Maybe it makes me strong; maybe it doesn't

"Love makes you strong; it makes you powerful". 

He said last night.

His words resonated in my ears like a shrieking yelp heard at the farthest end of a solitary street on a cold November night.  I looked into his eyes long and hard, gathering whether he really meant it. I looked into his soul, grasping for something to hold onto, tried to touch his words with my faltering gaze. 

He looked determined. He looked sure. He knew what he had said.

Suddenly I felt something crumble.

‘It is an act of rebellion against others. Others who were closer to you before that one person came along. It is a statement of strength; it liberates you from the shackles of some sort. And that is a threat to others, which is why it must be concealed and not spoken of.’  

Inside me, deep within the confines of the empty rooms in the house of my imagination, someone was constantly breaking dishes in a domestic brawl. The shouting echoed through the house, rattling everything it touched.  

One of those moments, when seconds look like centuries and everything you hold, everything you want, and everything you worked for – just disappears into thin air. Looking it was never there; looking like it didn’t exist and suddenly, you find yourself, on the wrong side of the fence.

I gather courage to mutter, first under my breath and then in flesh; ‘But love makes you weak… It never makes you strong.’

He seemed confounded. Perhaps he didn't know what was going on inside my head. Of course he didn’t know, how could he. He looked into my eyes, his turn this time. And replied, almost as quickly as my the first words he spoke. ‘But it does make you strong and powerful, of course it does. To the world, it does.’

I wanted to tell him. And suddenly I was lost for words. I felt foolish. Having felt all this in a few moments, and being unable to speak, my hands folded and my lips pursed; my mind gushing in a tornado of doubts.

Picking up ends to start from, writing a conversation in that brief moment of reprisal, acquiring courage somehow, fully aware of my receding defences, I went on.

‘Do you think sitting here in front of a man, who hardly knows what goes inside my head, confessing my love, planning a life ahead and doing things selflessly and unconditionally, makes me strong?’

He looked on incredulously as I moved my lips, as convincingly as I could.

Do you think claiming my unconditional love, denuding my emotional skeleton in front of another human, unaware and uncertain about how it falls down on your senses, do you think that gives me power? Do you think talking about spending a life with you, asking you if you really wanted to, imagining and planning day and night, putting up with every little doubt, every little insecurity and praying everything stays the same, that makes me strong?’

Realizing how his little act of rebellion had subverted the status quo in this equation, he fell quiet. Smiled, signaling the lack of an appropriate, more befitting gesture, looked over his shoulder and asked the waiter for another drink.  

the little things that matter

The little things that matter.  

Naivety that surrounds. Little things that make you think your life is beautiful and the  little things that can break your heart into a million pieces. 

Love. The little thing making life miserable, tiresome but also beautiful in a painful parasitic way. Magic. That surrounds. 

Music. That plays. 

Everything. The touch of the skin, the flesh and the bones, the consonance of the minds, the words spoken, unheard and understood, the sounds piercing and slithering. It’s a grand delusion, a grand narrative of a grander narrative.  

The touch of a lover, the kiss of the those lips, the caress of those hands and the strength in those arms, the skin meeting skin, the running in each other feeling.. everything. What is it if nothing but a mass delusion. Seeing things that don’t exit, feeling things that never existed and standing up for things that are really worthless.  The tingling feeling in your back, in your hands, the throbbing your blood vessels, the death of your legs and the vegetative state of one’s brain, the constant and a majestic desire to overcome.

Overcome what stops. Overcome what lacks. Overcome what doesn't matter. Overcome what matters. Overcome that one must. The darkness in yourself, filled with much more darkness… the cynicism, the tears, the heart break. Everything, but hopeless. The heart break, the thinking ‘it’s over’. When it isn't  and it sometimes it wouldn't. putting your heart off your sleeve, caging it in a jam bottle and then being unable to open it because you’re a woman. 

Emotions that are suppressed and understood to be dead. Emotions that maybe don’t really exist. The feeling of that caress, of holding a hand, kissing it and wanting to be with it forever. the headache that remains, the throbbing that doesn't go for a long time after the love has been expressed and consumed. The love that consumes, love that burns, love that is passionate, love that maybe isn't what it is, love what is it after all. Love why does it even matter, love, that you want, love that he wants. Love that he doesn't understand and the love you understand, love that he feels, and love that you don’t feel. Drug. It’s a drug. But not like LSD, it’s the one that cures an illness without making you more ill, but makes you dependent nonetheless. Love. Is it you?

‘Love me tender, love me true’ Or maybe still, don’t love me at all. Or perhaps, love me like never before. Look back, and look, love me again. Love me once, love me for all. Love me now love me forever. Love me in light, love me in dark, hold my hand, walk with me, maybe don’t love me at all. Listen to this song and kiss me, maybe love me now. Another day another year, but forever. This day and the days to come, this year and the years to come. All the time, maybe never.  

