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About you

Do you dream about me
The way I dream about you?

Like the kite in the night sky
Beyond the vision of the living
No tying attachments to reality

Like the curious little kitty
Engrossed in its ball of twine
As though it’s its whole own universe

Like the seeds of the Neem
Which find their way beyond its reach
By any means to move and grow

Like those stray streaks of light
That can’t wait for the skies to cry
To spread its arms so vibrant

Tell me sometimes
That you dream of me
For I’m lost and stranded
Of my own sense of self
When I’m dreaming about you.

Sowing

If I tell you my thoughts
And it just got in your ears
While you had no interest at all
But I showed up in your dreams
Brought back those words to life
Fit them in a certain way
That they form an idea
Something sharp I could say
With which it could plough your brain
Seeding some thoughts along
Growing on you day by day
Then later I come to you
To reap those words I spew
I find a part of my self
Now I do not seek the harvest
I just want what’s left of me
Cradled in your dreams.

Despair.

Dream was looking into the pit of Despair. It’s been a little while now. Despair always lurking in the darkest of the corners, took her own time to confront Dream.

“What do you seek in these dark pits of mine? A fellow as you I hardly see around here. I’m at all but curious to know what is that you wish to seek in these stagnant waters where only Misery and Guilt washes themselves.”

Dream sat there as though he was oblivious to the voice of Despair. He couldn’t reason anything on his mind that is now all too focused on a spot among the darkness of the pit, not on the surface neither in the depths. But somewhere in between where his eyes were focused but couldn’t see yet. Despair intrigued by the sadness seeping out of Dreams eyes, walked over to him with a fondness to feed off it.

Sitting beside him still wet and wetness spilling all over, she spread her cold palm of her left hand over his shoulder. Even the sudden chill didn’t seem to diverge his unattended focus.

“Look as far and off you want, for you’ll not find what you seek. All that is here are that is lost, for no one needs to hoard on these things. Let me not tell what is that you need to hear. You are most welcome to swim into the deepest within with the writhing cold of my body. It’s hard to see if it’s even day or night from the bottom of this puddle. I wouldn’t mind your company. But I’ll tell you this, only once I swam to the bottom when I came here swimming with Will, got lost and never again I found him. It’s easier to realise that he could have walked away after a while waiting on the banks. But I’m worried, what if he drowned looking to save me and still trying to catch his breath somewhere deep down.” Her eyes welled with tears only to freeze and glisten in the moonlight.

Dream said, “I do come here at times to bath and wash away that’s weighing me down. But for a long time had passed since last and there’s a lot more of me in there than what’s on me. But tonight I have a weight pulling me within, stronger than ever or at least I think so. So I came to find if there was any, much worse, that I have warded off in here. I’d wish I could swim with you down into these pits and never climb ashore. But then I realise I had made you walk these banks and as that may seem, may be you find your Will one day and walk off here. And in that I find a thread with which I have been drawn away from this night with a glimmering red gleaming off the edge in the dawning sky of everyday.”

Dream walked away without even yielding a glance towards Despair. Then she was lost on her own, finding the vision of light over the horizon in a long while.

Clouded

I have to find my feet then and there.
There are clouds passing underneath
Not that I’m flying
I’m standing. Still.
A thick heavy smoke rolls on the ground
Forming a veil between me and my feet
I can still feel them.
They are not cut off
But I can still feel losing them.
Or them being fixed and me
Moving forward to tumble down an imaginary stairs.
I can try to fend away these clouds
Again who knows if I wouldn’t fall over
I’m just breaking the sentences for comfort
For having not to be long boring view of clouded words or a word cloud
I go trawling with my hands to find words or rather meaning
But it’s so rare to come across meaning
Words are harder.
So I’m standing still
For everyone to watch
Not that they are watching
May be if I close my eyes…
I still would need to find my feet.

Out of order

I thought things would be as it were. Nothing much would change in this world of mine. But on a dull misty morning I sensed the changes had already set in action a while ago and I’m just catching up with the after effects. The sun was red as it were in the sky last week I saw. But the sky had lost its lustre. The blue of it kind of seemed faded away like it somehow escaped at a different angle from the prism than it naturally does and escaped. It was all grey today, a graduating grey between the pits of the moon to the one in our neighbours cat. I didn’t let it bother me though. Things seem out of place sometimes. The butterflies that migrate this season, traveling south for warmer places felt normal. Until this one which broke the flow by flying north. Must be a lonely anarchist I thought. Then there were few more. An awful lot of dragonflies today. That’s quite natural this season you might say. May be. But the point is, if you listen to their wings flutter long enough, their uneasiness creep in like the shadow that follows in day light. Sticking to soul darkness lurches. Never pay attention to them, I tell myself. But I think you can already sense the anxiety set in. The crabs took too much time to peek out today. I didn’t wait up for them. This isn’t my setting, I need to get away, I thought. Then I see the waning moon still lingering on the sky. I couldn’t find a reason for the moon to lurk around that long, like it had no where else to be. I know it has been that way, but not today in my thoughts. Even the pigeons flew in a fashion unfathomable to this simple mind this morning. Their flow has been obstructed and they landed like an orchestra out tune. Whom to blame here, the conductor or the musician. An unnecessary chaos had set the whole wind loopy and it seemed to have affected the pigeons as well. I couldn’t bear. Everything’s is set loose. Like the chain that bound my heart, together. No, it wasn’t bound to the chains but only bound by it. You’ll understand when I state how it grew in size once it was set loose. Cramped all these days, it inflates and intumesce into all the spaces it could find in the cavity. It kept growing, crushing my lungs now, squeezing the air out. I’m unable to catch this breath, this air doesn’t seem to pass down this track. I crumble in these sands with this step I take. Please touch the wind and cure it off the illness it carries and set this world in order. It’s been a little chaotic.

