Keeping trouble away.

I live deep in the caves of guilt and craving. I know I am just like any normal homo sapien and craving for things is one of the things God created me for, but this fallacy leads me to the ever lasting guilt of wanting what I can never attain. My cravings and my guilt at constant tug of war, it has made a huge mess of my life making me wish for a safe way out-death!
But today, my nerves just plainly going bonkers, I told myself to take a backseat in this journey of life and reflect clearly on why I feel the way I do. Voila! after many arguments with my heart I came to understand that God had cheated while creating my heart. He had created it with defunct materials that were purely meant to be discarded. So you see, my heart functions in an abnormal way, wanting something when it has to shown the door and throwing something out when it is to be accepted. God! I hate my heart now that I realize  its function well.
So, I cornered my senile heart with deadly vengence in my mind. I flew into rage and asked it why it never functioned the way it should have. I broke down before it could explain and make me understand its malfunctioning world. I stopped abruptly. Hell! What was I doing? Then I knew the answer. I had snuggled deep with self-pity that I forgot that there is a world beyond wanting to make everything spic n span in one's life.
Ah! so that's the culprit! I waded deep in the whirlpool of self acclaimed tearful situations making me wish for some heart to replace mine to take care of my ailing world. No! I retorted, I am not fighting anymore with my life. I've decided not to allow this  feeling to overshadow my real world. All troubles at bay!

When you are gone………………

The sun shines with usual brightness

Spreading its warmth in every cold nook,

Yet it warms not my heart

When you are gone.

The calm river flows in serenely

Wind plays its game, creates beautiful ripples

But its beauty fails to appeal my eyes

When you are gone.

The passing wind sings songs of mirth

Whilst the leaves dance to its rhythm

Still the music soothes not my ears

When you are gone.

The things of beauty, those of joys

Makes me fonder naught;

Everything is embedded in strange emptiness

When you are gone.

COLD FEELINGS

Love, thy love has frozen

The cold world and thy cold feelings

Freezes my feelings too-

My heart wails in deep agony

Death eludes me yet!

Melancholy shall strike harder

Totally over my heart, dead

People will call me a corpse,

A loser! That’s what I am

My love failed to conquer thy heart

Perhaps somebody else dwells there;

Losing isn’t my weakness,

It’s my fate, and nothing I can do against it.

Smile and tears

My smile and tears are in perpetual limbo,each trying to prove it's own worth. Smile says,"I am mightier of us two because if I am absent life ceases altogether."   Tears fell hysterically from the pedestal where it stood in drops, each drop mocking the smile. After much drops later, smile was drowned in the cold embrace of tears. Smile struggled to remain afloat on the puddle of teardrops. Tears went on shedding itself to prove its might.                          One day tears found that try as hard as it could,it couldn't shed itself anymore.  There was bright sunshine, the pool of tears evaporated into thin air. Smile emerged out neat and clean. It had been a mighty task for the smile to survive in that pool but eventually tears became thin invisible vapor while smile outshone itself on the face of the glorious sun. The mighty sun, lord of the sky told the smile,"you were too weak but you didn't give up your struggle for existence, now who is the mightier? You or the tears who has now no place on this earth?".               Smile smiled it brightest grin and walked into the heart where tears had dripped it's icy feelings,making it lifeless. Tears had lost the battle and in it's throne sat smile on it's best Attire.                     If ever tears cloud your heart,don't fret, a day will come when smile will take position forcing tears to abdicate the throne in your heart .

Change!

