Bygone Love!

One of the first poems, I wrote as a kid! Still enjoy the feel of the "zephyr of innocence" oozing out of these lines.

                               I set out on this journey of life with a beautiful companion,

                                    whose hand in hand keeps me alive in this fetid vibes!
                                        I dread the pain with her love in my love vein,
                           marching upon the rugged terrain; never let her love go in vain.
                           Her smile is like soothing interludes in this expedition of mine,
                                       which makes me feel like a bottle down of Wine . 
               

                                   The gust of winds blows down but her kisses of love,
                                                   stops me from backing down.
                         Her tender voice guides me through the streets of broken dreams,
                                            and turns it into a streak of gleams.
                         There are miles to go with one who promises to stand by me,
                     forever and ever in all sorts of weather : be it winter or summer.

                          I Fall Short of words to  say, so I sign off! in dismay and continue to

                                     WAIT FOR HER TO COME THIS WAY ..........

Mosaic of memories...

Originally posted on katyan.quora.com

She felt the texture of the paper, slightly frayed at the edges. A faint musty smell lingered around her. The fading ink enclosed her treasured memories. Date exactly 10 years back, she smiled wistfully at the page. Reminiscing…

Her lashes were moist but a childish grin played across her lips as she rediscovered and devoured the pages of her diary. The days unfolded and memories danced in front of her. She felt like an alien observer of her own past, an invisible audience watching her younger self.

She raised an eye brow, as she first found her ‘best friend’ bitching behind her back and the bitter tears that followed. ‘I should have known’ she mocked herself at the naivety of her 13 year self and immediately reprimanded herself ‘I was a little girl, meant to stumble and learn’.

She delved deeper into fragments of her life, as bits and pieces joined to form a mosaic of memories. She walked down the color changing corridors, observing her daily life through the new looking glass she found. She found herself entering a long gone adolescence, with long forgotten people and stories, buried deep under the ashes of time. 

It seemed that the Pandora’s Box had opened. She couldn't sleep even when she had turned over the last page. The kaleidoscope of memories beckoned her. She searched for another diary, lying in its neglected derelict condition for nearly a decade now. As she dusted the pages, she again trespassed on long forgotten territory. A wave of teen troubles washed over her like a wave, and the older her silently played the Agony Aunt with her unsolicitous and silent advice.

‘First crush’ she fondly mused as she read the cheesy descriptions filling the yellowed pages. The mustiness welcomed her now, the familiarity discerned her. As the hours ticked on, she fell in love, got heartbroken, lost a close relative and made new friends. As her fingers flipped over the last few pages, she was tempted to look for its other siblings, lurking in the shadows of her shelves.
‘Enough for today’ she chided herself ‘Maybe another tomorrow’. A daily dose might satiate her appetite to explore her choices and mistakes, she thought. After all, what better fiction can you find, other than your own life?

She turned off the lights, curled in her bed and slept with a smile. The most peaceful sleep in a very, very long time…..

Solitude vs Loneliness.

Originally posted on nktjrj.wordpress.com

I identify my existence with one word: Introvert. Like all introverts, I hate crowds. I hate it when people try to shove gratuitous, and redundant relations down my throat. I tend to stay far from such people and if, by any chance, I am under a compulsion to make an acquaintance, I do it rather sheepishly and blandly. The absolute banalities of human lives don’t appeal to me and hence, I prefer solitude over company.

When I am alone, I feel like I am the only person on this planet. There are no rules, no preconceptions to bind me. There is only me in the world, and the world is nothing but my projection. You might call me delusional, maybe even a solipsist, but the truth is, I don’t understand the need of connections. I don’t understand the necessity of developing relations with other people. Can’t we survive on our own? In the end, aren’t we striving for us, and just us?

And yet, I feel like a hypocrite because I too have formed relations. I too have nourished myself with the warmth of others, and I too have provided my being to other beings. Quite honestly, I have liked the people with whom I have had relations. I have seen their souls, I have seen their true faces. I have liked the warmth and compassion on their faces and that is why, probably, that I have invested much into these faces.

I have loved solitude and I have embraced a few relations. Sounds about right. However, nothing lasts forever. I have lost these faces in the sandstorm of fleeting time and they now haunt me. They come to me in my dreams and whisper the sweet nothings that we used to say to each other and it makes me mad. At that moment, I miss them and I feel naked, naked in that terrible sandstorm, all alone, bereft of hope.

Yes, I love being alone. It is indeed true. What also is true that I hate being alone. Sounds like a dichotomy, the musings of a troubled madman. But they both are veritable facts, extracted from the deep conscience of my heart.

I can’t change myself. I will continue to love solitude and the hopelessness it brings. I can survive it. But loneliness? It is beyond my power to stop it. For all my love of introversion and solitude, desolation is a demon that mocks me and makes me vulnerable. I can’t stand it.

It is true that I will remain in solitude. It is also true that tonight, this loneliness stings. Alas, there are no faces tonight to save me from the storm. Alas, I am after all, alone.