Dithery Manana

Burnt remains
Of ashes and dust,
Of those capricious dreams;
Watching them incinerate apart
Like an infant staring
At its dead parents.


Thinking of jumping in the fire
But wanting to read,
Those unturned pages of destiny;
Like the sailor of a sinking ship
Trying to save himself
With desperation and hope.


The chill of the wind
Howling along the fecund lands,
Earth, fire, water and air
Conspiring together for this despair;
Nothing to confront the forces of nature
No time for the seeds to grow in stature.


The shattered dreams,
Resonating along those memory lanes;
The eluding past a reward,
The unwanted present exposed---
The mystic future vacillating
With those crushed visions of hope!



--- the future is gloomy....

The Lost One.

The dark feathers
Stimulated by the chill,
The weak legs
Trying hard to hold on;
The visions of the past
In those diminished eyes,
The lost soul
Confined in the avian body.



Flying at its own will
Barring the wind,
Flapping its wings
To remain motionless;
The ricocheting thoughts
Of those moments long gone,
The fixed gaze
Prevented by the eyelids.



Searching for a shelter
Frightened to come close,
Forsaken by mankind
Unscathed by nature;
Unfulfilled wishes immortalising
The unresentful memory,
Inured by the jaunt
Unrealised visions of the past.



A speck of fear resounds
As the sun starts to set,
The wind grows colder
And the journey it must undertake;
The eyelids become motionless
To savour one last image,
Time for it to fly away
The lost black crow!

----- sometimes the soul of the dead ones are reincarnated in other earthly forms....

Pragmatism

It was exceptionally cold for a day in November. The moon was unseen in the star-studded sky. Neksus felt the chill in the air when he went to bed. He was still wondering if it was the wind or his mind that was making him shiver so vigorously. Seeking refuge under the warmth of his quilt, he was feeling terribly miserable.

For the past few days he was not having a good, sound sleep. He used to wake up traumatised - shivering and sweating profusely only to find the moon in the sky. For all these years Neksus never had a sleeping problem. But of late, he was scared even to lie down in his bed. Murderous and gory thoughts always crossed his mind. Sometimes he would see himself in some sort of a ritualistic ceremony where he had to pierce his hand for a few drops of 'holy' blood. He would wake up terrorised to find the piercing in his hand in exactly the same place as he had seen in his dream. Neksus could not decipher the connection between his brutal dreams and reality. No matter how much he tried to forget them and not think anymore, he woke up aghast at hideously killing a beautiful child in his dream!

Neksus never shared these experiences with anybody. He thought of seeing a doctor and have those prescribed sleeping pills, but was dreadfully fearing the consequencesof speaking of those slaughterous dreams. Always remaining a very reserved person, Neksus never liked those rave partiesand social gatherings. His heart was writhing in agony within those four walls. The window was also close to bar the chill.
So disturbed was his mind that he was thinking if he would live long enough to see the next day. His mind was crossed with thoughts of newspaper headlines reporting his untimely death.

******

Suddenly Neksus sat up straight. He seemed to be in some sort of hurry and was hastily looking for something in his room. Never caring to switch on the lights, he was fishing in his wardrobe. Neksus didn't have a roommate, so both the wardrobes in the room belonged to him.

The only person staying back at the residential hall during this long vacation was Ikspir. He was the only person with whom Neksus went along pretty well. When Ikspir wasn't around, Neksus did not care to mingle with the other inmates.

On getting what he was looking for, Neksus ran straight out of his room towards Ikspir's. Very politely he rapped on the door. It was about to dawn and Ikspir was fast asleep. Slowly the raping gave way to thumping and the sound reverberated thoughout the building. On such a chilly weather, Ikspir did much to get out of his bed - "Who's that?"

When there was no reply, Ikspir knew it was Neksus' dirty tricks on him. Still he opened the latch of the door. As soon as the door opened, a strong blow on his forehead left Ikspir unconscious. Neksus was wearing a black woolen cap that covered his face except the eyes. He looked at Ikspir's body and with much affection lay him on his own bed. The he carefully locked the room from the inside and switched on the lights. He caressed Ikspir's forehead as if to help him gain consciousness. Suddenly, in the blink of an eye Neksus drew a sharp knife from the back of his jacket and held it up, above his forehead. With closed eyes he cantillated some sort of a prayer. As soon as he finished it, with a ravenous stroke Neksus slashed off his left wrist. He put his bloody arm over Ikspir's face such that the blood drops pooled on the latter's closed eyes.