Read more »

Hello, Me.

Its been a long since I stumbled here. After a while I started taking it as some kind of forbidden territory. A place that was haunted. Haunted by the ghosts I created out of smoke and fire. I envied the place because I couldn't speak. Tongue-tied. Everything that it stood for - or it could have stood for - is lost. And why be that, I have no clue. So why am I back in the house I left so long ago? Maybe because the ghosts of the past never really left the shadow that followed me. I would walk for ages, for ages, without reaching a destination. A conclusion. I know the journey is long and tiresome, but I will walk. For as long as I must.

What matters and what doesn't. What is transitory and what isn't. Why must it be so. The first step is the hardest. Hard it is, but also impossible. For once and all, I would step out. The dark blue sky that hangs over my shoulders like fish hang on metal hooks. I would stare around for a while, look at this bright, bright light and conclude, this is not it. Then I would walk again. For a while, until I see him crossing my path again. I'd mumble an abstract idea: Hello, its a beautiful day today. He would listen, cross my path and step out. I'd stand there for a while, look around, see the fish on hooks one more time and run. I'd run far and long. I'd run for as long as I can. I'd look back and the world would run with me. The mud would glue under my feet, I'd run still.

The meadows I passed, the rivers I crossed, the mountains I climbed, the air I breathed, the fire that burned me, will bear witness to me. I was there. Yes, I was. Who can say how long it took me? The ideas that floor my head, pour out of the window like trash, stick to my eyelashes like dust and leave my skin. What would it be if it was not this? Would it be any different? Would it be any better? Sometimes when your eyes have had too much exposure, they burn. They burn with such fire you could boil an egg with it.

Still Walking

I’m not the same now.
Every blow leaves me eternally injured.
Every drop of blood is draining the soul out of me.
It will be okay they say, but I see the shell turning into a thin sheet of palpable vapors. The vapors irritate my eyes as I sit here. The nascent creation of this twisted mind leaves scars for the blues, greens and reds of this imagery have blinded me.
I see no more in myself the love and affection that you desire. Tears burn my cheek when I think of you, your love has melted the hardest of hearts in me but its not enough; for it never is.
Leave me.
For this love only makes me cry more of numbness. As you say those three words your voice’s bruised the life in me. It reminds me of my sudden fall when the blue sky was all I wanted. Now the sun in your eyes chars me and the clouds leave me drenched in the regrets of yesterday.
Either way your love could make all the difference.
Don’t tell me what’s wrong for I know there’s nothing left in here…

In His Memory

The night had fallen, the stars were bright, and the full moon glowed against black background sprayed with white shadows. The moonlight shone on her as she lay in bed, thinking about him. A year had passed but to her their first kiss, first dance and first touch seemed just like yesterday. She remembered the hollowness in her stomach, the dryness of her throat and the emotions in her eyes when he first danced with her. He had made her feel beautiful, special and being with him brought her into the blinding spotlight which shone on her only.
The moonlight from her window reminded her of the feeling, the sensation that holding his hand brought on her. He had held her so close and danced to the blues and jazz that she couldn’t erase from her mind. His eyes became instantly, the reflection of her, his stare was piercing her heart as he swayed her on the wooden floor. The world seemed to have frozen, the times stopped for that moment, and all that she heard in the clamor of clattering shoes was her own heartbeat ; racing like a horse gone wild, the sea gone restless.
She was shrouded by the feeling that his gaze brought on her, the hour of separation, she thought, will never come for she had, in the most secret of her thoughts, immortalized the moment forever. She fell in love with him in the very moment he held her in his arms and swung her around. She had fossilized the feeling in the deepest darkest folds of her memory. She knew it was inexplicable for words were too scant to express the feeling buried in her heart.
Tonight as she lay alone under the moonlight and the shining stars, she felt cold and just the thought of being with him again brought a shiver down her spine, hollowness in her stomach, the lifelessness in her feet and that euphoric night under the yellow lights. Just by the thought of it.
Soon the hour of separation arrived and she didn’t feel it even for a minute that the pain of separation will over shadow her and will bring tears to her eyes. She never imagined this, for these few minutes seemed to have spanned for centuries; she was unable to measure the depth of her love and the longing in her heart. She felt incredulous as he kissed her and went out through the door. Never to come back for from then on he lived in her memory, haunting the empty spaces and the nothingness in her.

