Confessions of a Beleaguered Mind------Part Two

Please read the first part here.

My mother was a professor of English.She was a beautiful woman but her beauty was never noticed;not because of some sinister reason but because her charm preceded everything.She dressed simply but elegantly.When she spoke,people especially men were mesmerized by her voice.She was a woman of the world,rich in her ideas and expressive of her opinions.Her father was a poet,a man of great intellect and passion.His mention is necessary only to enunciate my mother's genetic inheritance.I know nothing about her mother.She was a fantastic woman and i loved her more than anything in the world.Not once did i ever tell her this.

She met her husband at one of the famous cocktail parties hosted by the literary who's who of Delhi at Le Meridian.Her husband was there by chance,he was neither an author nor a poet.In fact he possibly had never read a literary novel,the only books he read were pseudo imitations of Harvard returned good for nothing management blokes.I still wonder why she married him.Certainly he was rich,he was rich and a self made man,a rare combination but still he would never accept the fact that his mother married her husband for money.She was beyond all that,she was divine.

They married a month later.I was born a year later.Her husband dealt in some shady businesses involved in international crediting.He was insecure of my mother's circle of friends.They were an intellectual lot and always made him feel greatly insignificant.He grew angry and frustrated.He cut off my mother from the world she loved.She started withering away,away from her literary pursuits but she would not leave him.I guess she didn't want me to grow up without a father.I would have been better without him.I will not do injustice to her husband and claim that he did not love me or my mother.He did but sometimes love is not enough to sustain a relationship.Understanding is often the key to a happy marriage but unfortunately her husband never understood this.My mother felt incomplete without her traveling and literary socializing.She immersed herself in her reading and maintained a facade of happiness but i could always sense her unhappiness.She seemed distant and away from the simple pleasures of life.She was hollowed,hollowed by the society her husband gave her.She was my mother and she was rotting before my eyes.I was old enough to sense her discomfort.We lived a life of luxury,a life of unchallenged bliss but i knew the truth.The truth that my family was a hollow framework of broken dreams and mismatched love.

I was sent to England to study.It was my last semester and i missed my mother.I hadn't talked to her for a while and it constantly ached my heart.Two days before my exams were to begin,i got a phone call from home.My mother was no more.

My Cat

Oh i walked the pale meadows of yellow with her
i was gay and loved by the tears of distant clouds.
My spirits soared and the sky thundered
i lay upon the open fields,smiling all the way.

She caressed my leg
her whiskers tickling my gentle knee.
I chuckled and beamed in delight
Ah....ah...life was good,i mused.

She died a day later
my grief infinite.
I carried her limp body
to the graves of my fathers.

Now the sky is dark and my soul withered
i loved her greatly and now she has gone.
I may get a million felines
but i will never love another cat.

Confessions of a Beleaguered Mind------Part One

He woke up around the same time his father left for office.His name is irrelevant for the story and hence shall not be mentioned.He then proceeded to go about his usual morning activities which included yoga,meditation and power running.He had a good body and he secretly liked to admire it,but today everything was irrelevant.Anybody who met him was instantly charmed by his well bred manners and eloquence of speech.One could say that we was born with a silver spoon,his wit and charisma were despotically alluring.His deep black eyes twinkled with a cold fiery look of hazy indifference.Loved and revered,he had everything.

He opened the door of his gleaming white Skoda Superb,gifted to him nine days ago on his birthday.The engine gave a grunt of captivated power as he pulled it out of driveway and mulled into the chaos of Delhi.He reached his father's office in a about a little more than an hour.He went inside and gazed at the gleaming Italian marble,the dark mahogany wood and the precise yet firm walk of his associates.Mrs Irani,his secretary of twelve years ushered him in his father's office.

"What is it?",his father asked,a bit irritably.He smiled.His hand slithered to the soft fabric of his custom made Belgian trousers and he took out a blunt,exquisite silver knife and with raw force pushed it deep in his father's neck.
A moment passed.
Blood,dark red blood gushed out.With a resounding thud his father's head fell on the desk.He sat down and waited.Bored he took out his phone and fiddled around.Then he reached over and pressed the intercom.'Yes Sir?",came Mrs Irani's voice.'One coffee,please',he replied.He waited.
Mrs Irani always came inside and prepared coffee from a modern,italian coffee maker tucked away in the corner of the opulent office.She had started screaming hysterically before the door had closed.
He smiled.

A Call To Self

The layers of deception seem sweet
Uncoiling,unraveling the inner conceit.
He is now lost in the abyss of the self
And as i look in his dark eyes myself.

I see the foundations of bubbling pride
sinned forever by the loss of divide.
Don't call him your own blood
I have seen him drown in life's dark flood.

Once upon a sunny time
he used to be mine.
Now he has untimely left
leaving nothing but an uneasy cleft.

Should i reach and call him back?
for it is my dark love which he lacks?
The gods will not forgive and move on
the lights of purity have now gone.

