aargh!! hate this feeling within

How I wish I could just kill myself.

Stories about students from my college committing suicide abound... it really doesn't matter how many and how much of those stories, is a figment of someone's dark imagination... all that matters to me is that they had the courage and gumption to take that final step. they weren't cowards!! its difficult to kill yourself... extremely difficult. but they manged to do it. they definitely will miss out on all those beautiful moments and experiences that Future was waiting to bestow on them... and that's a pity. but those moments are so rare, and life definitely would have been unbearable. also, death and the mystery attached to it, together, make such a compelling idea...
whats the use of living a life filled with regrets and unhappiness? how i wish i could just die.
how I wish my blog had stuff that wasn't so melancholic in nature.

Dewy tear, wistful memory and disgraceful fall

You’re the dewy tear on a rosy cheek
You’re the blurred image in a tormenting dream
You’re the lingering grief behind my smile
You’re the inherent agony in a muted scream.

You’re the wistful memory left by an evanescent moment,
You’re the bad poem written in a crumpled paper ball
You’re the ray of light shrouded by wisps of cloud
You’re the sweet reason behind my disgraceful fall.

Just vanish into oblivion ’coz
You’re the one I hate to love
You’re the one I hate to think about
You’re the one I keep thinking about.

The above poem was written in Lemn Sissay’s spoken word workshop. It follows the rhyme sequence abcb. I tried to keep to it but strayed away from a set rhythm. The poem, as he said, was to be written keeping in mind the one person we immensely loved. I didn’t do that… The title, however, is in accordance to what he asked us to do, which was simply to pick out three phrases from the poem.

My take on it: It’s a hideous poem composed in a beautiful workshop.

Mirror mirror, on the wall….

A silver edged, oval mirror stares me in the face. It too has a face which seems very familiar to me. I gape at that face because I see that which I cannot see anywhere. I see a searching loneliness, an all-consuming fire. I see all that is considered to be bad by society. I see a picture of flaring jealousy and disparaging envy. I see that which I hate to see. I see that which I fear to see because I see the truth. I see me.

(GE classes help! The above piece was what I penned down when I was irritated into thinking about what a mirror reflects when I look into it…)

Dear Indian Constitution,

Today is the 26^th of Jan. It is the year 2007. You turn 58 today!

Happy birthday, Indian Constitution! Here’s wishing you a great day and a fantabulous year ahead. May you grow from strength to strength… or rather, may you acquire the strength that is your birthright.

Your birthday is being celebrated with great pomp and show throughout the nation. Even school kids and college adults have been given a holiday in your honour. All the other adults who behave like kids anyway, have taken offence at this. They too have conveniently taken an off from work. Some have taken it upon themselves and have decided to throw you a birthday bash! They plan to go to movies, coffee shops and party hard!! Revel, rejoice and paint the town saffron, white and green! I’m sure you’ll love that, won’t you?

Others, like my pappa, sit back and switch on the idiot box! And lo and behold, who do we see encapsulated in that much-desired frame, but your present warden – Dr. Abdul Kalam!! See, he’s wishing you by reading out birthday greetings that have been written by his speech writer, in front of the camera! Awww… how sweet!! And look he’s invited Uncle Putin to rajghat especially to bless you!! How thoughtful of him!!

Lil IC, you haven’t been a good child… you know that, don’t you? Its not your fault actually. Your parents – Dr. Ambedkar and his team, who conceived you and brought you into the world in 1950 - didn’t do a good job. They left many loopholes in your system… they handicapped you!

And what’s worse, some people in khadi kurtas and their accomplices in three - piece -suits are abusing you! But you can’t do anything to stop them, can you? You don’t want to do anything to stop them.

But, do something! Plz! For those, who depend on you for their lives.
Grow up soon and make them proud!

Happy birthday!!

Virtual reality

Dreams! I am fascinated by them. Have always been. In fact, when I was a kid, (not that I am not now, I meant chronologically) I found it extremely difficult to differentiate between the ‘real’ world and the one I dreamt about. Needless to say, I did sometimes dream those stereotypical children’s dreams; those about beautiful things in illusive environments (you know, those that are the result of the stuff that is perennially stuffed into children’s brains). But often, I dreamt about people, ‘real’ people who I encountered everyday, and that’s when I woke up and thought that I was still dreaming. I remember asking mama then, if I was in a dream and if she was in my dream. It happened so often… it was so beautiful.

Hasn’t anyone wondered if the world that we step into when we dream might just be the ‘real’ world, and the one we find ourselves in when we wake up might actually be a dream! How do you know that the world you are in right now is the real one? It might be a nightmare that shall pass when you open your eyes. In fact, this mundane thing that everyone calls life might be a dream. And again, this fearful thing that everyone calls death, might actually be a bridge to the real world. Haven’t you ever thought that the person you love might just be a figment of your imagination – a dream! That of course, is a scary thought and maybe no one wants to think scary things.

But hasn’t anyone been tormented by the thought of what is real? Is there anything that is real? Or is it merely us who take things to be real, just to avoid complicating matters. But, isn’t it also a consolation for all those losers (I hate, detest, abhor that word, but I can’t help using it coz I myself am one) who’ve lost this battle called life, to think that this actually is purely a dream! Ah… its blissful to think that way. This is what optimism is actually! Lol… Virtual reality. (Just a lil bit of gyaan – I used this phrase in my first ever poem. It’s a phrase I love, simply because it is so real… to me.)