My Sixteen Cigarettes Towards Opulence--Wants

Want
Dream = Desire = (Want?)

What do you want or what the hell do you want are the two sides of a question. I want an ice cream or I want the hell to turn loose on human race are the two sides of a answer. The first part of the question what do you want and the answer I want an ice cream has a passive foundation with the note of eagerness attached to it. The second part of the question what the hell do you want and the answer I want the hell to turn loose on human race has an active foundation with the note of ruthless aggression attached to it. The second part is what the human race has turned into today, where the second’s needle is slowly but aggressively ticking towards the D time. The problem with us is we have forgotten the mantra – Simple living and high thinking. The red face with high blood pressure- a symbol of aggression has blocked the arteries of a thinking heart, which in turn has turned purple and died and as far as simple living is concerned God save the King. While speaking of god who holds the keys to future, I remember I had a meeting fixed with the rabbit. So down I go in the hole and you follow me.

What are you hiding behind your back, the rabbit asked as I entered the den. He surely was a sharp observer. Oh, it’s a small gift for you, I said as I brought my arm forward holding a bunch of carrots. Thanks, the rabbit said as I put them on the table and took my chair. Rabbit was puffing the pipe furiously with loud smoke coming out of the nostrils. It looked like he was in deep thought. I hope I didn’t disturb you, I said. No, I am just a bit confused on what to cook for dinner that’s all. My wife wants carrot soup whereas my children want to have corn soup for dinner. Hmm... as I tackle the wants of my family I will tell you as story of a boy called Cheeseheart whose heart was made of Cheese.
Cheeseheart was a unique boy in himself. People say when he was born the parents found to their dismay that their little new born was not breathing as he didn’t have a heart. So his mother prayed to the fairy godmother for his life. The fairy mother felt pity on the poor parents and carved a heart out of a big cheese block and planted it inside the boy. To the joy of the parents the boy started breathing. They thanked the fairy goddess for her kindness and named the boy Cheeseheart.
The parents of Cheeseheart were very poor and for their living used to till other people’s lands. From what they got in return they used to run the family on a day to day basis. Years went by in this hand to mouth struggle. Cheeseheart who by then had grown into a young handsome lad was very popular in the village as he helped anyone in need. One night he heard his father speak to his mother, “ I want to buy two Ox’s to till the land. Like this we can earn more as we need not take Ox’s on rent and we could lead a more comfortable life. But where will we get the money from, his mother replied. Ya, I wish we had the money. Saying this he fell asleep. Cheeseheart who had heard the conversation could not sleep all night thinking how he could help in fulfilling his parents wants. Waking up early in the morning he got dressed and went to the market thinking he will do some odd jobs to earn the money. On reaching the market he heard a commotion going on outside a restaurant where a Chef was shouting at the fellow cooks. On asking a passerby he came to know that the King was coming to dine there and the Chef did not have Cheese to make pizza for the king. As the Cheese shop was too far to fetch the cheese in time the chef feared that the king would have his head for the incomplete meal. Here is a golden chance to earn some good money, Cheeseheart thought. So he went to the Chef and said, “ I have some fresh cheese, which I can give to you. But in return you have to give me enough money to buy two Ox’s for my parents”. The Chef agreed as the fear of his life was haunting him and carved out a part of the Cheeseheart’s heart and gave him the money in return. Cheeseheart brought two sturdy Ox’s and headed home. While on his way back Cheeseheart noticed that he could not walk as briskly as before as the heart left with him had grown smaller. Stepping aside his worries he went home and presented the Ox’s to his parents. They were both surprised and happy. They asked Cheeseheart where did he get the money from. Oh, I worked in the market to earn it, said Cheeseheart. As days went by Cheeseheart noticed that he had to put in more efforts to do a work, which earlier he could do easily. Life went on when one day he again heard his father saying,” I want a tractor to till the land. Though the Ox’s are doing fine, the tractor would be able to cover more area in less time. Like this we can earn more money and live a more comfortable life.” Cheeseheart after hearing his parents wants for a tractor woke up the next day and went to the Chef who had helped him before. “ Do you want more cheese” he asked. The Chef was glad to see Cheeseheart again. He had not only saved his life but had earned a great reward for preparing such a delicious pizza. The king had specially liked the cheese in it and had asked the Chef to prepare it again for him. “ But you will have to give me more money than before so that I can buy a tractor for my parents” Cheeseheart said. Of course the Chef replied and carved out a juicy piece out and paid Cheeseheart