Fear. Faith. Choice.

The heavens cracked open As you stared into the marvel of ever-changing cloud shapes Arranging and rearranging wonders  Awakening from deep slumbers There the locks her hair  There the cupid’s arrow  There the unicorn’s horn  There the winged chariot of greek philosophers  There…there and there Till no more The parting gesture welcoming the sunlight  You look down and watch your shadow  I remember my friend saying “never look down, keep your head held high, always” Always the light blinding your sight  Or you wished that it happened so  Nonetheless, you look down  To look at other eyes  To look at yourself  What the light could show  Brings you terror  Cracks open hell-fire You stare into the ever-changing flames of desire  Arranging and rearranging wonders  Awakening from deep slumbers  There the veins of his fist  There the hunter’s bow  There the ten horses of Neptune There the blind seers ...

Reiterations of the mantra of the Phoenix My narratives two steps ahead of me Awaiting transgression and transcendence Flight and fall licking every wound Chanting spells of re-enchantment and rejuvenation I fly back on a harmonious scale I fall back on a disharmonious scale With every movement pronouncing a different note , a different rhythm Transgressing the past Transcending the future I stand still as a different me Yet closer to me Transgressing and transcending myself.  

  Since morning, my sister has been talking a lot about  understanding  things. I was puzzled why she would take so much effort, take a flight from another state during these pandemic times with the sole purpose of seeing me. Well, of course, she loves me. Love, of course. For a very long time, I had imagined love is the driving force for everything in this world. So yes, love...of course. She said she needs clarity to find her own path. She said I am the most  lost  person she has ever known. She said it is an irony that she comes to the most  lost  person to find answers concerning clarity and paths, but it is true. She said it is mostly about  understanding . Based on  understanding,  she spoke of stability, of long-term, of certainty, of knowledge, of spirituality, of calmness. Upon such a whirlwind of words, she seemed to be building castles of salvation. This time I did not just speak. I listened to myself as I uttered many words o...

(Moods before the Interview and the Call: Times of anxieties and job hunt scenarios.) The fear of a job that is meaningless to me -  The fear of dollar signs  My room filled with bunch of stuff I don't need. The fear that they may murder my inner romantic -  my soul with eyes of a lover - The fear of feeling stuck  Suffocated, Choked, Dead.  The FEAR of the clock  Tick-tok tick-tok tick-tok - sssshhhh Please let me sleep in peace!  The FEAR of the boxes Cannot keep looking at those boxed buildings Little people in boxes  Doing what they are told  By mysterious powerful forces that all of us hate  But we do what we are told.  The boxes, the order, the system -  Please break them all, make LIFE flow -  Time is not a container Please break the barriers, cross the lines, feel the flow.  And then what? - THE OTHER FEAR NOW Survival.  Dad is retired.  I must be able to earn for myself. I am more than old enough to...

“Are you not weary of ardent ways, Lure of the fallen seraphim? Tell no more of enchanted days ” – James Joyce I kept listening to the Piper’s dream. In the gliding whistles of Northerly winds, over the foamy white crests of swelling waves, within the metamorphosis of every note and beyond with the endless beyond of silvery glitters from above and from endless above of the blushing moon. The veil of dark clouds running towards some unknown edge, now here, now there, now gone, now here again. Silvery tears trickled down and tickled the waters ahead. Gone now! She runs away! The temper accelerates, the tempo rises, waves fall! Are you not weary of ardent ways? There I saw magnanimous unearthly forms! Ah! Fascinating heads rising ahead! The silvery crests of those mighty unicorns! Driven by fury and yet such grace in their flight! Oh Laocoon, here comes the last judgment; the voluptuous rider will terminate the days of the priests! Run Laocoon! Run! Run for your li...

The voices rise and fall. The contemplating soul tunes into the subtle rhythm of those flapping angel wings. They say, "Lend me your ears and know the secrets of the beauty your heart longs for!" Looking out seeking something to quench the same old thirst? Not really. Just a little of something to keep the longing going. Not looking for contentment. Not fulfilment. Not peace. Grasping onto the fangs of longing to keep it pierced within the moving passions that colour my momentary breath. Oh Grace, may I have just a little of something to keep the day going? To bath in miraculous showers of sunrise and sunset, to listen to those breaking waves against the island rocks...? Something to hold on to the bitter sweet bondage of longing? Oh Grace! Keep your glory concealed. Do not uplift that veil completely to blind my sight, let those dark clouds cover that enchanting smile and whisper to me just few letter of those profound secrets. Imprison me with the shackles o...

A side glance at my Hamlet hat Breathing still, stillness in movement Beating still, movement in stillness. In a moment it is known How the gardener had sown; And all at once I am a thought Born from heart. Letters fall in place Knotting the beautiful shoe lace.

Knock on the door. "Can I come in?", she asked. He replied in a deep stern voice, "Of course, not." She laughed, "You are so cheeky!" Pushed him aside. Made her way in. Sunlight always has her ways. 

Up and down To and Fro Swinging then Swinging now. Dusting off. Picking up. Dusting off again. Knock on the door. Postman: "A letter for you." Signed. Delivered. Tore Envelope. Sloppy letters. Read. Up and down To and Fro Swinging then Swinging now. 

Dark stormy night. I felt my own presence most powerfully as my existence was echoed back by the mountains sketching the peirar in the  apeiron. Thunderous ominous clouds gathered around the sky, waiting for every opportunity to collide with one another. It was then that frequent flashes of lightning made worlds collide.  "I am more of a mountain person. For me, it's home here. I don't like the sea. I have never seen the sea in real actually. Never left the mountains. For me, its only about going higher up during trekking times. Ah! I love it here. I think I feel foreign to the sea.", he said in a thoughtful manner, with one palm resting on his right cheek and the other hand left carelessly aloof.  "I am more of a sea person. I love the mountains also. In my world, when the mountains call, the sea responds. They may have different voices or opinions, but they do seem to compliment each other. Sometimes, I hear them resonate too, when agreed on a  single...

A certain amount waits to be transferred to an international account for confirmation of university course acceptance. Apparently crucial for career pursuits. Alarming urgency demanding immediate completion. The student goes to the bank. Fills up all required application forms and provides all documents needed. Two hours gone. Bank officer: The system is not initiating the transfer. Student: Why so? I have done the same thing before and it happened successfully. Bank officer: The system is a little inconsistent, I think. Since today morning, it is not accepting special characters. Student: What do you mean? Which special character is creating such a trouble? Bank officer: The '/' in your home address. Student: It was always there. The system accepted it previously. How is it that since today morning, the particular '/' is getting rejected? Bank officer: I don't know, the system gets moody, I guess. Since today morning, it dec...

Look! There is a feather on the edge of your window! Where? I can’t see any feather there! Shut your eyes. Try to remember. Take a moment more. Open your eyes. Can you see now?  No. I can’t. I wish I could, but I can’t.  Oh! You used to be a bird. You were flying past this window that is decorated by forget-me-not flowers, when you dreamt of becoming a beautiful woman. You dreamt of days when you could sit by the desk facing the window, look at things and people outside and write about all the magical ways of time.  Every single day, you wished the same as you passed by this window. One day, you whispered to yourself the same dream and left a feather of yours by the edge of this window, saying to yourself ‘May you use this feather as your quill the day your dream comes true’.  Now, you can’t remember. Your dreams disappeared with your memories. You can’t even see. You don’t even write. What have you become?  I want to be a bird again. I...