"Brutes"

Cold, detached and heartless, these are the characteristics of not only vampires. I don’t know why they are alone categorized into “the beings of the dark”, when there are people out there harboring such qualities. I don’t know any vampire but I am well aware of the existence of human beings that are in competition of being worst than them. Elaborating on the subject I would like to shed more light on the characteristics of these kinds of people. Pretending to be highly sophisticated they look like pigs in cashmere coats, present in the world only to add on to its obscenity. I pity them because they are human beings only for the namesake; otherwise they are miles away from anything that is human.

                  Let us call these people “brutes”. Love, relationships, bonding, warmth, all these words don’t exist in the vocabulary of our “brutes”. They are so detached from feelings and emotions that they can never have the chance to experience the pleasure or the ecstasy that one gets when one knows what is it to be a human being and values it. No calamity or catastrophe has any effect on “brutes” because they are heartless. They enjoy being alone because they have never known what it is to be amidst your own people. Professing the principle of cleanliness, they are devoid of the most exuberating human touch. They don’t know what power a human touch has. They may consider themselves to be above everyone else. They may feel proud in not having any “fickle” human experiences but according to me there lies the tragedy of their lives. 

my syllabus

Belonging to an age where everything is gloomy, where nothing is there to look forward to I am surrounded by the writers assigned in my syllabus that punctuates already heavy atmosphere with there sadist thinking. I am sitting with a hot bottle, a cup of tea and a question in my mind that why the hell Orwell has taken so much pains to add our pains through his writings in already painful and hellishly cold lives of ours. No doubt that he is a great writer and a great thinker but what does he wants to prove through his novel 1984. His views on politics and political terms are not detaining any political party or political leader from not doing so then why did he spend his last years wasting on such a work. Here is not the end of my misery there are many other writers as I mentioned above, then let me elaborate my statement a little. There is a paper in our syllabus called “criticism” where we have writers divulging in criticizing each other. Now why should we read them? What they are teaching us that we should pen down are thoughts in never ending sentences. On the other hand is Harold Pinter, and his “birthday party”, so gloomy is the setting and everything in it that you seem to collapse the moment you reaches the end of it.

                     Summing up, I would say that there writings have shown that there is no escape in the world, that you are stuck in a planet that is deprive of anything good or inspiring or imaginative. Whose fault is that. I wont say that these writers are to be blamed who have excelled in their genres and I will be perfectly dumb if I would do that. Their writings represent perfectly the dark future after the two world wars. The needle of criticism is on the people who have decided our syllabus without using any brains. With the odd selection of our syllabus they have denied us a perspective of looking at the brighter side of this world and to feel at least a little proud to be humans.

From the Window..

With a little lamp by my side.

With a little book before my eyes.

The chirpings of the birds, I hear.

The whistle of the milk man, I hear.

From the window, where I am sitting.

I see my grandma knitting.

The world seems to be at peace.

As a cup of tea is seized.

The dance of colors is seen.

With the sun rising in the scene.

Beauty is everywhere, I thought.

As I see my horse in the field trot.

Just LOVE...

Through the silk night to the rose petal dawn.
I saw the lingering smile on his lips.
The silence around us
And warmth inside us
Chased away all our fears and doubts.


Through the window we saw the valley
And the sun blushing behind the hills.
Through the window we saw the river
And felt the ripples in our hearts.


Time and reality were shut out.
Voices of others were turned down.
Nothing existed between us.
Neither god nor Satan.
Just love, love and love.

Fulfilled Wish...

In the pouring rain, I was standing

Blinded with rage, I was standing

Rejected by all and dejected by all.

Secretly wanting her happiness.

Secretly wanting her to be safe.

All the way, never wanting her to want me.

Fighting inside to stay away from her.

Fighting inside to let go off her.

But when her arms held me to her

But when her heart beat was felt by mine.

The walls were broken down.

The chains were broken away.

Her acceptance of me.

Her love for me,

Brought all that was locked up away.

Brought all that was dead in me.

I got the purpose of my life.

The reason to live, laugh and love again.

UnFulfilled Wish..

 As the sun was retracing,

The hesitancy was increasing.

The chill was descending.

Her rose like cheeks were crimsoning.

As i stood before her,

I remember her sleeping cozily in her room.

I remember the curves of her lips as she laughs.

I remember the little pearl like tear falling down.

From the eyes that has all the kindness of the world.

Today she was close.

Close enough to make me feel,

For centuries that I have never felt:

The beating of my heart.

I stand before her now.

The little wrinkle over her forehead,

Was because she got scared of me,

But I believed it to be out of care.

With everything inside me melting,

I said what I shouldn’t have,

And what I should have.

Wanting nothing in return,

But her ears to listen.

Everything was said without an utterance.

Everything was felt within the moment.

“god I wish you don’t have to forget this. But you do.”

The tear fell from the eye.

Erasing all that was created.

Erasing all that was ever dreamt.

SomeTimess...

