Ame Soeur

We walk hand in hand though we are miles apart

Our thoughts seem to be intertwined even though we are not together

…

My mind never falters, helplessly it’s always with you

My thoughts have their own way, never are they bound to me

My heart yearns like it has never yearned before

…

As we walk hand in hand…

Sometimes we fail to see the horizon

The darkness seems suffocating and the leaves beneath our feet feel like thorns

But then the warmth of our feelings and the firmness of our intertwined hands…

It takes away the pain, hopelessness and fear and drenches us with light

…

Sometimes the pain is physical, a squeezing of the heart

Sometimes the pain is sweet, a lightness of the heart

But always a feeling of missing, an absent longing heart

Beyond the torrent of rain

You see.
Nowadays it always feels like its raining.
I look out the window. To the world outside.
I don't see the trees or the houses.
What I see are just the raindrops.

Sometimes I try to look beyond the rain.
At the world afar.
But somehow the rain blurs my vision.
It doesn't let me see. I feel blinded.

Dread fills me sometimes. It brings on doubt.
I try to let it out.
Let it not consume me.
But it clouds my judgement and dashes my hope.
It clouds my mind, my thoughts, my mood

But that's only on some days.

Other days I smile.
I keep hope. I let it guide me.
I keep it close. I hold on it tight.
Its very evasive. Hope.
Sometimes when I am not careful it slips away
But mostly its with me. My companion.
I let it draw me out to see the sun in the horizon
And see to the future.

Falling

A feeling so unknown

I fail to understand it

I feel the stretch, the pull

I don't hold on to anything...

Well knowing I am falling

I fall...

A feeling so unreal 

It brings me so much all at once

A feeling of extreme joy, and of sudden fear

It brings a strange light to my being

And it brings unrest and peace

As I delve further down...

Falling and falling and falling

I love this new feeling even though I don't fully understand it

I love the way it twirls me about as I fall and fall and fall...

My friend...

Chilly wind.
Curtains of rain.
A figure walks along. Lost in reverie.

....

I ask you friend.
Why are you alone, even as so many sorround you.

Your heart glows.
Light spreads from it.
Bringing peace to those around.
Yet why?
I ask, are your eyes so sad.

I see the desire you have.
To find that unknown joy. The evasive peace.
Yet you close yourself to it. 

I ask you friend.
Why are your eyes closed,open them and look around

The answers you seek.
The freedom you want.
to express yourself.
to unravel your wishes, thoughts, choices
are all right there, my friend.
Within you.

So I ask you friend.
To bring out that courage.
So you can feel the happiness.
Just like the way you bring it to others.

I ask you my friend,
to look beyond the rain and the darkness.
To see the light and seek your true self.
Let it envelop you and guide you.

Let not others define you. Dictate you.

My friend.
Listen to yourself. Seek your true self.
And bring that beautiful smile you have to your eyes.

Lapse of Time

A feeling unreal.

An image completely familiar. Yet so unknown.

Time taking a step back. A break. Observing all.

Yet reserving none.

Not judging. Just reflecting. Sinking. Sinking. Sinking.

What is it I see?

I question.

But to who?

To what I see--- or to what this moment shows me?

Is it a sign? A signal? A message? A call?

Maybe a helping hand...lifting me...as I slowly sink into the depths of superficiality.

Unsettling. But not startling. Strange. But not surprising.

Medley of thoughts. All evaporated. In that frame. At that point.

Just the moment remaining. Hanging in the air.

As quickly as it comes, the moment passes.

Yet the feeling lies deep inside.

Breaking something, far inside.

Releasing something from something deeper still.

Stillness. Silence. Stillness.

Interpreter of dreams

Dark dreams, dreams of love.
Dreams of hope, and haunting dreams.
She read them all...
After a night of dreams, everyone went to her,
just as she knew they would.
They wanted answers. And she had them.
For she was the interpreter of dreams.