the money. Now Cheeseheart had very little heart left with him. With great difficulty he drove the tractor to his home and handed the keys to his parents. Days went by. Now Cheeseheart could barely do the household chores. Most of his time was spent on sitting idle to conserve his energy. Cheeseheart had become very pale now and his health had dropped many notches. His mother thought that he was not eating properly and prepared different dishes for him as now they had ample food at their disposal. But it brought no change in Cheeseheart’s health. A few months passed by like this when one night he heard his father say to his mother,” I want to own the land I till. Like this we will not have to give any share of crops to their owners. We will be rich and live happily ever after”. So off went Cheeseheart next morning to the Chef to barter his cheese for his parents wants. The Chef who was in need of the cheese as always looked at his heart and said, “ the amount of money you are asking for, for that I will have to take out the remaining part of your heart in exchange. But then with no heart you are going to die” the Chef said. “Take it” Cheeseheart, said. “For the cause of fulfilling the want I can sacrifice anything”. So off went the rest of the heart as Cheeseheart collapsed on the prickly needles of wants. Surprisingly the needles were not pricking him anymore as he lay dead on the floor.
I was so engrossed in hearing the story that I didn’t notice when he had stopped speaking. Rabbit tapped the table with a spoon fishing me out of the story’s flow. The expression on your face tells me you feel sad for Cheeseheart, the rabbit said. Yes, I replied. It’s sad that a good natured and helping boy like Cheeseheart should die such a tragic death in fulfilling the coffers of wants. Ya, the rabbit said and that’s what we are going to discuss today – ‘Wants’. I am sure there is much more to the story than what you have told me, I said as I feel each character had a specific role to play. Can I ask you a few questions based on the story. Well that’s what I am here for - remember the rabbit said while putting a mixture of Carrot and Corn in the steaming pan.
Whom does Cheeseheart represent in the story, I asked. Cheeseheart represents the soul of the body, the rabbit said. It is in the purest form when a child is born, but as he grows older the soul gets rubbed on the malice’s ruling the world like greed, jealousy, hatred and loses its purity and power to differentiate between right and wrong. Look how the night eats the day, the stars eat the night and the moon eats the stars. But it’s rule nature that after day there will be night and when there will be night, the stars and moon are bound to be there, I protested. Yes, it’s god’s way of showing that nothing is eternal – forever. Everything that you find existing in this nature is bound by a time click. Everyone gets a stipulated time to complete his work being part of the nature. Sun gets it’s time to shine, bring light and warmth and night gets the time to undo the work sun has done by cooling the nature. Imagine what will happen if soul of the sun gets into night’s body. It will be a complete mismatch and against the natures rules. The soul of the nature grows on the wood planted by rules. But it’s sad that we have learnt nothing from it. We have built this world and decorated it by worldly means. We are ourselves to blame by bringing our existence to the brink of disaster. The temptations that we have built are in turn tempting our souls as they are getting rubbed by the wants day in and day out. The purity factor is no longer there. In ancient days when the souls were in the purest form the connecting string existed between god and us. He used to hear and help us in time of distress. But now as nobody cares for him he cares for nobody and soon a time is going to come when we are going to turn the clock back and become barbarians again eating each other out of existence. The irony is we can’t blame anybody but our corrupt souls, for which the word ‘WANT’ has also become a commodity in its list of wants. Yes, it’s true I said. If a person doesn’t have a list of wants peeking out of its soul he is cast off from the society and is talked about in hushed tones. Well, what about the mother and father of Cheeseheart. Whom do they represent, I asked. The parents of Cheeseheart represent the body of the soul. It has the most important part to play in its short life span. The body holds in itself a group of souls in strict hiharchy. The parts that the body holds are all souls rowing hard towards a common goal. To achieve nirvana and move forward one step in their universal cycle. The lowest step in the ladder are the (to find out) and the highest is the soul which resides in our heart and is called atma or spirit. At times you hear stories about people who are blind from birth have diseased blood or dyfunctioned liver. The souls governing these parts are serving their sentences of penance as directed by god in their present life. They have to pay for the wrong they did in their previous lives and improve their chances of climbing up the ladder and reach the pinnacle of becoming an atma. Is donning the robes of being an atma –a spirit the last part of their struggle, I asked. No, the rabbit said. It’s the beginning of the roads leading to battlefields. Actually that’s where the part of body comes into play.

