Sunday, December 14, 2014

Club 27



Now here i am
Past the gates of 27,
When the idols i adored
Were already in heaven.
No this isn't a rant
About failing to die young.
The Jims and the Kurts
Had had their share of fun.
Me? I'm still reaching
For my piece of immortality.
Not at the barrel of a gun
Or the urge of gravity.

So here i stand
At the gates of 27,
With a life i adore
Bless the devil in heaven.
Past childhood joy
And grown-up sins I've come.
With the scars of others
Beyond the lessons of some.
And I'll still be reaching
Till the soul has its rhythm,
Sure as the shattering of white
When light hits a prism.

So now i step
Past the gates of 27,
To my chance in the world
My kingdom of heaven.
But a question still persists,
Beyond Jimi's tragic fame,
If he hadn't this way died
Would the fervour be the same?
Maybe death is resurrection,
As science fiction suggests,
But too bitter a truth
For any of us to digest.

But I promised this wouldn't be
An ode to death at 27.
The most cliche topic to pick
Talking of those in heaven.
So let me instead wrap up
With a happy-tasting thought,
At least we've survived
All the troubles life has wrought.
So let's forget the madness
And put old ghosts to rest,
Because 26 is over
And the rest of my life comes next.

Friday, November 21, 2014

Unhinged



with you
i lose myself completely
akin to a madman
placed between walls of foam

or a locked up innocent
who chanced upon a key

it's just that easy with you
to understand
what reckless abandon
truly means

until now i believed
it meant the abandonment
of fear
of death
embarrassment
and so forth

but when i stand
with you
it's abandoning myself
in ways that would
earlier seem frightfully
unwelcome

it's more than freedom
with you
it's more than living it up
or sipping from the cup of life
it is instead
the breaking of walls
the being alive in living
and downing
the whole damn bottle
that the gods offered

you've raised the bar
of everything
that the others failed at
so miserably
so spectacularly
and ever so thankfully

and i will always applaud
the string of happy accidents
that led to me
being given the chance
of losing myself
with you

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Today is men's day



for the longest time
i've been scared of saying this
we'll get to what 'this' is in a minute
but the reason I've been scared
isn't because of some internal demon
instead it's a fear of being judged
or even beaten down
and thrashed in the street
by zealous activists
who will see my words as kerosene
and choose to light them up
instead of paying them heed

for the longest time,
i've been unsure of saying this
so it's about time
that the length is cut short
because today is men's day
and no one gives a fuck
so i might as well start
by speaking my mind

what I want to say
will be unwelcome to many
and rightfully so
but remember Aristotle
and all his wisdom
that an intelligent mind
entertains an idea
without accepting it

so here goes
the truth i've been supressing
for the longest time
is that your redefinition
of feminism
has gone too far

read that again
it is as slanderous as you thought -
your feminism
has crossed the line

now before you reach
for those Jimmy Choo shoes
and point a heel my way
or pull some pepper spray
from your Prada handbag
and start acting
like a righteous bitch
hold that hand
and hear me out

feminism does not mean
death to man
it should not assume
we are all creeps
feminism doesn't rise
by showing the other gender down
but rather by affirming yourself
and educating others
about the changing times
i've grown up with an elder sister
and a household
probably more 'awakened'
than most

while you were all outside
fighting for female freedoms
in my home,
we had already addressed it
so thrusting your feminism
and the way you've morphed it
into a sickle ready to slash
across my peaceful throat
defeats the purpose
with which your fight began

the way things are going
it's an aura of hatred
being bred around anyone
who is even innocently
favoring any man
as if the only way
to prop up your cause
is to break the legs
of the the other side

because these days it's strange
that your feminism has changed
how people see
even basic acts of chivalry

it reminds of the other day
i was at a party with strangers
and offered to drop a girl home
because i was going the same way
yes, she was drunk
yes, so was i
and yes, it was frightfully late
but she gave me a look
as if i'd asked her to undress
instead of accepting my services
without a bigoted lens
in her feminist mind
my offer was an advance
and my protection
was reduced to perversion
that i would take the first chance
to get in her skirt

