Friday, November 23, 2012

Whilst I am obliging truth,
Shall I convince myself
To bestow upon you
The essence I dug deep
From my chaste bosom?
In denial cries my ego,
And thus to me a lie is beautified!"
"Behold the moment, for
The guest withers away
Not long after its comfortable dwell.

Reminiscence, now again,
For the guest, is a new moment,
If at all you wonder its nature.

What can be a greater greed than
You feeble try to imprison
The gigantic seducer, your guest?

And a folly it is too, for
Cripples catch not lightning,
You blind paupers!

Rest your thirsty palms 
Calmly on your flushed cheeks
And wait.

Wait until the guest,
Who roars and renders its aroma
Unto you upon its arrival, arrives.

Wait until you helpless souls
Wear out of a sheer predicament
For the guest; the saviour; the seducer!"

Tuesday, November 6, 2012


The slanting rays of the sun that was about to set, was sliced into fragments by the horizontal bars of the windows and they rested cozily on the floor. Lying down, facing the window, he was, for a long time, vaguely gazing at the crystal clear dust cloud, dancing in the path of the golden rays. As much seductive as it can get, only it didn't evoke a poet in him, but a profound solitude. He wasn't baffled by smothering thoughts, but instead, was too numb to be prone to thinking. Awareness hit him only in bits & pieces, every now & then, making it difficult for him to provoke his mind into introspection. A grotesque sadness pierced his heart in an ultra-slow pace, puncturing it with supreme clarity. The moist-soaked heart excruciatingly oozed out a sour fluid and it hit his mind like a pin-prick. Awoke from his numbness, he realized, he was completely drowned into a poignant grief. It was a desperate crave for a woman’s touch which let him into that gloomy solitude, he learned. Encountering loneliness with an utter despair, his mind started hallucinating itself, deliberately, with a woman fondling him already. Furthermore, in the realm of his fantasy, he teleported himself into the imaginary woman’s soul and started feeling every whit of sensuality in touching his very own body, in the perspective of that woman. He slowly ran his fingers through his body, exploring it like a stranger, whilst his soul was half-torn and placed both in his real & imaginary domain. In an impulse, his consciousness rose him up, and his feet trotted towards the mirror, in the pursuit of supplying his libido, with better visuals. His creative mind was eased by being bestowed upon the mirror-image, allowing his imaginary woman to dwell comfortably in his real self, without the effort of a new creation and the replica served as a replacement for his real body. This glued his bisected soul, placing it wholly in the imaginary woman’s self, which in turn was dwelling in his real self. What he failed to realize was that the imaginary self totally overlapped the real one and hid it. This deluded his brain that the replica in the mirror was a stranger. Gone oblivious to the nature of his sexuality, the soul in his imaginary self was lured heavily by the stranger resting in the mirror. His eyes crawled slowly on every single part of his body in the replica and ogled it with a superfluous awe, as it was supplied with an uncanny feel from what it witnessed. With its hopeless adoring, his soul in the imaginary self was feeding his craving, subconsciously. With his crave getting satiated slowly, the fantasy started dissipating and at last the haunted imagination got exorcised. In a minute’s time, he regained his soul in his real self, to find out that he was standing aloof from mundane, in the ghastly twilight and that froze him still, until his cognition grasped the nature of the whole process. Washing out even a tinge of fantasy left in him, he stood naked in front of reality, helplessly. As much loathsome he grew of his narcissistic self, there aroused a startle in him, for, his veteran solitude has had the potential to unveil such a bizarre fantasy of he copulating with himself, to sedate his hopeless craving and thus letting his solace befriend his narcissism. His mouth cried but two words, “INFINITE ME!” 