My Sixteen Cigarettes Towards Opulence

Preface

“Love is life and life is love”. People love different things in life for different reasons. Some love flashy cars, some love flashy wives, and some love to love the life –the essence of healthy and cautious day today living. This love which I am talking about is my love for cigarettes. In today’s world of high demanding wants and needs people tend to fire their respective tired frustrations on co colleagues, wife, children, dhobi wala, kaam wali and other related people who cannot fire back on them. But life is not such a dud that it leaves you with only the frustrations. It also holds in itself some relaxing moments – moments when you feel and self judge the right way to beat the froth out of the retreating waves. These natural pleasures (some people may think otherwise) were there since time immortal and would continue to remain hanging in the thin depleting skyline for the time’s to come. It’s for the dog fighting generation of today to understand when to admit inside their rigid mind walls this much needed opulence leading to the world of ecstasy.

I remember when I was a small toddler there were very limited wants, which used to bring happiness to my inner soul. Playing under the trees, plucking unripe mangos and mouthful of delicious grubs. The circumference of my inner soul grew with the lengthening shadows of the trees, where the past pleasures were not enough too satisfy my soul’s hunger. More and more new wishes were needed to satisfy my wants and my hunger pangs. With the meteoric increase in wishes came dreams of the forbidden land. I swam across many a time in my dreams to lay afoot in its golden sandy shores. But the shackles of my dreams forbade me to enjoy its misty terrain’s. With the tussle for some private moments in my life came the pressures of do’s and don’ts in my real life. The flavorless daily doses of wants from people who held the reins of my life used to exhaust me to such a length that many a days I had these dreamless nights of holes one atop of another leading to nowhere but more and more holes. Sometimes I thought the holes in my real life, which I had failed to digest, were making it up by coming in my dreams. I was losing my nerve gas at a rapid rate when one night when I was investigating a hole in my dream a rabbit jumped out from it. Seeing something not round was a welcoming sight to my eyes. As the rabbit hopped inside the hole I followed it. To my pleasant surprise the hole was the home of the rabbit dimly lit by a candle kept on the table. It motioned me to sit on one of the chairs and the rabbit sat on the other chair. On the table was kept a square box. On opening it I found sixteen cigarettes lined in symmetric way inside it. The rabbit said in a slow heavy voice- you can have one cigarette at a time and for each cigarette you smoke I will answer your one question. The sixteen cigarettes which I smoked the succeeding nights came up with sixteen answers to my troubling questions on life bringing opulence to my inner soul. Here I am about to open my gates of how I achieved opulence and enjoyed the trip to the forbidden land.

My Sixteen Cigarettes Towards Opulence--Need

Need
Object = Want = (need?)

Do I need to straighten my bed before leaving or do I need to buy a bigger car. Questions like these and others seldom tingle in the minds of today’s generation. Need is something which you can fit inside the palm of your hand and have the pleasure of wrapping your fingers around it too. But if you want to blow it up the whole earth would be a smaller place to contain its dimensions. I remember a story of a beggar, which would throw some light on this.

