Brain-sick's Diary #6 | Conundrum

In the lucid smile, there is a not so lucid story.

A story of coming of age… A story so confused in itself to be narrated…

Silence prevails, in attempts to unravel the mystery,

Of looking inside, of looking within.

And what is apprehensible? It’s the outside world…

The world that eyes witness.

Doubt prevails, when eyes assume to have found the truth.

In situations so common, why emotions are anarchical.

Emotions fabricated from love… Emotions fabricated from loss of love.

Silence prevails, in attempts to unravel the mystery,

Of looking inside, of looking within.

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The Lunch Box

The class was as usual decked up with concepts of physics all around. The teacher kept drawing pulleys, and did all the hardship to pull it applying necessary forces, but I was lost somewhere else. Not that I was not interested in physics, and not that I was very much interested in our lady physics teacher like my friends; unlikely I was struck in those words which Priya had for me the day before. 

I was coming out from canteen that day, triumphant about the fact that I managed to buy two samosas. I always failed at it, as I used to give up the fight in the queue-less stampede at canteen each day. School authorities ceased their authoritarian and disciplinary actions at canteen I doubt. As I stepped out from the stampede, trying to wipe of the sauce that spilled a bit on my white uniform shirt, I found Priya standing in front of me. Her innocent eyes looked bleak. I stood there still, and watched her. I never had courage to speak to girls.

I chose to move out, and not to speak to her, as usual this time again. But as I moved past her, she called my name. With a jolt within, my mind capitulated, ‘she knows my name’.

‘Aarush, I had to get samosas, but you see the crowd there at the counter.’

‘Hmmm? Umm… Oh… I see’, this was all that I replied.

‘Do you know anyone there in the crowd at the counter? If you know, then please hand over this money to him.’

‘Actually… I don’t know anyone there. They are not from our class’, I said. ‘By the way, how many… Umm… how many samosas do you want?’ I added some more with my voice almost afraid to come out.

‘One’, she chirped.

‘You see, I have already had my lunch. I wanted one samosa too, but the counter guy didn’t have change so he gave me two.’

‘Would you like to have… I mean if you like, the one from mine?’, and as I said it seemed my heart would come out from my chest.

‘You are not hungry?’ she asked.

‘No. I had my lunch from the tiffin my mom prepared for me.’

She looked at me with her face showing her hesitation. She moved in order to pick one, but retraced her steps soon. She looked at me again. This time she smiled wide, and then she broke into laughter. It was a feeling so heavenly to watch her laugh; she was so beautiful.

She moved forward and picked one samosa, ‘Thanks’, she said.

While we snacked, she kept talking. She said that her mother was sick. And so she didn’t let her cook for the school tiffin. She would take the meal from school canteen, she had assured to her mother.

‘It would be two-three days more like this; I would have to come to canteen.’

‘Hmm…’, this was all that I could reply along with my smile.

And the other day, when I was in class waiting for the period to end, with all my attention towards Priya and the talk that we had, there was something cooking inside my head too. Just before five minutes from tiffin break, I asked my teacher for an excuse to let me go to washroom, with my constipated face at her disposal. My facial expression inferred to her that she had no choice left but to allow me.

I came out of classroom, and rushed to the canteen.

Priya came ten minutes later. She waited at the canteen gate; probably she was looking for someone in the crowd who might help her buying the meal. I went near, and from her back I called her name. She turned, and saw me standing, with both my hands holding a plate with two samosas. I bought one for her, and one for myself.

‘Hey. Did you leave the class with an excuse for samosas?’

‘Yes’, I said energetically.

‘Why didn’t you buy two for each one of us?’ she inquired.

‘You have one, and I will have one too. And then we will share from my tiffin. I had asked my mom to give more food today. I explained that as your mom was sick, so…’ And then I smiled.

What all followed next till the present day is something which I will not pen down here. But, let me share something special with you all. I and Priya are getting engaged on 27^th of April this year. The ceremony is going to held at my residence; GA 25, White Lake, Kolkata. You all are invited. (smiles)

"I am participating in the #DilKiDealOnSnapdeal activity at BlogAdda in association with SnapDeal."

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Healed into a Flower...