Dancing to the wind

“Hello sir, Would you like to talk to yourself?”

“I’m already talking to myself. Ain’t I!?”

“But aren’t you talking to me?”

“Yes, I hear you. but I might as well be talking myself, to this voice in my head all this time.”

“No, you are not. If so then I might seize to exist. But I’m real. I want to be.”

“How will I know for sure? How will anyone will ever know what is real? May be you are real and I’m the voice in your head.”

“But now listen and just answer. You are talking to this other person over the phone. And this person is asking you if you want to talk to yourself. Do you want to? ”

“But why would I need you to tell me that? Who are you to give me access to myself? I can just drop this call and talk to myself anytime I want. ”

“Let me be clear then, would you like to talk to yourself from the past or from the future?”

“You mean in person?”

“Currently we don’t have this facility. We only can take your message and pass it on.”

“Then it isn’t exactly talking is it?”

“May it isn’t, but that’s what I’m supposed to say as per my script.”

“You are new is it, for telemarketing?”

“Yes, you are my first call actually.”

“Have you tried it yourself?”

“Tried what?”

“Talking to yourself, future – past. Whatever that you are selling?”

“No, I haven’t yet. But I intend to. I’m saving for it. Will be paying from this earning”.

“Good for you.”

“But do you want to talk, I mean, send a message to your past and/or future self?”

“But why would I want to do that?”

“Isn’t there anything that you would like to change or some tips that you could pass on to them?”

“You mean me? No, I can’t see the use in it.”

“Why so? Don’t you think it might help them in any way?”

“If I could help myself in any way, I would have been doing that already. I don’t see how I could help them.”

“Why?”

“See, If I’m sending a message to myself from the past, I should have received the message already. But I don’t remember getting any. Even if I did, I must have forgot. Hence it is no way gonna affect the current me. And as far as the future myself is concerned, its enough if thought it out, don’t you think. Just remember something hard enough so that I’d still remember it for another twenty years. But If I had that kind of conviction, my past self would have done that. And I wouldn’t need to carry the baton to the future self. Cause I’ll be the baton myself. The empty vessel, carrying myself around from time to time.”

“True, but don’t you believe in parallel existence where you might change your life at least for your past self?”

“If that is so, I wish he would figure that it out himself. Make his choices. Though I’m not in the spot I wish to be, I don’t want to put him in a spot he don’t intend to be.”

“Well then, even this is pointless!? When would even all this mean something? At least in a certain point in time. One moment of convergence.”

“Points are not made by parallels. If we were all running in straight lines, that is. But we are all running in circles ain’t we? Smaller or larger, whichever fits the bill. May this is the moment. Convergence of our lines. Here. This could be the meaning of it all. But only for this moment. After this we might be on our ways pointless till we intersect somewhere, with someone or something..”

“You know, you talk very weird…”

“Can you talk weird!?”

“I could try… How weird do you want me to talk?”

“Test me!”

“Would you like me if I sing for you?”

“I’d, but can’t you think of anything weirder?”

“I can dance for you.”

“That would do.”

She laid the phone down and stood up on her bed and started dancing for the song she heard in the wind.

Detached

The bags are always packed and she was ready to leave at any moment. She’s been always dreaming of the day she was going to run and hide away, once and forever. But it took time to cut the strings. When you have been a puppet to the master, you are always pushed around by your impulses. However resilient she was in her nature, when the strings are pulled, she had no option but to dance. At least the story changes everyday. But somewhere along the line, the same routine pops up. And the hands move the same way as it did before. She had to sway the same way as before. Is it this what tired her? Even she’s unsure. As the hands rest at night, she dreams of cutting those strings off her hands. But it grows stiff with the thought of pulling the hands that pulls the string. She isn’t exactly scared of the master. She is quiet fond of him. All though she has hardly met him, except for his hands when at play. She didn’t need courage. She needed motivation. Her world is bound by the three walls of the stage. Only through the reflection of the audience, she built the view of her world. She had no idea how people are beyond her spectators. And they hardly participate. Only appreciations, no encouragements. And she believed it was the work of the master, never took them in as for herself. For this reason she never grew out of her ego. She was always her master’s slave. And one night, the master cut his strings and decided he wouldn’t be a slave to her anymore. She stood clueless.