“Once there was a beggar who used to wake up every morning, take bath, do his daily prayers and then go out to beg for alms. In his prayers he used to ask god when he would have a wife whom would press his tired feet when he came back. Other than this need of someone to press his tired feet he was a very contended man. He knew no fears as he had nothing that could be stolen and he had no wishes, as there was no one to look forward to. After roaming all day in hot sun he used to come back to his shack take a bath and sit down to eat his begging. He offered the first morsel of food towards the setting sun to thank god for his kindness and then eat his food and go to sleep. These rituals went on for years. One day got felt pity on him and came in his dreams. God said, tomorrow you will meet your prospective wife who will press your feet for the rest of your life. In the morning the beggar got up and to his surprise found a beautiful woman sitting and pressing his feet. The beggar was very happy and thanked god in his morning prayers and went out to beg for alms. Days went by. Every day the beggar would come back, share his food with his wife and go to sleep with his wife pressing the feet. One day the beggar noticed that the sari his wife was wearing was torn from two three places. He promised his wife that he would buy her a new sari in coming days. But there was a problem. The money he got from begging was too little to meet his needs for a sari. He desperately needed to do some other job to earn more money for his need. So he left begging and started pulling a rickshaw. In a few days time he earned enough to buy a good sari and presented it to his darling wife. Some more days went by. One day when he was pulling the rickshaw he saw two women wearing beautiful gold jewelry. He felt sorry for his wife who didn’t have any jewelry to wear. Next day he took his life’s savings and went to the goldsmith. He asked the jeweler the cost of the necklace displayed in the showcase. He was shocked to learn that his life’s savings were a drop in the ocean, which the goldsmith was asking for. The gold was a noble man and after hearing the beggar’s problem he asked the beggar to work for him as his assistant. He said that like this you would be able to earn a lot more than by pulling a rickshaw. The more you earn the sooner you can buy this necklace for your wife. The idea suited the beggar. He left rickshaw pulling and started to work for the goldsmith. To earn money quickly he worked day and night at the shop. In a few months time he became an expert goldsmith and earned enough to buy his wife a necklace. His wife was very happy and thanked him for this beautiful present. A few more months went by when one day a woman came to the shop to buy a n ornament for her baby. Seeing the baby his paternal urges arose from within which he confided with his wife. His wife gave her consent and in a few months time she became pregnant. Life with time passed by and the beggar by climbing the ladder of needs became a very rich man. In context to his worldly offerings he was a contended man with a wife to take care of him, his sons to carry his name forward and scores of servants to look after his daily needs. But the worldly bliss, which he enjoyed also, had some thorns in it. The beggar became weak from heart by thinking and shouting at others often blowing out of proportions his anger glands for trivial issues. With the body movements restricted to minimum, as he didn’t need to stretch out for anything and consuming delicacies prepared by his wife he became diabetic. With the pleasures growing on him by god’s blessings he became fat and obese. One fine day while he was taking bath he lost balance, fell down on the floor and died.”

The rabbit looked up in my eyes and said, now that you have heard the story you can smoke a cigarette, think, comprehend and then give me an answer to which of the two is the culprit behind beggar’s death.
The morsels that the life provided to the beggar?
The morsels that the need provided to the beggar?