Love is auspicious. May be it is, or maybe I don’t know about it. But there was a time when I used to think about it strongly. I believed love would flutter its wings and take me to the fairyland. I knew of a fairy who lived there. Be it day, or night, my dreams would be occupied with my fairy in it. An angel whose beauty makes everyone jealous of, she would smile and happiness would start to flow. When she speaks, it muses the heart and soul of every person that exists on this earth. From the chippering of birds in the morning sky, to songs of nightingale at night, all of them seemed lighter in contrast with the voice of that fairy. And that fairy was mine. So foolish of me to think this now, but then it was not at all a joke for me. She was in my class. And I would sit beside her, always smiling for her, because she complimented that I look world’s cutest when I smile.

‘Rohan, it has been two years now, I see you as a kid. You haven’t grown up. You are still that school going child. I cannot live with a kid.’ 

It was my first year in college, and she called me to say all these. We were not together; I mean I had to go to college in a different state, while she stayed in her hometown. The physical absence of ours also started to make the space for love shorter between us. Love? I doubt if I should say this. I learned about it later that she was already having an affair with other boy from our school. She made excuse about me having a kiddish temperament. And I suppose he had all the manly traits, which certainly I missed.

‘Ok. If you are happy with this, its fine. I don’t have anything to say in it then.’ Tears rolled down my face as I spoke this to her.

‘It was not love Rohan, it was just that you were a good friend of mine. I dont think I love you the way I should. It’s not love Rohan.’ May be she was right. May be I was solely wrong. 

It was too much of turbulence inside me. I wanted to cry out loud. But I had determined that I would not go back to her again. I would look forward, and bring the change in myself, and do good for my grades that were falling down. I was in the second semester at college, almost towards the end of my first year of B-tech, when I came to know of blogging. It’s said that with all the adversities, sometimes chords set themselves to play a tune right. I started to blog. I expressed from the core of my heart, each and everything. Initially, I may have been perceived as a sadist, but slowly as the wound healed, so did the pain in my words. I started to write articles, short stories, based on various themes.

I don’t consider myself as a blogger, or a writer. But yes, I found a way out from the infliction that I went through and brought out a way to help myself. It’s been almost four years now of my blogging. I happily accept that my decision to start a blog has helped to know myself better.

A wonderful video from housing.com :

I was inspired to write this post by housing.com's activity about 'Start A New Life'

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Chronicles of a Mermaid

Down the waves of Mediterranean

From the blissful eden land underneath

Went forth a mermaid

Above the trauma of the surface.

Taking hold of my hand

Salvaging me from the swirl of ogre

She led my mislaid consciousness 

Into her arms of trustiness.

In the blushed state borne in my smile

I prompted a question

Are you the one, the princess Silken?

In the strobe of divine light she egressed

She carried me somewhere

Out of blindness I wasn’t aware.

Who is she?

Is she the one my voyage was meant for?
...

My lips folded, and eyes partially lit

Tried to whoop the acquaintance 

My senses recollected bit by bit

But not before she stooped

And caressed her nose with mine.

The heiress of those sweetest smiles,

Yes! The lonely fairy she was;

The Princess of the sea!

The sea which inhabits all variants of life

So does she patronize my life sedately.
...

In thorns of seclusion, in deprivation from love,

My heart promised me of your existence

I never paused for a moment 

Being affected in perils of aloofness.

I have sailed through the Pacific

The bedlam of dilapidated emotions

Just to meet you; to be with you hereafter…

Sealed in her kiss

She blew life into me, heal to my injuries

And the storm calmed into bliss.

Entwined in embrace of love

Together we departed for the Promised Land.


Image Courtesy : Google Images Search

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A Kid Has Died...

Love is a feeling which can make you do things beyond your imagination. Even if you are creeping into disguise, you won’t notice it clearly before your eyes, as they lie veiled beneath LOVE.
While some take love seriously, others treat it like a game where they should try their hands too. This post is an imagination by me about one such kid, who faced mishap from his mate.

In a cottage at my nearest 

A wicked spell has outraged

Gulped into the darkness of underworld

Infancy of a kid has got caged.

As came the demonic blow of Satan,

The angelic cosmos; tranquil & serene,

In a wink of eyes they all have faded.

Fantastical characters locked inside dolls

Are lying crushed; dead in terrain of remorse.

Anthology of knitted stories held on the shelf

Has fallen off the walls of hope

Cascade of pages have come out

Sucked into the whirlpool of hatred.

