun-roof. Then the unit which is closer to her should drill their bullets into her head, one more suicide bomber could go off if the situation goes out of hand for us, but from a unit that is a bit far off from her. This must have been their plan for her assassination (Although I did omit many other factors that they might have thought of, it is just to give a basic idea).

It doesn’t take an einstein’s head to say that it was a well planned, well executed murder with complete exploitation of loopholes. I have three theories about the forces that can be behind this carnage- Islamic Fundamentalists, President Musharraf or Both.

If it was the Islamic Fundamentalists/Extremists then they have proved once again that they are more like an administrative wing for the Jihadists and Terrorists. If a religion preaches that Killing in the name of God is right, is it worthy following? In my perspective ‘Humanity’ is our true religion and Christianity, Hinduism, Islam etc are just faiths that shaped up our way of living (this doesn’t mean that they aren’t religions) by our ancestors. They did have grudge against Bhutto for being associated with the Americans and she did get warnings that she’d be killed if she comes back home. The fact that a ‘Fatwa’ being issued against her is not known and cannot be ruled out but it would haven’t been accepted by public either. We can believe the fact that they had cleverly executed their plans and made their warnings come true. Trying to sound diabolical, I can say that this branch in Pakistan encouraged Gender Inequality, killed innocent in the name of God, It is not the first time they are doing this except the fact that an important person was killed, but it still serves as the backbone of the Pakistan’s Politics rather than getting banned.

If it was Musharraf, then one can attribute to his ‘would you like to be shot or hanged?’ attitude towards the arrival of Benazir and Nawaz. One cannot forget the fact that Mr.Sharif faced with an attack just a day before Benazir Bhutto was killed and he was lucky enough to escape. Mr. Musharraf , whenever he is on move he has a convoy of 25 to 30 with him, it can be more than that but for leaders of equal importance they have very meagre security. They are vulnerable to attacks and only God’s grace could ward off any trouble. Recently he made a statement to the press saying that Ms. Bhutto was responsible for her death for she hung out of her sun-roof. Unfortunately this attitude of his only reinforces the fact that he can be an active ingredient of her death although what he said is partially true. I will sum this up by saying that Mr. Musharraf was a concilliator for a game of Russian Roulette played by Pakistani Democrats, initiated by him. But the twist in this game was that the gun was fully loaded and Benazir Bhutto was the first to get it. Now that his fiercest rival had been squelched Mr. Musharraf can safely build his fortress of Totalitarian Democracy.

Finally, we have this possibility of both the aforesaid forces working in tandem. Although Musharraf is in their hitlist for being associated with Bush whose policies had revoked staunch opposition from the Islamic world, it might as well be Musharraf’s ploy to channelise these American Investments in Pakistan towards these institutions of Terror. That is why he is spared inspite of a number of whims and caprices committed by him according to them( fundamentalists). All they need is money and they are not bothered about its source, they are bothered about its quantity and Musharraf stood like a flag-bearer, so huge in size that he masked their presence. Months of planning and toil had succesfully hatched and their objective had been fulfilled.

The proliferation in the investments made by US in Pakistan can also be taken as a move to set up a strategic point over there as India is too huge and too strong a country to be tamed. Selling juicy F-16s and showering various enticing options they want to attain supremacy in South Asia( it is not known to us what the US had asked for in the nuclear deal with us). The Americans might be unaware of Musharraf’s wiles but once aware their marriage with Pakistan would meet the same end as the Talibans had met with.
Benazir’s death has attracted a widespread polemics across the South Asia, if not around the whole world. She is a very good Diplomat and her loss is irreperable for her nation. Infact, people think that the only way to die if you are a Bhutto is to get killed. Another interesting fact is that all the Pakistani prime ministers before Nawaz Sharif were either assassinated or executed, sad but true. A thorough investigation was called for, regarding this case. Only time will tell what the outcome of the investigations is.

Let us put all this behind and discuss about the general elections which are planned to take place during the third week of february(?). What is the point of these elections? Mr. Nawaz sharif is least inclined towards this, so is his compatriot and opponent Imran Khan, Chairman of Tahreek-e-Insaaf Party. These elections are just for namesake, one of Mush’s kinsmen will be at the helm. Mr. President is moving all his pawns for a safely rigged elections, marshalling his minions towards the top posts of the country. If not his men, he can happily negotiate a secret deal with his opponents and invite them to form a government. Bush on the other side is feinted by all this and the marriage between Crazy Bush and Cunning Mush will survive (atleast till the end of Bush’s term, what lay ahead after that is cryptic). This is what I call a paragon of Totalitarian Democracy.

The Pakistani cauldron will continue to spill blood for months to come, if not years. What difference will Bilawal will make to Pakistan is bound only with time.

The Graveyard Wedding

2007-12-27T21:54:00.000-08:00

The children of the graves whisper about a carnival,
Our satellite, lustrous sensing their arrival.
The morbid yard is festooned with the Orchids,
Its sweet scents traverse with the message of placid.
Crimson skies wave goodbye to our sun,
Violet skies welcome for some fun.

The man recalled that marriage isn’t a collateral,
The bridge called Love is always bilateral.
The damsel checked her sinuous braids,
She is shining like a cullinan, accompanied by her maid.
She hasn’t forgetten those nights that aired his serenade,
Today is not another day they spend on a promenade.

Lotuses swim beautifully in the dead yard’s lake,
Vermillions boogie to the hisses that banyans make,
Myriad collages on butterflies entertain the flowers,
Nature’s kaleidioscope rotated to another sparkling shower,
Through the mists fall those lillies, a treat for aesthetes,
Our eyes always chase nature’s comeliness like an athlete.

The Colossus couple spit fire from the Devil’s arch,
The Knights rose their sheild for a welcome march,
Their arrows of fire penetrate the clouds in the sky,
which looks like a black cloth stained with a white dye.
The ghosts shred their steel uniforms to grasp some air,
Hide on the banyans to scare the neo-nuptial pair.

The couple walked with their hands tangled, on the altar,
Their grace has poured life into those hardened mortars.
The dead’s jeremiads shaped like flags, waver,
Their hollow hands throw lillies onto the altar and they glitter.
The dame has her diamond shining gloriously in the dark,
The festival has just begun in the human’s final park.

Breezes promoted to gusts, make the trees jerky,
The couple dance under the celestial marquee.
The lake caresses their feet defining the word ‘bliss,’
Through its reflections ghosts steal a glimpse of the couple’s kiss
Alive or dead we are all prisoners of God in all the worlds,
Puppeted by him with strings of bond that knew not of old.

The mountainous gates are closed to grant some privacy,
A note on the cemetery gates showed punity for heresy.
“Don’t you leap in like a frog
and get buried under a pile of logs
Don’t you come for this Graveyard Wedding,
Make our ghosts decorate your face with apple pudding.”

GYPSY RIDERS

2007-12-20T22:14:00.000-08:00

This story is dedicated to my friend Akanksha without whose advice I wouldn't have even tried this realm again. I had tried my hand in romancing nature in the past, but this is really different and i felt a tad eeroe whe I wrote this one. Thanks to my friend Akanksha once again.

GYPSY RIDERS

The engines roared, the choppers set off for another day. The Gypsy Riders – Johnny ‘Big’, Joey ‘Fat’, Mikey ‘Tall’ and Roger ‘Lean’ set off on their journey covering all the locations in our country spreading their motto
“ Let love be the Juggler, entertaining your life!”
Their flags wavered to the breeze the choppers extracted. The motors raced towards the State of beach life – Goa, the mother of all romantic locations in India.

*****************

A new bond was born as “Love after Marriage” was the shibboleth in many homes here. The couple climbed the train hand-in-hand showing the world that there’s no force that could break this beautiful bond which always proliferated our race. The train roared like a hungry lion on prowl as it embarked on its journey. Relatives wade their hands saying “Have a nice trip!” as the couple screamed “Thank you”. Such scenarios were quotidian in every train station and so was it at Mumbai CST that night.

“What are your berth numbers, Sir?” asked a fellow passenger.
“ seven,” replied the man.
“ Newly wed?” investigated a lady who happened to be the neighbour’s wife.
“ Yeah!” replied the man’s wife.
“ Wish you a Happy married life!” the neighboring couple blessed as the newly-weds thanked them.

The ticket- collector came and checked their seats. “ Is there a chance the other seat gets confirmed?” the man requested.
“ No chances, sir,” the ticket-collector replied.

This journey would serve as a great platform for this new couples to know each other. They had met only twice before their marriage. Once, when they had a formal meeting ceremony and the other time it was at engagement. The third time they had been tied to the world of marital bond.

The coupled felt crowded with all eyes set on them and so, they reached out for the door, to enjoy the winter breeze which was pleasant. As usual, the winters were warm during days and cool during nights and the train was on an ascending mode and hence the breeze turned cooler by minute.
“ It feels very weird,” said the lady breaking the silence.
“ Yeah! We have just met twice before and now we are together for life,” retorted her better half.

They were enjoying the twilight trance, the lady looked like a stellar constellation shining beautifully like another cosmic coruscation. He kissed her on her lips, the whole train was fast asleep then. The darkness was masked by the moon who donned his full avatar for that night. In intervals arrived those beautiful tunnels that defined the darkest of darkness as the train passed like a shuttle cruising through the space, it was like a star-lit odyssey. Through the Western Ghats the train traversed where the stars appeared like beautiful sparks on a celestial canvas.

The chilliness in breeze was inevitable, the whole bogie was dark with people dropping off into their daily slumber. Children had been cajoled to sleep and silence was written everywhere. The couple settled on their single berth. He placed his hand over her shoulder as they looked at our satellite who shone like it was his day of the year, over the hills. Through the relections from the lake they enjoyed the moonlight. Words have become numb as they communicated with their eyes,

“This world is far more beautiful than we assume, isn’t it?” Interrupted the man breaking hours of silence. “Yes! Dear,” replied his wife “ We just live in a busy world where we have no time for ourselves, where materialistic needs are above anything else.”

“You are right! Honey,” continued her husband “That’s why we have these Honeymoon concept, we can go away from our busy world and calm ourselves down through enjoying the nature.”

The conversation went on for couple of hours as they had rewinded their brains narrating incidents that had occurred since their childhood till recent day, with each of them taking turns. The train roared once again, not even a limb moved. Its speed slowed down, a station was clearly approaching as the night fires could be spotted. It was dark and they couldn’t make out the name of the station owing to lack of electricity. The sound of those screeching brakes was so high that it gave a feeling that the train wished to go no further.

“ How much time will it halt here?” inquired the man to the Ticket-Collector.
“ Another fifteen minutes, sir. There’s a Goods train coming in the opposite direction,” replies the ticket- collector.
“ Oh! Thank You, Sir,” said the man.

The couple got down at the station. Their bogie sixth from the engine and the signal was clearly visible. They sat down on the bench and glanced at a couple who had lit the twigs to keep them warm. The lady shivered to the winds as the man gave his sweater to her.

“ You know, when I was a child I never liked the idea of sleeping while travelling in a train. I used to get down at every station atleast for the sake of knowing its name. My grandpa used to mock at me saying ‘You can get down at every station, you can miss its name but do not miss the train’ “ the man narrated.
“ Ha ha! Yeah! Old people are always cheeky with their philosophies,” she replied.
“ I didn’t get you, Honey!” he said, “ I meant that his words had a philosophical touch,” she elucidates.
“Yeah! May be, I never pondered about it,” he replies.

There was silence again, this time it was disturbed by the screams of the Goods train. As that train passed ours in the other direction, the light turned from red to amber. They boarded the train. Drowsiness was written all over their faces and so they fell on their berth hugging each other.

It sounded as if thousand cornu’s went up in air at the same time, but it was the train shouting the morning alarm. The couple rose to the thundering sound. The beauty of nature was elevated by the Sun as he was slowly emerging from his shroud. A perfect dawn it was, as it had spread a wave of calm and an assurance of warmth all over the train. The glass Windows acted like prisms diverging all the rays displaying different shades of white in the halos and converging all the beauties that nature had concealed to display under brightness.

The screeching sound was back again, which meant that a station was approaching. The railway cabin was painted with the name ‘RATNAGIRI’ which meant that the coming station was that. It was a station set up on the western ghats on decent elevation from the ground.

“Kaaa-uu-phii, Kaaa-uu-phi,” shouted the mobile vendor.
“ Two Coffee,” ordered the man.
“ How much?” he asked.
“ Ten, sir,” the vendor replied.
He took a ten rupee note from his pocket and gave it to the vendor. The train was scheduled to stop for ten minutes at this station and this made most of the passengers to get down for their morning drink and enjoying the taste of sun over the hillocks.
So did the new couple sucked in to this momentary trance of nature as they enjoyed their Coffee.

“Your Attention Please Train number 0112, Konkan Kanya Express from Mumbai to Madgaon is ready to leave from Platform number one,” Announced the anonymous lady in the speakers as all the passengers got into their bogies. The train moved as if it was reluctant to desert the beauty that’s around, but there was more to come.

The train served as a see-saw ride as there were ups for few hundred yards and then there were downs. The sun played peek-a-boo with the train, gathering help from the tunnels. A beautiful journey it was through the safest railway passage in India. The couple were still tired of previous day’s activities were fast asleep on their berth. Now the train had taken to a steady descending path. The destination was just an hour away.