don't you see
your feminism
is killing the man i am?
turning my testicles
into some totem of evil
that i carry around
as proof of shared guilt
for the rest of my clan
when you women are just as sexist
and superficially driven
when you drool at Clooney
and scoff when i ask
if you'd sleep with Jack Black

your feminism today
is just a weapon
that suits your purposes
a fashion statement
a golden dildo
meant to fuck any of us
who dare think otherwise
because who can ever say
that women are wrong
or anything short
of superhuman beings
with sadly written roles
who need nothing more
than being saved
from this hurtful society

i've thought this through
for the longest time
wondering if i am wrong
in seeing the way things stand
there is, after all,
an urgent need
to balance the scales
that nature built off-key

no matter how you look
at the way things are
the fact remains
that men and women
are not equal
and we were never meant to be
for even in prides of lions
and herds of elephants
the roles are decided
by the genitalia given
and not by what each animal wants

maybe it's true
that we are an evolved race
trying to escape
what nature has written down
it is most commendable
and probably even
the reason of evolution
to break out
from our circumstance

but your feminism
has changed it all
into a battle of sexes
where both sides feel
they are somehow wronged
except in today's world
no one gives a fuck
about men's day
and every brand out there
from cars to condoms
eagerly waits
for the women's equivalent
to come along

for the longest time
i've tried not to say this
because it is undoubtedly
slightly offensive
you might even accuse me
of being a sexist male
but that's just because
you don't know me at all
i just want to point to the truth
that the scales are tipping
and before long
we will search for a 'real man'
much like we search
for the 'independent woman'
of today

your aggressive feminism
and the thirst for male blood
will eventually result
in a disfigured soceity
where every man must think
twice about his actions
even when it's as simple
as offering a stranger
a free ride home
with no strings attached

maybe it's ironic too
that this will be dismissed
as a testosterone rant
but if a woman had said it
she'd be lauded for equality

examine your lens
you warrior of vaginas
and you'll see the middle path
where there is no need
for you to battle men
and no chance for us
to ever do you wrong
because it's an unending war
no matter how you look at it
just accept that we are
different from birth
and neither is lesser
than the other
until our actions
prove it to be so

Sunday, September 28, 2014

Situation 22

There is something very wrong with the world these days. Though it would be presumptuous to blame the globe itself, let’s just say there’s something weird happening to the people on this planet. It’s an inescapable truth. A truth almost all of us have seen but most of us have chosen to pass over like a wet dog staring for leftovers a little too long. It’s a fact glaring at us at every intersection, on every table, in every walk and sit of life. We are addicted. It’s not the needle or a pill that we crave for. We are obsessed with tiny little glowing crystals staring at us from dawn to dusk. 4.1” to 42” HD strips of multicoloured LSD. We are dependent on these screens of flashy information and irrelevant conversation. They rule our lives and we have willingly prostrated our minds in awe of them. Everywhere you look, someone is looking into a monitor or a mobile phone or some digital object. They have taken precedence over the people that surround us. Now most would pose the argument that there’s nothing wrong with this, that these pixels are the future that has arrived in our palms like some glowing ray of sunlight in a Church window scene. And these are the same people sitting opposite you at a restaurant table investing their attention in a 4.1inch display, instead of looking outside their lithium-ion-powered attention destroyer and noticing the person next to them. You cannot argue religion with a heretic. Even if he sees what is wrong with the path he follows, he will still adamantly take every step down that road believing that is the right way. The only way. But is it really?

