Archive for the ‘Death’ Category

Bright lights would perish, all of a sudden.
Those that persevere, ember to ember, flame to flame, shall remain.

Erebus shall dine on light, night after night.
You and I, we shall keep adding coal to this fire.

Gorging on corpses, Nekhbet saw afar a tomb-
Painted grey and red, darling I knew it was yours.

“Hide it from her eyes”, you said.
I stood bemused: “Are you a better lover or her?”, I asked.

Soul withers; alas, were you too bright?
I counted the pebbles nigh yon Nile amid your bones, teeth, etc.

Adieu to your flame, I said;
Along with life, death and other things.

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Find me in an ocean falling for pearls;

Drowning for memories, falling for pearls ..

Build me an ocean yonder that sea..

Build me all that I’ve left unseen..

Find me the memories, garish and gay;

Deranged in misery, arranged in may.

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You and I, we’re infinite;

Hence it is fated that we’d never meet.

Parallel in universes 

Parted by mindsets,

United by tristesse infinie

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T/N : Triste Infiniment : Infinitely Sad ; Tristesse infinie: Infinite sadness / melancholy

Numb words: un-…

Posted: October 15, 2013 in Death, Life, Pain, Quote
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Numb words: un-uttered and cold; Dreamless in the wake of crimson darkness.
My alter ego has left this altar; time to extinguish the flame.

– Me ( Nandini Pradeep J )

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Pain..Blinding…

Posted: October 15, 2013 in Death, Life, Quote
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Pain..Blinding pain.
I may not be able to explain it but I shall revel in it, with all my senses scintillating in its glorious riot.

– Me  ( Nandini Pradeep J )

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For the first…

Posted: October 15, 2013 in Death, Life, Quote
Tags: , , , , , ,

For the first time in many days, fear has engulfed my existence.
Sheer melancholy throbs in the lonely corners of this haunted bone-house.

– Me ( Nandini Pradeep J )

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Dedicated to Joonie (Joon), my lovely cat-friend, My White Knight. 

Under another sky

Where crabs fly

And dreams take no wings

I’ll come rolling

On to the meadow

To find you strolling

On a lazy every-day-afternoon.

Fishes and feathers everywhere

For you to play and fight with.

They, who were waiting

For their brother,

From a faraway Night.

You closed your eyes on me

As the pains embraced you.

I embraced your dying body,

Listened to your last heartbeats,

As I poured the last drops of water

You’ll ever have,

A drop of crystalline universe,

In your eyes, formed.

And then the warmth left you;

Your body, a numb monument

Of our memories together.

As I handed you over

To the Other World,

I let myself fall

And rise again.

I thought words were all that I had

But you taught me they were not enough

To bid you goodbye.

– In Memory of My White Knight. 

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06-001z

They say the you in me hides behind the I that they can see.

How can I kill me and make you the only me?

For I am not me, they say.

For centuries, we have remained shadows of each other,

Constantly contemplating: “Is it you or I?”

Centuries more were spent on deciding

Who is the Ophelia and who the Sita is.

Can we exist together in two different worlds?

Or do we take turns?

 

Bunshin, he called us.

We were shunned, neglected and looked down upon.

Anomalies, as we were, and against nature.

Those were our tags.

Were we proud?

Maybe not.

Maybe.

Yes.

We were.

分身

 

And like that we walked across the veins and forests.

Bathed in blood, we swam out of the arteries.

Murderers, they called us.

But we said.

“Bunshin.”

“分身”

 

Linked by Karma, we were now tied through our souls.

Knotted a thousand times around your neck

As you hang dead from the ceiling of your cave.

We ate your flesh and drank your blood.

That does not make you Christ

And nor are we your disciples.

We are your slayers; that is the truth.

 

Marching towards our kingdom, we roared.

Bunshin!

分身!

Taking our revenge as we climbed to the throne,

We reached up to the man who ruled and asked him:

“Do you know who we are?”

“No”, he trembled.

“We were once violated by your words and deeds.

You called us lesser mortals.

So we decided to become gods for you.

So that you would know what it means to be less,

And not more.

You gave us our name

To deride us,

But we used it to unmake you.

We truly became our alter egos

To seek our soul’s revenge

We became Bunshin.

分身.”

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P.S. I have been asked a number of times about the meaning of Bunshin so here it is: Bunshin means a doppelganger, so to say. But here, it’s more like a doppelganger of the soul. Or at least that’s what I was imagining. The rest is up to your mind. Thank you! 🙂

Sometimes inspiration comes from places you’ve never heard of. Sometimes, it comes and you don’t answer the door. Sometimes, a hand holding yours seems warmer than your mother’s bosom. Sometimes a kiss would mean the world to someone. Sometimes somebody would pick you up and show you your right place and price. Sometimes, these dreams seem futile.