I lit the cigarette with shaky hands and getting my intellectual machinery geared up I said, The story has to be dissected into finer parts and each part has to be looked into very closely before replying to your question.
Very well. Go on the rabbit said.
I feel pain, which plays a major part in this story, is directly linked to the need.
How, the rabbit quizzed?
Well, all the happenings in the story originated because the beggar had pain in his legs when he used to come back from begging alms.
Good one, the rabbit said. It’s true the feeling of pain though not in the same theoretical order due to the absence of an object in one’s life gives rise to its need. A human being like you tolerates pain upto various levels. Some give in and fall in the trap easily and some linger on for a linger duration. God has created life on this earth in such a way that each living thing from an insect to a animal like me and to a human being like you must fall into this trap created by him at least once in their respective life time.
At least once? Can a person climb out after falling in, I asked.
Yes, the rabbit said. The great sages of the past fell into the trap of devotion towards god. They learnt the lessons well, came out and taught people what the lord had said to them. A life well spent by falling into the trap only once. Then there are people who fall into this trap more than once but after a few times realize the important part of who is governing whose life. The most common of them fall into the trap day in and day out, making the need govern their life rather than they govern the need in accordance to their life. The life of a common man who let need rule their life is in a pit hole with no ladder to climb out of them. They cherish the rewards of the new acquisitions in their lives but deep inside they know no reward comes without its bit of thorns gift wrapped in it. Their life is like a person buried deep in sand and trying to get out. The more he tries to push the sand out the more comes in. The beggar originally had pain in his legs for which he wanted a cure. But in process of curing the pain when he boarded the train of needs with unending carriages he himself didn’t know. From one need originated another and from another another. Till he died he was bound in the shackles of needs.
Do we get peace of mind once our need is answered? I asked. Yes, the rabbit said. But the graph of peace varies depending upon whether you are sitting comfortably at home and enjoying your need or you have taken some pain to come out of your cushy position and stand in queue at the station for more needs or taken the worst pain of boarding the train shipping needs. The happiest person is the one who knows when to stop and when to begin his quest for needs and endure the least possible pain in the process.
But if the beggar didn’t go for more pains to address his needs he won't have anyone to carry forward his name with no social standing in the society. I shot back. The rabbit smilingly looked at me and asked who makes the society – you and more people like you? Yes I said. Who governs the society- you and more people like you? Yes I said. Who work for those governing bodies – you and more people like you? Yes I said. Who sets the status symbol notch on the wall – you and more people like you? Yes I said. It means it is you who is setting standards for yourself in your present life. Yes I said. Then whom or what do you want to conquer in your life. You are the only person who builds a stadium, sits as a spectator, takes part in the race, starts and runs the race, wins it, stands in the winner’s podium, is the chief guest who awards the medal and finally is the one who receives it and feels proud about his achievement among the faceless masses. If you are the only one to enjoy the so called pleasures derived out of your needs and the one who takes the pain to achieve it, won’t it be better to know when to throw the dice and when to call quits, the rabbit said.
So, now tell me, which is the culprit behind beggar’s death, the rabbit smilingly asked. The morsels that the life provided to the beggar, I said without hesitation. True, if he had reined in his needs he would have been a lot happier. So did you get to learn today, the rabbit asked. Well the need should be well justified before making it a priority in your life. It’s an ill, which no one can duck from. But the less the merrier. Well done the rabbit said. Now that you have learnt what need is, my need now is to go out and find some food for myself. Saying this the rabbit hopped out of the hole. I was left alone with fifteen more cigarettes lying in front of me, with fifteen more answers hidden in them. I was tempted to smoke one more but then that would have been minus one answer for me. A need nipped on the bud. As I left the hole I was humming these lines…. Ke Sara Sara, What ever will be will be, The future is not asked to see, Ke Sara Sara. What will be the other fifteen keys to bring me to the gate of opulence and which the future held was a mystery.

shabd kosh

Jaha hawaein sihar jaye gagan ki tapish mein
Aur waqt hawa lagae aag ki namee ko
Muskurati kirne bikrati masti darshaiye
Wo raah jaha kasmakash yaade tanha karwat badal badal jana chhahe us aur
Waha jaha aaj bhi mein jaana jaata hoo

wandering thoughts

When the waves wander too far in the sky

The birds would crash in the trough with a silent thud

The cove of rainbows that forms would guide you on the untrodden path

To a place called memory's conscience where the words said unsaid

Wabble along the other side to gain recognition first and then remembrance

of the world that was and still is the place I am recognized at....

Kargil Weeps

The sound of last post sounding on the extreme frontiers of Kargil where even a blade of grass dares to dream about life sounded like the heroes who fought with the last ounce of their blood and rapidly depleting memories of loved ones were being welcomed back to enjoy life once again with a assurance that this time they would live is to its fullest. The brass played tunes to the copy in the bone freezing numbness that symbolized only the dead could have live here without the warmth of still hot guns delivering out wisps of smoke or the red shimmering hot bubbly water that oozed out of many a pores. The unique pattern formed was a message for the world to see that “look for whom we have taken the pains and shed our blood would remember us every year this day by lighting two candles on their doorstep.”