Being all alone in this strange land has changed me and the way I function. Being born and raised in a family where we had my dad's younger siblings hovering like bees all over, we were one BIG noisy family but a beautiful family all the same. I never knew what it feels like to live in a silent atmosphere and never learned what it would be like to sleep all alone.
But after reaching this most noisy and populated place, for the first time in my life, my life is teaching me lessons of loneliness and silence. I've nobody to talk to for I live all alone ( with the exceptions of people I skype with from back home,lol). But other than that I've literally nobody to talk to, nobody to share my feelings for the day, my fears, my likes, my dislikes.
Life has become a ritual now. Getting up in the morning to catch up the train so as not to miss reaching the place I've to be in time. One thing my profession back home has taught me is punctuality, I dread being late! With the train rumbling and  noise of people scurrying in and out, I feel a deep silence inside me. They are a huge crowd, but not somebody who I can talk to and fill in the silence. I eye the couples holding hands, lost in the beautiful world of love and I miss the person I love too; I see tiny toddlers being moved around in their strollers and I miss my own li'l darlings whom I've left behind at home. Arrgh! I begin to hate myself but I control my ill feelings, that's not how one starts one's day.
But of late, I find myself in perfect sync with this ritualistic life. A meek gecko like me who never budged an inch with a companion has now learnt to commute daily all alone in this strange place. I laugh at my fears back in my own homeland, there I should have known no fears but in this strange land of dangerous crimes happening everyday, I walk feeling completely safe.This is the first change I've noticed in me.
Sleeping alone was never an option I had, nor ever wished for. Maybe it was the fact that I had lots of people back home to share my room with, the monsters from my monster's world could never sneak up on me but their thoughts would make me shudder. Now, here I'm sleeping all alone with all those monsters castaway far from my world.
These are two things I noticed as BIG changes in me, I won't go for the minute details of small changes. But today as I sat reflecting on the changes life has made in me I began to wonder, when I turn my steps back home-will I see changes there too? Having spent much of my time talking about Giver and Jonas, I started to wonder... would Jonas have reached that elsewhere and done something dramatic? Would the old Giver have  his youth back?Would Gabe grown up big and healthy? Why am I talking textbook when I can talk about my own home and family but those are obvious, I mean I know for sure my elder daughter would speak to me in full English sentences; I know her world would have expanded beyond the ABCs I left her with. I know for sure that My younger daughter would talk to me and call me 'Mama!' on my face ( wow! can't wait for that moment!).
There are many changes I've to undergo and many changes I've yet to witness as I turn my step back home, but before all that I really wish I could take that journey back home sooooooooooooooooon!

How???????????

How do I walk back

To set wrong things right?

To undo things I’ve done to you

To un-break my broken heart

To put back in my heart

The love I gave to you,

To un-say the words

I said to you,

To figure out why I chose you

To have my heart,

To clean all the pages of love notes

Your heart gave me never meaning it,

How, please tell me how?

My Love

No, I don’t want to own you but there are times when I want to steal you away from reality and find you a cozy place in my dreams. I’ll then go to heaven above and ask God to lend few twinkling stars and the mighty silvery moon to light up my world of dreams. I know I don’t need these elements from God’s chambers to light up our world and my love is enough to show you the path leading to my heart but I want you to know that my love is worth all the stars and the moon in God’s kingdom.

I can’t ensnare you by weaving a web of words to woo you but I want to write thousand ways in which I love you so that the tiniest of splints can glow brightly with my love and add more sparkle to the land of dreams. I know my love needs no words to prove its worth but I’ll make my words fall like the thousand drizzling drops of rain so that you know how many words I can use just to let you know my heart.

I can’t perform magic to make you love me in the same fashion as I do but I know your heart will feel the magic of love that echoes deep from the well of my heart.  I don’t need any music to glide on, on my way to your heart but the notes of love will give you a ride into the depth of my heart where you shall dwell for eternities with no end.

What am I?

Am I insane
having lost all my mind
walking in the abyss
of forgetfullness?

Am I mad
fuming with anger
delving deeper into the volcano
of boiling emotions?

Am I stupid
easily fooled into emotions
which leaves me more scarred
each time I take a plunge?

Am I completely nuts
jumping from one thought to another
from blank to void thoughts
keeping me occupied with nothing?