I started to write because I wanted to improve my handwriting but for you it might be your dinner or your wildest dream come true. I wasn’t made a star but I was born one. I do not shine for all like the sun but I wink with sparkling eyes at that special person. Sometimes, you never find that special someone.

When I walk the streets they look at me for I just walked out of their dreams. They say “he is my inspiration” but I have none. I walk alone without any inhibitions. All I got is time, leisure and power. What I lack is will. Will I?

That was the question. That was always the question. Sometimes, you need to ask the right questions. Answers are irrelevant. Someone did say so but I guess I was too busy with the question to notice who it was.

I walked into the rain, I walked all along with the sun and I walked out of the snow: I was. No. I am Perfection. But doesn’t that mean that I lack nothing? I believe I don’t. I don’t.

They often talk about a thousand different memories. I sing about them and they echo my lyrics. But what about my memories which always had four walls of thickest concrete about them? Am I a prisoner? But I am the only one who has known true freedom. I am that person who can touch anyone as per his whims while no one can touch him unless he desires that touch. And yet, he remains untouched by humanity. Only perfection touches him. He became Perfection.

Like the Sphinx, like Tireisias, like the Ardhanaareeshwara, he was complete in himself. Yes, I lack nothing; I am complete.

But when I touched her, a droplet of crystalline blood spilt from her chalice and I realized my imperfection. And she, like a naiad from my wet dreams, vanished into a puff of cassia fumes. For the first time, I realized my incompleteness. I wandered like a Fakir in search of that true music of my soul. She was a soulful melody who danced to my Sufi heart’s rhythm.  I became a wandering sage and she became my melancholy. A happy melancholy. Transience became her eyes and through them I saw the Baul in me. My Iktara became I, me, myself.

And she talked to me for the first time. The ghunghroo of her feet matched my Damru’s joyful skipping of heartbeats.

Dugeun Dugeun.

My heart beats.

Dugeun Dugeun.

Her face seemed familiar for the first time and I recognized. It was she. My eyes, my ears, my taste, my smell, my touch, my emotions: it was all her. She was my all. She was me and I am she.

And I entered my trance, yet again. I was complete, again. I am complete, now. You are my inspiration. You are the light that illuminates the darkness of my heart.

Darkness, beautiful darkness.

 

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Have you ever, even for once, thought that teaching little kids is an easy job? It’s not. I am telling you from my own experience.

Late at night, when all my best friends were probably snuggling cosily with their husbands or boyfriends, I was evaluating the answer sheets of twelve year olds. Quite a life, I have.

You know what I do when I get stressed out? I read poetry. I am that awful writer who always wished that one day I might write something which I wouldn’t regret later on in life. That never happened. I still write like a lovesick teenage girl. Yes, you got it right. I wouldn’t do well as a feminist.

I ran my fingers through my bookshelf and randomly picked up a poetry book and surprise, surprise! It was Blake’s lucky night. As I imagined a fiery, ever powerful man, pouring the flame of his candlelight into the sockets of a tiger which he just sculpted out of thin air, I stood awed. The tiger’s physique and the description were truly sensuous, to the point of hyperventilation even; that is if you know what I mean. The only relief I had after this quick escape to the realms of the imaginary was that ‘Twilight’ was not the first or only book in which people romanticized animals to the point of eccentricity.

I rushed to the kitchen to ease my restlessness by finding something to munch. I quickly made some salad, so that my hunger could find its salvation. Quietly gobbling down the vegetables, I switched on my laptop to find someone online to chat with. Apart from few random friends, nobody was online. At least, not the people I wanted to pour my heart out to. I was getting more restless with each passing second. What can I do?

I woke up the next morning to realize I got only two weeks of vacation left. Two weeks from now, the school will reopen and by then I’ll have to evaluate all the papers and make progress reports too. Surprisingly, I finished all that yesterday night. The perks of having nothing much to do, I should tell you.

I started packing after breakfast. I’ll have to reach the old farmhouse by the evening and set up the ambience for the meeting that was going to take place on the 13th of June. My best friends and I had decided to meet after 10 years and it was day after tomorrow. Even though we were in touch, thanks to technology, we never really got a chance to meet up not even once in these ten years. Five of them were married, two engaged and the one left has been in a steady relationship for 8 years now. I’ve always been the black sheep. An excellent example for the after effects of “playing with the fire”, I was. Some of them call me “commitment-phobic” and the others think I am too proud to be in a relationship with a man. Truth to be told, I got heartbroken once and then I promised myself that I’d never get to that position ever again. And I believe in keeping promises.

