The Journal of Illusive Love

Say you miss me,
More than I should,
Say you'll love me,
Even in death if I could,
Say you fathom these endless nights,
Yes - I even like those nonsense fights,
Will you leave me in sorrow or dismay?
No, I possibly would die the previous day.


Ask no more now, smile for once my love ,
The silhouette will tell you as will the moon above -
That there is but a moment not that I don't miss you,
Or, less than surplus joy in my heart when I kiss you,
The dances I desire are real now,
And, I am happy even in sorrow, somehow.


You are not a part of me, my dear,
You are half of me - even more I fear,
Fear - I do for you might not always be here,
And, my heart beat might just fall without you near. 

Nay, let those feeling free, if you adore me,
And, doubt no more if you know me as well as you see me,
For this voyage has begun - this ship won't turn,
And, until we reach ashore - I will always return.


But, what 'bout when we reach the shore?
Don't you see - then - we will be no more,
Will you leave me when we reach the end, then?
You amuse me, my dear - even after death does us depart - we will meet again.

But, the tides are sometimes low,
Sometimes unbearably high,
It will be how it wishes, see, ahead we'll row,
Sometimes when it makes us sick, we'll just sigh,
But, we will carry on.

See, my heart, the mermaids have lain a trap,
With their charm and powder, they might have us strapped,
But, if we give up, if we stop henceforth,
How can we ever reach the end of the earth?

Salvation

This is a story she couldn't write. Not that she didn't want to because of course she did. She wanted everyone to know about what she had witnessed that ominous night. She wanted the paperboys shouting out the title that she hadn't yet thought of. She wanted priests preaching against everything that had happened that night. She wanted people to feel the torture that she had been unable to fight against. She wanted a mere acknowledgement that those events, by all definitions, were 'wrong'. It wasn't as if she didn't want to write about it herself. But desire doesn't lead to results often and the fact was more painful so as the process of it. You see, she didn't write about it because she didn't know how to.

At the age of 35, she was tired. Illiterate and a bit too much dependent on him for the daily supply of bread and water. Too much of a parasite to know what was just and what was not. She was a pity. And, the worst part was that she knew it better than anybody else. Maybe too better for her own good. Bound by the social values of a patriarchal society, she thought she deserved it when her husband punched, slapped or kicked her. So much of ignorance and desperation resided in her that it would all burst out and the way she is right now, we can fairly say - it will be the day soon.

She, somehow, understood good from bad now. She has, now, attained salvation but maybe such divine intervention like anything else that brings about such much-needed change came a bit too late. She understood this too.

By definition, 'if you aren't against it, you're with it - you support it'. And, therefore, she feels guilty - of what? She won't say. But her watering eyes mean that perhaps she doesn't know either. I see her wrinkled face, her salvation of the new found visions on life and beneath those eyes; so-ever-beautiful and divine, there is a resolve - to do something. "What?" I don't know but I can swear on my stares (that probably made her uncomfortable) that she won't let 'that' happen to anyone else ever again. She was a mother. Some mother.

Her story starts with the tears her daughter had in her eyes as they were fixed at her. A 12 year old girl asking her mother for help. Not an 'interesting' initials for a story but this it how it was. Her body was shaking as she lay on the  corner of the room watching in horror at her daughter. She had a baby next to her - her second daughter - 3 years old and one of the 4 surviving children among the 8 she had conceived. The older 2 were boys - her sons. They were there too - in the same room . So was the father - drunk as a pig along with his semi-naked brothers - 2 to be precise. So, in total, there were 9 people in that poorly lit room and only two were making noise - the baby was one of 'em - crying because of hunger or maybe she just felt like it. The other was the other daughter of the house because there were 5 people around her doing things to her that was so painful that several times, she fainted of exhaustion and then re-gained her consciousness when someone among those 5 gentlemen put something on top of her lips (which were bleeding too) and slapped her when she wouldn't open her mouth (because she had a habit of closing her mouth when she fainted - 'stubborn child' they said.)

Her mother looked at her from the corner of the room and what made her cry even louder were her own eyes that didn't reflect the poor illumination the room shared with everybody there - she had no tears in her eyes. Her daughter looked down as she lifted her head for a second until her elder brother pushed it down and proceeded to put something insider her mouth again. During that glimpse of a second or two - she saw her chest which was now blue and tender to even feel probably from all those hands (including the ones that held hers as she learned to walk) rubbing her chest and gnawing on it. What was more frightening to the little girl was the blood she was oozing out from the orifices she had between her legs - both of them. A few hours later, she died. But, that's not where the story ends - the story ends with the 'untimely demise' of her little sister.

You see, watching her daughter being raped by her sons and her husband and her brother in laws showed her what was just and what wasn't. With an event like this, she was 'awakened'. If this in itself isn't sick enough, let me tell you what she did next. She looked at her youngest child that was crying in her lap unaware of anything that happened this eventful night. She saw her daughter and thought of anything that would ensure a different future for that little girl than her sister was living a few moments ago. She thought thoroughly and when she couldn't find anything within her reach, she silenced that girl too - with her hands and for forever - silent and at rest.