Monday, October 22, 2012


“”Why don’t I own a piece of it, too?!” His mind intrigued, with a question. Even though it was the most discussed about, most raved about and most searched thing among the generations of mankind, he was never hungry to find one, until that very moment when the question was raised in his mind out of the blue. But he, without a dilemma, knew where to start his quest. He had seen peoples of different parts of the world, flocking like herds to that region, where they rest and discuss and discover what they came for. He was always familiar with the façade of the region. But the path to destination was one big ambiguity prevailed in his mind over the years. Without a moment’s delay, his feet trotted towards the region and it ended up standing & gazing at the façade of it. The image was too familiar for his memory. Yet his latest perception amazed him with a fresh new outlook. He was always taken aback by the congestion of the peoples rushing into the entrance, which made him least interested to step in. This time he couldn't care less about the peer crowd. To his wonder he entered into it without any trouble despite the rush of a huge crowd and all the men inside were much too fervent in welcoming him. But besides all the warmth, he felt alienated. Within a few steps of his journey, he discovered something similar to what he was searching for and it gave such an intoxication to him that he got addicted to it and dwelt gaily in that place without any further pursuit, along with his peers. No sooner did he get comforted, he started growing weary by what he got and he couldn't dwell anymore. His appetite for the latest discovery had then been dead and he was disgusted to even stand there anymore. Most of his peers were too comfortable to leave the place though. Reluctant he was, to go back too soon, he walked further inside with a baffle. The better side of it was that there were companions willingly walked beside him, in his further quest. Unlike the initial phase of his journey, this second lap sucked a tad more of his time for his next discovery. The reduction of the peers whilst discovering, made him feel like a stand out and an essence of egotism was conceived in his bosom. He was an Übermensch, he thought. Also his latest dwell lasted a bit longer than the previous one. Like clockwork, his new discovery, too, got weary. But his newly grown egotism ordered him to strut further on his quest, brushing aside the bamboozling of the cowardly peers in subsiding him. As he pranced further & further, his discoveries and weariness weaved a pattern for itself. After walking too deep into the path he realized, he was no more in the road but woods, with very few men beside him. He also observed that as each dwelling point passed he had to travel a lot more than the previous one to find a new one. Unaware to his conscious self, his driving motor slowly transitioned from egotism to egoism in the pursuit. His meager fellowmen, too, had scattered beyond the horizon of his vision as he kept walking and he became a solitary traveler. But his never ending appetite arousal and glorified ego drove his legs to advance. After a very long travel he found a new dwelling point. Rather than finding solace to his exhausting journey, he grew restless, for, he knew his dwell was not permanent and he had to carry-on a long deserted walk in the near future. He then let out a big sigh when the time has come indeed. Like a spellbound chap, he started running like a madman. After years of endless run, he was stopped by a dead end. All he saw was a well and nothing more. He realized he came too far to even hear any voices of advises. His volition was the only thing he could count on. He hadn't a clue about the depth of the well. Contemplating long at that dwelling point, he overcame all his baffling and jumped into the well with a conviction. He was an Übermensch, he felt. Alas, only he wasn't aware, there won’t be an eternal dwell.”, “thus ends the parable”, he said to his ten year old son. Verily, he knew there wasn't a word his son could have fathomed from his utter. But overfilled he was, with his wisdom, he gushed it out effortlessly to the only soul listening to his words, like a wet dream. Least was he bothered by the effect of his recital. He then laid back, relaxed, for, his burden of excess containing was unloaded. This new rejuvenation fueled his perceptive ego to run deeper, hoping to discover profuse profundity, into the bottomless well. He was an Übermensch, he knew.  Alas, only he was aware there won’t be an eternal dwell. 