Letter to my daughters

Dear li'l Ones,
This is mama here, with eyes unable to latch in the tears of missing the two of you, wishing she was with you guys snoring in that li'l world of ours- holding your tiny fingers; regretting her decision of leaving you all to pursue her dreams of no horizon.
Everyday is a new ordeal for me as I fight hard with my heart not to miss you, my angels. I try myraids of ways to shield my weeping heart from pain. I open my laptop, get locked in conversation who have touched me in their different ways but this talks never soothes the part in my heart where I've made a cozy home for the two of you.
As I sit here typing this, I know two of you are fast asleep unaware of this heart beating in pain, imagining herself beside the two of you, your tiny fingers clasping my fingers tightly. I see the two of you, smiling,playing new tricks you have learnt in my absence, I smile too but as soon as your image fades from the click of a button, I cry thousand galloons of tears remembering each move you made.
'Children are selfish,'one of my friend told me,'they forget you as soon as you are gone from their sight.' But I know somewhere in the dead of the night, in your tiny eyes you hold the dreams of me dancing with you. I know as you put any morsel of food in your mouth, you miss the love in the hands that fed you. In the darkest hour of the night, you miss the warm hands that pressed on your cheek to feel the beauty of our relationship.
Even when away from the two of you I never forget to thank God for giving me the chance to mother the two of you. I feel blessed that I've two of you to hold my hands during my old age but I am sorry dear that right now I am not there to hold your tiny hands. Each moment feels like an eternity of endless eternity and I cry, sighing n sobbing missing you and hating the moment I decided to leave the two of you.
Parents are selfish sometimes but my dear li'l ones you must understand its for the two of you I took this decision but now I am getting the feeling that I must have been insane to think of future when I am missing the best of our present.
Whatever it is, mama misses both of you a lot, I love you my Angels.

Mama.

Hallucination

People who talk of love and the truth of its existence are great liars, there is nothing such as holding on one person for ages. If there is anybody believing in such crap,either the person has to be seriously insane or the winner of the stupid-est whacko.
Dreams are built by ignorant beings who are easily lured by the never meant to be true promises of love. What untimately stands true is the lies walking on the crutches called love. A limping lie can easily walk with the support of the crutches called love. Fools dream and smart people show them these dreams. When the dreams shatter, fools cry and the smart just walk out to the next fool for showing some more dreams.
Love is mere hallucination of eyes weary in life, searching for reason to be made more miserable. Love does exist-in its true form in the heart of fools and in the tongue of the wise. Words can easily become the weapon of the wise to show the invisible path of love which the fool blindly follow like the people who claim to see the naked emperor clothed.
There exists no love unless it dwells in the heart of some poor fool.

Conversation of the seen and unseen!

When we parted in past; you were scared
of things unseen
You said you lost to your own heart, no one to correct you.

Having to make it better;
Living in thoughts was what you did
But I never stepped back once my heart was offered.
I lived in the dreams of reality, lucky me
while you ran away from dreams.

I had no chains to bind you,and still don't have

You say you loved me all this time
 But when I look back in time, out of us
I feel I loved the best.

I knew I had to hold onto you and I did
When you wanted me to free you, I freed you
When you came back I accepted you
as if  I always waited for your return.

And when storms gathered in my ship, I tarried with your thoughts
but a l'il bit of wind
You fear the storm is rolling; you want to escape
when ur ship sinks somewhere again you might seek me
and there you'll find me smiling with all my love
 ever ready to shower you with it
so tell me who loved the best?

There is nothing called best or worst in love,maybe
For you love meant endurance
 but definitely there is weak and strong
You said, may be I was weak but
you did not lose from loving me

But you wavered at the slighest hint of storm
While I withstood tthe deepest of storm
In the tempest, umbrella doesn't work dear
you need to steer clear your way out from the storm

 Though in thougths you were faithful to me
 thoughts are mere hallucination
 gone in a flicker of eyelids.

You never told me to hold on
You never told me of your return
You never gave me any reins of hope
You snapped off all ties with reality when u left
and I a wanderer, got lost in the vast desert of love.

Life was a wind blowing me away from you

I have become senseless since we met again
I never cared for anything
save your love.
This is not wise I know
But I've never wanted to be wise.

The pain

How do you explain:
the pain of missing someone
the ecstacy of loving someone truly
the happiness in being together
the stabbing ache of not having him near
the tears of solitude felt in crowd
the shrieking sorrows of love
the pangs of separation
the dreams unfulfilled
the dreams flowing in tears
how do I explain, how?