She listened to them as they talked to her dreams.
And she read their faces, she laughed, she cried,
she gasped and felt the dreams like they were her own.
And so like that they got their answers and they passed the dream to her.

They needed her...but the truth was she needed them more.
She asked for no money, nor the gold
All she needed was for the dreams to be told.
For she was the interpreter of dreams.

You see, she had no dreams of her own. But she always had theirs.
Their dreams would hold her as she worked.
They would feed her, cajole her.
And when the darkness of the night would befall her,
they would hold her close so could sleep without loneliness.

But then something happened. Unexpectedly?
She felt something new. A new desire. Hope.
And slowly the people stopped coming. And so did their dreams.
The nights became unbearably lonely.
The people dreamed theirs dreams, but never came to her.
Had she lost the ability to feel theirs dreams.
Was she no longer the interpreter of dreams?

As she lay one night, no ones dreams to coax her to sleep.
For the first time in her life...she dreamed a dream of her very own.
And she became the interpreter of her own dreams.

Time

How long had I sat there doing nothing?
I am not sure.
Well, it was long enough.
I was bored. I was absolutely bored. Out of my wits bored.
How could I have become bored of something I liked doing so much?
But I suppose if you do it long enough, you eventually get bored.

As if suddenly, I realized how much time had passed by.
No, not the couple of hours. A much longer time.
An eon.
And here I was counting the time. Backwards.
It was no longer about the boredom, was it?
Or about what was to be done(wish it was).
It was all about what had and hadn't happened.

More importantly, what hadn't happened.
Because what hadn't happened was what caused what had happened to happen.
Pathetic.

Dance Dance Dance

Dewy leaves. Whistling wind.
Billowy gowns, with handsome bows.
Bright smiles. Sparkly eyes.

Chitter chatter.
Black carriage.

Bright cheeks.
Wisps of hair flying everywhere.
Greetings. Gossiping.

Piano notes on the floor.
Sing Song. Sing Song.

A look here a look there.
A smile sly. A smile shy.
Yes with excitement! No with politeness?

Hands in hands. Step by step.
Dance dance dance. AND. Dance dance dance.

Deafening Solitude

The ditch when seen seemed small enough.
Yet that is when you aren't being asked to jump down it.
Or being forced to. Or being pushed into.
I was wearing my white pants that day. A constrast to the dirt.
The bus dropped me off at the bus stop, along with others.
But instead of going home I was being asked to jump down that ditch. Being forced to.
I didn't want to. I really didn't. The ditch seemed never ending.
The bottom, dark, full of dirt, stones.
But before I knew it, there I was standing at the edge. Staring down.
My stomach turned. Nausea getting a hold of me.
Was it the prospect of the jump that really made me nervous?
I held on. I wasn't going to jump. I was not going to let them make me jump.
A step back. A yelp, a taunting word.
And then a push.
I was flying. And then falling.
The smell of dirt filling my nostrils. Its taste on my mouth. The stones piercing.
Yet the laughter was worse. Far worse. And then salty tears.
A few moments. In that turmoil. In that awkward position.
Eventually the laughter ceased. Everyone had left.
A deafening silence.
A new calamity. How to get back up.
How to get back up.
How?

The one behind the smile

A smile without the wrinkles near the eyes,
that's always a given, regardless of what.
A real smile...rarely seen, like rain on a parched land.
So good at masking the real pain, hiding everything from everyone, all the time.
So few times can the real feeling be seen, fluttering over the face, momentarily.
Where does the strength come from? The persistence? The resiliency?
I don't know.
Hope? Or the strong will to never do any wrong to another.

Blame. The blame on oneself, for others mistakes.
Doing no wrong, yet feeling as if she has.
Doubting the natural feelings as being unnatural.

The smallest of joy make her truly happy.
Yet these small joys rarely seem to come her way.

But nonetheless I have hope for her.
The tunnel is long.
But I see the light at the end of the tunnel.

And I hope my eyes aren't playing tricks on me.

