Revisited Memories

Revisited Memories

As the beauty encapsulated the eyes,
The long green patches and small ponds filled the puzzle of long forgotten memories
The narrow roads leading to a small hut,
Where water was luxury and electricity an alienated technology
The journey had been long and tiring but the escapes of destination haunted the vision
Yes, even six long years had made me silently despise my reasons of staying away
As each station passed back I felt the breeze hugging me
Telling me about the storms and morning sunlight
As the distance diminished with each passing second the beats under my skin didn’t feel similar to mine
As I visited the long forgotten me lost in those green patches and easing through those ponds.

Incomplete Journey

Incomplete Journey

It was a layover for just over an hour, my bus ride would take me straight into the mountains of the north of Sikkim, maybe. Maybe is the word used because the region had seen some heavy snowfalls and landslides during the last few weeks. The region is said to have a very sensitive climate.

I am not even sure if I would ever reach the region. The initial permit required to reach region was not granted to by the magistrate at the Sikkim office. So as rebellious I was a three month of jail or fine of 1 lakh rupees or both didn’t scare me at all.

As I sat there looking facing the crowded bus stand with people moving in all directions. Most were the local people going home after the daily day’s work. The region was still tough to crack open with the mind of an outsider looking to fit in. I saw a figure covered all the body regions from my left side I only saw nameplate of a book. “Mein Kampf a biography of Hitler”, now though I am not a hypocrite still it seems unusual for a person to read such a book at a crowded bus stop.

The boring bus stop triggered my hope to go out and get a better look of the person. I sneaked from the side to get a better view was I reading the book title right, and checked it. I was now only 15 to 25 m away from the person, then a bit startled the person looked straight towards, I almost frizzed under the stare. The person adjusted the seating and removed the covering cloth on the face. The small face had given up the identity of her body.

It was one of the most majestic aura of living I had ever seen, the flinch in her eyes was so strong that it had hypnotized me without a warning. As I got almost floated up beside her trying to read her eyes, she hadn’t blinked for a second nor did I.  As I came beside her, carrying my heavy rucksack which felt light on those steps.

She patted the seat beside her, it looked as if she was saying coming we can read together. I sat beside her the people in the background has just seemed to have become the near moving pillars; I was least interested in the words and more inclined towards her eyes. Transfixed into her eyes the beauty just capsulated me in the shell of vision. It didn’t flint and I floating towards the Trans of her interior, she had now covered her face again the only thing I could see was her eyes.

I had forgotten about my journey my adventure nothing could be completed without her being without any sense. The sense that now had taken over me was making me fade away from the season the regional apathy of life towards solution and prayer.

Suddenly she got and looked towards me before I could react. She kept her right hand on my shoulder, don’t we can’t make it work out. I sat their making sense of my life and how can it be so cruel to me.

In the end, I was arrested and released after few days on the basis of being too adventure freak, the only thing I remembered was the capsuling eyes and day I left Sikkim.

Rains

Rains

As it rained drops by drops, minute by minute

I continued to see those drops absorb the dryness little by little

I saw the dust settling down, absorbing of being together

I saw the never seen smile and the never seen children on the nearby puddle

I saw the paper boats make way through my feet

As I looked to save the last bit of my dry head from the flowing water from the holes in the shed

Though I don’t associate the similarities of life with rain but associate the loneliness

The loneliness where I don’t see people around I don’t see the love

Maybe it’s associated with my school days, loosing those last few love kisses from grandparents

Losing those last few free time running from shop to another for best stickers

Bounce off from one to another, the thoughts running away from the rain

The last bit rain making me happy again because it’s brings more dryness and love

Last Rays

Last Rays

Just as I surrounded around the last few rays

The last few hopes, the last few dues

The freshness of those self-inflicted wounds burned under those rays

A perfect feel of those cracked space between the wall,

Reminded me, reminded me of her

A perfect disguise of light in shape of her

Dancing down the teachers of evening freshness and tenacity,

I felt her perfume opening my wounds up as the wind gusted through my body

As the rays traveled from exterior to interior, making the floor and then the wall feel of her

I felt like going, going holding it

It’s still simple for me when I am surrounding it

I am surrounding it unable to expand or unable to escape

This ray just belongs to me, me alone

As I now look to escape those myriads of hopeless feed

With each passing day, the rays are less vicious more offering strength

Trapped

Trapped

Feeling trapped under those layers of skins

Under the bonds of anxiety and fear

Under those which were meant to be faith but turned into shackles

Under those which meant go ahead, flow onto your path, but pulled you with the sludge of dirt

All these pulled down the hopes and dreams

Under those suns of lie and wind of despair

He climbed on walked on

Were the world seemed like it would never would have sought any chances for him

Destined to be burned and given to the nature

Where I brought all those cries under control

Can I see those eyes, can I look inside them and say my words, I told them

As I pushed out pushed out of those tiny holes of life

Powerful they were, powerful they been

As I still look through little by little

Little by Little, holding onto my heart

Conundrum of writer

Conundrum of writer

Writing is a clear and concise job, maybe a bit too over observant and over thinker can write a thing in simple words.

Now as a content writer, and with just around four years of experience I have quite little to say that what a writer should write and where.

For me, it becomes a major trouble when I start writing and the client doesn’t love it or in simple terms “We are firing you, and then they outsource my job”. They won’t even agree to the simple fact that content writing is a creative field. My last boss said “I have a great idea go and pick out an article from my competitor’s website. Replace all the words with synonyms.”

Next thing I know I was told to take the print out of all articles that the rival had published. Now how do you replace “Bottom-of- pyramid” approach with synonyms?

Next day I was writing my resignation mail for the second time in six months. Nor I could explain people around me who were busy telling me the compromises they made as a software engineer or my mom telling me “Why writing?” For both of them, I was just an atom bouncing from one substance to other trying to bond with each of them, until they didn’t satisfy my chemical equation.

As I came out of that office, I do feel like going in for creating more content that’s creative in a sense that the reader is satisfied and hungry at the same time.

Well, the uncertainty is my best friend and I hope so it remains the same.

Sprinkled Morning

Sprinkled Morning

The wind was still hard, cold and dry as I kept eyes open trying to concentrate  on the words written. It was a coldest spring morning and the sun was piercing through the flesh with cold winds. The leaves below my feet were dry and had turned pale. I was sitting on one of my most favorite place in this world, from here I can view all of the Pali.

As I walked some more miles out into open on the edge there was an open café looking over the west side jungles and then the sea. You could even see the morning fishermen trying to build the bait on their small boats. As I sat down on the dewy rock looking towards the sky, the spring had brought many migratory birds from the mainland and they turned the sky colorful in the morning.

It was pleasant to be alone during mornings when none can be seen around with people. As I sipped down my third coffee, I kind of imagined the world with people living in during 1930’s in Europe, Ernest Hemingway describing about in in his book “Have or Have Not”. I could hear someone was singing at the top of her voice, disturbing the whole peace of morning and trying to test the echo effect.

The voice disbarred my trance though process as I looked back trying to make out where was the girl really testing out. As I sat their looking towards the far west end of the hill, where she was trying to find her voice. As She looked towards me I waved at her, making it certain that none of those were a dream she was trying to a certain.

As she waved back with her both hands crossing each other at the same time. As we both were the nascent trying to enjoy some of this quite morning.