Madgaon is a modest railway station, which can hold four trains at the same time at its peak. All the passengers got down and marched towards the taxi-stand, so did the couple.

“ Colva Beach Resorts,” said the man as they swiftly got into the taxi.
************* **************
The choppers thudded past the mountainous gates of the “Vicious Villa,” a personal property of the riders. The Villa did look like it was centuries old although it was built in 1950 it looked like a decrepit monument that needed immediate attention. The gypsy Riders never let an outsider enter their villa and repair, they did it themselves and so they geared up for another fix-it-by-yourself program. Their reflexes have slowed down, their stamina had gone down, their blithe was higher than a child and that’s what kept them going. But for the first time they had to call people to lend a hand in their cleaning ceremony.

“ Robby! When is the show at your resort?” inquired Johnny.
“ 6:30 P.M. Sir,” replied Robert Sebastian, the head of the Colva Beach Event Management.
“ Okay! I need some men to clean the villa, send five. All the sound equipment and instruments have arrived yesterday itself, didn’t they?” Johnny questioned.
“ Yes, Sir they all arrived yesterday and all arrangements were made , Sir!” replies Robert.
“ Alright, we’ll be there by six then, Bye!“ replied Johnny as he hung up without waiting for the other end to return his gesture.

Johnny ‘big’ assured his mates that few men are on their way and so they all took a breath and stretched their limbs. They all dropped onto the plastic furniture that lay on their porch.
“ So, this is what people call ‘retirement’,” sighed Mikey ‘tall’.
“ Yeah! We are tasting what everybody call ‘anti-climax’ of our lives,” bolstered Roger ‘lean’ swinging the chair.
“ Whatever guys, but I ain’t gonna’ clean those ceramic pits in toilets, they must be smelling like hell,” sulked Joey ‘fat’ “We used to be here atleast thrice in a year. But, here we are after a year.”
“ Does it matter? We have some new shit to say and so we are here again,” reminded Johnny living upto his name as ‘big’.

The troupe had arrived and Johnny handed over the keys and gave them complete instructions as the Riders went to have their lunch with the Colva Beach Resorts Chairman, Rupert Amolraj. They are all friends since childhood and lived together for most of their lives.
“ Sir, the Gypsy Riders are here,” informed the Secretary as Rupert rose.
“SO the riders have finally grown old,” mocked Rupert.
“ Yeah man! The roads were fucking bumpy, our backs couldn’t take it,” explained Mikey.
“ Yeah! The doctors can prescribe their patients with motion problems to go for a ride on those roads, they’ll be off to the rest room in a jiffy,” ridiculed Joey.
There was momentary silence and a huge laughter followed.
“ Man! You’ll never change,” said Rupert laughing “ Lets make a move men, it’s already three and we want our riders to be Sober till late night.”
“ We gave up drinking, man,” said Roger “ You know, Johnny had a lot of problem because of this last year, So its time we threw these whiskey bottles into the sea and let those fish get drunk.”
“ Oh! Yeah I do remember, great resolution guys. We have few more worthy things to do before we wrap ourselves out of this world,” retorts Rupert with a tinge of philosophical tone.

“ I’m Hungry,” cried Johnny as they all left for their lunch.

***********************************
The Couple had checked-in to their room and they took a quick shower. They raced to the local shops out there for buying beach wear and swimming gear. They had registered themselves for the Gypsy Riders concert and were eager to be part of the extravaganza which had become an yearly affair rather than quarterly. They soaked under the sun, played in the waters and enjoyed the breeze as hours passed off like a flash from the camera.

Flags vacillated to the salty evening zephyrs as neon lamps tried to reinforce brightness but only to be dominated by the fires. Fifty couples gathered at the resorts and checked their chaperons as the show was about to begin. The sun was gulped by the sea as the crowds enjoyed that spectacle.

The Gypsy Riders always had a huge fan base from the aged communities but this year it was quite the opposite. There used to be a misconception that those who attend the Riders’ concert were buddy-duddies and this hurt many a young heart’s ego. Time goes on, the human lifespan is coming down, people are maturing more earlier than their ancestors.

The whole area was designed to epitomize a bull-ring as the couples stood in a spiral pattern leading to the stage at the end. The youngest and the most recently married couple was always priveleged to be inches away from the Riders and so it was this Young Couple who get this oppurtunity. The bull-ring was festooned with the banners of the Riders’ motto “ LET LOVE BE THE JUGGLER, ENTERTAINING YOUR LIFE.” The neon lights went dimmer by second, the fires were the only source of light, the crowd sensed the arrival.

“ Tonight, We proudly present the GYPSY RIDERS!” announced Robert.
“ Wave your FLAGS,” screamed Mikey.
“ Its been long since we have been here. It is a home away from home. Everybody scream ‘VIVA GOA!” shouted Johnny at the highest of his baritone voice.
“VIVA GOA!” shouted the crowd. For a moment the waves felt tamed by such a reverberating sound.
“ Are you ready for some SPIRAL WAVES!!” screamed Johnny.
“YEAH!” the crowd echoed back.
the spiral wave

Spiral wave is similar to the mexican wave except that it involved only couples with gents swivelling their ladies one after another just like one elctron hitting another leading to a spark at the end of a wire. It was made popular by the Gypsy Riders and it did grow up to be the major attraction in their shows.

“ Here we go, with our Twelve minute appetizer called ‘BEACH BOOGIE.’ Dance till the music dies,” screamed Joey as the guitars went up in air, the congo drums embarked on their beats, as the Spiral Wave had been embarked by a septegenarian couple. The young couple felt it a tad eerie at first as they were new to this concept but they were old to dancing, and they had every reason to enjoy. The intro spanned for two minutes before Johnny started singing:

“Everyday the sun crawled down,
So we danced till we went down,
Let us not let these fires die down,
Your love for her should never crumble down.

(Joey gets ready to play his solo as the spiral wave gets into its third round.)

Our mother always moves around,
These fires make us move around,
The gents twist their ladies around,
There’ll only be love all around.

(Mikey gets his harmonica out and competes with Roger and his Congo drums as Joey joins in with his 12-string and Johnny shouting few chants)

These guitars air a stringy tune
My harmonica settled for a windy tune,
The sand wavered to the watery tune,
We always jig to the nature’s tune.”

After the song was done there was a huge roar from the crowd, which the aging hearts of the Riders, young again.
“ The young guns right here,” beckoned Joey pointing to the new couple “ You’ll spark the wave now,” he ordered. The couple were flabbergasted for a moment but were ready for it.

“ I don’t feel like singing now, lets make our weapons sing for now with THE SANDY DUNES,” yelled Johnny as they played their instrumental as the crowd boogied their ‘sandy tunes.’

“You know what, we Riders and Bob Dylan started off at the same time but that man did it in a different hemisphere and got popular and here we are tasting popularity at the age of retirement. I envy that guy,” narrates Joey.
“ Stop faking man,” reveals the lean rider,
“ People ain’t duds to believe your stories,” assured the tall rider.
“ Here’s a song with dylanish feel called ‘PREACHER’ and HERE IT GOES!” screamed the big rider. As the crowd applauded with their hands up in the air as the night seemed to be perfectly made for this event with fires never going down and the sea dancing to their tunes.

“ Let us take you back to those days,
when were all imps in our school.
Don’t take your ears off our story,
It’s time we drown in this nostalgic pool.

Physics of life was bonded to the chemistry in our body, (revealed Johnny)
Economy of expenses was knotted to math in our wallets, (confessed Joey)
History of our quarrels masked the civic sense of our class, (narrated Mikey)
And Moral science was a total failure ha ha ha (with a laughter from all the riders)

Subjects changed but never did we,
Seasons change but never should you,
Stand by her till the end of your life,
We can promise that there’ll be no strife.

Let us move a little further
When we were all aimless youth,
Don’t move your muscles any farther, (the big rider lifting his arm)
It was time when we fought for a bowl of broth.

I aimed at those clays in the sky,
ended up shooting those birds that fly (said the big rider pointing to the sky).
I threw my bait for treasures in the sea,
ended up catching a Cod (belch) ,you see (said the tall rider pointing to the sea)..
I taxed from everybody’s wallets,
But forgot about holes in my pockets ( cachinnated the fat rider checking his pockets.)
I gambled with a roll of dice,
Sent back home with a bag full of mice (grieved the lean rider)
( The crowd burst into a huge laughter)

We had right soil but sowed wrong seeds,
Ploughed them hard for a harvest but realised they weren’t the best,
Plant the right seeds in your soil,
We can promise that there’ll be no toil.

Let us come back to the present day,
With over four decades of marriage,
Now you can take a breath,
As we never went on a rampage.

HELL YEAH!”

They finished their pantomime as the crowd applauded.

“ YEAH! Ready for another one,” screamed Mikey “Why do I even ask,” he mocked with a sardonic smile.
“ Well another instrumental for you guys to shake a leg and its called THE HIGH TIDE,” declared Roger.

The spirals were a sight for photographers with an aerial view. The song was groovy and the Riders had proved again that they ain’t ‘Old Rusty Guns which are better off in an artillery museum.’ The ten minute instrumental came to an end and so the spirals turned into concentric circles as they were all asked to sit down.

“Well, the next one is very close to our hearts and it’s called SAND CASTLES!” announced Johnny as they all geared up.

“On every dune she wrote his name,
but life was a bittersweet game,
her love for him wasn’t lame,
his ignorance was all to blame.

On those dunes she drew her heart,
But those waves tore her love apart,
He watched from the rampart,
Grieving about what he had to part.

Each sand grain thirsted her tear,
Sound of death made her fear,
Only his repentance could get them near,
He felt that he doesn’t belong here.

He arrived like a bullet from the gun,
Closed her eyes to conceal the dying sun,
She acted like he made her heart run,
Every finger came off revealing the rising moon.

Echoes of his love for her was grand,
Together they built castles on sand,
Burying those shadows that made their life bland,
Along the shoreline they walked hand-in-hand.

Two hearts moulded as one like clay,
Together they dreamed of their children play,
Their thoughts were now filled with gay,
It ain’t beyond the star-lit skies heaven lay.”

The applause was deafening and the whistles were never-ending.

“ I can see few people staring at the marquee, whats for dinner, Robert?” mocked Joey.
“ Why do you want?” interrupts Roger.
“ Anyways Joey is getting hungry and so we have a small recipe for you,” announces Johnny “ It is called THE FROZEN BLOOD recipe, we have been herbivores throughout our lives and we always spread the message to be herbivores this way,” contineud Johnny.

“ Mikey! Read it man,” said Johnny handing over the paper to Mikey.

“ The animal had a warm shower, not knowing that its head’s gonna’ be severed.
It could only scream, but no one to save it from this bloody stream. The crimson rivers flew across the roads, our coldest feelings for them froze the blood and here we are enjoying a Frozen Blood Delight. Day by day we got them down, with our bellies destined as mobile cemeteries for those animals that were deceased. A severed trunk from a tree grows back, but a severed limb?” finished Mikey throwing waves of contemplation for a moment.

“ Anyways, do ponder about this after you had your fill,” announces Roger.
“ We invite the youngest couple or the most recently married ones to dine with us tonight as per our tradition,” announced Johnny.
The Young couple were taken aback for a moment and then they leaped with joy.
The Gypsy Riders rose to take a bow as a huge roar of applause, whistles and shouts followed.
“ See you guys again next year, same time , same place,” all the riders chorused.

*****************************

Rupert hugged all the Riders and wade goodbye to his friends, as their Choppers roared for a two-mile ride to the ‘Vicious Villa.’ He signalled to the Black Chevy Optra in which the couple were chaffeured to the Villa.

The Riders’ were taken aback by the way the house was restored. One of the men approached Johny and informed “ Dinner is ready, sir.”
“ Okay, you guys can leave now, Thanks a lot guys,” retorted Johnny while paying a ransom as tip for their services.
“ Thank you sir,” said that guy as their group left the villa.

“ Our guests must be here any time,” pondered Mikey.

The young couple got down and looked around feeling tad weird coupled with joy.
“ WELCOME! To the VICIOUS VILLA,” greeted Joey.

“ How was your stay, so far?” inquired Roger.
“ Its great, you know,” replied the lady “ it is our first day here,” with a childlike joy in her face.

“ I’m damn hungry, lets fill our tanks,” bemoaned Joey as everybody laughed and went into the dining room.

The dinner was a quiet affair as none of them spoke. Their batteries got charged up again and so they started their chatter.
“ When did you get married?” inquired Johnny.
“ Two nights ago,” replied the guy.
“ Whoa, a brand new bond, eh,” joined Joey “ This is the first time we are having a brand new couple,” he informed.
“ Yeah!” Mikey concorded.

“ May your marriage last forever,” Blessed the Riders as the couple thanked them.

“ Well, I have a story to tell. It is a lesson I learned from my life and am passing it to you,” said Johnny as the couple showed eagerness on their faces.

