tragédie

There are two types of tragedies in life. One is not getting what you want, the other is getting it.

Vesper

"Does it not give birth to consequence when you draw in thin lines of white dust or do you find it akin to sanctuary where you can shy away from forgiveness of those willing women in the arms of whom you lied. Everything you touch withers and dies, now she has gone and finally it is you who is withering away, my friend. Janus would have been proud. The sheer pleasure of watching monuments melt, of watching you survive on shady whiskeys and white lines is priceless, who needs reason when you are living a Dionysian dream, who needs reason when you have enough grams to last you a month, who needs reason when the mighty have been slain and their heart's broken. The royal heartache returns, of fleeting memories, moonlit nights and delusional reverie, of days passed away in drunken stupor, do the women visit you in your dreams too or is it just the nights. Did the spells of Cupid finally made way thee or t'was a journey of Bedlam and Bedouins, tell me, does she visit your squandered mind while you consume liquid atrophy. Tell me, TELL ME, i want to seep in the pleasures of your disgrace, of countless betrayals made and countless promises surrendered!!
You are blinded by inconsolable rage that you don't care who you hurt or does the rage try to silence the screams in your head...the birth of a new civilization where men will be born with tantalizing screams and voices inside their head, soft, melodious voices, the same voice a once-upon-a-time-prince used to woo and lure women inside his lust smitten chambers. The once-upon-a-time-prince....finally fallen because of one woman..........why?"

"Because once you have tasted her, its all that you want to have", i replied calmly.

Baby O

It is not everyday that you get to talk to him, not everyday that you call upon someone whom you haven't met in years and he actually obliges. Miracles in the land of the heartless. He was neither surprised nor happy to see me, just indifferent and unfazed. Not a day had passed since he had wished me and her dead, rightfully so too. We had betrayed him at the pinnacle of our love but that is another tale altogether. He had changed a bit, he looked more handsome than the last time i had seen him, more composed and calm, a fresh drop of dew on a wintry morning. "Thanks for coming, I.......", and then unsure of what to say, i stopped. He looked at me with a look of contemptuous pity and sat down comfortably. His fiery eyes bore into mine and he said in his sneer of a tone, "Do you mind?" I looked at at the Dunhill between his rose tinted lips and wondered why had he started smoking. Without waiting for me to reply he lit and drew a long puff which he let it rest before twirling out a hazy cloud of gray white vapor, disturbing the lazing stillness of the place. "There is a certain poetry in committing a crime after you have served your sentence", he said rather spiritedly, a line whose full essence i would grasp only later on. "You look like a zombie, a very dead zombie in fact."

"Zombies are already dead",i muttered.He smiled and continued,"Cynicism from a rebelling idealist, my my, the world is already changing. Here, have a puff, smoke away your troubles." I took it from his hand, exhaled deeply and put it on my virgin lips, my hands trembled ever so lightly as i drew in the acrid taste. I coughed, he laughed. I tried again, this time more slowly, inhaling the nicotine, letting it slowly explore the innards of my body, ruminating about its presence within myself. After what seemed like an eternity i exhaled although only a moment had passed. I could feel the burning at the back of my throat and my mouth felt bitter but i continued smoking. I was surprised when it finished so early, i had hoped at a longer rendezvous but like Under Officer Ali Shigri once told me,"You ask for freedom and they give you Chicken Korma".

I gazed at the distant waves, warring against the indomitable coastline of the City of Dreams. "You remember the time when we went to Ranikhet, it was the best time i ever had in my entire life. I loved both of you in ways i can't explain. You and her were my best kept secrets, no one knew about your existence, no one knew i could afford to fight against all odds because i had my kingdom beside me.", i stopped, troubled by the lump in my throat, the sign of my weakness, when emotion swells within my heart and words choke me. A single tear rested upon my eye, unsure whether to declare its presence to the man within the room or quietly hide away, as countless of his brothers had before him. The coward chose latter. "I called you today because your wish has been fulfilled, she has left me forever and i have finally fallen. I seek neither your forgiveness nor your sympathy and i cannot disrespect you further by asking for atonement but do me a last bit of favor, watch over her in this big, bad world of ours."

He stood up and walked towards me, placing his long slender arm over my shoulder he said silently."I came here not because i wanted an apology or for that matter a soliloquy of sorts". I gave him a watery smile. He smiled back and continued," I came here so i could relieve you of your pain. Neither has she left you forever nor have you fallen, things are a bit bleak but I'll sort them out. I'll make the pain go away, the horrible,terrible pain that seeps you from within, i know how it feels, you know i do." He looked me within my eyes and i stared back in the dark pools of black, noticing his lashes tremble. I buried my face within his shoulder and began sobbing, silent shuddering sobs. He held me close and i could feel his warm breath on my earlobe. "Shhh, everything will be fine, my friend, everything will be just fine....." 

