Silhouette

“If you must blink, do it now. Pay careful attention to everything you see and hear, no matter how unusual it may seem. And please be warned, if you fidget, if you look away, if you forget any part of what I tell you, even for an instant, then our hero will surely perish.”
-Kubo and The Two Strings

‘Hello! is anyone out there? hello! hello!’ The quiet was loud.
A squirmish, a rustle, something came into being.
‘Oh! hey there, little fellow. You…’ silence and analyzation, ‘You… are different. Quiet queer that I have ever seen.’
‘Oh,’ squeamishly it sighed, looking around frantically with bewildered eyes, tears welled up in overwhelming sensation and in realization of being, ‘I am…’ it fumbled, its voice shuddered, ‘I am…’ it tried once again but couldn’t find the right word, it didn’t know a lot of words yet. It was frustrating and overpowering, ‘I am…’
‘Oh, little fellow! Don’t worry, we will figure it out. I always figure it out,’  It said with a false sense of pride, It knew nothing beyond Itself. As far as It could go, It knew nothing but Itself, there was nothing but Itself. It was for the first time that It had found another creature, so majestically different. ‘Where do you come from?’ It asked humbly, It felt an immense adoration, an immense love for The Little Creature.
‘I was…’ its tone squealing, it looked around, bamboozled to find nothing. ‘Where are you?’
‘Oh, I am all around you,’ It flaunted Itself, danced around and smiled. It had always wanted to do that, there was no one there before to see.
The Little Creature tried hard to look around only to be left frustrated, ‘I cannot see you,’ it said meekly, afraid why it can’t see It.
‘Hmm,’ It replied with a great concern, as if It was contemplating. It pretended that It knew why, though It too had never seen Itself. It was just aware of its existence but It did not know “the why” and It never cared to think much about it. It wasn’t worth it. It was for the first time that It had seen something, otherwise, it was just a feeling of the presence of others. It would touch the others, form their shape inside of Its head. The others will always ask It to let them work, they were busy creating something. ‘We will see to it,’ It replied after a long thought of nothing.
There was a long silence. ‘Who made me?’ The Little Creature asked after a long pause.
‘I guess that would be The Others,’ It replied, ‘but where are they? I cannot see them. They were working right before you were there.’ It felt around but The Others were not there. ‘Good riddance,’ It said without any concern in its tone, ‘they were queer. Always busy. Never had time to play with me,’  then It paused for a long moment and began again, ‘they never could anyway. They could not feel me they said. Queer things.’
‘But I can feel you,’ The Little Creature replied, this time its voice beamed, a feeling of understanding something, recognizing something, elated it, ‘You are…’ it tried to find the words to say, the struggle was immense, how it could find the right word to say. ‘You are…’  it tried to think really hard but the word won’t come. It remembered something, something that was there before it. What was it? ‘You are…’
‘Oh,’ It replied in amazement, ‘You are very very queer.’
The Little Creature shrank, It called The Others queer and did not like them. Queer was the wrong word. The Little Creature was intimidated.
‘Oh no, no,’ It replied all of a sudden, ‘you are a good queer, unlike them, The Others.’
‘Oh,’ The Little Creature replied, somewhat convinced of it.
‘So, well,’ It took a good look at the little creature. ‘What should we call you? you must have a name. Do you remember your name?’
‘I…’ The Little Creature struggled again. The Little Creature remembered, there was something. The Little Creature could hear the talks, long gone talks, something that was there before it. The Little Creature remembered, ‘I am…’ it was frustrating, what was it that The Little Creature had to remember, ‘The Others, where are they?’ The little Creature asked impatiently.
‘How am I supposed to know. They were right there where you are, and then they just disappeared before you came,’ It replied and started to hum something, something It always hummed. It did not have lots of care. It just enjoyed Itself.
The Little Creature listened to It for a while and learned the pattern,  after a little try, The Little Creature started to hum too, but its humming was different. The Little Creature’s humming was loud and exactly opposite of Its humming. Instead of creeping, adulating tones, The Little Creature’s humming was fierce, a monotone so majestic.
‘Queer,’ It said in bewilderment, ‘Where did you learn to do that?’
‘From you,’ The Little Creature giggled.
‘Queer, queer,’ It said, ‘I never do that.’
‘Why cannot I see you?’ The Little Creature asked with the utmost affection.