“ Marriage as many young guns believe, isn’t about satisfying our randy desires. Romance, isn’t all about the bodily pleasure. We preached this throughout our lives.
We all have been successfully married for four decades now. Mikey’s daughter married my son, Roger’s daughter to Joey’s son for over a decade now. To us ‘Love after marriage’ was equal to its opposite- ‘Love before marriage’ as Indian society had proved it,” narrated Johnny.

“ Turn off that bloody Cigar, Joey,” yelled Mikey “You’ve gotta’ kick that habit out.”

“ So, I had another son who was very talented and I always felt he’ll grow to be a great artist one day but fate had it other way. He fell in love with Rupert’s daughter Maria and we were all happy that the bond between us five friends would get stronger with this marriage. His love for her ended few days after their utopian journey on the altar. All he wanted from her was to satisfy his bodily desire and the marriage was heading towards a painful demise. To rub salt, he picked up gambling and drugs and vanished into oblivion. He eventually surfaced as a cadaver on a road. My heart was broken to see such a loss and I took up drinking. I escaped from a huge disaster last year and I owe my friends a lot,” finished Johnny as the couple heard to his story without a blink.

“ We can’t define time, we can’t define Life, but we defined friendship, we defined marriage, these bonds exist as long as our universe exists. Son, never leave her hand come what may, you fight, you forget. You argue, you amend, I can bet you will last forever if you dump these things in your head. It worked for us, it will for you too,” preached Mikey patting on the guy’s back.

“ You know about Black Holes, they are invisible but their force can be felt. So is love it is invisible but can be felt,” preached Roger.

“ Hey! Cheer up guys, you are boring them with your sermons. Sorry guys its just that we don’t get any younger by day we tend to preach every now those lessons life had taught us,” interrupted Joey.

“ No, what you guys said was right,” replied the guy “ we met only twice before our marriage and now you gave us the right direction towards knowing each other.”
“Yeah! What you guys said was worthy and it made us feel more honoured to be with you guys. I assure that his pleasures are all mine and mine, his,” the lady replied holding her hubby’s hand.

“HELL YEAH!” screamed all the Riders in unison, applauding.

The young couple got to rest in the royal bed room in the Vicious Villa as the Riders rested in their own rooms.

*******************************

The Young Couple got ready for their second day of tour wherein they’ll visit Calangute Beach, one of the busiest beaches and go for a pleasure cruise in the evening.
“ What a day it was, yesterday!” said the guy in elation.
“ The best day of my life,” declared his better half.
“ Yeah! Time to get ready, I’ll take a bike for rent and we can cruise through the roads,” suggested the guy.
“ Whoa, I’m ready for it, Honey!” she replied without hiding her surprise.

The couple thundered past the roads like a juggernaut and so did their life unobstructed by hurdles that life proposed. The seeds of love have been planted perfectly by the Gypsy Riders.

********************************
The Gypsy Riders spent few more days touring other beaches having a new couple each night to be their guests. Finally, the day has come to say goodbye to Goa for this year and so they did.

The Choppers roared again just like a space shuttle ready for its new voyage. They cruised past the roads just like a cosmic voyage overtaking the asteroids, leaving back all our planets. This time it was a voyage to a different world or it could even be to their homes. Let’s see what difference they bring on their flags next time round.

The Retrospection - A Childhood's End

2007-12-14T02:54:00.000-08:00

This continuation of my previous post - ramblings of a dying man.

I am staring at my companion in the mirror, chanting hymns for thyself.

“WAIT!” came a sound from deep inside. I picked up the shard that shared the reminiscences of my life. This time the voyage was long and was far back in time.

Minutes slipped down in the hourglass as I waited for an arrival. There were auestions in my little mind which had no answers.

“When will daddy come?” I asked my mother.
“ Sleep Son,” she said.
“ Will he ever come?” I questioned.
“ He’s on vacation in heaven, Son. As soon as he’s done he’ll be back,” she calmed me down.

Every night I saw her weep, through those reflections from the windows for reasons too old for a child.

“ DING DONG!” the calling bell screamed as she went to open the main door.

Gusty winds swept across the room for a moment and there emerged a man who looked like my father or “was he a duplicate,” I thought. It was a saying told by my grandmother that raised that dilemma in me.

“ There are Seven Continents,
Seven Seas,
Seven Great Sages,
Seven Sins and
Seven men who look similar in this world.”

“ Yes! He must be one of those seven,” my mind assured.

He took her to the secret room. Curiosity was my master as I eavesdropped. The air sensed the abominable scenes inside but I didn’t. The argument developed into a fight, fight into screams, screams into a ricochet and ricochet into a silence that lasted for an eternity, just like a volcano that had just finished its violent eruption.

The sounds weren't from a place too far away, but
I stood like a deaf man who could hear, but couldn’t forbid the evil.
When this deaf man cried there was no one to say words that comforted his ears

The floor was filled with the flow of Carmine fluid
I stood like a blind man who could see, but couldn’t tame the devil.
When this blind man cried there was no one to wipe his tears.

Everyday I moved , cursing the wrath that God showed upon me.
I wrote my agonies on the walls, but they were masked by the darkness,
I wrote my agonies on the waters, but they were lampooned by the current.
The sun in me was dying,
The demons filling those voids,
The tenderness hardened
It was my Childhood’s end and so was my life’s.
The behemoth in me grew,
Influenced by corporeal preachings.

My life filled with nebulous images of its meaning taught me a valuable lesson at that time and I passed it on.
“This world was run by a fuel called “NEED”. Every human is connected to other because of NEED,” I preached as a friend of mine listened.
“ I need your services to be my partner and you need me for money,” I continued.
My friend’s face suggested the enigma that surrounded in his head. “What about Love?” he inquired just like I did to my mom.
“ It is a cunning way to express our need,” I retreated throwing a roughshod at his query.
Silence was his answer and so was mine.

The shard was resplendent again as I returned to the present day, now I hated myself, those mirrors never reflected my companion. The humane presence in me died when I was young. All these years of my voyage preaching the greatness of being materialistic had made my emotions numb.What remains is this body that’s left to be petrified under the ground. It is time I dig this shard hard into my heart slicing all the malice it had pumped throughout my life. I no longer want to sing this dirge as I had done it decades earlier.

The Retrospection- Ramblings of a dying man

2007-12-07T10:37:00.000-08:00

Look up to those skies, heaven is waiting for you.
Look down to the river, your ashes it gulps.
Look back in time, you cannot look further.

A cracking sound provoked my dormant thoughts as it was the mirror that crashed hard on to the ground. I picked up a shard which reminded me of my past which was aghast. Just like the pieces of jigsaw falling in place to reveal the cryptic picture, so was my dying brain trying to picture my past.

These limbs were young when I woke up to the screaming alarms. With my blood-hot, my will-strong, but in it lay an impurity that disturbec my balance. I sat down facing the mirror with my daily drink called ‘desire’ and there was no one to share it, so I gulped it more and more. It is going to be the worst hangover probably the longest too.

The lust and bodily desire spilled all over the bed with my love being the victim. I crawled out of it making another false promise saying “ I can’t stand losing you!” but my eyes couldn’t hide my treachery. I was back in my room staring at the mirror which had a companion who wanted to share my drink. This time the thoughts were getting rotten.

The ditch was too deep for a grave but too shallow to unearth nature’s treasure. All these years of quenching my bibulous needs, my drink had become rotten and turned into greed. Even a requiem was played for a dime as Life was measured on a unit called ‘wealth’. “ What could I do with this wealth!” I pondered building those gilded walls around my arrogance.

I return to the present day with the shard shining on my hand. It was a paradoxical preaching early in my life that tricked and dragged me into this whirlpool of evil days-

“ Be a narcissist, when you make love
Be a masochist, when you cure other’s pain,
Be an aristocrat, when you make others rich.”

Now I am a sailor whose compass had pointed to a dead-end as I take this chance to repent for we are mere voyagers in time without a power to change the past or script the future. I removed my Iron Mask that loyally shielded the malice in this body all these years. Nursing the wounds that my past had inflicted, Cursing the devil that lay in time, pampering my wrinkled skin, I realized that all these years the ‘wealth’ I had gathered had built a castle that couldn’t house its master.
Repentance was the remedy for all my past crimes. I shred all my ‘greens’ to this world. I look at the mirror which had my companion as I bid farewell to this world singing a dirge for myself.

Ride Across The River

2007-12-01T10:13:00.000-08:00

A childhood thrown into misery,
Hands festooned with pickaxe instead of pen
As the child glanced at his tainted palm
Whose lines pointed towards a dying future,
His eyes inured to the doom that fate wrote
Could only see the sun through the river that quenched his thirst.
Sun woke up with a yawn while the child got ready for his work
His shoulders bruised with the weight of pickaxe,
Everyday he marched towards the field that beared his bread,
He dug his own grave to bury his conscience,
For hunger knew only satiation and not segregation.
One day he glanced at a catamaran that embarked on its journey,
Curiosity engulfed in his mind as he longed for a
Ride across the river
That took him to the other side.

A foundation laid during childhood
As the palettes filled with a melange to be painted on canvas
The brush moved rhythmically with strokes on nature
He enjoyed the shining sun,
He danced to the driving rain,
His thoughts never had a tinge of pain,
Never did he run towards the river to quench his thirst,
No empty space was filled against his wishes by his father,
The balance in his thoughts shaping up,
Bearing a weight that only a child could carry.
Everyday he came to the levee for his catch
Bait lowered in search of its prey,
A Launch began on its trip as Tim wondered if the
Ride across the river
Revealed the worlds on the other side.

Tim’s wish was again met
Father and son seated on a canoe,
They rowed on and on towards the next bank
The serenity was coupled with the beauty
Nature was teaching valuable lessons to its student,
The boy felt the flow of water as they moved ahead,
Heaven seemed a less worthy place to this feeling
But we are devoid of freezing these moments longer.
The bank was getting closer
His limbs registered a sense of excitement,
His heart, a rush of blood.
The boy leaped from the canoe to look around
It was a parallel world with opposite shades but the
Ride across the river
Unearthed nature’s treasures on the other side.

Color called green must have been created here
Tim’s foot landed on a six-inch ditch
Extracting a sudden outbreak of tears from his face.
“Father!Father!“ he squealed and a massage countered his pain.
The pickaxe fell on the boy’s foot
He screamed sending shivers of his death around
Whom could he call to stop his pain,
His blood quenched the thirst of the sown seeds
Hell seemed a better place to be than this feeling
God was gracious enough in freezing these moments.
The duo rushed towards the boy
“Can you feel his pain?” father asked
Tim’s cheeks welled up with tears not for him but for boy as the
Ride across the river
Dawned the dreadly other side.

A batallion of children deprived of future
Melted heart of the father who scripted a change in their fate.
The duo returned to their homeland.
An army of canoes with many fathers flagged off from the bank,
Tim’s strokes for the first time pictured agony as
As children for the first time sensed what the color red meant,
The canoes landed like cannons on enemy’s camp
Landlord was up for his battle
But the strength of one was always meek before many.
A fierce war of words through which the little slaves were freed
The canoes had children with their new fathers,
A new foundation was laid
The lines on their palms were pristine shredding their past gory as
Ride across the river
Brought new friends to the other side.

A Different World

2007-11-27T11:23:00.000-08:00

It’s been a long time since I’ve been to my hometown- Bholapur, a town famous for its folk music. It has taken me 10 years to realize the peace I could derive from the bucolic sorroundings of my Village.After all these years of travel and hunky-dory this life deserves a break and Bholapur is the perfect place for my sojourn. At the same time I also want to spread my rock’n’roll inclinations to our people there.Show people, the versatility that rock’n’roll has in its store. With these thoughts in my head I boarded the bus with Bruce singing My Hometown- a perfect way to begin to begin my journey, I thought.

The journey was a snail-paced one with constant stoppages at the railway gates and following a batallion of loaded bullock carts, the journey went for a longer time than scheduled but it was good that I got a chances to get my eyes acquainted to the greenery as it was lacking in most of our urban world. My thoughts went back to spreading rock’n’roll in my village and how esoteric would I appear with my musical inclinations to my folklore. The conducter announced “Rollapur- one kilometer away.” I first thought I heard it wrong, but when I got down and read the hoarding, it read ROLLAPUR! I may not be a clairvoyant person but common-sense tells me that there’s something weird about this place.

I dropped by the panwallah to buy some gum and I couldn’t help but notice the fact that his tape-recorder was blasting Welcome to the Jungle and all I could do was to slap myself assuring me that it was just an illusion but it wasn’t to be. I passed by an avenue and there was an old man who sat on his verandah singing “I’m not knockin’ on heaven’s door,” and was simulataneously strumming on his guitar. I managed to throw my jaws down and nothing more than that and this time I felt I should visit a psychologist.

I reached home spellbound to the sequence of events that had just happened and if that were not to be enough, I found my father humming Every breath you take to my mother as soon as I entered the house. I couldn’t believe what I had been seeing ever since I set my foot in the village, there were many questions in my mind that ought to be answered. “How are you doing son?” inquired my father “Fine,” I replied with a skeptic tone.

