Silent Betrayal

I smiled often so you could smile
I hid my tears so you wouldn't cry
I gave you my hand when times were tough
I did everything when things were rough
I wiped your tears and wept for your grief
I held your hand to make you understand
I believed in god so i could pray for you
I slept in sand whilst i dreamt of heaven for you
I punished myself for your sins
I helped you always when i could
I thought of you when i smiled
I cared for your happiness
I cared for your joy
I forgot everything when i heard your voice
I made up stories to amuse you
I hoped i would never lose you
I gave up everything when you asked
I would sell myself to buy you a laugh

But

You cheated whilst i trusted
You laughed when i cried
You will smile if i die
You forgot me after you passed your time
You lost me when you broke my trust
You broke my soul and lost yours too
You robbed a man who would have given it all up
You made fun behind my back
You laughed with spite and became cruel
You faked affection in your hatred
You gave me up for your own ends
You thought me as an ignorant fool
You brought ruin upon a gentle soul
You sinned when you stabbed my back
You have no heart to love
You have no soul to pray
You are cold and you know it too
You think your god will ever forgive you?

Complex/Komplex

We all are actually dead.You and i especially.We have lost the ability to create new thoughts,to give birth to genuine ideas,of thoughts which have never been thought before.All we do is to recycle and reuse thoughts that are being passed to us from existing and dominant nodes of power.Where is our Revolution?In our books,in art house cinema or some dingy old corner of a shoddy pub where speech is ALWAYS predominant to action??Where is your CAUSE?The will to live,the reason to breathe and the melodies of our heartbeats;all are just vague,dull,repetitive entities.I cannot even develop a referential point for a non conformist argument because everything is corrupted.I feel existentially oppressed.The oppressor is a chimera,the revolutionary must become a chimera too in order to overcome oppression.

The CAUSE should be paramount.The very top of the holy pyramid.Its existence is eternal,humans and their actions become both meaningless and meaningful,both descriptions adhering to different frameworks,the particular vs the universal.

As Che said: It is not a matter of wishing success to the victim of aggression,but of sharing his fate.

The revolutionary must live for the cause,burn to illuminate,fizzle to ignite.My cause lies within the very layers of my existence.Its spark,as i understand,is bright.I dream of it very day.It makes everything else insignificant;family,life,success,love and especially myself.I don't have any desire to define myself within conventional parameters of success and failure.I lost the wish when i gained the Cause.It enlightened me,within rudiments of human extensions,gave me a purpose which only i can see.I risk being called mad and unreasonable by the world,even cold and deviant;yes it is true but only within the rules of your world.The rules of my world are different.I adhere only to them.

The mind is the the Source.From here stems all that we know of.It is also the purest paradox.It feeds you illusions but in the garb of knowledge.Revolution takes place when you identify the paradox,Enlightenment when you understand it and Self Destruction when you decipher it.I talk of Revolution only because it is the first step.The first step to salvation.It lies outside the bubble of civilization.A place where the mind is not bound by laws,human or cosmic and death is as alluring as life itself.But my words are hieroglyphics for those who do not understand neither the Cause nor the Revolution but then i am not writing for the many germs of the world.I write for a select few gems.

I have often heard:Long Live The Revolution.Why,if i may ask,should the Revolution live long?I do not want it to be stagnant.It should end itself to give rise to a new Revolution.
Glorious and eternal.
The beauty of every Cause is that it exists.It exists for itself not for the world and that is how should ideally every human should exist.Each human a Cause,each human a Revolution.

“Those who hate most fervently must have once loved deeply; those who want to deny the world must have once embraced what they now set on fire."
Tucholsky

May the length of my existence
be as short as her faithlessness.

Escape

Of all flowers that bloom
all wilt and wither
what remains is a memory
of days and rains
what has ended
will return
but in due time
perhaps not soon
and not even in time
to save you
but it shall return
nevertheless.

Dancing in the dark
romancing moonlight
is fleeting joy
soon to turn mundane
and commonplace.
Why
must you ever be happy?
or even sad?
when you can play
with chaos
words
lives.

Love what you destroy
and
sometimes even
destroy what you love
for in uncertainties
no patterns of existence
is life lived
play with yourself
and others too
forever
till you lose everything
become a crumpled paper.

Slip often
willingly
to burn painfully
in the fire
of unwanted existence
till you become a memory
slowly fading away
lost in rumors
and speculations.

Hieroglyphic self

I am a broken sound,the equivalent of a muffled infant who suffocates to death all the while exhorting its mind and body for one moment of sonorous pleasure.The incomplete abyss of nothingness,hollow beyond measure,like vapors of smoke that dissolve into space and time,fading away in nocturnal bliss dimly aware of the world outside but thriving like a parasite on its pulsating self,waiting,perhaps for Godot or was it Todog?,into the unreal world of dissolving identities and makeshift masks,melting in moments,to reveal more masks until one day,there would be nothing left to reveal and thy imagination would wither like a worm on an Australian beach,forever shunning the epitome of existence and its few friends;never to look into a mirror for the fear,the heart wrenching fear of finally seeing the self but knowing that both the fear and the self are yet again masks,albeit much more sublime than their predecessors for they have now evolved like man and his coherent cognitive senses,yet again knowing that illusion again is but reality,only simplified for convenience and like smoke,it too,shall fade away leaving behind nothing but an acrid taste of truth,only to deconstruct the constructs and their intertwined fallacies.