Call him back to my arms
failed lie the last of my charms.
In a void of hazy pain
i have nothing in this life to gain.

I

I will not go
gentle into the night
I will rage
against the dying light.

I will not be silenced
by distant roars
I will seize and kill
the last of kings.

I will not fade into oblivion
nor forget the horrors of my past
I will rise
before the worst tides.

I will not be caught
in the cycle of life and death
I will grasp
the hand of blue gods.

I will not be tempted
by scents of pleasure
I will take time
to rule you all.

I will not die
nor perish by hand
I will live
like the likes of lions.

A Picture And Few Words

A picture says a thousand words but the one above says a million.I find the question of existence both absurd and fascinating.Why is exactly do we exist?What exactly is one's purpose in life?Our life and existence is a result of our social conditioning.Clearly there are no rules,existence is an illusion that we create to sustain our mental well being.One could argue about God and the great design of the cosmos that we still haven't grasped.Surely we haven't grasped everything but to imagine that man still has not begun his intellectual journey would be unreasonably wrong.As time moves on man creates a bubble of illusion around him.He sees what he wants to see and feels what he wants to feel.Therein lies the ultimate irony of life,man is nothing but an outcome of his own imagination.Time moves on,each second bringing us an inch closer to finality of life.Actions and thoughts have no clear reason,we exist as an aberration,changing with each moment.

For years existence has been debated upon by the wisest of men,each man with his own views,bringing us no closer to the truth that forever eludes us.The purpose of this essay is not to undermine the rigorous efforts of those men long gone but rather to think objectively about the subjectivity of life.Clearly this is a vexing problem which has no clear answers but rather assumptions which paradoxically exist as a mirage in themselves.To talk about existence from an anthropologically neutral point of view would be devastatingly wrong not to mention a violation of the norms which this essay underlays.One must take into account socio-economic conditions before categorizing life in a stereotype.Man is an animal and it is not by virtue that we survive but rather by desires.Each moment is an outcome of an incoherent amalgam of desires and survival.We exist not by reason or choice.We simply exist

Elixir Of Life

Dusk gives way to dawn
smiling across the distant skies
I yearn for her touch
lost in a haze of melancholy.

She gives me hope
she gives me love
I bow before her
revelling in her beauty.

The sands of time
nip at my heels
My austerity is distant
my soul decadent.

Thy existence is innocuous
in essence divided
I seek the realm
of reason lost.

We are now fused
mind,body and soul
For each drop carries
life and death.

My heart now bleeds
each impulse a breath
of torrid dreams
and latent fantasies.

Cauldron of chaos
emerges before thee
Each nova emergent
of the last of furies.

She now is free
of fear forever
I lay her to rest
my head on her breast.

I cry silently for her loss
my diadem of passion scattered
She was my elixir of life
in ruins now i lay.

Awed Divinity

As i look upon her
i am caught in a reverie
of unspoken beauty
cocooned in virgin nature.

I stand awed by
the absurdity of my life
in the magnanimity of her existence.

She exudes an aura
hailing gods to shame
reverence lies in her touch
purity in her soul.

I exist as a grain
of emptiness before her
wallowing in pity
of my flawed self.

Her body is my temple
her mind;my study
she is not mortal
for heavens beckon her.

She is all vanity
unfulfilled glory
her treachery treacherous
conjoined with cosmos.

God lies within her
heart pumping couplets
of sacred turbulence
gerontic of creation.

She exists as an anomaly
of divine perfection
ambrosia stimulating
her veinous web.

I am now lost
within her vortex
for it is fated
that i be liberated.

The Grain Of Thought

Unsuspecting lies the own self
quaintly personified in itself
euphoric in its true being
beckoning the illusions of mind.

Thoughts converge mightily
fusing into existence
bringing with them
a vacuum of disorder

The soul is manifested
swirling in the realm of flesh
elusive grains of a dark deed
impotent against the inner gods

Hope and fate
walk hand in hand
to rewrite what has been written
and to seek the lost cause

Chaos seems on the horizon
its dark wings
eclipsing the blinding future
shattering all myths of truth

Why I Write?

Despondency cries out to me,it calls me its own.I know my illegitimacy and i know where i stand.I no longer want to understand it,i just want it to end.Several years of multiple failings has scarred me.The joys of this world no longer appeal to me nor do i care to have them back.The only reason i mention my melancholy is in hope to lose it or envelop it completely.The beauty of pain lies in its constancy.Happiness is always short lived but grief lives on.Its existence is paradoxical for while it lives,you cannot live to the fullest.The question of existence is haunting,more so in the context of an existence that is scarred beyond recognition.If it was only a question of grief i would have cowed down but my life is one big deceit!I live life as a lie,so much so that i myself am unaware of my true self.I often contemplate about the past,hoping to find myself but unfortunately all i find are shimmerings of a lost life.Why do i write all this?Is to seek an answer or to exorcise my demons?In this daze of confused existence,all i have is my writing.