All this was quite abstruse and I wanted to take a shower and grab some breakfast. There was something kooky that happened after I had my breakfast- I turned on the radio and surprisingly it was playing creeping death, our maid was cleaning the room and she was very vexed with the cockroaches in the room and there’s an interlude in the song where James growls “Die by my hand,” and it was quite apt to the scenario as she was smashing the cockroaches with the broom but there was something more than that happening she’s moshing to those beats a very unlikely sequence and it was not by accident as she asked me to increase the volume. This evidence had substantiated my thoughts that this village had been affected with rock’n’roll quite some time ago.

At night I strolled down to the levee where traditional dancers boogied to the folk tunes called jaanapada by the locals. But something different was in store for me, my visual desire had been satiated but my ears sensed a completely separate setlist, Yeah! Setlist is the right word to use as it started with Rock and roll all night and then Do you remember rock’n’roll radio? followed by Rock and roll and a barrage of songs involving the words rock’n’roll but the highlight of the show was people dancing to jailhouse rock. The show finished with stereos blasting “there’s a place called rollapur,” a complete revamp of Beach boys- Kokomo. But the star of the night was the old man who sang scarborough fair and by this time the mosquitoes were dancing in my mouth. Now I’m able to decipher why the name Bholapur had been changed to Rollapur and this discovery of mine can be related to that of finding an oasis in Sahara.

Time for an introduction, that of my grandfather, he is quite an orthodox personality, with deep religious inclinations. He rose with the sun and offered prayers. He always encouraged us to preserve our traditions by practising them and also urged us to keep our traditional music alive. The next day I decided to rise with my grandfather and when I eventually woke up, the early morning surprise was in store for me. I can hear Tequila sunrise from the radio and surprisingly it was my grandfather who was resting on a rocking chair at the portico.

I set out for the morning-bazaar for a glance at the handicraft and traditional clothing of the denizens and this came as a surprise because there wasn’t any revolutionary changes in the clothing and artistic sense of the people living here. I expected people to be donned in Rockstar Avatars and billboards to be filled with Jimi Hendrix and Dylan posters but it wasn’t to be, some respite at last I thought. There were lot of people flocked at the junction, whistles and claps filled the air and its common to be curious, so was I.

I approached the place and there were people who were enjoying the wiles of the snake-charmer and his snake. Everything was going pretty smooth but you know every tale had a twist, I happened to enter into a shop that sells audio CDs, expecting some breezy traditional music, my ears have been longing to listen to the sweet sounds of santoor and mandolin but my spirit had been dampened with aisles filled with Rock’n’Roll CDs and the song played was Money for nothing and it was a perfect selection as that song was a spoof on the salesmen.

I wish I had a piece of Holmes’ brain, for I could have investigated the roots of these weird shades that had crept into this idyllic world. Then came the old man who was the star performer the other night.

“ Son! You are looking quite dazed and confused, anything wrong?” he inquired.
“ Well, our village seems to be very strange these days, I don’t know what to say- looks like some disease had spread throughout this village,” I bemoaned.
“ I can understand yer concern sonny! You seem to be here after a long time I guess.” he retorted. “ Come with me,” he ordered placing his hand over my shoulders.

He took me to his den and suddenly he growled “Heck! I forgot my keys again,” clenching his fists showing anger against thyself

The only song that came into my mind at this point of time was lookin’ out my backdoor but that song was written to emphasize a different scenario. He threw a rancid smile and said “ I’ll just check out my backdoor,” he continued “you know forgetting is an added advantage you get with age,” and I threw back a smile that said everything I had in my mind.

Well luck stayed with him for the moment as the backdoor was accidentally left open.
If I happen to be a thief I would have said only one thing to myself “ FUCK!,” I thought.
“Have a cigar,” the Old man offered.
“ No, Thank you,” I refused thinking that this man would talk in terms of songs only as have a cigar was famous Pink Floyd song.

The man collapsed into his rocking chair, lit his cigar and got himself in groove for a lengthy narration and so he started,

“ Long long ago, when you haven’t yet seen the sun, there was a scientist in this village called Sudheer Kohli who happens to be my thickest friend and beyond that a deep follower of rock’n’roll. I can brag that we were the only duo in this whole region who were obsessed with this form of music. All this love began because of our childhood upbringing in Mumbai – a cosmopolitan hub. Our families moved to this village when we were in our mid teens and so we were thought to be one of those aliens from mars because of our language and our tastes,” at this point the old man paused for another puff.

Nicotine rings circled in air and the old man came back to his story again “ Where was I,” he inquired trying to investigate my attention “ Tastes,” I replied.
“ Oh! Yeah Tastes,” he continued “ And so we were thought to be a couple of pariahs. We grew up listening to greats like Jimi, Dylan, Beatles, Stones, etc, etc.,”
“ Stones?” I questioned. “ The Rolling Stones Sonny!” he said as I patted myself on my head for my momentary ignorance.

“ Well, time flew by and I grew up to be a musician with an expertise in playing Harmonica, Guitars, Mandolin and Keyboards and Sudheer as I told you before grew up to be a scientist. We always had this inclination to experiment, a quality that both musican and scientist share I guess.Moreover, these science guys always have a vision of seeing things that are surreal and trying to make them real. Of course we do too” he continued shunting his cigar “ He had extensively researched on behavior of brain, how it can be stimulated to few aspects and how it is dormant for others, what do they call that science- Psychiatry or Psychology? I’m a ignorant of these scientific terms,”

“ So am I,” I interrupted.

He smiled at me and went on “ One day he was in this village on a vacation after two decades just like you. He had a trick up in his sleeve and his eyes were clearly telling that. He came up to me and showed me a powder that could stimulate our senses to be addicted to rock’n’roll. He had invested last few months of his time in making this magic powder which he called Rockpoline. I thought it was a combination of rock and trampoline, I perfectly deciphered his thoughts behind that name. When you listen to rock you feel like you are jumping on a trampoline, a joy ride, was his explanation,” at this point the old man came to halt and picked up his guitar. He gave me another guitar, it was a nicely polished 12-string Ibanez. Seems like he had seen me with a guitar, when I walked into this village.

“ Do you like dire straits?” he inquired.
“ Well, I am a life long devotee of their music buddy,” I replied.
“ Show me your love for them then,” he challenged.

I was taken aback for a moment and thought I should prefer showing my love through words to playing and started rambling in his own style- using song titles in sentences

“ You know while I was listening to romeo and juliet, the lady writer whom I met the other day came in my mind and I thought of calling elvis- the sultan of swing to tell him that I was stuck in this tunnel of love and I am unable to decide love over gold and when he heard my dilemma he told me that you get money for nothing but true love will never fade. So I was enlightened and I took a ride across the river and entered the telegraph road searching for her on every street and there she stood waiting for me and so I proposed ‘you and me babe! How about it’ and she said Yes!” I finished as the old man said “Wow! That was a nice romantic story, did it happen for real?” he inquired.

“ Well except the ‘calling elvis’ part,” I replied.

“GREAT!,” he said glancing at the guitar in my hand.

“Which one shall we play,” I inquired understanding his glance.

“ Romeo and Juliet,” he said with a childlike joy in his face. We strummed and sang together the whole song and then I put up a face suggesting that it is time he puts an end to the suspense in his story.

“ Okay, back! He came up with a plan so that this powder of his reaches into every villager’s body. This village had only one drinking source at that time- the reservoir near the bank of the river where the water gets purified and stored. He went in with the authority of a scientist and mixed his huge bag of drug. The affects of the magic potion in that reservoir shaped up in the villagers in few days. All this happened a decade ago and now he’s in heavens. Mind you, the villagers will only have a craving to listen to rock and there is not much change in their rustic lifestyles,” he finished lighting his cigar.

“ Thanks a lot old man,” I said showing my whole-hearted gratitude.

“ Call me Ricky, Sonny!” he said remembering that I didn’t knew his name.

“ I hope the forces of mystery in your heart have all been silenced, Sonny!” he said sounding like a cowboy at a rodeo with a cigar in his mouth.

“ Yeah!” I answered like a soldier to his captain.

“ Come down here in the evening, we’ll make some merry of this shit around,” he invited pointing to the instruments around while having another puff.

“ Oh! Sure, I will. Bye for now Ricky,” I rose bidding adieu.

My heart felt lighter and there was a new wave of ecstasy in my thoughts as this vacation proved worthy. I was looking forward for the ‘jamming session’ this evening, you don’t get too many oppurtunities like this in your life- Rocking ‘n’ Rolling with a villager. Now I feel that taking music out of my life is only after my last breath passes by.

THE COMMON FACTOR

2007-11-20T04:42:00.000-08:00

It was a cold winter night,
Moon was looking bright,
I reached out for the door
For a glance at those shadows in the moor
As the werewolf howled with coldest intent
Clearing its clutches which had a bloody remnant.
Of wolf and men
Bloodthirst is common.

The worthy greens scattered everywhere,
People drowned in the brew of barley,
Roulettes turned as the ball fell,
Victors lost all their past glories.
Our embrace with this momentary debauchery
Evaporated years of sweat and hunky dory.
Of dice and rum
Addiction is common.

It zonked behind the Iron curtains for years,
Quenching its thirst with vengeance,
Freedom granted and so it spread its carnage,
Setting up a mundane confrontation
By awakening a dormant force with its travesty
Which always proved it had no superior.
Of good and Diamond
Strength is common.

Thud of another shooting star,
From the puffs emerged a finite shape, wailing.
But time never stands still,
turning every moment into past,
and now it was time to down the mast,
Up it went into the twilight joining those resplendent skies.
Of birth and death
Spark is common.

RENEGADES

2007-10-30T11:30:00.000-07:00

It was a day of coronation for freedom. We walked through these gardens that were smiling with the most beautiful roses that epitomized the love that existed between us humans. ”Careful!” my mind reminded because beneath these roses lay thorns, behind this freedom lay a sanguinary past. Reminiscing grievances of this liberation, the only one interested to lend an ear to it was my mind, only sane companion left for me. It is time I open the door that lets me into my past.

Money was their gun and greed, bullets as they sprayed them around for these inches of land that justified their hegemony. Everyday they romped around this land with that lust, Gallows were never empty for they always had heads that embellished them and this was their exemplar to crush resistance. Cannibal instincts in us humans had been reinforced by their strong-arm, bloodthirsty tactics as a man was whipped to death in his field while he was made to pull the plough in place of oxen, a perfect masterpiece of savagery.

Direst days ended with murkiest nights, it was for a faint beacon that this heart longed for, fainter than the stars glowing far away from our world. Everyday I offered a gaze to them hoping for a change and it was answered in the days to come. Just like the high tides of the sea that roared their presence, it was a man’s words that dug deep into my heart like a dagger, clearing all the malignant thoughts. “Oneness is their strength and selfishness is our weakness, a count of their heads can be done with our fingers, so what do you think WE are capable of?” these are the words that ignited a vicious cycle that awaited them. A virus called ‘unity’ spread like any other virus across us people. We took up arms and it is time we show them a taste of their own toast. Strategies and survival skills, regiments and training were part of my life for next few months. The regiment I was part of was called Regiment Seven and I could still recall my first day in this regiment.

“ Welcome! To Regiment Seven,” Yelled our officer.

“ Here, there’s only Victory or Death,

There’s only blood for your thirst,

There are only corpses for your hunger,

Remember, every drop of blood we drain is to make our flag fly high,

Gone are days of joy with your families,

Voices of your mothers, fathers, wives, children are all MEMORY!

Days they start with dawn, nights they end at ten,

Snow may fall,

Heat may sap,

Gusts may shake,

You should stand tall,

Fall, should you, out of here,

Victory should never lose your sight,Never!” declared our Seargeant.

“ If good begets good then bullets beget bullets,

When the enemy draws near,

Never lose your thoughts to nature,

Move like a tiger tracing its catch,

No signs of your presence,

Each move to deceive your enemy,

Each breath saying the word ‘KILL’,

Each heart beat should go unheard,

Hear will you, death will follow.

Head on your shoulders,

Hands on your weapons,

Eyes on your enemy,

Dagger, if he’s near,

Bullet, if he’s farther,

A half-alive enemy is good enough for retaliation,

Make their end memorable,

Filling fear in their thoughts,

FEAR! That’s what our enemies should feel when they hear about us, FEAR!” taught our Seargeant.

‘The Brave take refuge only in heaven, and the cowards, everywhere else’ was our motto and it had been printed on our flags. Those days with the regiment were sculpted deep in my heart.

I glanced at the river that flew across our village, it was crystal clear as of now but it won’t be in days to come. We marched towards the battlefield for this war and knew that our freedom is bloodstained. The writings on the walls were written with the blood of dead, ammunition to our minds, reminding us to make the count even. Now the battle shifted to my home, I glanced at the river one last time, it was carmine with blood flowing in place of water. I knew that I may not be coming back here again. I gazed at the dusky skies, it was blood red, warning the world around of a war here. Thoughts dominated actions at this point of time and so I fell victim to a sniper only to escape with a bullet in my back.

“Lieutenant! Lieutenant!,” nurse yelled shaking me violently, I opened my eyes. The atmosphere here was more serene with scents of spirit all around. I came to know that it was seven days since I was in control of my senses.
“Swallow this pill,” she ordered.
Unable to bear the pain I blasted out at the nurse “Will this pill rest me forever?”