Friday, September 21, 2012


“So how do I know you’re not a chivato, too, Tony?”
“Hey Sosa, let’s get this straight now. I never fucked anybody over in my life didn’t have it coming to them. You got that? All I have in this world is my balls and my word. And I don’t break them for no one. You understand?”
He felt a testosterone rush, about to gush out of all the holes on his body. That little piece of ‘Scarface’ made him feel like a cigar-munching mafia.  “Why don’t you come out of that damn room and brush your teeth at least, for Christ’s sake?” That sudden scream of his mother broke a few glasses of his daydream wall and made him realize, he was lying on that bed, with his computer, for a very long time. He started walking out of his room with a swagger. He could feel a sense of power. He felt like, “Nobody tells me what to do”. The usual annoying factors from his parents seemed like a poor man’s cry for him, that time. He couldn’t care less about it. His reply for their cry had a flavor of command in it. In the mafia world running on his mind, he started hearing his dog’s barking and granny’s bout with the maid, in an out focus. As his dad went out to his office and mom started her routine cooking process, he was left out in the couch, ending up watching his granny’s favorite sitcom. He couldn’t stand it, when he actually paid an attention to the show. He felt like removing that whole crap from airing anymore, with a single command. But sooner did he realize, he didn’t even have the power to change his very own television’s channel, for, he has to go war with granny, for doing so. His testosterone started calming down and he could feel the reduction of that mafia intoxication. He desperately wanted to sustain that. But the reality didn’t allow him to do so. He tried to plug in his earphones to supply some ‘Godfather’ to retain one. But it couldn’t help, since his mother came out again, shouting at his idle status. He couldn’t help losing his cool this time and started battling with his mother. An abrupt end to the battle left him baffled and he started roaming restlessly around his home. But again his awareness came to play, which reinforced his fading mafia-world attitude, only to chuck all the restlessness and retain his latest gimmick. His will to power craved to command someone, but subtly. So he sat again on his couch with a feel of an emperor, choosing his mom for feeding his appetite. With a smoke-burnished tone he uttered “Mom, I feel like a cup of coffee and I prefer it black”. Taking a pride on the attitude in which he uttered those words, he expected his mom to come running down immediately, abiding his command. She didn’t turn up. He called her again, a little louder this time, “Mom, I’d like some coffee. BLACK!” She didn’t turn up. His voice kept on increasing, with an everlasting “MOM!!!” shedding its entire disguise in the process. Sadly, he couldn’t come out as a winner in that ordeal. That enraged him extremely, to lose his mind and trot towards the kitchen, to yell at her face to face, only to find out she wasn’t there at all, all that time. He felt totally lost now. Any level of awareness couldn’t find a trace of mafia in him anymore. His body went numb and mind dizzied. His mental faculties lost the ability to grasp his state of mind. His uncontrolled temperament started crawling slowly from his feet, lingering all around his body and assembling at his head, to collide and burst out as a loud scream from his mouth. The moment he opened his tightly closed eyes, after letting out the cry, he encountered an eyes, staring deeply at him, politely waiting for his orders. But he couldn’t feel a whit of power this time. After a long tail-shaking wait, the poor thing left the place, without receiving any orders. He stood numb, staring without a blink, at the oscillating tail, as it went back to its kennel. On the out focus of his stare, his television spoke, “I will make him an offer he can’t refuse”.

Tuesday, September 11, 2012


"Striving for something better? well, what is better?!". The thought hit her so hard. Her constant introspection bombarded lots of questions on her. "Why is it so hard to find rationality in men", she thought. "Why rationality at all?", wondered a moment later. She constantly neutralized her questions, put to herself, without any intention of doing so. The solitary travel was playing her mind. She couldn't rest a second, even if she wanted to. Being clueless about the destination of her travel, she was determined, she cuts loose of all the ends clinging her. The emptiness in the train she travels was reflecting in her mind. A 'why?' was followed by a 'why should be a why?'. That never ending paradox was exhausting her. Whilst trying to ponder upon the contradictions entangling her, she observes a laziness lingering around, out of nowhere, only to drop all the thoughts and doze off. But, to her dismay, observation of her laziness pushed her into a new array of paradoxical questions. She felt an urge to not let go of her hunger, in an attempt to focus deep on her thoughts and intensify it. Upon consciously observing that sub-conscious action, which she performs automatically due to an inner setup she did to herself, she saw herself as a creature falling prey for a legend. That exhausted her to a whole new level and she slowly faded away from that thought, buying food with a numb mind. Staring profoundly outside the window whilst eating, she serenely observed the motion pattern of the street lights glowing in dark and configuring an ambiance to suit her melancholy. She would soon realize, her covered up consciousness was deliberately weaving that setup, only to subtly describe the vagueness she was battling. When realized, she felt a pin-prick to her intelligence upon discovering the cheapness of the subtlety, which led her raise a question, "Isn't cliched subtlety becoming cheap or is it just that I am too subtle to grasp it?". The pride she took was debunked by her very realization, followed by another pride. But she was well aware that the debunking is to be continued. She felt like standing in between two parallel mirrors. Never ending images. All she could gather was an understanding she had on her piled up thoughts. Her eternal contemplation slowly drowned her into slumber, leaning on the window and continuing her journey in the abyss, but in dreams this time. She was very fortunate that the street lights were still faithful in preserving the ambiance without her monitoring...