Is it what they fought for or is it they ever wished for is a debatable issue which can only be answered by them playing both the roles of the hosts and the quizzers. Shedding all my inhibitions, I as a human first, weep with all my strength to drown the sounds of the human cries from both sides of the sharp protruding mountain with gentle slopes which lost its loved ones once more to the though patterns of a group.

At heights one would dare to tread

I live my life no more

For the weeping tears would tell my tale

Of life once lived to the fullest

At heights one would dare to tread



In this mind numbing darkness that is fast gathering pace

Aah.. the warmth still touches me

Reminding me of the lap of my mother

That coaxed me to learn love and sharing

For the fellow soldiers who fought with me

At heights one would dare to tread



Today, as I lie down and wait to be greeted by gods

I think of the life half spent with loved ones

Who wait for me across this border

Celebrating with the first cries of a new born

Of my returning back to mother’s lap

At heights one would dare to tread

Today, the sound of last bullet that whizzed past the towering heights into the ears and minds of a weeping and emotional nation have long since died. The moist eyes eagerness to meet the tumbling words have also since dried leaving a patchy wilderness that erupts into seasoned rainfall in days like today that are earmarked for remembering the dead or so they call the people in green who would have been with us but for this fight of insanity.

(remembering Kargil!!)

Children’s Perspective

Children’s do have a perspective

That you never thought existed

The gurgling fingers and the storid eyes

Want you to understand that the world’s

You see and myth floating on the

Misty path that never existed

The vowels are clear and the letters are steady fast

March towards the quivering mouth

That twitches and turns to smile back

And say read my lips for the words

Are hard to form and sentences

Too lengthy that float past the middle way

Looking familiar yet far enough to understand

The silent curves

Read the mind they say for you

Understand my anger and the sweet

Nothings that bubble past the corners

Of my mouth that spell what

You mean to me...you twitch your eyes

As if trying to understand the unsaid words

The vowels & letters...the

Basic understanding that you don’t need

Knowledge to understand unconditional

Love for eyes that see the world

Topsy turvy understand you are there

To support and build the relationship

That understands me and you together

Can steady the fingers and make us

Understand that the world is yet to

Split and understand my unsaid world...

Nights and Days

The glamorous nights are way past its sleepy time

And the day is about to rise

From the yawning past

The stars are escaping from its

Darkening glow and the moon

Is about to end its dreamy run

Its transition time say

That changes things yet to be

To be...the present of the futuristic past

The sky’s yellow run in the blackening glory

Of the cities that change into states then

Countries...continents and then the

Whole world...that seems a small speck

Of this gigantic sky that is

Sodomizing its eternal bond

With the bright day to follow

Which I think reminds one that

Things change and the rumbling seasons

Float past like the dried up leaf

Giving way to the naked branches

That breeds life in the tiny yet shivering

Couplets called life, its size

Symbolizing nothing is bigger than life

And the color green portraying that

Its the color of life that has arrived

And will blend into eternal bliss

One day that’s not too far

As the diminishing night and the glowing day

Complement each other of the

Life relived...

Dreams

The dreams are just dreams they say

Unless revitalized and relived in reality

Is it the broken road down the rounding path

With a stop board that says

Life and anything living are prohibited

So how to give in and grow passionate about

The very idea that beats in the uneven heart

Who are you that makes me understand

That the blossoming flower was once a bud that

Shivered and quivered to give life

To the beautiful petals under the

Slithering sun or is it the

Only lady shining in the dark night

Inviting yet reserve of the life’s

Rituals that are just a facade of the

Journeys swept past

You are the will, you are the heart

you are the beat of the distant dreams

that are soundless yet inviting

me..yes I am confused of

the future that lays ahead

I want to dream free without

Any inhibitions, I want to

Break free and breathe

In the air that relaxes me and

My soul eternally makes me

Understand that dreams are just dreams

That vaporise as soon as you

Close your eyes...