But this momentary lapse of reason was thwarted with a smile from the nurse. My engines have cooled down and my thoughts back into groove and so it blabbered “Even in the worst of your days remember, there are people fighting more dire situations than yours. This pain is good, it is the medicine that keeps your desire to win higher.”
“Sanity is back,” I thought.

Sometimes it is better to let your mind do the talking rather than your mouth and So I unleashed it.
“Look at these hands, they want to hoist the flag that symbolized our freedom,
Look at these limbs, they want to be part of the victory march,
Listen to your heart beat, every beat is a sound that rejoiced our victory,” my inner force continued as I felt better.

Few more days passed, the shots of the snipers were clear, the beds here were all filled with souls like me, all of them who fell down fighting safeguarding our land.
One fine day everything seemed serene, there were no more visitors dripping with blood down here and so I felt a ceasefire must have been reached. The nurse walked over to me and gave me my routine morning pills “Is the war over?” I asked the nurse unable to control my curiosity.

She replied, “Well the sound of thousand conchs,
March of soldiers,
Smiles over children’s faces,
Suggest that the war is……”
“WON!” I completed.

Well that was all past and now I’m back alive but not the same. My mind underwent vicissitudes of sorts during that period. The pain is effervescent, but now there is one thought that sends me into dilemma “Is it better to forgive and forget or remember and retreat?”
I can hear the sounds of guns firing, this time in air and not into an enemy’s head.

For now I kiss my past goodbye.

Mahendra Sharma,
7th July,1946.

It was a double page that fell from my grandfather’s old documents. I searched for his diary but it ended in vain. Old man always had wise words and there are few here I pondered.

Ramblings of an Idle Brain

2007-10-18T19:39:00.000-07:00

Fate wove its webs around me with such dexterity that everything ahead was opaque. Each time I cut down these threads with my dagger a new series are formed with the same workmanship. Future was always bleak but never weak, it always thwarted at your attempts to have a peek. Days passed off like seconds, years like hours and life like a day in the book that my soul wrote. As long as I was breathing to be alive, fate was the master and my soul, puppet. Now this day had marched towards a dead-end just like everything in this world of finite shapes which always has an end. This body turned into ashes and now the tables turnes around with my soul perching at the top of my helm trying to puppet with fate. But fate preferred to rest in my grave and so my soul wandered around searching for serenity. It was a rapacious voyager always hungry to conquer different worlds and through this it was filling the voids that life had left for me. It was infinite like the universe and bright like the stars, mortality was a nonentity in its world. This new journey has left me searching for words and it is time I bid adieu to be welcomed into my new world.

WIND

2007-10-18T10:23:00.000-07:00

The staccatos and legatos of life swayed to the invisible force whose presence could be felt in the most soporific state of mind. Every inch you move away from vacuum and closer to our world you can sense it presence. Unable to vanquish the gravity that our mother had proposed, it circled around our world breathing life into its children. On your day it flew smoothly like a cadenza in continuum, but on its day it orchestrated mayhem moving like a juggernaut. Sails torn apart by spindrifts, trees uprooted by tornadoes but on the other side flowers chuckled at the sense of its presence and orchards danced to its music. World would have gone deaf it it were to be inexistent, voices would never find ears that long to hear a phenomenon called ‘Sound’ as it would have become a zombie. Each place carried a distinctive scent and it was only the media that made these scents traverse to different lands. It was this force that nature had baptized as WIND.

MESSIAH

2007-10-16T07:28:00.001-07:00

It was a day when
thunder was the only sound that could be heard,

It was a day when
rain was the only source of tasting a liquid,

It was a day when
boundaries were mere margins in a book,

It was a day when
gravest of foes joined their hands with glee,

It was a day when
the world stared up at the stars for an arrival,

It was a day when
God climbed down step by step towards this world,

It was a day when
a mirror’s reflection had only one image,

The image these mirrors worshiped was me.

A Midnight Sojourn

2007-09-25T07:13:00.000-07:00

Head felt heavier,
Limbs felt lighter,
Lights went dimmer,
Cold air sent shivers,
Quilt wrapped around my body,
I descended onto my soft surface,
Enjoying the dusky solace,
Breathing tranquility,
All this happened in a seriatim resulting
A cosy death that ended with dawn.

Beneath this skin lay our inner world which always waited for our eyes to be shut. Beneath this eyes lay a silver screen on which our buoyant dreams are projected. My mind maneuvered needles that weaved a comely picture with threads of imagination. It sat at my helm displaying worlds beyond my realm. Each night it was a journey towards a new horizon and so it was tonight.

Over the rocks, inside the caverns, across the shorelines lay a warmth never felt before. Each grotto was a sculptor’s workshop and the shoreline, nature’s. My eyes were searching for an adventure and so there was this cave which greeted me with a canoe and so I went in to take it. In it lay a secret path towards a place unknown to me and as usual my mind was under the control of this secret passage which guided me down to the bowels of earth. The echoes of my steps filled the dense air and as I reached towards its end tearing all the cobwebs. I discovered that it was a place where mystery met with the mystic and beauty met with the beast, it was a catacomb filled with finest caryatids all around and adding to this were those myriad carvings that symbolized ancient life. “Creepy place,” my mind blabbered as I motored myself back to the canoe.

Children built castles with sand , each time they were wiped out by the waves. I marched towards the end of the shore with my canoe. Waves were beating hard on it welcoming me to have a ride on it. The canoe was sturdy outside but hollow inside and it was like throwing sand into one’s eyes. Dejected I was, but I can hear sounds made by the children of the sea and so I jumped into the waters only to emerge out on dawn and showed signs of real life with a nasty yawn.

THE OPTIMIST

2007-09-20T06:51:00.000-07:00

Beyond the halos,
Beneath the pathos,
Lay a lucid elixir.

Rugged roads,
Jagged edges,
Smoothen paths for victory.

Harrowed past,
Narrowed failures,
Beckon towards the inevitable glory.

Hidden treasures,
Dead-end mazes,
Unlocked with the smallest key.

Sweet lies,
Tasty bribes,
Never hinder fiery truth.

RAIN

2007-09-12T10:37:00.000-07:00

Somniferous repercussions intensified in my body lampooning at my inability to reinstate my conscious self. An overcast sky always offered this to us and Victorious I stood murdering my violent yawns as I peeped out of my window-sills. Cool breeze carried scents that nature had cooked for us and pointed towards the fast approaching phenomenon. Clouds covered our creator ‘Helios’ reminding him that it is time he slipped into his perennial slumber as he quaffed our waters to quench his thirst leaving us with none. Sky became heavy with its concilliators and it felt bickered of their presence. It is time our ‘blue infinity’ shred some of its weight and so it did as its mediators could no longer defy gravity as they fell in the form of drops. Sostenutos of silence ended with splashes of rain, each drop filling minutest of crevice, each drop pouring joy into our hearts. It was a day when nature was filled with elixir as it was painted green by drops of rain. Everytime we received this pleasant gift from our infinity it was a treasure whose worth ain’t in the reach for money, whose sorcery could make the time tick back removing that part of our jigsaw that represented the earlier days of our breath. A pristine pay back it is by our ‘Helios’ for he owed us these drops which he borrowed from us for a usury to cool his engines. We welcomed back the rain with infinite joy, elated by this it played a juggler doing tricks for you with hail and thunder feinting us to hide in closed spaces. As minutes motored ahead, Helios battled it out with nimbus and left us with blood red skies or was it time for him to bid adieu for the day. Leaves gazed at the sky searching for clouds as they enjoyed dancing to its tune of liquid and so did I as they had never failed to awaken me from my doldrums.

SHADES

2007-09-07T07:46:00.000-07:00

Darkness:
The world turned black and it was the day when I stood alone searching for others but none passed before my eye. Sun had been swallowed by darkness and there’s nothing to see. I felt zephyrs circling around my ears murmuring words with an intensity that can be heard to no one but me as it is our antiquated myth that walls too try to eavesdrop into our lonely world. Each word blown into my ears was a reflection of my past life, every grain of sand that fell to the other side was a remniscent of my finite time. Few moments passed before I had sensed that the zephyrs had stopped, my mind had turned into an arid field yielding nothing and it seemed like an infinite silence coupled with an eternal loneliness whose power could melt the coldest stone and so it casted its spell on me with tears welled up on my cheek. Was it the answer to me investigating about this loneliness or was it to that that I was leading a life of unfulfilled destiny? Whatever may be its purpose it made my mind racing again, my senses registered the movement of the zephyrs and I sensed a rush of blood into my veins and this had bolstered the fact that I am still existent in this surreal world of thoughts. My innerself breathed life and now its words penetrated into my ears
“ Darkness ain’t a semblance of melancholy, but a vision that unearths one’s destiny,
a tool to decipher the labyrinths that hid beneath our skin,
a meditation that strengthens our soul on its journey towards salvation,
fear of it will multiply its length and courage to face it will justify our strength.”

Brightness:
On every dusk the sun died only to emerge out of the womb of darkness the next dawn. Is it right to say that? for it is us who revolve around him praying to drag us out of this conniving darkness that he had blessed us with. His rays had trained our vision to be addicted towards the pulchrity that surrounded us. Surreal tinges in our thoughts had been sacrificed for he painted the picture and we stood like spectators watching him play with colours that nature had claimed to have created. Clouds arrested our ‘sol’ bringing back those shades of darkness in our minds only for a while for his rays tore apart the nimbus bringing the brightness back. Zephyrs here were unlike its dark counterparts – calm and palliating, conveying a message that our innerself is fast asleep in its shell for it had realised that we are pouring life into its words searching for the right paths and haven’t been enslaved by the wily nature throwing its melange all over us and its five elements trying to shake our will.
“The shades of life try to regulate our thoughts eventually throwing us into delirium but we ought to regulate the state of our mind based on the shades that this world proposes, facile it sounds but a vexing task. ” reminded my innerself.

PHANTOM--FIGARO

2007-09-01T07:53:00.000-07:00

Man made up of twigs and wick
Scares the birds during the day,
Burns to scare the devils, after dusk.
Shaped up like a yeti,
Hoisted on a pole,
Honest to his creators,
Awakens at the sight of infiltrators,
Burns them with him,
Leaving ashes, a medicine for prosperity
On the land asking for his duty.
Life in him is his potent quality,
To everyone it is an unknown quantity,
Just like the might of an ocean unknown to the sea.
He plays a zombie with the sun
And a livewire with the moon.
Shadow of him sends shivers in enemy’s spines,
His fiery eyes, spotted from the densest pines.
Slayers stood trembling with fear,
As chances of trespassing him were meagre.
His vision, safeguarded just with mighty lust,
Changes to red at the site of its back-stabbers,
He will turn them dead and
It ain’t a whip that lashes,
It ain’t those hands that strangle,
It ain’t those feet that crush,
It is those eyes burning with fire,
And his will to burn too much desire,
Blesses the devils with this infernal end
Unless, his eyes judge that they can mend.
Phantom, built his citadels from ashes
Of all deceased from his fiery splashes.
Phantom warns with his growl,
“ the line of love,
the wall of good,
the rules of just,
the borders of this field,
when breached,
leave all, part of this fortress
A foundation for figaro,
My fortress to dodge evil’s legerdemains.”

SOUL FACTORY

2007-08-14T20:15:00.000-07:00

Pitch dark nights shine with the brightest stars,
As a brigade sleepwalked back into their death-beds.
Beneath it lay the darkest world,
The soul stripper stood flaunting his tools
That severed our souls from our morbid bodies.
The old man segregated his people by,
The Splits, beast and beauty lay in one heart,
The Wily, masked their faults like that in masquerades,
The Vicious, hid their savage streak in their fangs,
The Vindictive, suppressed their fire with stolidity,
The Bold, stood strong guarding our hollow world,
The Timid, shook like the decrepit bridge when touched by water,
The Stripper, measured their sins with his scales
Cursed and crushed them into nadir for eons,
Once pristine these souls painted the sky.
Millenniums burn when they shoot back
Into their physical world of finite shapes.
The soul stripper never calls it a day,
For the factory has always left him gay.
Last words he speaks to all our tainted souls,
Alive, we build castles in the wind,
Our end, burns them into ashes.
Mortal, vanish with their vanity
Immortal, illuminate and live in infinity.
Genesis, for fulfilling our nemesis,
Apocalypse, to spark a new genesis.

XANADU

2007-08-14T07:10:00.000-07:00

Life gave me a second chance,
And now I shall clearly romance
The beauty that justified nature’s trance,
And its beats to which I dance,
Forgetting all my past errands.

I am living my utopia,
Attracted by all the cornucopia,
Although I couldn’t conquer myopia,
I was savouring nature’s paraphernalia,
A place that could be seen only in India.

It lay northeast covered with hills,
Homes electrified with wind-mills,
Ladies peeped at the world, outside their window sills,
Markets filled with ancient quills,
A place that ends our need for pills.

A valley shivered to the lion’s roar,
Which made my dormant spirit soar,
As I ran helter-skelter like a wild boar,
A pride passed with an emphatic roar,
From the tree tops I watched asking for more.