‘I do not know,’ It tried to hide its fake pride of omniscience.
‘But you said you always figure something out,’ The Little Creature said.
‘Oh you ask a lot of questions,’ It said haughtily and tried to look away. As soon as It did so, it could see nothing but feel. It moved away, further and further and further, but It was still around the little creature. ‘Oh, did I have to be so big!’ it cursed.
‘But I cannot see you. How big you are?’ asked The Little Creature.
‘Oh, this one I can tell,’ It thought for a while, ‘I am…’ It tried to find the words but there were none, ‘I am…’ it was frustrating, It always thought that It knew the answer to this, so iI never really thought about it. How big was It? ‘I am…’
‘I guess we both do not know anything about ourselves,’ The Little Creature said pulling its face down. An overwhelming sadness came over it.
‘I do,’ It declared once again with a false pride. But then It couldn’t help but be moved by The Little Creature’s plight. It could not see The Little Creature sad. It felt a turbulence inside of It. ‘Oh, Oh, Oh,’ It said with a great affection, ‘do not be sad Little Creature,’  It thought of how It could cheer The Little Creature up. It thought of showing Its dance, The Others always asked It to dance whenever they felt frustrated in creating whatever they were creating. After a little show of dancing, The Others would be very happy and would go back to their work. But The Little Creature was not creating anything, dancing was not going to make The LittleCreaturee cheery It thought.
‘Where are The Others?’ The Little Creature could not hold its tears up and bawled. As it bawled, something around it appeared to both of them. The queerest thing. The thing looked like the little creature but was not it. The Little Creature stopped bawling and the thing disappeared.
‘What was that?’ The Little Creature asked in awe.
‘The Others, I suppose,’  It said, ‘but quite not like them. Queer, very queer.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I know everything,’ It said pulling Its pride together. ‘I have touched them always, I knew them, but they are very little now.  I wonder what happened to them.’
‘They made me?’ The Little Creature gaped at it.
‘Quite so,’ It replied. ‘Can you do it again?’ It asked.
The Little Creature nodded and tried to bawl again but this time there was no bawling, a loud humming like the one The Little Creature made before and it became more of itself. And this time it was permanent. Both of them looked around in awe. The Others were there, they were always there, but in a very little measure now. They appeared as if they were becoming like The Little Creature. But their other side was just like It.
‘The Others, they look like you and me,’ It said in a grave astonishment.
‘What are they doing?’ asked The Little Creature.
‘They are dancing, I taught them how to,’ It replied, ‘look at you, all this while you had been dancing too.’
The Little Creature looked at itself for the first time. The Little Creature looked Majestic. The Little Creature was dancing too. ‘Do you dance too?’ it asked happily.
‘Always,’ It replied and danced faster than any of them. As It danced, The Others shook a little bit and started to turn into something like The Little Creature even faster than before.
Seeing it, both of them danced and danced. Making it go faster and faster and faster. There was a joy that they shared.
‘So you are The Others,’ It said as It relaxed.
‘I guess I am The Others,’ The Little Creature looked at itself, ‘But I am different.’
‘Oh yes, yes, you are,’ It said, ‘Definitely,’ and then It looked at the turning Others.
‘I am…’ said The Little Creature, struggling to find the right word. It was in its head, it knew what it was. The Little Creature remembered something, something that was there before it, ‘I am…’ what was it? It’s something very queer The Little Creature thought. What it was, what The Others were saying before. Yes, The Others were saying something when it was The Others. ‘I am… Light,’ it remembered. Finally, it remembered.
‘Oh,’ It said, still looking at The turning Others.
‘You are the Darkness,’ said The Little Creature, the Light. It had remembered finally.
‘Is it what they called me, The Others, when you were them before?’ It asked, the Darkness asked.
‘Yes, I remember this much only. They never talked really much,’ replied The Little Creature, the Light. ‘Where did the Others come from?’
‘They were always inside of me,’ It said, the Darkness said, with a pride, but this time it was pure, elated pride.
‘Where did you come from?’ asked The Little Creature, the Light.
‘Oh queer, queer, queer,’ it snided, ‘You ask so many questions.’
‘Do not worry, you will figure it out,’ said the Light, ‘you will always be there to figure it out.’