Quite contrary to having an excruciating pain, Neksus' face was filled with relief! Ikspir was stil out cold owing to the massive blow with the bludgeoning weapon. With the swiftness of a mongoose, Neksus slit Ikspir's bot wrists like he did to his own. As a result of this bloody affair, the latter tried in vain to sit up only to find himself tethered to his own bed!

Ikspir could not believe his senses when he saw and felt his surroundings. His hands had become numb due to excessive blood loss. His eyes suddenly were gazed on Neksus' demoniac eyes. He felt Neksus was possessed - "Stop it Neksus please! What on earth are you doing?", yelling at the top of his voice. Neksus quietly looked at Ikspir's face - "Bye! May thy blood quench the thirst of many!" and he slit Ikspir's throat with the knife. Blood guzzled out of the throat as Neksus stared at it with a relieved face. The whole roome was red with blood and Ikspir's bed was soaking in it. Neksus stood still with blood dripping from his left arm and the knife held firmly in his right; his eyes locked into those of Ikspir, watching him writhing in pain and struggling to get free. With a massive volume of blood loss, Ikspir was becoming paler and ultimately after a very short period, he lay motionless. All this time Neksus did not move his eyes from those of Ikspir's!

All of a sudden a chill went down Neksus' spine and he was wondering why his left arm was paining! He felt as though he was having a dream, yet he saw his friend in that abominable state and his left wrist was unbearable. The only thing he remembered was that he was trying to get sleep in his own bed...

Last Days

Driving through this highway of no light,
Windscreen smothered with filth,
The mirror brings little respite
To see the lights flashing by.

Just enough to view the inside,
The flashlights are mere candles
In this road so dark,
The night so windy.
*

Walking through the tunnel so dark,
The bright light incinerating slowly.
The distance unfathomable,
The darkness unobliterable.

Innumerable known faces,
Groping through the memory,
Have all gathered together
To guide the soul to sanctity.

Obligations to fulfill,
Desires to meet,
The long lost ones
Awaiting impatiently to greet!



---- a person in his last days...

The Wingless Butterfly

Meandering through the silvery night
Your fatal attraction drawing me near,
Shaping the vague silhoutte
Enshrouding the misty cradle of my dreams;
Praying that never does
The opaque clouds veil you---
Oh! Enchanting Full Moon!
Oh! The irresistible goddess of the night!


Lost in the forest of desires
Flapping my path beside you,
The blind ones can see me
And the deaf hearing;
Not even the swans share
This ethereal road with us!


Like a bolt of thunder,
Paralysed by the excruciating pain
I see my predator vacillating above.
The futile efforts to fly away,
The somaesthesia of the tormenting grasp
I look up anticipating my death;
One last prayer for the patrician beauty,
One last sight of the indescribable moon!

Smoke of Life

Dense smoke from the chimney
Gushing out with life;
No air can subside it,
No wind can diffuse it;
Wanting to take up challenges
Notwithstanding the barriers ahead.


Trying to fulfill its ambition
Of rising high to be proclaimed
The Angel of Clouds;
Trying to shield itself
From the inevitable wind
Making it fade away.


The diffusing smoke
Surrendering to its destiny,
Fading away till no one to see,
Not a trace of it will remain,
Engulfed by the forces of nature,
Only its memories will remain
With the bird it choked in flight!



------ Here smoke depicts the life of a man. Emerging from the chimney (womb) it is exuberant and joyful in nature, ready to take the challenges (wind). The high ambitions a man sets himself as the 'Angel of Clouds'.. the smoke tries to touch the clouds, trying to touch the sky. But inevitable death can't be avoided and like a man, it slowly fades towards its death. The smoke fades away till unseen of.. like the body of a dead man... who has ceased to exist!!

Obscurity

The burnt earth
Formed into shape,
The cloud comes alive
With the touch of holiness.
The obscure visions,
The smoke dispersing,
Mind deified.


The feel of nothingness
Amidst everything,
The burnt remains
Left back as an abandoned child.
Clock relieved of keeping
The tide of time!


Suffocating smoke
Rendering peace to the mind,
Wispy visions providing pictures
Of mountains unconquered
Light from the candle, manoeuvring
In this strong breeze.


Shifting clouds,
Unwillingly carried by wind;
Passionate breath,
Mottled with godly blessings;
Benumbed mind,
Trying to forget days past!


--------this is written from the context of a person(probably a sadhu) after smoking a 'chillum'... when he thinks of the unconquered mountain of his god...
'The burnt earth.. formed into shape'.. symbolizes the chillum...
'The burnt remains left back...' symbolises the ash which is left back...