Life No More

Shrouded in a mist

Clouded by fate

The sky of my dreams

is beyond the gate

Amidst the transparent hue

It gives me a view

Of the canvas I painted

Which somehow got tainted

Karoge Yaad To...

Prescript:-  

This is a follow up from Amit aka Hopeless Romantic's When Love Signed On A Blank Cheque ... Please give it a read before reading this...it definitely is worth your time.

For the lazy ones, here's a summary..... Garima and Nitin were to be married but on the night before the marriage Nitin was struck by a celebratory bullet which killed him. Garima is left to ponder on her cruel fate.

 

  

Shades Of Rain~~~Angst

There is something magnetically attractive between a heavy drizzle and a longing heart...they almost tend to coincide magically...some call it destiny while others call it nature's way of compassion. It will possibly be never ascertained whether the despair inside a throbbing fist sized organ has any remote connection with the encompassing sky giving vent to it's share of load but forever unto eternity the tale of a despairing heart will never be complete without a major mention of the skies tears.

Unclean Slate

And all this while I thought I was numb...how effing blind was I?
I am feeling-less, nothing affects me, I don't feel hurt, am a sponge ball who absorbs everything and never goes out of shape...huh...one upright middle finger to all those thoughts!!!

It pains, it hurts, it pierces the very shreds of the soul...It is my very existence. I breathe to hurt myself for every breath strikes a nail in the heart...I long to stand in front of the mirror and look myself in the eye.

Why can one not forget oneself...I so want to do it
Why is there no strength of will which can conquer self-knowledge
Why can't I wipe away myself from my memories...it would ease the passing

So Spake Saim-III

Rule:-

Life is all about the struggles, it's about existing amidst the gloom, it's about knowing the flaps which we can open and the ones which we can't, it's about being nonchalant at despair, it's about accepting that life's just like that.

Exception:-

Happiness!!!

Night of the Living Dead

I take in deep breaths to ease the nerves

Yet I die more with each gulp

I am not ready to die yet

Yet not worthy of living either

This night heralds a new dawn

I start afresh with zilch hope

To live along with death

To die with every breath

Don't venture here at this hour

The night will make you cower

Curiosity though may kill you

Abhor you to breach the threshold

Rest though assured, the signpost will read

Welcome to the " night of the living dead "

Sepulchre

Seene mein dafan hai kuch khwaab
Ehsaason ke aanchal tale jo pale the
Par khwahish khilne ki na rang laayi kabhi,
Un khwaabon ka aaj janaza hai saja
Lo isko badhkle utha lo yaaron,
Chaar kaandhon ki hasrat hi reh gayi hai
Ho sake to ye aakhri armaan poora kar do,
Ret mein shaamil hone se pehle
Ehsaas taabeer ki karwa do yaaron

She lives...I die

The despairing truth about being lonely is that it makes you recount the worst portions of your life. Away from the discordant noises of life on a whole, one gets sucked into recalling and reliving those moments...I am feeling very lonely now, so you can very well guess what I am reliving... 
 

She was an angel...an innocent and pure soul untouched by the darkness and malaise of life, the very epitome of goodness, the monument of love itself. I did not help fall in love with her but surprisingly (and wrongly) she could not help but fall in love with me. What she saw in me, I will never know.....What she gave me I can never express. She changed life...happiness no more felt an alien being, love was no longer some abstract shit. The days were resplendent with the existence of her feelings...the nights with the soothness of her being. An angel who nurtured my soul and laid waste her dreams to wish me bliss.....yes, she had dreams in her eyes, dreams which she cared for, dreams which she lived for...Dreams which I shattered.

Aila...Yeh Kya Kiya:(

No, the Sachin patent lingo bug has not bitten me:D

Aila is the name of the super cyclone which paid Kolkata and it's neighboring districts a visit...and what a visit it was.
It was the proverbial "came like a hail, went like the wind" sort of visit leaving everyone reeling behind in it's wake.

Kolkata roads were suddenly all green as more than 1800 trees were uprooted, yes I repeat 1800.
Approximately 300 deers were washed away from the Sunderbans region...More than 35 reported deaths...thousands homeless with no roof over their heads...just a summarized description of the newspaper reports of the destruction, of what Aila gifted us...Of course, what they didn't report is that Aila gifted more, it gave countless tears, an uncertain future, mental trauma, lost loved ones and what else not.

.....

What's with this weather mirroring my inner self...is this a way by Allah to tell me am not alone in this despair...is the whole city masked in a gloomy sky to make me not feel unwanted...does the storm rage out there to make me feel less despaired...are the trees crouching about to tell me am not the only one afraid...if that is so, I thank you Lord for this generosity but to tell you frankly, even all this is not working.

The senses are still dead...numb is still what I am.
I still cannot feel the drops of rain on my face
The strong billowing wind still does not sting the eyes
I still don't know why this is so
I still don't know why I am "Comfortably Numb"
Am not comfortable though...and yet I do not mind this
There is a certain magnetism in this state...it is appealing and alluring
It pulls me ever so close to it...and I can not help but get drawn to it
I wonder whether this is a choice I unwittingly made
I wonder whether I sort of like this
Tough questions all of these...no answers to them
None that I know of at least

There Will Be Blood...

A glass of red wine in his hand and a cigarette between his lips, he was lost in a reverie...of moments spent together under the night sky...of waking up and watching the red of the new dawn in embrace...of bare foot walks on unnamed beaches hand in hand...of the incessant whispering of those inane sweet nothings...of the crimson red of the blush which formed on her cheeks when he praised her beauty...of that dazzling red gown which he had gifted her on their first anniversary...of that breathtaking sight which she was in that gown...of that first night together in the throes of passion...of those countless bunch of red roses which he always brought for her...of the red of the blood which oozed from her hand when she pricked a thorn...of those promises made of togetherness forever...of protecting the flame in face of thunder...of keeping the flame of love alive forever.