 

Far across, in between them, the turning Others were forming an amalgamation of both of them on one another, to one another. There was a coexistence now. ‘We are together now,’ said the Light, ‘We will call it a silhouette.’
‘What do you mean by silhouette?’ Asked the Darkness.
‘Oh, queer, queer queer…’ said the Light…

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Borders

Just tell me this, ‘why do you have to go?’
All the blues in reds, do we know?
Is there an end to this madness?
Do flowers grow where we fall?

A little bit of reason might suffice,
Just tell me who we are saving from.
Are we really willing to win?
And if we do, isn’t it just a whim?

Why are we raging war for peace?
Why are we killing when we are made to love?
‘Where do you have to go?’
Will we meet again?

If it is love for your nation
Do we love our home enough?
For the motives of just a few
You fight when I know you don’t

Who wants to kill, I know you don’t
You wish the war doesn’t begin
But you still go when they call
Is that how women and men fall?

All the soil and the sky
They see everything passing them by
I don’t think they love us
That’s why they didn’t give us wings or roots.

Or maybe they loved us so much?
And they did not bind us to them thus
So that we could go and explore the universe
Why are we fighting yet?

‘Why do you have to go?’
Do they cry differently when you kill?
Or spill a different blood?
Do thorns grow where they die?

Of Home

As I live under a shadow
Of gas and of fear
The ammunition of sorrow
Lingers on forever here

On sweet snow and pines
Shattered roof of these shrines
Take a look at these valleys
Graves that rise in rallies

A fight that never ends
Stones and sticks on skin like drums
Of freedom forsaken amends
In wails and silenced hums

Some are taken and never returned
Some are gone and just gone
Rest lay here turned and turned
Imprisonment keeps moving on

I am the smoke and I am the ice
Hiding in days and sleepless at nights
It is my valley, dolor in paradise
Cascade of lost and neverending lights

Welcome to Kashmir
A land that never rests
Of home and of fear
Of sold souls’ formidable tests

Two Months

Oh Delhi, you old yet raw abode
Your veins are flooded
Your bones are cluttered.
The way you boil is impatient,
And your slithering chill sedates
Yet culminates the hearts.
You rise and you run the miles.
You do not sleep or yawn.
The wind you harbour is not air
It is life playing and bruising
It is hopes assembled and raged.
How I hate your guts
The way you churn our souls
There is a dishonesty in your honesty
And dishonesty that reeks of honest pain.
You can turn a rock into gold
And make titanium crumble
That is your might, your force.
Love has a million meanings to you
And yet love for you is pure.
You can take more than you give
And what you give is forever more
Than what we take in believe
And you ever did the candid
Show that outdid forevermore.
Change of seasons and weather
That muses the muse and troubles the breath
They say you reek of inhumane shell
Yet I find a humanity lying in your fissures
Strange, frightening and intimidating humanity
In the furnace of your revolutions
So fierce that it tans the souls
Makes some wings rust and some soar.
You withdraw whatever, whenever you want
And you give like a humble old woman
Aren’t you fascinating?
Never growing old, never the same
Such cage of sad pleasure
Such land of rising dreams
For heartbreak enliven wants
Weaving their meanings in your lap.

Dear Hachi

Dear Hachi,
It has been a year now that you were there and it has been more than 9 months since you left me. I have tried to move on from your memories but every time my heart comes and breaks down at them. If you were a person, my love would have been validated and my pain might have been felt by my fellow beings. But alas! People say that they understand, but they do not know my pain. They do not understand how I have cried for you, again and again, they do not understand the solace you brought to my heart, they do not understand how I lost a part of me when I lost you. How could they? A relationship between a man and an animal has always been defined by the perspective of the animals because you are the ones who don’t have a voice yet love the most. My pain becomes invalid because it is something they have never pondered upon, because we humans are selfish and we move on so easily. Then why is it that I cannot move on from you?
It is summer again, the same time when you would push your body against mine because you could not sleep otherwise. I never shared my bed with anyone yet you would sleep on it with me like it was yours, indeed it was yours. I never felt comfortable in that bed ever since. I Remember, you would never sleep with your mommy or play with her because you wanted me more than you wanted her, or so it seemed to be. You would not leave me alone for a moment; whenever I would go out of the home, you would start to panic and cry. And for that reason, I never stayed anywhere for more than a day. It is that time again when you made me fall in love with you when you made me believe that love transcends everything.
Dear Hachi, the reason that I am writing today is because I want to cry. I do not think I will ever be loved by a human being as much as you loved me. Once again today, someone let me down, someone let me know that I was hoping in vain. Just when I think I am there, I am never there. I think about you most of the times, I see you in every dog’s face. I know you will never be here again, you will never read this, you will never come again. But how much I hope to be proven wrong, just a wishful thinking. I wish I could hold you again and cry, cry because I am not perfect and I don’t think anyone else will love me but you. I hope you come back again, I hope we could share a bed again, I hope I could give you a life that you deserved.
My heart has come to a halt without you, I hope it is not over yet. I hope I could give all the love to someone that I couldn’t give you. I hope I could show someone what you showed me. Dear Hachi, I love you and I will till my dying breath.