Clinking of bells have stopped

Brewing is stillness

A frightening awe has evolved.

Out of scare frozen in my spines

I hurried to shut close my window

But before, a tattered note came flying inside

Inscribed in red: 'my love'
I recognized the kid’s handwriting.

With a jolt of dread, senses riposted

I woke up with pounding heart affrighted.

A nightmare?

Pearls of perspiration rolled off my lobes

Hue and cry prevailed in air

I heard through the window,

'A kid has died'.

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The Journey...

Its album ‘Passions’ by Ghazal Maestro, Late Shree Jagjit Singh, playing on my computer while I am typing this. And the lyrics is conforming with emotions once I had. It was my first semester break, and I was going back home, in Gujarat. I had tried to cage my emotions within sheets of my notebook, somewhere which remains in its hideous isolation now.Then, I was different, from what I am now. At least I had tears, and I could spill them when I needed. Now even after million tries, I don’t get any. I wish, if I could feel light, bursting out from the complex lockage in my brains.

I was travelling alone, and I talked with myself all through the journey. And the reciprocation of turbulence of thoughts was imprisoned within certain pages. I stopped by at those pages today, while I was tearing them off before putting them on fire. And the pages read :

I sit still, and scenes through my window ‘pass’ by. 

Like projection of memories on walls, 

Glimpses of my existence in them pass by.

The distant horizon moves with me, like the ultimate goal in my life. 

Hills and its ranges, terrain rough and sprawling solitude pass by.

I watch as a viewer, terrains where I had been. 

Scraped pieces of my loneliness, my jobless thoughts in them pass by.

Rivulets in their topsy-turvy curves, 

Meeting and dividing; behold my soul. 

Kinships I had and pain of their losses pass by.

Away from solitude, my eyes snap at commotion,

As the city in energy passes by.

Of all few causes that put us down,

Million reasons to rise and smile pass by.

The obstinacy to laugh, promises to shine pass by.

The shine is in our goal, and the journey is our road to shine.

I still still, and scenes through my window pass by.

I close my eyes slowly,

Dazzles of glistens, sparks of enticement,

Fervor in my goals ‘waltz’ by.

Image Courtesy : Google Images Search

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Detest

/* This post conveys feelings of a boy who spent lonesome days and nights... He was stranger to his own assets until the time a girl comes into his life, and makes him realize of what he was blessed with. Boy believed her words to be true, and her support pushed him towards wonderland.
But at the end he finds how she cheated upon him, hollowed him on every instance. She explains her reasons and asks for forgiveness... But how can the boy forgive? */

I ambled solely, none I accompanied, my shadow tailed behind. With Angel Falls’ beauty, you stepped across me. Without a hint, your shadow eclipsed mine and mingled. Our footsteps trailed where I led them to.
With arrival of the darkest hour, your footsteps diverged from mine, like the way your shadow vanished. You blamed the darkness.
Can I forgive? How Can I?

As trees swung, few notes I mumbled. Birds affirmed me and sky adorned with sprinkles. You clarified my mumbles to be my poetry, and perseverance you embellished around me. The harp tuned aloud, and tattered notes conjoined into a song.
When thunder arrived, birds ascertained it’s my song that called it. But I waited for your reaction. You were deaf you said.
Can I forgive? How can I?

I hopped around, rumbled and jumbled. In my clothes soiled, I was clumsy with dust and carried limited attributes of tastes. You were different as you presumed, that I am covered with musk, with tastes of delectable pulps.
But the next spring seized you far away. It’s the extent of beauty in the other garden you said.
Can I forgive? How can I?

In the empty space inside me, on my left, you found home for yourself. Giggling and twittering, kept me perked up. But with every happiest moment I saw, your mitts swept away all that was mine. You weaponized Love against me, hollowed the shell, and broke its sculptured torso.
You have established your new suite at someplace.
And you want me to forgive. But how can I?

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The Photo frame

The frame allures,

Windowed bafflement oarlocks me

Sick shredded stitches bothers again

And bespeak our love alive.

Your eyes were my dearest

Chasteness! 

With astuteness of ocean

Chaplets of sparkles existed,

Adored with passion in your eyes.

My hand blockades before the frame

But how would my heart?

Your fingermarks perch there;

They are costliest, I dare not botch.

