A Contrasting Malaise

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The smoke fills the air in the house, the ‘havan’ has just finished. It’s supposed to be a religious ceremony where all the negative energies in the house are collected, the god’s and goddesses are prayed to. They say that, during this ceremony there is even a time when they descend down for the ceremony’s completion and sent back. Where are they?

I want to see them. I want to see the negative energies in the house and in myself and I want to see them go. I want to see god take away all these negative energies. I want him to see that everybody is a mess.

Despite the circumstances, the beautiful colours, clothes, faces, exchanges of gifts and money; what really lies?

I want him to see.

I’ll hum a tune, and you’ll never know what song it is.

I’ll wait, wait till you’re done. So you’ll come back and smile.

But you won’t.

For that I have to let you go.

I’ll walk here, and you’ll walk there. I’ll smile.

They’ll tell me, it’s a beautiful smile. Is it now?

The one that can’t reach my eyes. The pain is strong, intoxicating almost. When it’s a part of you, it hurts. But slowly, like the stream of water seeping into something, It gets into every cell of my bloodstream.

Sometimes, rushes too!

Like poison in a mortals body, as though it’s counting seconds and longing to finally turn into a vampire because otherwise, it’s just painful. Then the remorse hits you. You howl, plead and scream. Hope. Hope that this seeping pain will either go away or fill itself completely. And slowly, it fills you. It fills you like a glass being filled by a jug. It has too much to give and you, too little to take. There are shivers at first, and then comes numbness. The wonderful gift, better than alcohol or anything else. The numbness loves you, and you love it.

Pain, hurts you. Numbness, calms you.

Somehow nothing that anyone says matters and you want to smile because you’re a mess but so is the world. You realized that sooner, much sooner that your friends have or they will.

I wish I could say, but hey who’ll listen? They all say they will.

They don’t.

If you’re reading this then you already know what pain is. It’s a happy high or a constant stab in the stomach. I want to look at my foot and touch it, feel it because I know it hurts.

I know that the car that ran over it, was heavy, I know that the tier as it rolled over my gentle skin of my foot hurt me.

But I won’t look at it, because it’ll make me realize; the stabbing pain.

 

The suffering that our body goes through. These unhealed wounds, incomplete desires of beauty, cuts, aches, and fractures are they anything compared to how really hurt we are or we have been?

Do you want me to tell you? I will, I promise to write them in flowery words or just plain reality. Will you cry and sympathise or leave it to say- “How unhappy.”

I Am. I’m unhappy. Discontented. Unsatisfied.

I wanted to be, now I’m crippled. Not permanently, temporarily. I don’t like how my sickness restricts me. The fact that I’m scared of going out or that everywhere I go, I look at every man and wonder if he’d manipulate, lie and rape.

 

So as these smokes, slowly creep into the molecules of the air

The ‘havan’

I’ll ask god to take away my pain too; this suffering and maybe he’ll listen.

With it maybe, he’ll also steal away the cause of this all.

 

Amen. 

 

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Our Greatest Fear —Marianne Williamson

Our Greatest Fear —Marianne Williamson

it is our light not our darkness that most frightens us

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light not our darkness that most frightens us.

We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous,
talented and fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God.

Your playing small does not serve the world.

There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other

people won’t feel insecure around you.

We were born to make manifest the glory of
God that is within us.

It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine,
we unconsciously give other people
permission to do the same.

As we are liberated from our own fear,
Our presence automatically liberates others.

—Marianne Williamson

The talks of your beastly pain.

Drag, walk, jog, and sprint.

If the sun is hot, even if the dirt is a lot.

Even if the boils in your feet hurt too much, walk.

 

Feel the pain, the pain talks.

 

Go back in time, not too long ago.

You too were all alone!

There was the pillow then, there is the pillow now. 

Absorbing your tears and healing your broken heart,

Then and now.

Is she? There?

Will you promise?

Will you love me?

Those moments are forgotten,

camouflaged into time.

Now take me, to some place real.

 

Sugar coated sword of love,

 A package of sweetness.

Promises abound and dreams infinite;

Ah, the crazy dreams.

The hand won’t hold you anymore,

No shoulder will comfort your miseries.

It’s you, just you! You, your music, your work and yes, YOUR REALITY.

How it seems all so easy and how every song seems perfect.

In the end, it’s you, just you!

What will you remember?

Will you remember me?

Will you remember the things I said you?

Will you remember that I loved you?

Not now, then.

The sugar will be long gone,

Your pain won’t let you go

It will tell you! Shout at you!

“I’m right, she’s wrong!”

The dreams would then seem too immature,

The gifts given a complete waste.

All the kisses, only just another taste.

 

Where’s your love now?

Where are you now?

“This wasn’t us”

“You’ve changed”

“Things have changed”

The conversations will happen,

And they’ll continue.

Months and months.

Till you learn to give up,

On the same love you thought was “Forever”.

Where is your ‘forever’ now?

 

And then, you’ll think of all the things you left,

Incomplete and unaccomplished

 

The times you fought, the harsh words,

the inconsideration and her ego.

 How could you go so low?

Cry, cry for her now.

“Look for another person,

Someone better,

Someone real”

The friends would exclaim.

They must have been right.

I must have been wrong about her.

“Love is blind” they had told me.

‘She was never worth my time ‘

Images of her, form in your mind,

What happened to calling her beautiful?

What happened to the time you said you’ll stand by?

What about the promises and the castles in the air?

The pain will tell you that the once most beautiful face was just a mask.

That she was unreal and all this time she was ‘faking’

And suddenly, all the truths will be filled with doubt into and become lies.

Your pain will tell you what an ugly mess you got into and that all this time the only person who was your true friend was your cigarette

 

“You’re a man!” “Be a man!”

Wipe away the tears; they are for her to shed.

Pick up a cigarette, don’t be so low,

Girls like her will come and go.

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His tomorrow, that never came

“Maa!”  ; He shouted as loud as he could, but his voice did not seem to reach….

His body was giving up slowly and his breath sucked in as he desperately tried to coo a voice. A sudden realization hit him as he figured the screams were now only in his head as memories and flashes from his past dragged along.

He wanted something but he couldn’t decide what, his wind pipe now plunged as though a rope had conquered it. He wanted to live, undoubtedly!

A rush of pain and happiness swept through his body as he pictured that sweet comforting face smiling at him, and holding him. “It would her hurt her to see me this way” he thought but he figured her tears might heal his wounds, seizing his pain!  As seconds passed by he realized, He wanted, needed and craved for his mother more than anything, even oxygen!

Only then as he was lying there, somewhere, waiting till his paralyzed body and suffocating breath gave up.  He finally closed his eyes, because he had now learnt that in this no moon night among the thorns and bushes only the dreams of his mother could pacify him.

Carried away by the remembrance of her scent he wished she could pat him to sleep just like she used too, this time, for an eternal one. For the next morning no matter how much she would try and wake him, he wouldn’t.  He still believed that she would probably kiss him hoping that it would wake him up.

Or maybe, just maybe he would wake up and realize it was a bad dream.

His innocence, his love, his faith lied so deep within. Only if he got the chance to show it!

No matter how much he wished, he finally concluded this was it, this was reality, and he had been stabbed till he couldn’t count the number of times. Just for a few bucks or maybe old rivalry but that hardly mattered now that his life was gone, faded in front of his eyes.

Last night when he had argued with his family, and ignored his girlfriend and insulted his friends he obviously dint know this was it.

Now he longed,Image

For his mother’s sweet song.

The thorns ripped him,

As he took his last breath

Begged for forgiveness for whatever sin..

but his tomorrow never came!