If I tell you my dreams, would it matter?

There were days where I would wish to at least dream about things, then about you, and more about us. But today what would I not give to take this scraped off my mind for some peace I could find. But I found peace too. Pure bliss. Almost as if it were nirvana. I was walking down a road just after I dreamt about you. That was a dream as well. We were on a date after like a million times I had asked you. I was walking alone by the way. But we were out of the movie hall I guess. Or at least thats what it looked like. A road laid well, with golden grasses grown wild on either side. On the distance there was a town, the most near by thing you could find. But we were walking down a walkway, paved with stones, covered by an arch overhead like a walk bridge. Where it is headed no on knows. The sky was blue like you could only find in your dreams. A picture perfect moment where you are walking in unbuttoned white shirt on the outskirts of a deserted town. Like in 90’s Hindi pop. You were wearing a white shirt as well. Along with a dark blue skirt that extended just below your knees. And a black leather bag with a matching pair of sandals. But slowly the grasses were drifting away. Sideways and fading at same moment. The sky was moving back, and I stand there wondering if there’s even space behind for the sky to lean back. My navy jean and white shirt was not even a match, but I was glad it was in adjacent in the palette. You seemed haapy. All that I could wish for. Then someone we both knew saw us from distance and came walking towards us. I was worried. I was in euphoric. As the grasses were almost washed off the earth. The distant factory too were washed down as if rain pouring down upon it with the only aim to dissolve it, today out of my sight. I was worried that you might find it uncomfortable. May be you would want to run and hide. I looked at you. You were still lost in some kind of happiness that was too hard for me to grasp at this moment. The Anxiety grew deeper. You would have never thought how things disappearing from your life could bring you this kind of elation. I was aware of it. I was scared of the disappearance of the world around me initially, but it didn’t last the instance the joy, the pure exhilarating vision of this. The person came near by and you spoke to him, like you have noticed him already, and you didn’t mind. I just stood there smiling. I was just glad that you weren’t afraid of this, this us, as a pair, our hands interlocked, in some sort of high, lost in us. Even the sky faded away and I stood there forever in an empty canvas, a plain sheet of paper staring into the non-existing space. In a state of euphoria.

பண்

கண்களை சற்று மூடினேன்
காகம் தன் சிறகால் அனைத்ததுபோல் ஓர் இருள்
அதன் சிறகுகளின் சலசலப்பில் உலகம் சற்று அமைதியானது
கால்கள் பதித்ததின் கீறல் ஒரு ராகம் மீட்டியது
காற்றிர்கே அறியாமல் இதயத்தின் தாளம் மாற்றி
இரத்தநாளங்களுடன் புனைந்து கொண்டன
அதை கவியாய் இக்காகிதத்தில் வரைய
தோல்கீறி வார்த்தைகளை வடிக்கவேண்டும்
இசையை உன் கண்கள் உணர

Dear Muse

Dear Muse,

Yes, for now you are just my muse. But how I wish it was more, not just mere admiration, but more of an interaction. I don’t want my words to be written just to be pushed to death off a cliff into the deep waters with no hope of return. I want them to be buried within the dark realms of your soul, to soak in your sadness, to root in the vessels of your thoughts and nourish. I want it to bloom into a blossom emanating the aroma of your true self. I want to cherish the fragrance even though I can’t fully understand it. I’m sure I never will.

I just want you to hear me out. It is up to you to decide to let it in. I just hope I have nuanced my words enough to pervade beyond your senses. But blocking me out had caused a back flow that led me into a mire that slowly engulfs my pride of what is left and while my contrition floods me within. But in contrast to dismay that should arise I seem to like the struggle it poses. To swim out of the puddle, while it might seem easy but with the pride drained you feel all too small. To rise is to give up. To give up is to stare into the void, stepping into the darkness as every ray of light drains down. Now I know how you lit up out of nowhere as I look into the darkness. It is the likeness, the synchronicity that put us in a space, in that proximity close enough to create that spark. But I can’t wait forever for that spark to ignite another light, another ray, another day. I’m not giving up. I’m not going to rise out of the puddle. What if I struck out? I’m going to drink it down today and with it my pride that is muddled.

And why you? Well you are resilient, rebellious and thinking about you is rewarding and rejuvenating. And the need for interaction is I’m the most comfortable talking to you. Better than anyone for now. Don’t think I haven’t confirmed. I have let down my guard and spoke to strangers and even when some conversations were good, they never make me as comfortable as a mere thought of you, even the kin. With you being a stranger all the while and yet the feel of comfort is what makes me seek you out. If you are not feeling that comfort yourself then all this devotion, albeit intense, is tenuous. Leaving me unworthy.

But today I take the chance.
And here’s to you, cheers!

Yours truly,
The relentless artist.