I only entice to your call;

The call you make through the frame.

And your eyes clout me

In your lonesome photo I have.

Out of my clutches,

Memories are mellowed on the photo frame.

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Forget Me Not

"You are in my every wish. Your essence lies in every prayer that I make. In the ocean where I am drowning alone, tears with your names in them lie blended. The rising tides and falling health doesn’t disassemble my love, my love for you. You still pulsate in my veins with a rhythm that has always fascinated me. The deepness in your eyes still overpowers my visions and prevents me to face the reality; the reality, in which your fingers don’t fill spaces between mine; the reality, which you chose to gift me with. And in this reality too, mirrors reflect me as the one which I used to be years back. Only innocence I have lost, my child in me I have lost…Our child we have lost."

"I don’t blame you, I blame me. I blame the God who diverted our paths in a way that our journey became different. I blame the flowers that sucked our emotions from us. I blame that jealous breeze which couldn’t synchronize with the melody that our conversations used to bring. I blame that rainbow which shied from the vibgyor our smiles created together after we ended our quarrels. And I blame those every moment which envied me and fought with me, carried away you so far; so far that I am afraid to consider if we will ever meet again." 

"This day owns a snap of yours in me, in a corner of my heart which is invincible. My lifeline runs through those veins whose walls have impressions of that snap. The air I breathe circulates and preserves your belongings inside me. I continue to live for I have promised few memoirs that I will make things better; those things that weren’t at place earlier which made us part. I have to contemplate; I have to succeed those paths I wasn’t aware of earlier. Your lost possessiveness for me gives me strength, and I move on. I move on to be a man that you would have thought I must be. And I pray for your wellbeing, for your happy sun gleaming. This day is special for me, because you were meant to be a part of me…always!"




-An Imaginary Cloud's note that was dying to burst

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SCATHE

In your stream of meanings, my being in them has changed. In fake hives where your verity lies, your words for me have changed.

Your bare hands I used to hold, tender and soft, in my bask cajoled. In young gloves of perfidy, yours hold on mine has changed.

For grooves in your hair brown, new fingers you have arranged. In shade of blue in your eyes, impressions of mine black have changed.

In all these time skips, trend on your lips, for my name has changed. Beats for me, the place for me in your heart has changed.

Honey! I am still the same; a harebrained, your lover insane. Every knock on my heart sees you, your existence unchanged.

My arms still lie open, to have you back in them. My lungs lie dormant with smoke, looking for your breathe to inhale, to grasp your love unchanged.

I care not where you have reached; I am still there where you left. I am waiting for you in my life deranged, caressing my angel, in your photo unchanged.

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The Butterfly

On an ivory shade with some brown threaded marks; masked is my body meek and weak, popped out into two bright wing arcs.

And on my wings azure, lie mustered shapes and some tiny little dots; some lucid little hills and some round yellowish sprouts.

I never knew how I looked and what amativeness I had, until you came into my life with my image in your blue eyes clad.

I surmise my colors are no more blazoned; I haven’t seen myself since you had left, my charm left too with my mirror embossed on your eyes pinioned.

Now in the silence of my solitariness few chirruping I hear; what do they say, I can’t make out its meaning neither you can hear it clear.

On dry tongue of mine your sweetness is still alive; a flavor not to forget from our nibbling kisses; the scent of your embrace around my life.

How we lived together is a distant memory dainty; my hold on you and yours on mine; exchange of our gestures in doziness of wine.

Nowhere to live I have now but in memories of you, and in all those moments where we were together-a colored me & a colored you.

Lie they say that the most beautiful I am, nature’s worthy gift & spring’s charm I am; Truth I say that without you a dead musk I am, a bleached spot with no shine I am.

And before I die, a glimpse of yours I need; my last breath shall be the aroma of my love, of my lovely butterfly.

(©) ANSHUL GAUTAM'S

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I Found A Lonely Me...

Feeble dimmed steps,

Irradiated my eyes

Quilt’s beneath;

Awakened me

From lust in ream,

And broke the infatuated dream.

I moved to see,

I heard some heart throbs;

I found a lonely me.

It looked like day;

Or may be moonlight,

I say.

Fog with desire,

Impounded with ire,

Showed its love,

On my glassy window;

Their sexual intimacy,

Was there at show;

Passion in their cosmos,

Which I couldn’t mow.

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