So it was the hour of separation that deciphered the intensity of her love for that man. She could not still forget his last words; the words which brought back life and form in her. The words that she was still living with and the words that became the dénouement of her life, of her self and this short time she spent with this beautiful stranger who immortalized himself in her, he was someone that remained hidden in the deepest bowels of her soul, he was a thought a feeling, a sensation, a perception that made her understand the meaning of this world, and its essence, love. ‘Dans le veritable amour c’est l ame qui envellope le corps’ in his strong moving voice he uttered ‘in true love it is the soul that embraces the body’.

let's forget it..

forget what's right and wrong
playing this game
hasn’t taken anyone
anywhere

lets just forget
the words and the tears
lets just don’t
say anything

follows a battle between
needs and wants
they say its not worth it
forget it

its no good and
its no harm
lets just forget
the rights and the wrongs

I ask myself of the oblivion
the echo is empty and
sudden
ever heard a heart breaking?


lets just forget
the emptiness
and move on
to the greener pastures

where the silver lining
awaits us both
following the same road;
we have different destinations


lets just forget
the unsaid words
the heartache
and the sighs

lets ask ourselves
like we did before
lets ask ourselves
once again,
what's left in here?

lets just forget
everything
lets just forget
the sorrow

lets just
put on smiles
and walk
on the roads, winding.

lets just
forget
that it isn’t worth it.

The End

She sat there motionless, waves of the restless blue sea came lashing at the beach. She stared into oblivion; the unending blue waters gave her a strange feeling; something was missing. Pathos of the past was visible in her deep black eyes, her smile had faded and her tears had dried up. She had been tied up in a complex mixture of her feelings, her emotions and herself. A void, she felt, had been creeping since that day. It wasn’t her fault, she remembered. It was the same sunny day on the very same beach where she had stood her hands folded, once again, staring into eternity: the same blue waters. Sun was shining with all its grace, the flowers were fresh and the aroma of early evening on a beach still lingered in her thoughts, a perfect spring day: she had thought.

She could still feel her delicate feet sauntering on the soft moist sand, her hair was tied into an elegant bun, and the frills of her dress were swaying to the tunes of the wind. The dulcet melodies of the restive sea were firmly embedded in her mind; no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t manage to forget that day. That fateful evening which had changed her perception of life that lay ahead her.

He walked down to the cliff with all his charisma and graces, his demure personality was one thing dying for, he walked beside the sand castle she had made, and came nearer. He looked into her eyes, smiled to her innocence and surrendered. He came nearer and suddenly turned away hesitantly
‘I’m sorry; I cannot be what you want me to be… I just can’t be your dream. Even the words sound unreal. Do you remember how we had dreamed of the life that we would spend together? Jane, I can not. Please forgive me. I have to go.’

If anything that mattered to Jane after what she had lost in the years gone, it was him.
He had been everything to her… everything. She couldn’t think of parting with him, he was someone she had been waiting all along. Every tear that she had shed for an unseen wonderful stranger it was him. How could he leave her like that? She questioned herself, her existence, him and her God.
There was no answer, she knew, the fear that had lingered in her since the day she had met him had come true. She couldn’t believe herself. All the times that they had spent together were swirling in front of her eyes when a tear burned her cheek…

She couldn’t speak, words disappeared from her mind. She was blank; emotionless she stood there like a monument which had been sculpted entirely out of the thin, unpredictable sand. She stared at him while the water wet her feet bringing her back from the dream she was living in and making her see that, he wouldn’t stay.
‘Why?’ she finally spoke… the cold air irritated her as she turned to gaze, once again into eternity.
He bowed her head still holding her tight by shoulders. He knew he had no answer; it was fate that had brought them together and the same that would part them. He stole a sight from her eyes, his heart racing fast, and mumbled ‘I… am sorry’

She looked at him with shock and disappointment ‘why?’ she spoke, losing her voice somewhere between the real and the unreal.
‘How could you? Why are you leaving me?’ she wept like a child waiting for a kind word, a hug... And love.

He let go of her, turned to the other side and walked back to the cliff. She knelt down beside the sand castle, watched him going back to where he had come from and when he disappeared she looked again at her sand castle. It had been swept away by the sea. She knew he had left her alone and incomplete.

thru the secret window

It’s a fancy world I live in; a world which is real and unreal, an assumption of an incomplete faith, a disturbance in the silent lake. I look up to the sky, I search for guidance, and a quiet prayer I offer and hope that it’ll be answered. I look up to the sky, bow my head in front of the granite wall, its rough, and its uneven, tiny granules of emeralds are embedded like tiny particles of the translucent dreams, dreams I’m not too sure if I belong to…the granite wall glances down on me with a strange affinity, an unknown relation and inquiring eyes…

A nebula disturbs my granite sky, it comes as an unwanted ripple in the silent lake, the granules secede, and my faith dwindles and before I snap out of the self created fantasy world, I see the tiny colorless droplets from the granite wall, granules have split, the wall has shattered, and I walk out of the secret window into the real, scarlet sky.