When I got to the old farmhouse, it was as quiet and beautiful as ever; like a loving mother, waiting for her children to come back. Look at her; she will forgive us all for our every sin. I asked the housekeeper to clean the place up and decorate the place with red and blue lights: fire and ice would be the theme. I set out to the town to order some flowers for day after. The florist’s place was literally “heaven on earth” with a hundred varieties of flowers and leaves adorning its every nook and corner. I smiled melancholically and they smiled back at me as if they knew my secrets; my pain.

There is this view of the lake on the way back to the farmhouse. There are these wooden benches and a boulevard of cherry trees. I always wished to live in a place like this. Never really liked the din and frenzy of city life, I should add. I sat down on one of those benches and conversed with the water and air about their own beauty. “How come you never age?” I asked them. They laughed and told me that they change with every rain and every drought; “It is you who don’t change”, they told me. “You can die, we can’t and therefore, you are luckier than us; we are cursed”. They looked sad when they engrossed themselves in their melancholic ramblings. I sighed and looked at the sky. She acknowledged my sorrow and sighed with me and the winds roared across the cherry trees.

With my eyes fixed at the distant nothingness, I failed to realize a dark, tall and lonely figure approaching me. It came and sat next to me. The wind brushed past our faces. The long lost fragrance of memories burned my nostrils. “I prayed much that you wouldn’t come”, I said. “I am cursed with a remarkable memory. Even though the optimist in me was made a martyr of love 10 years ago, I never stopped believing in myself”, he said. “Well done, Ry. You’ve managed to keep yourself as insane as you were”, I told him. I stood up and started walking. He followed me.

We walked into the realms of our past. There stood the younger version of us, holding hands and looking at each other with eyes that spoke of profound sadness. That was the first time he broke a promise: let’s part, he told me then. The Us from the present walked further down the memory lane and reached the college gates. Sports day, it was. Sitting in those stands with friends and watching the finale of the intercollegiate football match where Ry was a midfielder, I was waiting for them to win and to end the long awaited suspense. In twenty minutes, I did break it to Ry.

He proposed in the first year and me, being the haughty New Girl, rejected him and stuck to the Lets-Be-Friends theme. And on that last football match, I proposed to him. He accepted with a cheeky smile that said “You are stuck with me forever, girl”. One more month and college would end. But we were waiting for the end as we planned to make it all known to our parents. We were the craziest couple you could set your eyes on. Our wordplay was quite famous in the whole friend circle. Even more famous were our weird fights – yes, we used to fight for fun. We were that couple who enjoyed being at each other’s throat at every given opportunity; but our love was evident even in those cat-eats-rat games of ours.

The excitement and the adrenaline rush kept on increasing with each kiss and every slap. On the eve of the very last day, he proposed to marriage – the only thing left to do. As always, the coward in me rejected the notion. What was my excuse? We are too young to be married. He was furious. We got into a fierce cold war which resulted in a physical fight and eventually, in sweet lovemaking. I was leaving the next day and we won’t be able to meet up for years. Neither of us liked the idea. So we went for a therapeutic walk. Under the cherry trees, we sat reminiscing the past for a long time. A mad tripe of our insane days together flashed before our eyes. We were meant to be together, said our friends’ adoring eyes. You’ll be remembered, chanted the college walls. So we decided to part and meet in 10 years if we were really meant to be. It was then that he broke our promise. He cried. I never wanted our last meeting to end with tears. But he had to cry. That was how it was supposed to be. So much so that the poetry in his tears rung in my ears even after a decade.

My eyes found its destination and it was reciprocating the gaze. Ryan. How much I missed you! My eyes told him thus. You can read my eyes but I can read your sighs, said his eyes. I have been reading them for 10 years, give me some credit! – He added. I passionately gazed at those windows that showed me my dream. It came true.

“Can we walk into the future together?” he asked earnestly. I thought for a while. “Yes”, I said.
The sky split open to shower us with heavenly fireworks. Invisible crystalline flowers kept tickling us as it fell on our bodies. The Night conquered us with a majestic sweep of her arms. We stepped forward to enter into that wild dance with which the wind was engaged. It swept us off our feet and threw us into the crescent where we landed, giggling wildly. The laughter transgressed the boundaries of inflaming lust. And in that ecstatic moment, did we close our eyes to open it in the split of a second.

I found myself alone, waiting for the night to wake me up. I stood up and followed the quiet path to the old farmhouse. The grassy path whispered an occult chant into my weary ears. But I was too engrossed with the rhythm of my footsteps. An eternity awaits me. Not many get a chance to go back and change the past. My firm footsteps annoyed my tiny grassy friends but I marched on. My heart and foot marched hand in hand to go back to that day, to Ry and to a future that never existed before.

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