There’s a difference between using technology, understanding it and depending on it. For most people the first and third are the only steps they take. It seems the acceptance of virtual data as a tangible and real thing might be the root of the problem. True, the digital space has changed the world but it is also true that you cannot live in the digital world alone. We are born as beings of flesh and blood. We die as beings of love and experience. No amount of hashtags or retweets will help you make the transition. It is the quantity of our ‘friends’ that seems to matter these days, not the deeper connection you make with a handful of people. The human want of being connected isn’t fulfilled in a click like most of us believe; it requires a lot more than that, it requires interaction. Deny it as much as you like, a face-to-face conversation will always be remembered better than any whatsapp chat thread. And the warm feeling of discovering a stranger in the first meeting will always be stronger than stalking their facebook all night. There is nothing ‘real’ about the virtual world. What we are online is who we want people to see us as, not who we really are. Because the internet allows us the incredible power of editing our identity at every turn. It lets us change the perception of us. It gives us control over the first impression. More than anything this is it's greatest temptation simply because it is something the real world will never give us complete power over.

By no means does this say that we should boycott technology and go back to the 80’s. This isn’t a cry for the analogue rebellion. All I mean to say is that you have to find a balance between these two worlds. Without this balance, we will be ill-equipped to handle the individuals around us or explore what is inside us. If we remain as addicted as we are. If we give in to the power of editing our thoughts before expressing them, we have already lost the thing that makes us interesting in the first place; our wit. The spur of the moment spawns either genius or stupidity, both of which are better than a measured and clipped opinion. Your reactions make you who you are and even after you grow old and learn to control them in public, they still define you. In a realm where every reaction can be changed to fit the current flow of action, uniqueness and trust were bound to be misplaced first.

Friday, August 22, 2014

Searching for serenity



the life you seek,
that home you want.
it's out there
somewhere.

wedged between
skyscrapers,
built from fears
of premature endings.

the future you asked for,
that vision you saw,
it's out there
somewhere.

it's as near
or as far
as you make it
so just take it.

it isn't built of glass
for you to worry
about cracking it,
by touching it.

the only concern
that you should have
is losing it
by confusing it.

with overthought
and being overwrought
with worries
that have no weight.

that safety you seek,
the dream you've seen,
it's out there,
somewhere.

no map will take you.
no app can guide you.
but step forth with me
and we'll find it.

because the truth my love,
is that you cannot reach it,
for it isn't a place
or mark on paper.

but one you have to build
with bricks of love
and mortar of trust
under a roof called patience.

that is the life you seek,
the home you want,
and it's right here,
my dear. 

Wednesday, July 30, 2014

Reflex



i moved the tiny icons
on my home screen today
and i ended up launching
minion rush two
instead of calling your phone
by mistake.

reaching you has become
muscle memory to me.

it requires no vision,
no conscious senses,
sometimes, i fear -
not even a thought.

just the other day,
i was on a moss ridden local,
and i don't have a clue
how your voice was in my ear
before the wheels
had found new ground.

i know Skype shortcuts now,
they are really strange on a mac.

but i'm looking at the screen.
waiting for some movement.
while my digits contort
into command+shift+R.

i tried to train Google Now
to understand your name
but my accent isn't
nearly as precise
or as fluid as these fingers,
that need no lessons.

but i'm sure some day
i can just utter some words,
"i'm home" maybe -
and my hands will reach out,
not to find technology
but truth instead.

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

When?

It's kind of strange,
how you've changed
the way I feel
about the clock.

When you are here
the seconds split
so that each becomes
many lifetimes combined.

It's a little unnerving,
the way you're curving
my lens of time
into a concave form.

So it seems to me
that reality bends
like a hall of mirrors
effortlessly destroyed.

With you I feel
that minutes dissolve,
like dandelion blooms
tossed to the wind.

But it's really absurd
how you've served
in changing what
they used to mean.

And I cannot shake
how easily you make
me lose both sense
and track of my mind.

Without you it's true
I have nothing better to do
than count the seasons
until our lives collide.

Monday, July 21, 2014

Unfettered



Maybe it doesn't mean so much to put these markings down anymore. Maybe the twist in the tale isn't enough every time. The enforced practice and unpredictable will are just easy-to-believe lies. There is no value to intangible ideas being jotted down in unvisited corners of the internet.