As I was going through those ancient scriptures,
Rain fell down filling all the ruptures,
The ground beneath crumbled shaking my stature
As I slipped down the hill looking like a caricature,
Down here I can hear the daily tribal overture.

The great dive down the slope made me limp,
And my hands supported by a bunch of imps,
Who took me to their beats, served me their pulp,
Its taste could propel a teetotaler to gulp,
And I signaled my satiety with a thundering belch.

Dishes poured in making a sumptuous meal,
All this I got for a small deal,
That my soul be present here every year.
Night lighted up by the moon who stood up for the sun
Reminding me not to forget all the fun.

Time has arrived for me to make a move
With my life back in its groove,
My sabbatical has come to an end,
With the Xanadu pasting my severed soul,
That was once a prey to destiny’s foul.

FATHER TO SON

2007-08-06T07:19:00.000-07:00

Road laid for freedom, turned into bloodpath
Years under suppression serving these psychopaths.
Eons of glory that brought us enormous wealth
Has been deported to their land by stealth.
Rebels who fought against their injustice
Were all executed and resting in peace.
Revolutionaries ignited our dormant souls
And it is time we oust them out of their holes.
This body is destined to perish
With our land free from that devil, to relish.
Bullets thud into our hearts to show their violence,
But we will stay still bearing with silence,
Emptying their arsenal with this resistance.
A show of that force will always last
With our will of steel and a mass fast.
It is not a weapon that embellishes our hand,
It is our ideals that serve as a magic wand.
This might fill our streets with cadavers,
It is for you to spark a makeover.

A call to the youth of the nation,
From us fathers to start a new revolution.
Behind the brightest day hid the darkest night,
Beside the tallest mountain lay the deepest trench,
After the victorious march follow the direst days.
An insight from us old to make you bold.
Our villages are the centers of our prosperity
And our cities for trade and diversity,
Preserve their balance with dexterity.
Industries put us on the path of development,
Research propels our way to advancement.
Religion isn’t acquired by birth,
Discrimination would serve to break our mirth.
Literacy required to build up proper conscience,
Preventing people against perils due to innocence.
Scales of justice biased towards a gender,
Shunts a strong force that helps us move further.
People dying young with hunger and poverty,
Serve as alarms for a pathetic policy.
A father to a son, I bid adieu,
And I wish that you pay my dues.
Words of wisdom from the New World,
That you must pass on till you die old-
“Ask not what the country has done for you,
but what you have done for it."

CIVIC DISOBEDIENCE

2007-08-01T07:15:00.001-07:00

Our society runs on civic disobedience which never seems to pass by a hurdle. Everyday we add a new stain to our clean cloth emphasizing our penchance to picturise ourselves as heretics. This endless jouney of violating the rules that we made for smooth passage of our lives needs to be broken. We ought to clean these blemishes that we made due to lack of civic sense on our parts. I take privilege of pointing out some of these blunders that I came across and try to provide ways to correct the scenario.

MOTORIST WOES:

There’s a lot of hullabaloo during the peak hours of the day and the traffic seems to be endless. At a point of time one feels that he could walk faster than his new BMW such is the magnitude of traffic congestion which derives its status from various factors like hot-headed nature of us drivers, acute willingness to break the rules, driving in mysterious patterns and hence creating chaos, to name a few. Nowadays we have people babbling on their mobiles and driving simultaneously as if they are the ‘world’s-most-busiest’ or it should be taken as a new definition for multitasking. Another feather in our cap is that we never give way for ambulances or Cops, when on duty. I’m not trying to throw all the weight of these errata on us motorists we can partially blame the authorities for being slow in finishing off its jobs like covering open manholes, which end up as death beds for many and laying out pucca roads, carpeting of roads that are damaged due to natural causes. When we don the avatar of a pedestrian we do a lot of callisthenics in the middle of the road rather than climbing the Road-over-bridge which is a stone’s throw away and hence we start the blame-game against the motorists claiming that it was all their fault. The mutual understanding that a motorist and a pedestrian ought to have near Zebra-crossing has been completely lost as we never try to stop-and-go near them.

The solution for this problem is easier said than done. Although, the authorities have placed rules regarding this, we have taken an oath not to follow this. The time has come atleast we break this oath of ours and start following those rules that we have filled in all those books that are displayed only in shelves of transport authorities. Traffic Police should put more emphasis on educating people about this rather than trying to empty motorist’s pockets to fil theirs. Stringent rules must be placed so that they compel a motorist to attend counselling regarding his/her driving.
IN’SANITY’:

The other day I was travelling in a bus and I could not help but notice a person who was chewing a pan unable to hold the liquid spat out on the road unconcerned about the traffic that is coming from behind the bus. I was quite perturbed by this act and asked him why did you do that and his reply was not surprising “everybody does that, so did I,” well this sums up our attitude towards cleanliness. This disease is quite contagious with our denizens. We try to dispose all our domestic wastes on roads rather than disposing them in the dumps provided by the authorities. One might feel that a clean surroundings is a harbinger of sanity that we are regaining and hence wants to avoid it. All these years of education and most of our childhood spent in learning good habits is of little use when we have grown up, as we go on like this. Even an illiterate seems to be rational in issues like cleanliness, shame on us!

The second to this brigade are the great femeurs or smokers whose job is to make some contribution to the fast deteriorating clean air. A smoker can be credited to be an altruistic person because he’s commiting a long-term suicide in which his neighbor, a non-smoker is also made part of. This way this group of people are trying to reduce our population. Recent surveys stated that India boasts of the highest number of smokers in this world, an honor well deserved. Although smoking has been banned in public places, these ‘chimneys’ never stop for their contribution is vital to air pollution. We’ve forgiven all this but one act that bolsters the fact about our ever-fading common-sense is - not shunting the cigarette after the person is done smoking and throwing these unshunted stubs into garbage dumps or on the roads contributing to fire accidents. The solution for this is not counselling but common-sense, God gave us a brain so that it can think in the right way and so we have to dust our brains and make sure that we shunt the stubs.

The third member of this elite group is the great sanitary tamasha we do on the roads. It seems that sometimes we shut-down our brains and forget the fact that curbs are meant for walking as we sanctify them with our urine. This great favor done by us refrains many others from using these pavements because of the noisome scents they spread. We can take this as another reason for the traffic snarls. The Government’s reply to this was pay-and-use toilets which we never seem to use as we are habituated to freeing our body wastes in public places. Professional, we call ourselves but is this a leaf in the book of professionalism that we clain to have professed?

Well, I have delayed the solution for the spitting-the-pan problem as it shares it with the above problem. People who spoil cleanliness must be caught hold of and they should be made to clean the place where they have urinated or the place where they drool irrespective of caste, creed, status, race, etc. People who do this activity from moving vehicles should be caught by those officials who inspect these activities on a bike. For implementation of this the municipalities or the corporations have to recruit more people who inspect such activity in the city or town that way unemployment has been partially decreased. Also those people who commit this offense must be brainwashed so that such crimes are not committed again. Rather than asking the convicted to pay money for the offense, they should be jailed that way we are curbing the redundancy of such crimes.

I do not want to bore you all with many more but one last one before I bid adieu. This is about the athleticism we show on roads chasing buses and also getting down from running buses. This athleticism and agility, if shown in olympics would have fetched us a barrage of Gold Medals. Alas, all this energy is channelised in bragging a skull-crushing, bone-breaking death that in the end is devoid of any reason and which is unnecessary to the core. We expect Government to tackle such matters although it is us, who have left our brains in the freezer at home asking for an appointment with death. Well the solution for this may not be brainwashing but trying to be in control of all our senses. We don’t have to do this for saving few yards of walk for there is every chance that we might as well end up limbless for the rest of our life with this useless bravado of ours. Here’s something that implies to both motorists and foot-boarders: In the quest of saving minutes we are letting our life evaporate in seconds.

ZEITGEIST AT STONEHENGE

2007-07-12T07:56:00.000-07:00

Road to Stonehenge
Over the valleys of Salisbury
White lilies waver to the zephyrs
Wiltshire whiskies welcome to its world
Our feet rooted on that land,
An ancient emperor who quoted
‘Veni Vedi Vici’ hasn’t conquered.
A place for pleasant placebo
As sky melts flabbergasted by its pulchrity,
Drenches us all with its tears.
Gardens filled with daffodils,
Acted like the walls of protection,
Protecting five milleniums of history,
Of those stones that were sculpted to glory.
Legend of Friar’s heel
Came alive with shower of stone
Over the fields of Avon
Enchanted by its beauty
We rose our hands to say ‘Cheers!’
It is Zeitgeist at stonehenge
A place where we can safely binge.

FINAL ODYSSEY

2007-07-07T20:53:00.000-07:00

If the sun refuses to rise,
If the mountains crumble into the sea,
If the oceans succumb to a whirlpool,
Does this world cease to exist?

If the lion’s scared by its roar,
If the serpent’s venom, we can ingest,
If it’s the fire that can never burn,
Is this a new vice of our nature?

If it is love that buys a war,
If will of steel can be melted,
If altruism deals with us being selfish,
Does it change the way we are?

If vengeance can be taken for gratitiude,
If pulses come alive in the dead,
If a gash could be healed by touch,
Is this the harbinger of the omnipotent?

If it is forgetting that we can forget,
If those lines on our palm, we can change,
If the words uttered, we can erase,
Will these hands control our fate?

If we can make the time tick back,
If history was an account of future,
If a coin were to have only one side,
Will this life be the same?

BLOOD ICE

2007-06-14T05:18:00.000-07:00

Blood ice
New taste in the town
Just can’t put it down
Not only a child’s treat
Even the elder have a feast

Blood ice
It is so nice
You’ll never think twice
Challenge, for a roll of dice
Winner takes all the ice

Blood ice
Tasty to the tangs
Sharp like the fangs
To the stick, it hangs
On to the ground, it bangs

Blood ice
Made by our hidden beast
-a vampire’s feast
here to break our peace
by taking trouble for lease

Blood ice
Melted by the heat
Flowing through the street
An evil’s retreat
Against those who were neat

Blood ice
Dripping through the palm
Increased the qualm
Just spread the balm
Wait for this world to calm

GALLOW'S POLE

2007-06-01T03:21:00.001-07:00

Minutes dissappeared on the clock
This was the last horizon
That I managed to salvage
My eyes brightened by the rays of sun
One chance to savour nature bloom
As I leave this world with gloom
My body tied to the shackles
Penanace, deservant for my Judas kiss
I tried to empower my cabal
That brought in the seeds of being venal
Shut the door of honor on my face
Repentance flew in these veins
One gash to end all this pains
My dilapidated souls asks
Will it be impunity after or
is it just another vertigo?
These hands fought for the just
Never controlled by lust
Now I stand vilified for being unjust
Indignant, for my greed
These arms feel the soul, evanescent
As my soul caged by this life
Felt it was a great day for its freedom
The body felt lighter by minute
Now I stand at the gallow’s pole
The hangman pulls the lever
A gory end to my hallowed past

THE COLOR OF MONEY

2007-05-21T21:03:00.000-07:00

The color of money changes like the seasons in an year

The color of money escapes from your closed fist, like water

The color of money resembles the hand that owns it

The color of money tainted with brush of avarice

The color of money pristine with strokes of just

The color of money withers with your broken wrist

The color of money carmine due to clenched fist

The color of money fills in a void between life and death

The color of money paints the masterpiece on ecstasy and agony

SOUNDS OF SILENCE

2007-04-26T05:23:00.000-07:00

Those reverberations in my mind
Taking me back in time
When I was young and bloody
And life was a huge maze
While the lanterns try to
show me the way out
In this never-ending bout
The peace in my heart ceased
The voices inside have increased
The sounds of silence
Brought me peace
The sounds of silence
Put me at ease

Imprisoned by this life
Trying to realise my destiny
There are many ways to choose
But one path for victory
Waiting for a tide
That can clear others
The wait, making me frantic
My mind, quite frenetic
I look down for those voices
They’re all gone
Leaving me all alone
The sounds of silence
Brought me peace
the sound of thunder
broke my peace

DEATH LUST

2007-04-26T05:21:00.000-07:00

The birth of a devil
that empowered evil
the enigma of my life
that brought me strife
I'm losing my sanity
and my life ruled by insanity
I'm on a vacation
My only source of rehabilitation
Deep in the forest
trying to get some rest
heard Wolves howling
to which i slept scowling
the voices in the dark
made their mark
just like a bright spark
There was a sudden outbreak
that made me awake
It was huge fire
that grew higher
I ran throught the fire
only to fall into the mire
I tried with all my might
only to end up losing the fight
Now its too late
as I know my fate
I can see the demons approaching
and already started my counting
Life after death has become clear
now I have nothing else to fear
This is the end of my time
as I can hear the death clock chime
I remember those voices in the dark
They are all chanting
Time has come for you to die
In thy grave you lie
Death is not the end
Thou shall comprehend
All I can say is I'm done
One last breath before I'm gone

THE LONELY GUITARIST

2007-04-26T05:16:00.001-07:00

The lonely guitarist
Standing under the sun
Strumming and singing
Smiling at the passer-bys
Showering him with shillings
Slips into a groove
That can make a numb man move

The lonely guitarist
Fighting the rain
To feed his kin
Working out of his skin
Life ain’t fun
When time ticks slowly
With a dime to run a family

The lonely guitarist
Nursing his sore fingers
Dreaming all through the night
Of a world known to his might
Music under the skin
Comes out as the show begins
Surfaces to reality with dawn

The lonely guitarist
Playing at the studio
Unpacked the riffs he concealed
Just a chance to steal
Those hearts that feel
Good times have come by
Walk to fame has begun

The lonely guitarist
One ticket to glory
And fulfill his destiny
Symphonies in silence
Murmuring the essence
Voicing its omniscience
Emphasizing his presence

The lonely guitarist
Hs now become old
With eyes glittering gold
Had music like wine
Was tastier when older
Those blues filled the air
Spread his vision to live fair

The lonely guitarist
Ain’t lonely anymore
But the show has gone too long
And its time to kiss goodbye
As he bows down to the crowd
One last time before he’s gone
Curtain falls to mark his end.

