A bid with my Bed

I sat on my bed,
The very bed
that had been such a good friend of mine
For I, like a good friend too, confided
All that in my heart lay
My bed cuddled me off
Into a warm sleep like each day
And thought as I
And dreamt as I
Only one man blocked the way
That many people normally share
They talk, they walk, they ware
And like flowing water
They go out of my dreams
The man who came this day
Had just been a part of that earlier flow
But sooner and sooner
Apart the flow he became steady
More than a river
More than that flow
With his progress slow
He built a dam on that river
Constricting
The flow of water
The flow of people
And there he stood as if he were
The ruler of my mind
He came to me, caressed me
With an arm around, he kissed me
And with a start I woke
Not knowing right or wrong
And my bed-my friend said
It's not wrong I feel,
Said my trusty wise bed.
May be, my dear.. no more can I
Cuddle you how did I
The man in your dreams
I feel, is better than I.
And I lived the illusion,
I lived that dream.
And then was my sleep disturbed…
Nothing factually existed..
It was just a mask…
Which neither could guess nor know
And sufferer is I,
Who dreamt and dreamt,
And never realized
That dreams and reality
Are totally different !
I now wake up
I now understand
It’s my loyal bed that’s invaluable
And not the other way round !

Monologues

I’m the shine of the gold
I’m the wisdom of the old

I’m the polish of the paint
I’m the holiness of the saint

I’m the faith that won’t falter
I’m the eyes that won’t water

I’m the point of the thorn
I’m the redness of the dawn

I’m the charity of the tree
I’m the freedom of the free

I’m the majesty of the eagle
I’m the zest of the struggle

I’m the freshness of the bath
I’m the leader of the path

I’m the cheer in the smile
I’m the water in the Nile

I’m the gift of the giving
I’m the life of the living

I’m the scorn of the sun
I’m the roast of the bun

I’m the fickleness of the boy
I’m the novelty of the toy

I’m the aurora of the north
I’m the step put forth

I’m the vision of the eye
I’m Death to make you die

I’m the height of the tower
I’m the nectar of the flower

I’m the yes in the nod
I’m the straightness of the rod

I’m the pleasure in the joy
I’m the blush of the coy

I’m the platinum of the mine
I’m the addiction of the wine

I’m the living of the niche
I’m the money of the rich

I’m the splurge of the feast
I’m the sun of the east

I’m the freshest of the food
I’m the best of the good

I’m the awe of the wonder
I’m the roar of the thunder

I’m the characteristic of creation
I’m the loyalty of devotion

I’m the victory of the victor
I’m the defeat of the loser

I’m the passion in the bed
I’m the memory of the dead

I’m the tempest of the rains
I’m the deepest of the pains

I’m the lead of the role
I’m the spirit of the soul

I’m the blade of the sword
I’m the might of the Lord

I’m the wit of the smart
I’m the love of the heart

I’m the brain of the wise
I’m the luck of the dice

I’m the gloom of the sad
I’m the worst of the bad

I’m the falsehood in the lie
I’m the farewell in the ‘bye’

I’m the charm of the spell
I’m the burn of the hell

I’m the catcher in the rye
I’m the vastness of the sky

I’m the ‘why not?’ in the ‘why?
I'm the will you can’t destroy

Pray tell me, who am I?
Pray tell me, who am I?

A shot.. Love

I sit on my chair right now.. I a wearing my usual night dress.. my spectatcles in their usual front of my eyes.. Me typing.. Usual sight..
And so wrong as well !!

Right now, at this moment, everything for me has become miraculously cold.. I had this feeling about exactly a year back, and about exactly another year back.. I have been a fighter all my life, trying to avoid all the mistakes I have committed in my past..
And yes, I have been successful enough not to repeat them all, but only to wander through new roads of sufferance.

I dont really know why I really am existing. I dont feel any reason for myself to do so. The Geeta says it right- Karmanyevaadhikaarastey Maa Faleshu Kadaachana. It rightfully means that Do everything and exercise all your rights, But never expect a fruit.

For an ardent fan of mangoes like me, today it seems like opening up and cutting every mango in the world and finding it full of worms... Worms that destruct all the sweetness of the mango. But still, look at the mango, it did its work of being sweet. No matter how ungrateful the worms are, the mango remains to be sweet. No matter how cruel a crushing hand is, but it still is scented by the fragrance of the crushed flower. No matter how vain the moon may become and cast an eclipse shadow on the sun, the sun still is what it was earlier. In fact not just that, but it also continues to enlighten the moon.

What I want to say is, dont they understand love?
Doesnt the worm understand that it would die if the mango doesnt feed him? It's mango's love.
Doesnt the hand understand that it is so rustic without the floral scent? It's the flower's love.
Doesnt the moon understand that it is lightless and lifeless without the sun? It's the sun's love.

Why cant love be responded? Why cant somebody hear when I shout and scream and cry and yell and beg? It's my love. And inspite of being eaten or crushed or shadowed, that love still remains. It is love that runs the world. Aren't we formed out of the love between our parents? Werent we nurtured by our mother's love? Dont we have everything to share with friends who love us so much? Dont we have a partner with whom we are whatever we are not? Then why cant anybody understand this love? And is it really a fault to love?

When you care for somebody inspite of how they are to you, that's love. When you bear somebody inspite of that person not understanding you, that's love. When you just walk from outside the road and let your love be in, just for you don't want them hurt, baby, then that's love. When you just see into somebody's eyes, and you remain silent, but everything is talked without words, that's love. When you want somebody to be with you in whatever your endeavours are, that's love. When you are there to support somebody in all their blues, that's love. Love isn't just a phrase to say I Love You. There's such a whole depth behind it. ANd when you really don't know how deep you are in it, but you still are in it, that's love. When you don't sleep a whole night because you have been worried about that person the whole day, that's love. When you don't look at anybody other than that person, because you feel guilty, that's love.

It's nothing less than that, my dear...
It's all about love.



I'm not great or good or nice or beautiful or charming or pleasant or wise by any means. I accept I'm not worthy of anything half as good as you.
But love simply is.


November 25th, 2008
8-40pm.