Oblivion

This oblivion. Sometimes it is good.
Many times, like now, it is killing
Like it were alive.
Stabbing and jeering at us. As if we have been enemies since centuries

 

Free of the Stabbing Pain

You know that fancy,
Having a broken glass in hand
Sharp, and striking it through the wrist
Over and over again!

Tearing everything in the path
The threads, the skin, veins
Gushing blood and moments of pain
Counting till the last

Visions of all the was
the knives that stabbed
cups, full of poison
and that helplessness…

And now free, free of everything
Free of all the stabbing pain

 

Blessing in Our Life

Capture

We are told that the ladies who are the easiest to look after are the most blessed.
The question remains, do we treat them as the blessings that they are said to be? Do we treat them as they should be?
Or do we, because of their low maintenance, just neglect their needs?
Because they do not make a fuss and create havoc every time their needs or wishes are not fulfilled, do we overlook their needs? The things that make them happy? The subtle forms of care and love that could overjoy them?
Do we forget doing the things we would for other people because they might just start throwing things in our face? And because these ladies make no such nuisances, do we just ignore them? Take them for granted?
Or for that matter, any person who does not explicitly counter our ways, or do not make extravagant demands, do we take all such people for granted?
Planning things, eating out, conversations, or anything for that matter, any plan, we never consider these “low maintenance, considerate” people.
Is this what someone’s consideration is worth? Is this how they should be treated?

Or are we waiting for them to snap and move away to start looking at them and looking out for them? Or caring for them? And if we do, would it be what keeps them with us? Happy and content?
Or would they have moved too far before we realize they have given up on us?

Condolence

So many times we come across situations, across people to sympathize with. What happened was bad. Destructive! should not have happened. The person may be shattered, maybe in need. Of hope. Of words. Sympathy.

But whatever the events, whatever it was that created havoc, an emotional turmoil, is there anything that can be said to ease the pain? Can we tell a person who lost his guardian that it happened for good? Can we tell a person in pain that it shall be beneficial? Can we tell a person that God is teaching him something and hence the hunger, starvation and the lack of food?

What do we say to people suffering?

Are the condolences, the words all hollow? Devoid of any meaning? Any depth? Mere misused words. Rather, used words…

And some useless condolences. Sympathies!

Ask for Alms!

I was recently travelling back home when an elderly person boarded the vehicle and started talking about his personal miseries, ill health and how he is a father to some 2 ladies. He also mentioned his dearth of monetary resources.

While asking for help, he held out his cap in his hand. A cap. Which is often seen as a symbol of respect and dignity.

What must have befallen this person to openly talk about his misery, ask for alms and even hold out his respect to others? Even knowing the fact that they may as well disrespect the dignity he is putting forth. What must have befallen him to not think about running into an acquaintance or someone recognizing him? Or the cold he must have felt while uncovering and displaying his injuries.

What could it be? What kind of misery? What sorrow? Test?

Path

It was a beautiful day. An amazing company. Shared laughter. While one conversation was leading to another, he asked: “What plans do you have for yourself?” “None”

Plans. Unknowingly he had now touched the raw nerve he talked about a few days earlier. Plans. What she wanted to do with her life. Which direction she wanted to choose. What paths did she desire to walk?

Very few people had bothered about this. Her desire. What she wanted to do with her life. And yet, amongst those few people, her family never featured. It was twice that someone wanted to help her. That the destination had been fixed, so let’s find the path together. Let’s walk together.

There couldn’t have been any sound better than that sentence. “I will show you how to.” And it still remained a mystery to her. Was it her naivety or was the person too convincing? Or was she too desperate to arrive that she drank from all cups offered? Never differentiating, never trying to probe whether it is water or poison.

A part of her did feel poisoned. Cheated. Like being promised of a dessert and getting a toffee. The path promised did exist but it lead elsewhere. Her desire, her dream, her destination was too far from the path she was trodding upon. A part of her always grieved. Maybe she should have probed more. What fun was it walking with people who wouldn’t even understand? Who mocked her? Her passion? What did they know? Had they themselves ever yielded anything from their labor of love? Just how could they?

And here she was, with another hand to take her there. The path seemed better. Familiar. Things she should have been doing for long now, but wasn’t. But a part of her was still hurt. Still afraid. Still wondering where this rendezvous would take her to.

Reflection

Thoughts manifest into reality
the feeling you give out
comes back to thee

Numb, lost, immature
unable to comprehend
what world, emotions
This emptiness!

I sought answers; road to my destination
the burden of questions heaving onto me
attempts to shake off everything
friends with solitude; company!

What would reflect back, I wonder!
Emptiness? Numbness? The answers I seek?
A detailed map to my destiny?
Some moonbeams as company?

The dark veil of moonless nights
Untreatable sleeplessness
Shroud for all the misery

 

For How Long

I had someday, against nature
taken that one step; dreaded
I knew all that could go wrong
impacts, outcome

Nevertheless, I found the courage
for once to risk it all
the reward too lucrative
for once, vulnerability ceased

A surge of courage, strength
a step towards the dreaded journey
Fear, excitement, adrenaline
How does it sound?

Ever witnessed flight of a bird
a broken wing, nearing death?
It breaks into flight, not merely for its sake,
to escape… Alas!

Why didn’t it know its fate?
the flight of a broken wing
How far could courage take
or service of a fake smile?

I repeatedly ask myself
“For how long?”

Tormentor

I sit with him, Ah! the pleasure
His eyes, the way he smiles
chiseled biceps!

He asks, I speak
The trauma at my heart
What is it that keeps poking me

I speak of red,
The spilled colour
The bundle of joy dead on a street

I speak of a bed
Devoid of rest
Haunted by nightmares

I speak of rooms;
Painful, brutal sounds
Electrocution

I speak, unaware
the words incoherent
the ache, constant….

My tormentor, moved to tears
I, unphased, numb
unaffected

Difference

Remember the last time you said mother? Parent? Care? Oh! So much of concern. How you should be aware of their feelings, and how our lives should revolve around them? Remeber saying they should be the centre of our world? The very thing that we should be constantly aware of? Careful of? Mindful of?

Remember saying that our lives should be dedicated to their care, paying them back for what they did for us as children? Remaining indebted and trying to make things even. More out of the intent to repay their favours rather than out of gratitude…

Why could they not understand that gratitude is not always shown by doing as the other asks. Gratitude is not giving someone control over your life. Gratitude is doing something for that other person out of your own personal will. The way you want to.

But when it comes to giving up control and freedom; when they ask to specifically take instructions and do whatever they say, this is not paying back or showing gratitude. This is enslavement. Under the worst pretext available.

There is a great difference between gratitude and slavery.