__________________________________________________________________

For you...

You know who "you" are.

"Tum itna kyu muskura rahe ho...kya ghum hain jisko chupa rahe ho"

Thinking...

Here I am thinking about it again. Its always triggered by something...maybe recalling an old memory, or reading a random conversation. Here I am thinking about something entirely different but it somehow leads to me thinking about this. Its annoying really. Not just the whole thinking part but also the fact that I am thinking about it. So why am I annoyed...because I find you fickle. But that's absurd...I mean how can I say that, when I barely understand you. Just because I knew of your dark memories long before you told me doesn't mean I know you. Hell...I never understood you...nor will I ever. And what else is annoying....ooh the fact that....you never tell me anything...I mean you do, but not what's important. You will tell me something significant...and then the next time you will act like you never told me that. One day its one thing, another day its something else. And what do you really think of me. Or should I say....what am I to you? Again one day you'll act in a certain way towards me...and the next day a complete flip. So what is the truth. What you said yesterday? What you said today? Or what your going to say tomorrow? Or were you speaking the truth all three days? Even when they were paradoxical?...why I am thinking of all this? Really what am I to you...most probably...a bystander....a friend who is a stranger....but really why such secretiveness, why such fickleness....am I judging you? I should stop....because I have no right to judge you...because I really don't know you...not that I should judge even if I knew you, but for that matter there won't be any judging then because hell then I would just know you. Ok....I should stop this. Now. The thinking. As I have always when I start thinking about this....

Changes

The names on the list bought tears to my eyes.
Not just the names themselves.
What they indicated. What they meant.
But it wasnt just that list and those names. It was all the news going around.
The changes bought on to others lives.
Not mine but others.
Even though I am not taking those steps. Its not I who is moving on. It still feels very real.
It feels as if it will happen to me too, all of a sudden.
And that is scary.
Ofcourse I am waiting for some changes. But other changes I feel I am not ready for.
I will miss all these people. Those who are taking the next step. Those entering a new phase in their lives.
Good luck to you all. May all your dreams become real. And all your expectations stay true.

"Everything changes but change itself. Everything flows and nothing remains the same..."

The mysterious follower

A warm night with a velvety sky.
The watch read, 10:35.
Tiredness swept me down as I lugged along,
across the grass to my car.
And suddenly I heard something, a footstep?
I could feel someone right behind me.
Fear made me shiver, and my heart hammered
maybe a thief or a murderer?
My back stiffened with fear, and my legs felt numb.
Everything turned hazy...unclear
Only the smell of chowmein stayed prominent
I thought of turning and looking at my intruder
but fear kept me walking straight.
As I neared my car the intruder came closer.
Did he sense that my escape was near?
Atlast I reached my carolla and in my hurry
dropped the packet of my chowmein.
I got into the car, locked my doors and felt safe.
My fear left giving way to my curiosity.
I looked out to see my follower,
only to find a poor little dog
eating what
was to
appease
my grumbling
stomach.

Labels

How easily we give labels.
She is nice. She is mean.
He is good. He is bad.
She is an animal lover. He is a soccer fanatic.
And we change them so quickly too.
She is nice one today. And mean the next day.
And we all give different labels.
One says she is nice, the other says she is mean.
But what defines being nice. Being mean. Being a soccer fanatic.
And really, is that all a person is. Nice. Mean. Bad. Good. This. Or that.
How easily we throw such adjectives out without considering what they really mean.
And whether they constitute the entire person.
What they are like in the many instances of their life. What they do every moment.
What all they have experienced, or are experiencing. What conditions they live in.
How they react. What they say. What they think. What they feel.
Really, is it enough to see the few instances of their life.
Is that enough, to really know them, understand them.
Is that enough, to label them.
And is that label enough to describe the whole person that they are?

Odonata...Disturbia...Thoughts

Large eyes,(angled or rounded)

Seven segmented or four

Cordulidae? Gomphidae?