BLOOD BROTHERS

2007-04-26T05:12:00.000-07:00

Days of harmony shone like sun
Fraternity blossomed like flowers
We all went hand in hand to sing
“we’re blood brothers!”

Look up at the horizon
disturbances from a distant evil
look back,those hands in air assure
“we’re blood brothers!”

those hands cut by monarchy
ain’t it the same blood in you and me
then why can’t we hug each other and say
“we’re blood brothers!”

the apocalypse, inevitable
fighting for an empire that lasts with sun
those evil chants fill the air
“we ain’t blood brothers!”

Sowing the seeds of hatred
Digs the dagger into the innocent
Those mortal souls shriek
“why aren’t we blood brothers?”

Another dagger digs into my heart
Holding the hand of another soul
Last words come out with tears
“unable to live like blood brothers
we die on this blood, brother!”

EXORCISE THE EVIL

2007-04-26T05:04:00.000-07:00

PROLOGUE:
The rivers flowing through the empire of Verimonde shone under the moon as Nielartro offered his last prayers for the day and brushes his hands on the foreheads of his sons Victromord and Giambrodort.
“ Nielartro! You have been summoned by the king. Be quick or you’ll be dead.” Shouted Dionylius the general of the Iron Men.
Apprehension writ over Nielartro’s face as he moved closer to the castle, pondering over the reasons for His Majesty’s Wrath. He’s taken into the royal Chamber where King Ceusmonde has his personal meetings.
King’s wrath was inevitable due to the treachery by his close aide. The secrets of military activity near the castle have been passed on to the Dark empire , Brutylior and the culprit, Nielartro! The cloak-and-dagger actions of Nielartro attracted hatred in king’s heart.
“Nielartro! You’ll pay for this betrayal! Do you know the punishment for this vice of yours? Are you the only one or is there any Cabal of yours against me?” Shouted the king acrimoniously.
Nielartro down on his knees for mercy “ My Lord!I am the only soul involved in this act of trespassing your trust. I pray to forgive me, my life is in your hands and your acrimony leaves my children in tantrums. I beg you to free me and I shall move far away from this world.”
Kings eyes, like balls of fire that never go down “ This body of yours should have been hung at the Gallow’s Pole for this perfidy of yours. You shall leave this kingdom but your children stay in the kingdom. Ever to be seen in this kingdom you shall be beheaded.”
Nielartro contrite for his sin wanted to change and the King equally merciful gave him a chance to change. He realised that he fell for a libido that had wiped his past glory and his life topsy-turvy but he didn’t realise that there is a vicious cycle awaiting for him.
Nielartro was taken back when he saw his house burned to ashes, he was on his heels for his sons. Giambrodort laid on the ground, uncounscious and Victromord was nowhere to be seen. Nielartro, carried his son and ran helter-skelter for Victromord. Grief-struck he abandoned his search and swiftly made his move away from the kingdom before he could be seen with his son.
Few days later Vitromord was to be seen on the bank of the river Pruberor and an old man pulled him out of the water and took care of him since then.
The Mysterious Visitor:
The kingdom is blessed with rain, but behind the castle stood a man tall and strong as a pillar. He quaffed water from the gargoyle. He held his hands high he shouted “ Ceusmonde! The Lord cometh!” His eyes filled with vengeance from a harrowing past. He was not an ordinary man who can be easily tamed, he was the deadly Wizard Morgolor Possessor of supreme occult powers. His necromantics could turn water into wine. He possesses all the black-magic to spark an apocalypse . The Royal Zen Massourade and his secret aide are the only people aware of his existence. These two men and their powers are only known to King Ceusmonde,Queen Dianlyius and General, Dionylius.
Grotto, abandoned by denizens of Verimonde eons ago has turned into his habitat. Morgolor lived in darkness and hid in brightness. His thoughts on King Ceusmonde cease to leave him.
“ Ceusmonde! Pray for thy God to protect thou from my Wrath. Thy end has begun” Morgolor clenches his fist with a morbid smile.
Morgolor places his dagger into the scabbard that laid underneath his cloak and passes into silent repose as he knew that he will be deprived of it in near future. His mind spiralled back in time, when he was a child.
He remembered his father slaughtered to death,and how he succumbed to the vicious forces of Gromodynus, emperor of Brutylior, who has tuned Morgolor’s mind to the forces of occult.
Morgolor submitted himself to Slymoderus, the occult Zen at the age of 8.
Slymoderus was always impressed with the sharpness of the young soul, who grasped all the chants for gaining powers, swiftly and practised them to perfection. He had been preached about the path to attain a superpower called invisible force, which can make him invisible with a chant. He mastered incantations that slay the humanity. Impressed by the powers attained by him the occult lord Brutylorus granted him a wish.
“Lord! I want to be Immortal,” said Morgolor.
“Every soul has to perish to attain salvation and you shall perish on the day when moon passes though the sun, on that day you lose all your powers and you stand debilitated, and if you survive that day you survive till the next passing happens,” said Brutylorus who became evanescent with every word that came from his mouth. Morgolor bowed down to the lord with glee.
Morgolor pondered was it a curse or a boon after the incident but Slymoderus assured him of his powers and was happy for what he had achieved and pushed him to master the art of controlling one’s soul and body.
Morgolor was not awakened by the rising sun, he possesses the power to be asleep and to be awake for ages. It was not the time for him to rise and when it comes he shall not rest.
Morgolor befriended few hunchbacks few years ago and gave them a power as a token of their loyalty towards him. They can convert themselves into men of steel with a secret chant passed on to them by their lord Morgolor.
That night when moon slipped into oblivion, arrived the hunchbacks to the abandoned grotto. They knew that it was an exodus from their homeland and may never be able to see it again. Morgolor rose to the voice of their leader Mitrivon.
“ Hail thy Lord!
bow to thy lord Morgolor
saviour of us deprived souls
O’ King of everlasting doom
Bless us with strength
The hunchback hevellers cometh
Hundred souls surrender
Basking for glory!”
Mitrivon’s voices were followed by his followers like echoes
“Bless us with strength, Lord!” and they all bow down.
Morgolor looks up to the sky with brightness on his face, “We shall return with Victory from that land,” he said pointing to Verimonde “You shall march behind me when we taste victory and stay with me when that castle is conquered.” Yelled Morgolor as all his men pumped their fists in air.
Morgolor summoned Mitrivon into his grotto and passed on a secret plan devised by him that they ought to follow in coming time and passed off into deep slumber. The hevellers descended into the valley that lay beneath the grotto and are to see the light only when ordered to do so.
The Exorcist:
Near the bank of the river Pruberor stayed two men whose powers and services are of paramount importance to the Empire of Verimonde.
Victromord rises with the sun and dives into Pruberor only to surface at the other bank that lay thousand paces away. His arms rised high in the air and joined together stands on one foot to pray to the God of light, Helimonde- Sun. As the rays hit on his body, it shone with the brightness of a diamond.
“Victromord, today we depart to explore new lands” Massourade said vociferously “ pack our belongings we shall depart before the sun is at his brightest.”
“Yes master, I’m on it,” replies Victrimord.
“ Where are the horses?” asked Massourade.
“ They are on the way master, I set them out in the fields for grazing,” replied Victrimord.
The horses arrive and they depart for their journey.
“ Son, we are going to find a new way to Verimonde and it is going to take several days to reach the castle,” Massourade speaks “ I was feeling uneasy last night and can sense an inevitable days of doom approaching to torment the empire, we should embark on this journey to avert the catastrophe.”
“ What kind of danger is awaiting to our land, master?” asked Victrimord sheepishly.
“ It could be an attack by the evil Wizard and his men, that man has gained more powers than before and he’s breathing vengeance.”
Massourade had the greatest gift of predicting the future, which Vitrimord still has to gain.
The horses cantered through those valleys and Vitrimord was enjoying its beauty as he blurts out
“ Mother earth has painted this land with beauty
we have been sent to guard, as we are mighty
We shall fight for the restoration of good
Evil shall sanctify this land with their blood,” said Vitrimord as the Royal Zen pats him on his back.

The Evil Wizard:
Morgolor’s hunger knew no bounds, he has chanted for the invisible force and made himself invisible force and made himself invisible for the prowl into the kingdom for his meal.
He found a farm on which he killed two fo the best ox and then brought to his cave.
While feasting on them his mind took him back to that day when Slymoderus preached him about this force “ Morgolor, whenever you use the invisible force, your ability to use it at your will ceases and eventually you will lose it, in time. Its thirst should be quenched with blood from children and their cadavers to be thrown into fire as a mark of funeral pyre.”
Morgolor knew he had to keep his army alive with him and also knew that the more he used his powers the less effective he would be at the time of battle.
The other day he abducted a small child from the town and gashed his throat to quench his thirst with the blood and his body thrown into the fire.
As he growled in joy “ Thy blood shall enumerate my strength and I shall be immortal!” a morbid laughter followed.
The mysterious disappearances of their children and cattle threw the denizens of the kingdom into apprehension and created a huge hullabaloo as they approached King Ceusmonde for justice and safety.
“ I shall send the fittest of men to search for the culprit, his savagery shall not attract any mercy,” assured King Ceusmonde as the people left the castle.
“ Dionylius, I want you to take hundred of our Iron men and search for the culprit in and around the kingdom and also at valleys and caverns near the kingdom. I suspect this act of clandestinity must be of those evil Gromodynus and his necromantic wizard.” the King summoned as his face showed signs of worry due to the visissitudes that had been happening for some time.
The Tubas and Cornus filled the air as people danced around to the beats of sistrums before the Iron Men got ready to leave on their quest for the beast.
“Today our kingdom has been challenged by evil cowards who hid themselves in the bushes and killed our innocent children, we shall return with the beast, else sacrifice these bodies in preservation of our liberty,” shouted Dionylius as his men raised their swords in air and displayed their sheilds with a strength that never left them.