She finally had tears in her eyes and a shallow smile in her face and a feeling of joy because she felt that she saved the girl by killing her herself. She, now, was angry, for the first time in her life - she was angry at someone other than herself.

Next morning when people called her 'murderer of 7 people, she said "One, I didn't kill. The other I saved by killing. The rest 5 I killed because none of them deserved to live."
And, even though there was a sorrow of losing her daughter and several other co-existing emotions, - for the first time in her life - She felt 'pride'.

A Sail Lowered

Upon a gloomy night, a sailor passed by,

He sailed onwards - through tides high,

I called out to him, and he lowered the sails,

And, he turned as if I had him assailed,

I could make out a bit of his face,

A face that others would miss in his pace,

A smile in his face accompanied a drop of tear,

And, a gloomy contempt to the early fears,

I could still make out stains below his eyes,

Of tears perhaps of sorrow - a token,

Or of pain perhaps, or a heart broken.

He frowned, lowered his eyes and yelled 'What do you want?"

I smiled and sailed, "nothing my friend,

I had no intention of interrupting your hunt"

A surprise glittered in his eyes of my statement or perhaps the end.

"A hunt you say?" he said, "What do you mean?"

And I could see how really hurt he was within.

"Yes, mate. Say, something to fill your palms or just to see?", 

"Something? What kind of treasure could possibly spare me?"

"I mean like currency shaped as shellings and dimes?"

"Or perhaps a treasure of some form taken by time".

A Chocolate Bar

[NR]
There was upon the past,
A Forest so very vast -
That even the light couldn't pierce it at will,
And, so the wind within was cold and still.

Somewhere in these dark woods,
A man lived - lived where he could,
In a house - a place one of its kind,
A place - no other soul could find.

With him lived his little boy,
Who knew of a different kind of joy,
For he had no friends he could with play,
And for 5 long autumns,
And more to come -
Here he'd stay.

This is a story of that little boy,
Birds and trees and insects - he had as toys,
He woke up with a gentle kiss,
Slept with the setting hiss,
City life - he never knew of, he didn't miss,
Yes, for this kid - Ignorance was a bliss.

One day, his father called out to him,
"I'm off to somewhere you haven't yet seen"
Puzzled was our hero - for he couldn't say,
Where his dad was setting off to - so early that day.

Off went his father - early before dawn,
Over the river bend he walked, then he was gone,
And our hero began his daily chores,
The time was perhaps a quarter after four.

Around the noon when he was listening to the birds sing,
His father came home, holding a bright-shiny-'thing'
And his father said, "I had to walk pretty far,"
And sitting down, he continued "to find this chocolate bar"

When his dad unwrapped it and kept in his palm,
The little kid found it hard to keep calm,
Into his mouth he pushed it - not a second to waste.
Savored the flavor - the most delicious taste.

Such sweet and pleasant was the treat,
He scrapped what had remained between his teeth,
And, licked off the wrapper - twisted it and tore,
And, when that was done, asked if he could have some more.

Smiling, his father handed him another bar,
And started a tale of a land not very far,
He told him to go to the end of the forest with him,
And walk into a place they called 'the land of dreams'.

So, off he went with his father and with the bar,
And a couple of hours later they heard noises from far,
Upon reaching there, in the so called 'land of dreams',
Our hero was baffled to see kids there just like him.

The boy stayed there for 30 years now - full of joy,
In the land of dreams - and jobs - and games and ploys,
He was a man - with age and more wisdom now -
And for some reasons he felt the woods were better somehow,
So, one day - he went - off right after the sunrise,
Off to where he belonged, bade the city life a plain goodbye.

In the house between the trees and now covered with dust,
Our hero now, grown up and again - forever lost,
But, at peace from the dreamland not very far,
At peace, because he had with him a few chocolate bars,
Each day he would wake and savor the taste,
One bar a day, he was in no haste.

The people heard of him - a man living amid anthills,
He was the man who had nothing but could smile still.

Aubade

Once, on a distant land, A man began his story,

At seventy, I assumed he probably had seen it all,

This fellow began reminiscing 'bout the days of glory,

How he had crawled up on top and what made him fall -

A day, some decades ago, I was naive and young,

I'd work all day, at night I drank and sang songs,

My pals were tough, with their words and lies,

And, I was the happiest guy - you'd ever find.

So, one day, as I was strolling,

Looking for nothing on a leisurely day,

A lady, who'd make you go crawling,

Smiled at me and came my way.

So pretty she was, I was ashamed -

For when she inquired, I couldn't recall my name,

She had no scars, no bruises in sight -

One you'd search, for she fell from such heights,

Yes, she was an angel right from the sky,

And, dim as I looked, I still gave it a try,

We had a few laughs, then at the night fall,

I asked her if she'd accompany me to a ball.