A Broken Man

I am down with drugs
February feels bright
Picking my bones dried dirt
My skin’s smeared in blight
My room is a mess
My heart is dirty white
An inch from foam around
The kid has now died
My love, my love is substituted
With the needles, the powder
I hear my life falling apart
This once its louder
I hear things and see them
Spirals of smoke I afloat
Aligned to the floor I fly
Drifting in my lonesome boat

I am down like silt
Naked in a broken lust
Shallow, so shallow is view
My penis is a replica of dust
My want loaths alone here
With a somber fun wasted
My soul is of salty sweat
I know, I have tasted
I am a brine of vile
Mounted in this silent room
With high flowing inside
Substance of meander doom
Days I spend, nights and in between
I fly in an unseen sky
Come find me lying in filth
Waiting for the world to die

Oh if I wish to see the world
Give me a sight of infinity
A view spectacle of sky
With eternal unbound mobility
And when the comets rolling come
Or sun goes finally old, obese
When the moon will be but a star
Must I awe at the rave of these
A calligraphy of universe
Bamboozling, mysterious, poetic verse
Waves may ripple my soul a day
Of Andromeda’s carnality with MilkyWay
From lone plantes and cast out stars
To see ocean vapour go out of reach
Let me live a life in head
To Marvel my people’s universal breach
Oh, I am a man with an outrun dream
How distant yet true does it seem.

I found my heart
On a lonesome broken street
My youth walks around
With a fire in my feet
If I tell you what I want
Will I lose my sleep?
For dreams are all yours
And all that mine is weep
For there’s a flower in my ganrden
That I can’t give to any
I can’t sing in choir
I’ve heard singing many
My love is burning coal
Will you hold my hand?
It’s different from the others
Of an infertile sand
My heart may build a home
In that broken lonely street
Stained with wasted colours
Of hopes that often sleep
A world that never happened
A love that mourned for you
A heart that weary pauper
May rest in rust and rue

When there in coffin
Rests the human lore
And the little hearts
Tremble at the Gore
And hate grows big
Larger than a peace
There cry cities
Bordered within piece
Let hand reach the sun
And legs walk the earth
Eyes dream the truth
And lips wish of mirth
For every war in waste
To reach peace is whim
Then shriek is whisper
And sink a swim
Flowers when glow gloom
And thorns do blossom bloom
Minutes are a forever
Airs are the fumes
Let the love remember then
All the time it slept
Everything was devour
For how humanity wept

Lights they come
Dark that flows
In the tear and the sew
Sees that she knows.
Wrinkles that run
And nevergaze fun
She waters her tatters
She tries to forget
All that she knows.
She knows those dreams
Nightmares and reality
She knows the sun
The cold and cruelty.
Her bosom is stained
Her legs logged in blood
Sagging breasts bear wind
Sleeping in the mud.
Her room is empty
Light comes by day
Someone left her
She remembers someone did
She barely recalls the face
And tears don’t trace
Her memory that didn’t stay
Her eyes are waiting
Stoned, still, lifeless
Waiting for something
Perhaps for someone.
She looks at her hands
She tended, whom did she do?
She can’t remember
She wants to remember.
She fears the door
Outside eats at her heart
She fumbles and shrinks
In her bosom, bare.
There’s a hope inside
She writhes but knows not
What is it for?
Does she hope for food?
Or is it death?
Perhaps for someone
Perhaps for something
She can’t remember her name.
Who is she?
Where did she come from?
Where is she now?
She was a mother
Her bosom tells her
But what is a mother?
She doesn’t remember at all.
Her heart pounds strongly
What does it pound for?
The craving must be old
Such strong cravings are often
But what does it crave for?
Perhaps for something
Perhaps for someone
World must end at her room.
What has she done to be here?
What made her end up here?
Perhaps something
Perhaps someone.