                    "Girte hain shehsawar hi maidaan-e-jung mein
                    Woh tifl kya girenge jo ghutno ke bal chale...."

I looked up, both sobbing and smiling, sobbing remembering my betrayal and smiling because i felt faint stirrings of hope in beating heart, faint but actual stirrings. I wanted him to stay there, close to him, my head on his shoulder, my arms round him, his warm breath lulling me to sleep. I wanted time to stop and gaze at us.I have never believed in God and never thought i could but at that moment nothing but divinity oozed out from my soul. He had forgiven me and nothing but the Hand of God could have changed his mind.

"Come on now, sit down. I'll go get a glass of water." He came back a minute later with a glass of water and a small packet. He handed me the glass and began to slowly open the packet, carefully and neatly. White powder. I remembered the first i had done it, it was surreal., electricity and numbness, chaos and serenity, anger and calm, all had fused together to create the much needed psychic synchronicity. But then i had stopped, neither by choice nor by chance, it had been because of a promise, whose ethos were as old as time itself : Love. "I don't do that anymore", i said a bit too aggressively, instantly betraying my vulnerability. He looked up and smiled and in an enchantingly melodious tone captivated me completely. With my head on his shoulder again and sweet temptation being whispered in my ear, i surrendered. In a second, promises were forsaken, the past forgotten, sweet innocence betrayed and tears swallowed. I was his to be and if he wanted me to take in the sinned white powder, the modern age forbidden fruit; the Devil's Ambrosia, then i would take it.

Three snorts of four inches of this stuff can make you God. So three snorts and one hour later i was God. I could perform miracles now, turn men to dust, raise the dead, light up the skies, turn the moon into a giant disco ball and dance till the saints come marching. It felt good, real good, after months of depression and exhaustion, it was a spiritual relief to laugh with gay abandon with my once-upon-a-time best-friend. Another smoke lit, another snort taken, a telepathic decision to play Lady Gaga was taken. We started to dance, a passive onlooker would have described it as erotic, i would describe it as pseudo erotic after deliberate observation. Seven songs later two sweaty,young men fell on the soft velvety couch and drifted off to sleep, arms entangled, breaths mingled and heaven perfected.

I woke up suddenly when i heard a loud groan, i opened my groggy eyes and was aghast to see him lying on the floor and his mouth bloodied and foamed. "What the hell happened? I am calling an ambulance right.......", i stopped midway as i saw him beckoning me closer. "I am here buddy, just relax, everything will be all right.." He mustered some energy and plonked himself upon me,"Just listen carefully and don't interrupt no matter what, i don't have much time." Gauging the seriousness of his tone,i sat still and motioned him to continue,"I am dying and this is my final blow.Before taking what i took while you were sleeping,i called up the police and told them you were trying to poison me." "What are you saying, let me call the doctor, everything will be fine.." "I don't need the doctor, i need revenge and when my body falls limp your destiny will forever crumple. I loved her more than anything in this world and you took her away. I loved her, i really did and you knew it. You took her away from me and now you will pay. Know that every.....", he started violently coughing blood and with a final spasm of agony he lay dead on my lap.

By the time i  stood up and surveyed the brutal scene before me - Powder on the table, my torso bloodied by the blood of hatred and his limp yet taut body, serene in its moment of eternal satisfaction - i could already hear the wail of damning sirens.

Et tu, Brute?

When you are falling in an abyss of self loathing, the darkest epiphanies crawl beside you wreaking havoc upon everything you have created. Betrayed and thwarted by the world at large, you struggle to breathe,  simultaneously marveling at your own foolishness to fall in the same trap you created. Your past is negated by your present and what remains is an ashen future, obscure and meaningless. That slit upon your wrist seems a genuine way out of this pandemonium but bonds of suffering are never so easy to break. The darkest hour is no longer a fantasy but a surreal reality, painful and torturous, the masochist in me is quite proud, the human feels quite aborted though. I was not always like this though. I reveled in the reverie called life, i worshiped joy and happiness and sought it eagerly, hungrily waiting for moments that would inexorably lead to several infused smiles within my heart. Clearly all that is no more, annihilated by forces i failed to foresee, i was subjected to wave upon wave of pure unrelenting pain in mere moments. I had sought to bridge destinies but my own destiny is now hazy, shards of glass and broken,multiple distorted images.I should have known better, Fallen roses are seldom picked up. Several times i have stood against odds unfathomable to most men and i have survived, but odds against life are no longer what i battle but rather the inner, parasitic hollowness of mine. I mayn't have fallen so hard had it not been for the the fact that i trusted too much while journeying through the jungles of my personal nadir. The reasons of my fall are both inanimate and animate, and it is this animate which makes atonement all the more arduous. I may have been called a number of things but not foolish, now i seem to have lost that remaining chunk of respect too. I am now officially foolish. Go on, dear world, make the most of it, devour me completely; while i am still down.