These thoughts have no reason to form anymore and the sentences I construct seem weaker than ever before. Have I smoked away my art? Lost it somewhere in the misfiring networks of a clouded cranium? How long ago was it then? Mustn't have been that far back if it's still able to affect me.

I don't doubt my ability to rise to a challenge and present a piece of work. Commercial writing will still bring me my piece of pie. But these rambles are harder to come by now. I'm distracted by the visual medium and it's begun to annoy me. The world of words has grown so much larger and the map isn't zooming in as it used to. I guess this is what being rusty feels like, fingers dancing an unsure tune as the letters attempt to fall into sensible place.

Somewhere a whisper floats; unblock your mind and the words will comply. So let's get started then, shall we?

Love is never enough. We may wish it, want it, beg it to fill our cups, but it wont. More than anything, love is what requires most effort to keep alive. In this world separated by time difference, breathing life into it every time it convulses in absence-induced seizure is going be harder than we are prepared for. There will be times when we will falter. This isn't an attempt at being mysterious or abstract, it's just a fact that love sometimes limps. It hobbles behind us as you or I get distracted by the life we are trying to build. Some work emergency takes precedence over meeting each other and it becomes habit until it turns into a fight. Love is not the most important thing in a relationship, time is. The more we spend together, the more we know each other and learn to accept the parts that are irreparable.

That being said, I am still discovering all my broken parts. I realize some things are wrong with me but I am also learning to understand those things. I get distracted easily. I abandon projects mid-way. This page itself will be ignored multiple times over before it even sees the light of day. The need in my life was never really love. It was exactly what you want. A partnership. A companion who can find a way when you are lost. Someone to share stories with, more than anything. A match. Wit for wit and madness for madness. Someone who can pull me farther than my own stupid limitations and help me grow with every aching kiss. All I have ever wanted is a woman who I will want to be a man for.

The truth is, I haven't matured at all. I am still the young idiot, prone to addictions and numerous excuses. One third of my life has passed by and I don't find myself closer to an answer than when I began. Some questions have been concluded and new ones have been raised in their stead. Like, what kind of life do I want? Is the enticing utopia of lifelong singledom still part of my vision or has this calmer dream of a beautiful home actually replaced it? At some level, I would like to think that it has. A purpose has been added to life and though it points towards clouded shores, at least it is in some direction.

There is this fear of building a hollow castle. All my time away from people has taught me the importance of having connections. Yet another day has gone by without meeting someone who I have already endlessly delayed catching up with. The reason for this may be because of the 'grand design' to shift bases altogether. Creating a network here seems pointless somehow. In an industry with such a bad memory, it should theoretically be possible to make a return at any time. This illusory guarantee keeps me away from those who can help my case in some way or another.

I will make peace with my past and sail away someday. On the road to growing up I have mistreated, misled and misbehaved with many people. Far lesser than others I know, but too many for me to just turn around and saunter away. Before I take a step towards the future, I have to close these chapters or fix the story in some way or another. The persisting feeling that these ghosts will not let me be until I speak to them is the only reason I wish to pursue an idea as foolish as 'closure'.

I must rediscover writing in the first person. Creating characters and understanding their motivations is a skill best practiced in more profitable and public annals. The ancient habit of marking my memories and thoughts must not be allowed to die. There are times when I forget that the reason to write was never a wish to be read. It was always a want to shape in words the ideas that would otherwise be nothing more than a mere spark in the brain. I guess this is what it means to make them tangible.

So maybe, in the end, I've been running in circles when the answer was right there in front of me. The reason to put these thoughts down is to make my mark, as minuscule as it may be. And as long as my fingers have strength and my brain can birth the wisp of an idea, I must keep writing. Not for anyone I know or a random reader in the world, but more for the sheer self-fulfilment of the practice.