.

.

Why such ego? Idiocrasy? cruelty?

I dont know.

.

.

Or is it just me? Looking at it in some strange way.

.

.

"No more gas, in the rig, can't even get it started. Nothing heard, nothing said, can't even speak about it. On my life, on my head, don't wanna think about it. Feels like I'm going insane, yeah..."

.

.

Confusion. Overthinking. Overanalyzing.

.

.

Lateral spines( on segment seven or eight)

Lestidea? Colopterygidae?

.

Fear

Randomly at times I am gripped by fear. It comes suddenly. Or maybe its always there in the background, ready to spring when time comes. I keep this kind of fear to myself. I cant tell my family, they face the same fear too. We all know of it. It moves around in the shadows, but we all act as if it doesn't exist. Its unspoken and understood.
If I hear a freaky story somewhere, something involving ghosts or maybe murderers on the loose, I have to tell someone. I tell my whole family, maybe while we are eating dinner or something. They either laugh or ask me why I had to tell them such a story, I tell because in some ways it makes me less afraid. Or so I feel.
People tell me I am strange. I am afraid of the dark, fear ghosts and the supernatural. Hate watching scary movies, don't sleep for many nights when I watch them. They ask how is it that you handle the bigger fears so much better. I think everyone is capable of that. When the situation comes everyone hides those fears to do what is to be done. I have seen so many do that. Especially those who are afraid of the dark ;)
When I was a freshman in high school, in our bio class we watched a movie(based on true events) about a man who came through windows, kidnapped girls while they were sleeping, and later raped and killed them. For weeks after that I always kept all my windows closed, I was very afraid of the dark, and went through many sleepless nights. What I didn't realize was many of the girls in my class were going through the same fear. Months later when we had forgotten about the movie I came to learn of that. Maybe if I had found out before, I would have shared the fear with them, and maybe felt a little less afraid.
Everyone lives in fear. Fear of something. Rich man lives in fear that he wont make as much profit as he made the year before. Student afraid he wont pass his class. Politician is afraid of not being reelected. What makes a man hurt another? Fear. Fear is the root of everything. As Vivekananda said,"Fear is death, fear is sin, fear is hell, fear is unrighteousness. All the negative thoughts and ideas that are in this world have proceeded from this evil spirit of fear" So what do we do, do we stop fearing everything?
When someone hits you, what do you do. You either hit them back or you don't. Say you don't. Why don't you? Is it because you believe in peace, you truly believe in Mahatma Gandhi's words, "Eye for an eye makes the whole world blind", or is it because you are afraid. Should fear be the reason why your not hitting back. When someone is attacking your world, do you not fight back because your afraid. When people attack you, those you love---ultimately to create fear. Do you succumb to it, and not attack back because of it?

Darkness

I found this poem while I was cleaning my room. I don't remember when I wrote it. Thought I'll put it here.
_______________________________________________________________________

Darkness.
When I was young it haunted me in the night.
It enveloped me, like a black velvety blanket.
But that darkness of the night doesn't haunt me anymore.
Its the darkness of the heart that does.

As I walk down the road, it sneers as it hides behind the building.
Its there as I walk past the drug dealers.
Its still there as suicide bombers crash, as soldiers die in the battles.
Its there as I walk past dead bodies, its face triumphant as if it has won.
But has it?

It still hasn't touched me.
It hasn't won.
Because however much hate there is in the world.
Love still lives and wins.

Krisna

As I passed him, all seemed to stop for a few moments.

The boy with the kind smile,
I knew it was HIM.
The dark skinned child with the mysterious smile,
I knew it was HIM.
The dimpled cheek, the crooked smile,
I knew it was HIM.
The strange look in the eyes,
I knew it was HIM.
The confident stance,
I knew it was HIM.
The glance into my soul,
I knew it was HIM.
The look of one very wise, the eternal knowledge in his eyes--too strange for such a young child,
I knew it was HIM.