The Juggling Tracks

Me sitting at half past twelve

On the stairs of a railway platform

The footfalls have fallen

And the floor beneath the staircase

Shreaks out..come out of it

The last train has left

And the tracks glare past

In the shimmering moonlight

But the mind stays in the past

Waiting for the last whistle

The little fluttering of the red flag

That says all’s well yet people

Wait past the midnight hour

For the sounds of the changing lines

And the whispering of the overdrawn coaches

That are yet to arrive

With hopes yet to live and enact

In the play called life

I wait for the whistling beauty

Shrouded in the thick black smoke

The eyes are weary...heavy

From the weight of anticipation

The heart says go on nobody’s coming

The mind says wait as life

Surely gives another chance

The body says who cares

Just snuggle past the foot falls

Give me a rest and wait for the train

That is yet to juggle past and make

The wait a possible reality

Love is in the air

Love is in the air they say

Like the blooming daffodils

Shining in the rising sun

Its streamy rays contained...confined to the petals so soft

Yet are the eyes for the world to see

Is it the color red that hides behind

The shimmering dew drops

Or is it the shape of the sacred heart

Or is it both the shape & color

Blended into one merged like they were

Together from eternity

Yes I feel you inside me

Your rushing breath running past

My parched ears

The eyes I see are questionable...inquisitive

Wanting to know more than the words say

The flow is sweet yet salty

Uninterrupted like the river flowing from

The ancient past

Yet they say the challenge is

To make the seeds of flowers growing on

Opposite banks

To fuse together and form a petal

That has all the colors of rainbow

Yet as plain as the sky shimmering above

This gap that has to be bridged together

Is what they call the beating heart

That floats on the cloudy air

Working hard towards forming the essence of life

L.O.V.E...

Love

Is it love that sneaks behind

The shoulders of the glamorous girl

That stalks beneath the shadow of life

Is it love that makes you believe

That words are words just hollow yet

Shining

Making you believe of things

That are yet to be defined

And encapsulated

I see in you the life that floats by

That can only be disturbed

by the breeze of the gentle air

floating down the warm passionate heart

you call me... I hear you

oh. The sounds distance me

Confuse me of the real essence

Of love that are just four words

Unless the days are stormy and

Nights are calm & quite

For it needs still air

To breathe in the misty night

That shows in the each puff

Pushed out... I love you

A Paranoid’s Dream

Life is like a paranoid’s dreams

Where sound seems seamless with no opening

It’s a mystery box packed

Full of dreams mystified

Floating on an unparalleled realm

With fine strings attached to its underbelly

Yet the control lies within that is yet to be

Searched...

Look no further for the sounds are

A bit familiar like the banana strings

Pale yellow yet full of colors

That brings a rainbow to shame

The dreams they say lie far ahead

They have no name yet are as specific

As fingerprints on the crooked nail

Is it you who call me from clouds

That shine behind the setting sun

Yes I hear... Yes I bear the weight of life

On my dreamy sholders

That spins and casts a spell on a starry frothy night

Night are yet to be digested

But is it true

That you and me close together

Can make a day around a golden sun

And eat it out, digest it and come out

On the other side of the stormy night...

Cloudless Ties

I wish of cloudless ties
so that everything which is seen
Can be believed...

Like the parched deep brown color
of the dying leaf
Like the golden grass last playful wisp
in the dying air
Like the hollow roar
of a toothless lion
Like the dying beauty
of a moonlit night
Like the changing hollow season
One filling into the other without a rattle...


Oh I wish so much for cloudless ties
So that naked truth hidden in the eyes
flows smooth and sweet
and smells like
backed earth
the crispy whiff of the first summer rain
the first shiver of the darkening skies
the golden glow of the silent nights
the shimmering dawn on the splattered dew drops
that vaporize as the day goes up
and leave behind the naked moist reality...

Oh These humid cloudy ties
precipitate the wavy pattern
of the frowning lines
For if life would have been fairer
like a chiseled two way mirror
the moist patterns could be wiped clean
and images made more clearer, sharper
that could hold in them fresh, sweet sounds
of a new beginning...