Thursday, September 18, 2008

serial killer...?

i am a serial killer

i murder myself everyday


words, innocent words

are like daggers to me

I hold them with bloodstained hands

and plunge somewhere inside

ah! Better


let those tears pour

call me a cry-baby, now…

i dare you!

i’m stronger than you all..

yet unable to fight my own self.


i sink to the floor

cold, barren

but I like it

it’s as welcome as death right now


words never said to me

words never meant for me

and words which were only for me

they assault

they aim, and hit again and again

hard

fine. so be it.


i am alone now.

lonely, perhaps?

yes, maybe..

for friends are my foes

or is it the other way round?

but it doesn’t matter.

not any more…

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

pretentions

so tired
of pretending to be happy
why don't you come
and make me cry
why don't you come
and erase this smile?

am melancholy's favorite child
and she's hugging me tight
making me breathless
and am slowly sinking
am screaming your name
muffled echoes bounce
in crimson walls of my heart...

tears lurk impatiently for their turn
behind these lost lids
wanting to breathe outside
and dying a painless death...

I've cried before
tears have lost their value
will cry no more
just come please
just come, once
so i can die peacefully
a painless death
soaking in your breath
drowning in your eyes
your eyes
my world
my heaven
have never known something so pure
have never felt like this

i will melt
i will mold
however you say
but don't let me go
piece by piece...
don't ask me to pretend anymore

Monday, September 15, 2008

The Delhi Blasts - again

What do I say here? I don't know. All I know is that I'm trying to be normal. But it isn't easy.
They hit Delhi again. And this time, the places where I go. Where you must have gone. Where our families, our friends go on weekends. GK, CP, Gaffar...

So again it happened. Again people died. News channels have something to scream about for the rest of the fortnight. People have another reason to crib about the government. Editorials will talk about how life is so sasti in India. And I will read all that, hear all that, see all that. And move on.... again.

Just how many times are we suppose to do that? Till one of us dies..till a friend or a family member dies... till our very homes are hit. Politicians will come and say "They can't kill the spirit of the poeple." Yeah, right. They are killing people, in case they didn't notice. So what use is the spirit then?

But you know what's the worst part....that I don't know what to do about it...I wonder if there is something which can be done.. or are we supposed to feel helpless and impotent everytime they blast away a part of my country??

roses are still smelling like roses
it's raining somewhere
and over there, look-
the sun is out, wearing its vulgar brilliance
unaffected
like the rest of us...

Thursday, September 11, 2008

rediff sucks!

grrrr...am so pissed off at rediff. It always does some locha.. that's what you get for loyalty. Usually, it just doesn't show the comments or eats them up for some time. Now it seems that it has gobbled up my entire blog! It's just not showing... :( :( :(

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

darkness abounds

comments are off here. again.
i don't like moderating them. so will not show them here. people who know me, as a person, have other ways of telling me what they feel about a post.
As for the rest, am too darn sensitive for criticism or sympathy right now.

Ciao, till next time.. till a better mood...

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

memories

Nobody warns you against books. Nobody tells you that reading them may hit you where it hurts the most.

It happened again with her. It was an innocent story, as usual. In one scene, a little girl ran towards her father, hugged his knees and asked him to pick her up.

She threw the book away...and prepared herself for the onslaught of memories.