People think I am crazy, but deep in my heart I feel, the dark skinned child with the beautiful smile was definitely HIM.

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"Fear Not. What is not real, never was and never will be. What is real, always was and cannot be destroyed."
-Bhagavad Gita

Diamonds in the dark

I was driving into the night because there was too much waiting, I did not want to wait there staring at the people walking or at the other people who were also waiting. I didn't want to feel like I was in the middle of everyone, everything, even when I really wasn't. And so I passed the bus stop without stopping, and drove off into a direction I had never gone to. I passed a lab, a couple of odd buildings, a few houses, but eventually there were no longer any houses or buildings, only trees and small lanes branching off. My thoughts turned to myself. I realized suddenly what a fool I had been. The grandest one. Others had fooled me, and I had fooled myself. I grinned in the darkness. It was almost laugh out loud funny. Almost. And what was this new character I had developed? I asked myself. I answered back: A mask. A mask? How pathetic. And scary. When I looked into the mirror, was it a stranger I saw? Or me with a mask? Or well, just me? Maybe it wasn't a mask. It was just what I have become, what I am becoming. A thought far more scarier. I don't know, I said to myself. You don't know. Myself told me. I said out load: I am a fool who is pathetic, malicious and confused. Then I did laugh out loud. My own laughter brought me out of my thoughts and I suddenly remembered, that I had to head back to the bus stop. So I entered into one of the side paths. This path turned out darker than the road I had turned from. Suddenly I felt a choking sense of defeat. In the process of taking a U-turn, I stopped. I asked myself. How had I let everything happen so? Or was it really I who had let it happen? I stayed so for a few moments thinking, until I sensed a moment in the trees lining the path. I turned the car towards the trees unknowingly, and there in the complete darkness I saw a pair of eyes. Shining. Fear gripped me. I froze. I stared at them, and the eyes stared back at me. I saw nothing but the eyes. What could they belong to? Moments passed. Suddenly the deer stepped forward. Its beauty startled me. And I felt relieved. Not only from fear but something else. The deer walked off into the woods, and I turned the car around and went back to the bus stop, no longer thinking about my self.

Reputo...Facio

Maybe it had always been so, but I didn't know that. I had walked in the first time and discovered what I thought as chaos. Books strewn everywhere, note papers scattered about, chairs placed randomly. It wasn't a large room but the way everything was oriented, it seemed large enough to get lost in. To my joy I looked around to discover no one about. I settled at one the many tables, the particular one had Plato's "Apology" and "Leviathan" by Hobbes on it. I didn't look at them though, because I hadn't come here to read. I was here to think. Really think. By myself. Think. Think. Think. Thats all.
And so I thought. Kept on thinking. So many thoughts. That's until a man entered the room pulling me out of my caliginous thoughts. The man was old. White hair, wrinkly skin. He was very tall, almost gangly. But what really seemed to stand out were his eyes. Twinkly, bright, full of life. Without asking he pulled one of the chairs and sat down.
"Ooh so you have discovered the room."
I didn't say anything. Just stared.
"How do you like it?"
It was a question, that I needed to answer.
"Its chaotic"
"Well....how do you like it though?"
I thought about it. Did I like the room. It was too disoriented.
"I dont hate it nor love it. Its too disoriented for me"
"Well then, stop thinking so much and go make it the way you want"
I wasnt sure what he was talking about, so I just stared.
"Stop thinking soo much about your life or this room for that matter, act! Make it the way you want to. Stop thinking.Act.Right now.Go"
I stood up. His words almost like a an awakenning of some kind. I looked around the room. I put the chairs where they belong, I stacked the notepapers, put the books back on the shelf. And soon the room was less chaotic.
By the time I came back to the table, the man was gone.
Since that day I came to that chaotic room everyday. But I never saw him again. I looked for his in the hallways. In other rooms. But never saw him.
But I always remember the old man with the twinkly eyes. Who made me act more, think a bit less.