Queen Dianlyius is waiting for her Lord to arrive in his chamber.
“ My lady, my apologies for being late. I want you to inform Royal Zen and Exorcist-Victrimord about the crisis in our empire,” said the king.
“ It shall be done my lord and when do you want me to depart for them,” she asked him.
“ You shall depart at this moment,” the King said “ take Lancord with you, no horse was born to be as swift as him and also two of our men shall accompany you.”
“ Take this scimitar for your protection in the forest,” he said giving her the sword.
Queen rose and bowed to the king and made her move.
The duo of Massourade and Victromord had arrived to Voldemort, the orange orchard near the empire. Vicromord started sharping his Labrys and master Massourade was savoring the taste of the oranges.
Master heard neigh of a horse and it was Queen Dianlyius.
Queen bowed don to The Royal Zen and
“ Master! We have been tormented by an invisible force, children and cattle missing, His Majesty it might be the vice of the Wizard from Brutylior,” queen said with a sense of urgency filled in her words.
Victromord turned the side of his double axe and started sharping it.
“ Thou shall suppress any fear you have in thy heart and pray to the lord for restoration of peace, we shall be there in no time.” Zen assured “ begin your journey back before helimonde fades away.”
They too begin their journey few moments after Queen has left.
“ I need to unfurl two secrets that must be helpful to you about the war that is about to begin,” said Zen.
“Let this day pass by and tomorrow when moon passes through the sun and that’s when the evil Morgolor stands exonerated, deprived of all his powers he gained all through his life and you shall pounce upon him and slaughter him. His death marks end of Brutylior as Slymoderus and Gromodynus had gifted all their powers to Morgolor as he is the only man who can get them supremacy,” said Massourade.
“ What is the next secret master?” asked Victromord.
“ you shall come to know about it when the right time approaches, son,” countered Massourade.
THE BATTLE:
Sun had slipped into darkness, but the thunder proved to be an aegis for the battle ahead.
Dionylius and his men had passed through all the valleys and they are on their way to the castle to find cadavers of all the children and cattle that went missing.
He approaches the grotto and yells
“ You evil cowards show up”
Morgolor comes out of the grotto with his arms folded and his head held high with pride.
“ My mind was telling me it was you, You tried to steal our liberty we shall seek revenge for what you have done!” Screamed Dionylius with his anger mounting with every word he spoke.
“ You shall pay for this cheap trick of yours,” yelled the General.
“ We’ll see about that won’t we,” said Morgolor with a smile. He clapped his hands and his Hunchback Hevellers rose. His eyes shone with brightness as everything was happening as he had planned.
“ These are my Iron Men to yours,” replied Morgolor “ lets fight it out.”
“ Time has approached for us to show that wretched men our might
we shall depart from here with victory else we die in this bloody fight
GOooooooooooooooooooooo,” he screamed.
Each sides formed a scrum and the battle had turned fierce each heveller matching to the might of their counterparts as Morgolor seemed to enjoy the carnage infront of him.
Dionylius sent one of his soldiers to inform the King about the war.
The Royal Zen and Victromord arrive at the castle and the soldier arrives at the same time.
“ My Lord, General Dionylius has sent me too tell you that we are at war with Morgolor and his Hevellers.” said the soldier who was panting.
“ Victromord, you have been like my son, you have exorcised evil in the past but today is a different day, you have to wipe the Wizard out.”
“ Thy name shall be hallowed
sculpted on the stones of glory
Liberty rests in thy hands
Exorcise the evil empire
Thou shall be prince of Verimonde,” declared King Ceusmonde.
“ Bless me Victory, Master and My Lord.” Said Victrimonde as he bowed them to both of them and left for the battle.
By the time Victrimonde has reached not a soul remained in the battlefild with life. All the Iron men dead also the Hevellers dead.
Dionylius was dying as he shouted “ Victromord!” Victromord rushes to hold his hand “ All our men are dead and so are his, we have fought many battles together, I want you to destroy this wizard and make our land a heaven for everyone.”
“ I will,” assures Victromord with his eyes filled with fires that can never go down.
“ So, you are the Exorcist sent to save this beautiful world,” enquired Morgolor with a tinge of sarcasm in his tone.
“Yes, I am the one and it will be you or me,” shouted Victrmord approaching towards Morgolor.
Victomord took few paces closer to Morgolor and realised it was “Giambrodort!” he yelled, spell-bound at what he has seen and thinking “Is it the secret that master wanted to conceal?.” He was able to recognise him because of the scar he had on his chest in the shape of a cross.
Morgolor was taken aback as he knew the only person who can recognise his true self was, his long estranged or dead brother.
“ Victromord!” he screamed “ today we stand on the battlefield each on the other side, I want you to join hands with me we shall rule this world together,” offered Morgolor.
“ Brother, I am not here to bow to your wicked proposals, you killed my people and I shall seek revenge for what yu have done,” retorted Victromord.
“ This is insanity, we shall fight as you wish,” retaliated Morgolor as his Wand rose in air
A ball of fire came out violently as Victromord started running, balls of fire followed and he was able to escape all of them unhurt but it set the valley around ablaze.
Victromord gathered his breath and countered the wizard with his power as he averted the inferno toward Morgolor, Morgolor threw water that cvame from his wand to cool down.
Morgolor removed his Sword from the scabbard and Victromord his Labyrs. Both of them ran toward each other as the final battle has begun.
Sparks flew across to mark their blitz. The battle was becoming fierce with every manoeuvre and the intensity of the battle is visible to the King in the castle asa he got ready to leave for the battle. It was also time when the sun was rising surreptitiously.
Morgolor used his invisible force and Victrimord was unable to comprehend this action. Suddenly a force rapidly passes through him leaves him with a gash on his arm even before he could lift his axe.
He felt like a blind-folded man fighting against the devil that’s hungry for power.
But Morgolor forgot that today was the day when the moon passes through the sun and his self-proclaimed immortality stands vulnerable. Victromord knew about that and was patient for the eclipse to happen.
When the event has happened Morgolor became visible again and the battle continued.By that time Victromord was severely injured and an inevitable death was beckoning him but his will kept him alive and it is going to die with Morgolor.
The fight went on and on Morgolor was amazed by the skill with which his brother fought he was injured badly and realised that the timing for the battle was wrong.
Victromord saw that they are approaching quicksand and kicked Morgolor with all his might “Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!,” Morgolor shrieked as he fell into the quicksand and passed into oblivion. Victromord fell down on the ground, he knew he had only few breaths left and raised his arm to signal Victory to the approaching King and Master.
King ran towards Victromord and held him with his arms with tears inhis eyes “ I have been cursed by the Gods above, for they never let me have a heir who can take over the empire and when I rested my faith in you to ascend the throne, you are leaving me alone.”
“ My soul never leaves this land my Lord, it will exorcise any evil resting in this world,” assured with blood oozing out of his mouth “ there are lot of men whose valor is invaluable for the liberty of this empire, my Lord.My Master shall make them like me.”
“ I will my son,” promised master brushing his head.
Victromord passed into glory and the empire Verimonde was as free as ever from the ghoulish tormentors from Brutylior.
EPILOGUE:
King Ceusmonde waged a war against the Brutylior and crushed them. Gromodynus and Slymoderus are left with nothing but an inevitable death as they had drained all their powers to empower Morgolor for the battle against Verimonde and were hanged at the gallow’s pole after which their bodies were burnt in fire to mark the nend of Brutylior.

INCUBUS

2007-04-26T05:00:00.000-07:00

It was a pleasant Saturday afternoon as I entered Joe’s and ordered a pail of suds as my friends Keith, Roberto, James and Nick entered the pub.
“Yo, man how ‘as your day?” shouted Keith as he was coming towards me.
“Fine so far,” I replied
We all exchanged greetings and then I ordered four more pails of suds before we started off our discussions about the gig we ought to play tomorrow night
Radio is blasting Free Bird by Lynyrd Skynyrd
“The best ballad I’ve ever heard bud,” declared Roberto with a smile.
Then came in a girl who was around 24 if I am true, slim built and has burgundy hair.
Keith rose to receive her and he introduced her to us
“Johanna Whitberg, my fiancée,” he said.
Everybody seemed to have met her before except me.
As Johanna came towards me.
“Sam,” I said
“Johanna,” she replied with a smile
“Here is the most surprising news buddies,” he announced with a touch of pride as Nick intercepted “Are ye getting engaged?”
“Yup,” said Keith looking acrimoniously at Nick for spoiling his surprise.
“What do you do Johanna?” I asked her passing a drink towards her.
“I’m a graduate in English Literature from Columbia University,” she said with a smile that never left her face.
“Oh! Our Alma-mater,” I replied hiding my surprise.
The radio bursted “You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain.”
As we sang in unison “Too much love drives a man insane,”
“I bet Jerry Lee Lewis got it right this time with his Great Balls of Fire,” said James referring to the occasion.
“Come down to Dix Hills tomorrow morning at 9:00 to Johanna’s place,” Keith said.
“Where?” I asked him.
“212, Philadelphia Avenue,” he said getting ready to bid adieu to us.
Keith had left with Johanna and we started discussing about various bands that are competing with us in the New England clubs circuit.
”Don’t worry guys!” I declared as all my friends stared at me baffled.
“We’re just greenhorns and it takes sometime before we start getting some business,” I said as they glanced at me as if they don’t know what I said.
That evening we went to Macy’s to buy a gift for Keith’s engagement for tomorrow. We received a lagniappe, a guitar shaped clock which Roberto kept it gleefully.
That morning we got ready by 7:15 and we took the metro
at 95th street and got down at Penn station. From there we took the LIRR-long Island Rail Road to get down at Wyandanch nearest station to Johanna’s house.
We reached the location by 8:45 as Keith came down running towards us as we shook hands with him.
“Bon Jour Messieur Sam”
I looked back and it was Johanna dressed in black gown in which she looked gorgeous.
“Bon Jour mademoiselle Johanna,” I retorted.
“Keith told me that you knew French,” she said.
“That brat told you this what else did he tell you about us?” I inquired.
“You look wonderful in this dress.”
“Mucho Gracias,” she replied with her trademark smile.

She was about to say something when her mother called her for a word.
Her mother’s dress was rather foppish and it seemed that she wanted to look younger than her daughter.
Keith told us that her father passed away recently due to Brain Haemorrhage. Her mother works as a receptionist at Barnes & Nobles located in Walt Whitman Mall at Huntington. Also, she was their only daughter and her mother was never intransigent to Johanna’s wishes.
Keith was ostracised by his parents when he was 18 as he was not complaisant with their wishes to see him as a doctor. All five of us met in Columbia University located uptown Manhattan for our graduate studies in electronics but we ended up being musicians. We lived in a small apartment in 97th street in Manhattan.
At 9:30 Keith slipped a diamond ring onto Johanna’s finger as she reciprocated. They both kissed each other. After having a grand breakfast we spent sometime chatting with each other about our past lives and our Band matters as she told us about her childhood. Mrs. Withberg told us about the pranks that Johanna used to play when she was a kid as we laughed. At 11:00 we bid adieu Mrs. Whitberg and followed Keith towards his Chevy.
“A surprise for all you guys,” Keith said as he stared at Nick cunningly knowing that he can’t spoil it this time.
“What is it?” asked Johanna
“We are going to the Farmingdale air field right now for a weekend ride which they offer.”
“What say?” questioned Keith.
“Aye, Aye Captain!” came the reply as a chorus.
Farmingdale field was 12 miles away from Johanna’s place and we have been to such a trip during our college days. We tried not to talk about as it just spoils Johanna’s excitement. The drive is taking us longer than usual because of the heavy traffic. James felt bored and started singing secret garden by the Boss. “There’s a secret garden she hides,” Johanna joined him as we all applauded her.
We reached the air field at 12:00 15 minutes before the journey. There was a sigh of relief on Keith’s face as he thought that they would be late for the flight.
We rushed into the office and Keith produced tickets as we’re sent to the hangar with our pilot Captain John Brunswick who was in his mid fifties I thought and was 6 feet tall and was nicely built. He wanted us to call him Johnny.
We boarded the flight which can accommodate 8 people in all.
We sat facing each other as the pilot was getting ready for take-off.
“Buckle up all ye young’uns,” announced Johnny.
“Ready for some fun?” he cried as if ought to be on the battlefield in few minutes.
“Yeah!” we replied sceptically looking at each other.
“Ye better be ye young’uns,” he cachinnated.
The plane took off at 12:30 and we are supposed to be back by 2:00pm at the field as we return to Johanna’s place.
We are to see all the Long Island by air and also touch few parts of Connecticut and we’re back.
The first one we are able to spot was Bethpage State Park and its golf course. Then we moved further north and there lied Jones Beach where we had a gig couple of weeks ago and now we’re over the Atlantic watching the ocean beneath us. As we flew further north to reach the jungles in Connecticut State.
The plane lowered by 50 feet to give us a glance of the jungle as the pilot announced that this jungle was famous for its Pine trees, Leopards and Hounds.
We have been enjoying the trip and the next destination was towards Montauk the easternmost tip of Long Island which has a Harbour. It was more famous for its lighthouse.
There was a sudden jolt that almost misplaced all of us.
“Is everything OK?” I yelled.
“It better be,” shouted back Johnny
The reply didn’t calm us down.
Suddenly there was another jolt this time we’re sure something is terribly wrong and it might cost our lives. Now Johnny looked more worried now and he’s contacting the control room telling them what the problem is.
“What’s the problem?” asked Roberto looking perplexed.
“There is some problem in the engine as it suddenly turned off and I’m trying to contact the control room,” replied Johnny looking gloomy.
“Can it be fixed?” asked James who felt very uncomfortable.
Before Johnny could answer the plane started a slight downfall and this sent lumps in our throats. Johnny managed to get it on the track for a moment. I spotted 3 parachutes and to rub salt to the wound two of them are torn and the other one is completely out of shape. Johnny was trying his best to make a crash landing but the most unfortunate is yet to come. Johnny had lost his contact with the control room.
As I peeped outside the window we’re heading towards Jones beach as I suddenly yelled “Change the direction else we’ll kill a lot of people in the beach.”
Johanna became very restless as Keith gripped her hand tightly. Johnny tried to comfort all of us that we can make a crash landing and should be less worried about losing our lives.
Suddenly the plane started a swift downfall and I had already made up my mind that this will not cost a limb or two but lives as Johnny was trying his best in avoiding the beach.
All of us are screaming “Noooooooooooooo,” as the plane was heading towards the beach.
“NOooooooooooooooooooo,” I screamed as I woke up from my bed waking everyone in the room in this process.
“What’s up man?” Keith said gently.
“Are we alive? How Is Johanna?” I enquired.
“Are you Ok buddy?” asked Keith shaking me.
“How did we survive even after the plan crashed into the beach?” I asked baffled.
Keith shook me violently as Roberto gave me a glass of water. “You had a nightmare buddy,” said James as I looked around for a while and then tried to get some sleep.
The next day I explained to my friends and they were all silent for a moment and a huge laughter followed.
“You drove us all wild man,” replied Nick still laughing at my nightmare.
“Shut up! You nincompoop,” I retaliated.
We started planning for our regular weekend gig at the Joe’s and then came in Johanna smiling as Keith told her the happenings of last night she too joined their laughter and said “Let’s ‘ope it doesn’t get real.”
We all are back that night as Joey announced “Tonight we have THE BLITZKRIEG!” as we started of with Whiskey In the Jar by Thin Lizzy and I felt great that I was able to put up a good show with my lead after what happened last night, as you know nightmares are unforgettable for quite some time.