Cherry Trees and A Man Apart

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The Land Of Opiate Lions

I walked slowly,haltingly,each step an impossibility of action,of thought.The road was an amalgam of loose soil,blown fleetingly from Kotal-e Salang,and asphalt,a trickling example of modernity in civil engineering.The air was dry and barren,much like the state of affairs of its nation.I felt tired and defeated but primarily disgusted at my own impotency to change anything.War evokes this feeling in the most deadened of hearts,but this was not war,i mused,it was a bloody extermination;of men,of tradition,of culture and the world had turned a blind eye to it.I walked on,each step a symbol of my personal Waterloo.What was it that i had thought that i could change in this fate less nation where death enveloped men not with a quiet dignity but with a hound's blood lust?I was ordinary and the world did not respond to the ordinary;it responded to men of power,but men in power wanted wars and tumbling economies so that they may build their own empires of wealth.Money which came from thriving opium business and the global arms race.What could i do in this world which was governed by laws i could not understand?

Kabul was feverish;with disease,hunger,deaths and grief.Men looked on with hollow eyes at the debris of their spiritual essence,of their homeland which has served as a foster battleground for the mighty of the world.Afghanistan's beauty lies neither in the sheer magnificence of its virgin land and nor in the towering Hindu Kush mountains which serve as its pseudo guardians;it lies in its resilience,its solitude and the indomitable spirit of its people.There have been days when i have cried like a child looking at shards of humanity in this god forsaken land ;where men risk everything for one another,where each day is a battle not for survival but for hope.Kabul was resilient and that was all that mattered to its people.The by lanes of fear,the army rangers patrolling the area for security and the Presidential Palace in all its magnanimity were sights of assurance that helped keep life going on.When i had set foot in Kabul,i was excited and interested in the state of life,now i felt devoid of all emotion except for a confused state of rage and helplessness.I was not alone in my sensitivity,there were many who were aware of the turmoil the nation was in but like me,could really not do anything worthwhile.


I was an outsider but the Afghans welcomed me with open arms.The hard humor at the US Army bases goes as-An Afghan embraces you only to stab you in the back,i do not believe this to be true and a certain level nor do they;but the imperialistic discourse in their foreign policy is unmissable.They never came here looking for terrorists.They came here for a stronghold over Western Asia,a potent strategic location.What is audacious and overwhelming so is America's sordid belief in its exceptionalism and fundamental sense of righteousness that it fails to acknowledge cultures and traditions apart from his own.Afghanistan has/had(can't really place a finger on it) a rich culture and one finds delight and finesse intrinsically layered within its various art forms,something that is disappearing for no apparent fault of theirs;for one cannot really expect them to preserve art when they are struggling to preserve their life?I was certain their must be a logic,a finality of thought that could explain this spectacular holocaust but i was certain no man alive could fit all the pieces together.While i drift towards philosophy,the battle weary Afghans contemplate existentialism,i gather a local translation of Camus would do them some good.I walk some more,inhaling the stench of dry sweat and absorbing the contours of a nation that is fighting since time immemorial.Generations of men have fought for a freedom whose essence they themselves have forgotten.

To quote an old cinematic Afghan about the enemy's prayer-"May God deliver us from the venom of the Cobra, teeth of the tiger, and the vengeance of the Afghan."

My story is not yet over but i cannot write anymore for i fear sheer despondency may force me to abort my endeavors of chronicling my journey of this land of opiate lions.

A Muse And Specks Of Dust

Dorothy Parker And The Concerned Universe

Indifferent Lovers And Lonely Muses

Dorothy came and went
her words
and indifference
strewn like ashes
in the river of my life.

She is neither here
nor ever will
but should i not want
that cannot be mine?
she came and went
far away,not forever.

For she left her words
poetic verse
obtuse,true
like a child
of the masters
and the slaves alike.

Understand you not
life and laughs.
and what burns on
your cheeks,
are not just my tears
nor even yours.

What you left
you know not
and nor do i.
but you still know
a bit of this and that
while i still don't.

You cannot return
nor can i
for fate binds us
along with words
some you use
and some i.

Gone you are
away and far
but you taught me
a thing or two
about life's flair
yet never to care.

For The Times To Come

Goodness is incomprehensible.A stain of divinity.Perfection beyond the realm of thought,surpassing action and motives,confusing the world to the point of turmoil.What you call beauty,what you worship as your gods,what you feel as divine is the Absolute Good.Undeviating truth,like a child who sees the world through wondrous eyes,it is our innate goodness that the world takes away from us bit by bit.Don't fear the world,it can be fooled.I have done so.The art lies in deception.Its paradoxical that one must use deception to preserve the very seed of goodness.Act as if you are evil while nurturing the child of goodness within the womb of your soul.The world will hunt you,men who call themselves your brothers will feed upon you if you betray an inkling of your goodness.Show the world that you are brutal,devious,cunning.Only then you may be able to save goodness from its impending doom.