Sometimes it is better to close the book, 
Sometimes it is better to close the book,
Sometimes it is better to sit back and muse,
Sometimes it is better to be careless.


And let the things go unnoticed,
And let the heart fly high,
And let the mind breathe easy.


Sometimes it is better  to conquer,
Sometimes it is better to let go of everything,
Sometimes it is better to yell,
Sometimes it is better to jump.


And let the soul free,
And let the self free from all fears,
And let your lips hum a tuneless tune

Sometimes it is better to sit back and muse,

Sometimes it is better to be careless.

And let the things go unnoticed,

And let the heart fly high,

And let the mind breathe easy.

Sometimes it is better  to conquer,

Sometimes it is better to let go of everything,

Sometimes it is better to yell,

Sometimes it is better to jump.

And let the soul free,

And let the self free from all fears,

And let your lips hum a tuneless tune

Bread, Butter and Tea

Under the bowl of the blue sky,

  when we sit and muse.
A cup of tea with bread butter fills our empty plates.
Together we dip and sip and dip and sip.
Together we share our ups and downs, highs and lows.
As the yummy bread and butter dissolves in our mouth
our differences and distances dissolves in our couch.

A Love Story..

Through the thousands pieces of her heart

She sees the broken image of her soul

So pure and innocent she was

So naïve and noble she was

A girl fresh like a new rosebud

Unknown of the various vices and viles of this plastic world,

Smilingly she went into the brutal world,

 With her dreams laden eyes

With her little fantasy world.

 Once she met a young boy

Troubled and muddled was he in this world

Listening to all his worries, she became weak

“I will bring happiness back in his life” decided she

“I will make him love again” professed she.

Tiptoeing into his life, she pricked all the thorns

To make him happy, she sacrifised all her norms

She became his angel and he became her god.

Gradually their world became one.

Gradually they become one.

But one day came the lucifer,

Disguised in the name of wellwisher,

“I will kill the love between them”, planned he.

Whispered he in the ears of the boy “your love is not possible”

Murmered he in the dreams of the girl “your love is not pssible”

“maybe you are right”, thought the boy.

“you are a devil”, thought the girl

“I have sown the seeds of doubt my dear lady” said the devil

Laughing cunningly he coiled in the heart of the boy

Now all what the boy spoke was “our love is not possible.”

Everything came down shattering.

Their love , their dreams and their world.

All her prayers and tears and wailings failed.

As Gods became deaf to the breaking of her heart,

To the shattering of her dream

To the tattering of her soul

And now by the god’s grace.

All she is left with are the broken images of soul,

which once was so pure and innocent,

which once was so naïve and noble.

LIttle Kashmir

  

Once this was the land where my home was.

Through the window of my room,

The fragrance and sunrays used to come and caress me

Every morning I used to play in the lap of Abu chacha.

“Kashmir is our home janaki”. He used to say

“Its beauty and peace will enrich us forever”. Proudly he said

But one day the valley of my dreams was burnt.

One day we were turned out from our home.

Our own people were out with fire in eyes.

Wailings and tears and fear were on the faces.                                .

Abu chacha was running and crying, as everyone was.

But as I stretched my hand towards him,

My eyes blurred and everything went dark.

But when I opened my eyes I heard the screeching noise of vehicles.

And people all around.

“We have left Kashmir forever child “my father said.

The tearful eyes of my father showed,

That no more there will be sun and fragrance caressing me,

That no more there will be Abu chacha and beard to play with.

Katherine

I was there again.

And I saw him again.

Those dark eyes pierced my heart again.

Is he going to find out.

Is he going to see behind my eyes?

My heart skipped a beat.

As he walked towards me.

Within a moment he beheld me.

Within a moment he kissed me.

Every feeling hidden came forth.

As I bathed in his love.

As I bathed in his warmth.

The past came rushing.

And I fell crumbling in his arms.

As a lonely dewdrop finds a petal.

His love increasing with every move.

Filling every pore of me.

Filling every corner of my heart.

He was the same Damon.

 The same person who stood on the edge.

The same person who put his life on stake.

Just for the love, just for me.

What I did was inhuman.

What I did was cruel.

But I am not going to admit it,

Also I am not going to be in his life.

I will keep the image of mine in his eyes,

Of a selfish and evil woman.

This is what I am and will be,

A selfish and evil woman.

But I did love him.

But I do love him.

Your Grace..

The crescent moon is high in the sky.

Filling the dark sky with its silvery light,

Like her long hair on my shoulder.

Below the net of stars,

And in the coolness of the night.

I find my heart’s might.

In the embrace so tight,

 She is only one in my sight.

I shudder in her arms,

As I could not believe that she was here.

As I could not believe that she was so close.

My heart cradles in her arms,

While my desires sparkles in her eyes.

The pain of separation for centuries,

Cascades as tears in my eyes.

The loneliness that was lived for centuries,

Melted as her warmth fills my heart.

The night becomes a revelation,

As no more I am her protector.

But instead, she becomes my savior,

Shading me in her love.

Enveloping me in her grace.