She didn't refuse - no she agreed and she came,

And, the way she looked - an heartbreaking dame,

Her dress so much like flower - her smile divine,

At the end of the ball I asked her if she'd be mine.

No, she said - but, I figured she liked me as well,

She refused but her eyes didn't - I could tell

And, so -

Everyday we danced, and after a while -

I asked her again - this time, she smiled.

Next came months when we were together,

I told her I'd hold her forever -

I asked her again if she'd be mine now,

She agreed,

Together at last - we took our vows.

Then, came two years of love -

Two years when I was above.

I'd walk with her, bring her flowers to cover the floor- 

When I'd return she would waiting for me at the door.

One night, bright as sun - something stirred as she looked my way

I knew something was wrong - she smiled but she didn't look okay,

The next day the medics came - and, with a half hearted sorrow,

Said that she would never wake up tomorrow.

I looked at her that night - stayed up by her side,

Cursing at what the fate imposed - the inevitable divide

After an hour off the midnight, she smiled at me -

The last smile in her face I'd ever see.

The next morning, the neighbors came to put her away,

I insisted that she was where she fits, she should stay.

They held me back as they locked her in a coffin -

I insisted, I pled, I begged with tears and scoffing,

But, they buried her and everything she'd saved -

And asked me what it should say on her stone atop her grave.

When the love overtook the pain, I smiled "My wife,

Here lies the sole reason of my life"

Her parting was harsh but what broke my pride,

Was the next day - when I didn't feel her by my side,

I left the town, the memories of that wonderful girl,

Who'd been the reason of my rise and my fall.

I sing no song, I have no one to cow to -

Nor do I have any one to bow to.

I am just waiting for the day I leave this place -

So once again I can see her smiling face.

Unspoken Words

One evening, in a trance, the wind wailed,
With pain in her voice whereever she sailed,
Worried asked the hills what caused her plight,
And, she could not name the enemy in sight.

She wailed, she cried,
To blame him - she tried,
In the end, she blamed herself for
What fate had brought upon her.

The hills worried still, asked her to calm down,
Looked at her with a worried look, started to frown,
The wind did no justice to save herself and him,
She cried and hid what she'd locked within.

On tears and sorrow, the hill that day,
Flooded and withered and grew grey,
Begging her to utter what she did not say,
And, the story of the wind and the hill,
Full of unrequitted love and sorrow still,
Ended in mourns this way.

A Lost Friend

A star shone up the sky today, and from its rim,
I could see the thoughts flow my way, joyous and grim.
Yes, a paradox you'd say but, see, the sun was dim,
And, it mattered not what we'd say, at least not to him.

The little twinkling star, a thousand times larger than ours,
Perhaps million miles far, with joy it cowers,
And, with a death very near, as we would never feel,
Where there should've been fear, there was sanity still.

Grim was what I felt, I told him not,
Sorrow I hid within and smiled to bid him off.
"Good Riddance" I said as he smiled at me in jest,
As if saying his death nearby was a glorious fest.

He shone as if there was no tomorrow, perhaps he was right,
But, within, he has no sorrow, nor a bit of will to fight.
He shone still, only a faint reflection at where I lay,
He shone his zeal, glamour for one last day.

I blinked once, he still shimmered,
I blinked twice, he grew dimmer,
And, thrice as I closed my eyes,
He vanished without any goodbyes.

And, so, I lost a friend tonight,
A friend who had always fought,
But, even in his last plight,
Answered the question I asked him not.

 Maybe we are what we are. 'I' and 'you', not 'we' forever.
But, in death as we part, we'll perhaps embrace each other.
And, in that gloomy night, as we go back to the times we fought,
We'll perhaps smile at each other and embrace the love we sought.

Glorious

Upon a day, as luck would have it,
None around to free and save it,
Entrapped was a Lion in a bloody net,
Prayed the lion with all his faith.

That someone pop and free his soul,
That someone see him - hear his howl,
Just then, a rat hearing his sound,
Hopped up and came out of the ground,

'Free you I'll try' says he, 'if you can spare',
And, upon the king's word, he did his share,
Soon gnawed the mouse - the net his feast,
The net was set loose and free was the beast.

The Lion looked, stared and shunned,
Then with a grin, made a mocking turn,
Swept the pest - off with his tail,
The mouse plead but to no avail.

Over-shadowed by the Beast's might,
The meek pest lost without a fight,
Off went the Lion, with a glorious trot,
Drowned was the mouse with a furious heart.

Then a hunter upon seeing the beast on a run,
Quick on his feat, took a stance and pulled out a gun,
Aiming a bit closer to the head,
Pulled the trigger - the lion dropped dead.

Full of vanity, the Lion was gone,
The meek little pest still did mourn,
'If only he'd asked me where they were,
One majestic beast would still be here'.

The skin made an emperor's rug,
The flesh chewed by some filthy dogs,
And, with pride, a bit too much,
The Lion's life had to end as such.