They say its impossible to be good.It is not.You gave up too soon.The world is not bad.I pity it.I see the cosmic joke.Each one of us projects an image.An image of our faults,of our follies so that we may be seen as plausible victors in this universe of duplicity.Drop the mask.Be good.The universe exists in the hope that we all will share a common brotherhood,of love,of tolerance,of beauty.Don't disappoint it.





Men destroy goodness in the light of the day but they weep for their actions in the darkness of night.Gloom settles on them as the world snubs them with the gaze of envy and loathing.You run after love,after wordily possessions,after a sense of complacency.Leave it all behind.You can only reach divinity through acts of goodness.Pure and joyful.The last thread that co joins us to humanity almost like an umbilical cord.Snap it and civilisations will fall.You know the pinnacle of happiness through acts of goodness.You have felt it.You know the sheer brilliance of our poetic selves.We are all creatures of delight,possessing potential for acts of paramount kindness.You will not live to see a thousand suns.But you can illuminate this place with a bit of your own inner light,the very flame that flickers a bit too brightly by the joy you give to the world.You are your own master,your own god,live life as a human being,secretly spreading joy and love,but be always on your guard,for the world should never know that you are essentially good.

*And he smiled and smiled.*

Midnight Rendevouz

Bored as usual,bored of french opera music,of cinema italiano,of endless cups of bittersweet coffee,of reading unmentionable books back to back;i decided to go out.It was almost the middle of the night,an hour to go perhaps,that i contemplated the destination of my midnight escapade.It had to be someplace where i could find solitude,an escape from ennui,from nothingness to nothingness.I had to be quiet or it would be really weird trying explaining your parents why you were fully dressed(not that its otherwise) and trying to tiptoe out of the house in the middle of the night.I had apply all the stealthy moves that i had subconsciously learned from the likes of Bond and Wile E Coyote.I was feeling reckless and bored,a dangerous combination for a quiet,chilly and foggy Delhi night.


I clocked around an average of 122kph and reached the heart of Delhi in about twenty minutes.Connaught Place is a lovely,my kinda place with its obvious Georgian architecture and obscure history.Obscure not in the historical sense,of course,but about those countless stories that make up the place and give it an ethereal charm.So i reach the place somewhere around 12 and am felling pretty rebellious for a change.I drive a bit around,hoping to find a nice place to go to,when i suddenly realize that its been a long time since i indulged myself in a bit of luxury.Well i don't drink(as of yet),so no point in going to a pub and sipping cranberry juice.Both the Meridian and Shangri La are close by but i decided to go to the Meridian instead;a bit of nostalgia with that place,not to mention familiar terrain.I was almost there when i thought that tonight is not the night to do tried and tested things,tonight is the night to try new things,to live life dangerously.I admit going to Shangri La isn't dangerous one bit but such are life's dearies!

I was ushered in Cafe Uno discretely and politely.The ambiance was excellent and so was the coffee.Lost in my own amusing thoughts of how my definition of a midnight snack had changed over the years,i suddenly noticed someone looking at me intently.Now this rarely happens to me and i am usually the one giving people long piercing stares.She gave me a small coquettish smile and i trying to look all suave and confident,gave her an inviting,charming smile.She walked over and said,

'Hi,Do you mind if i join you?'

'Of course not,rather i would be quite glad',standing up suddenly as a proper gentleman.A bit of chivalry doesn't really hurt anyone.

'Aditya, right?'

'Um....yeah but how do you know my name?',i asked,utterly perplexed.

'I am surprised you don't remember me.Hi,I am *****,we met at Vaibhav's party.'

'Oh,Hi *****,i am so sorry.Its been a long time and it was kinda dark at his place',i grinned sheepishly.

'Oh that's all right though i guess his place was dark for a reason.'We both smiled and then laughed.Her laugh was more of giggle but in a cute sort of a way.

And then we talked.We talked about life,about love,about the world at large.It was strange,talking to someone whom i had met met just once before but it felt absolutely brilliant.We shared the same tastes in books and movies though we were at polar opposites when it came to the question of Shobha De;she found her over rated ,i did not.Apart from our opinions on Ms De,we both had the same fantastic tastes!!!

Coffee was brilliant.Our conversation was even better.But as Nelly Furtado sings,All good things come to an end.They actually do.She had to go and i had to leave.We exchanged numbers and i wrote my blog address on her hand.She walked away and suddenly i felt the chill in the air.

I reached home,tip toed back to my room and thought about the evening.Life is one big coincidence and i am waiting for it to happen again.

If you are reading this,then i ll be there waiting for you,same place,same time.If not,i ll still be there.

PS- ******,you are absolutely brilliant and fantastic.