HOW DO I NOT LOVE YOU

How do I not love you
sweet love;
you shower me with loving praises
when I'm laying in the draught
of emotions.

How do I not love you
sweet angel;
you always brighten up
your smile
whenever I am sad.

How do I not love you
sweet guardian;
when adversities knock my door
you envelope me
with your soothing words.

How do I not love you
sweet love;
again and again you knock at my heart
with  promises of love

so pure and true.

The same old stories

Tears have flooded the desert, seeped in the sands of fate quenching the dried up thrist of ugly fate. I am just plainly tired of living a life of hopeful hope that slips away everytime I pick up the satin reins of hope. So wishing to give new wings to my failing heart I took a stroll down to the park today.

Hot winds that greeted me the previous day seemed to belong to ages ago as the cold wind of the first day of october pinched me. I realised it was a mistake to come out in my skimpy shorts and t-shirt, but a soul driven out by sorrow cares too less for the outter garments which warms not the wretched inner soul. Undeterred I walked on.

The park although situated in the midst of many roads diverting to various direction invites few guests.Maybe people don't have much time to waste  in the park or it could be people here do not know love. However, I've spent many of my melancholic days there and it gave me solace merely being there. As I went to the bench well hidden in the bushes, where I normally sit to cry away all the tears my sorrow is worth. But today as soon as I kept my heavy body on the bench I heard a sigh that would have set sail a mighty yatch. I landed in turmoil, to sit with my share of agony plus another agonised being or vamoose from there as quickly as possible. I chose the former as I had no face to sit in the other benches which was open to all passing humans and automobiles alike.

"Do you believe in love?" Startled at the strange question of my sobbing stranger neighbor I stood up. Ah! so that's what triggered that query, written in bold letters I BELIEVE IN LOVE with a picture of tiny cupid with his arrow showed on my t-shirt. Of all the days I had to wear that shirt. I wanted to rip open my shirt to tell my neighbor that it was the last feeling on earth that I would ever believe in but given the tearful situation that greeted me, I didn't have the heart to break the already broken heart. "Why do you ask?" was all I could afford.

Then started the journey of love which is nothing different for any person who has walked on the path of romance. She told me how she met her prince charming who stole her heart and soul and made her feel the heaven had come to kiss the earth. The usual twist, they got married and love flew out of the window never to cast second glance back at them.

I wanted to tell her that my heart was in the same whirlpool as hers but I guess every being thinks that one's grief is the most painful. So I allowed her to play the role of the most wretched being alive on earth while my heart wanted to pop out of my being and jump on the stone slab near us and shriek on top of my voice that I am also burning in this same tempest. Thick drops of tears plunged down her cheek. I withdrew the tissue I had brought for my own tears and gave it to her. People in sorrows forget the customary politeness, she didn't thank me for my generous offer and I didn't mind.

She took me in the journey I was so familiar with, the sweet aches of love; the soaring in feelings like heavens is just next door; and then the ultimate reality making one fall with loudest thud that not only breaks one's heart but shatters one's soul too beyond repair. She stood abruptly and muttered a soft sorry for shedding her sorrows on me and left. She moved like a big block of lead weighted down by sorrow but looking at her I knew she was not one big block but a thousand splinters trying to come together to form the same old being.

I had gone to the park to cry my sorrows away but landed up with eyes too stunned to cry yet carrying double the lead in my soft heart. Right after reaching home, I flung myself on the bed and cried, for myself and also for that broken being I met in the park.

For you!

In the lush green meadow, I seek
your face in every flower petals;
and listen to the songs you sang
in the winds.

In the snow-capped mountains, I write
songs of my heart, which will flow
in the summer of our life
and meet the sea of your emotions.

In the mist of time, I stamp
my tender heartbeats, and each beat
shall produce song of its own
of love perpetually alive in my heart.

In the darkness of the night, I send
thousands twinkles of stars
adorned with glimmers of my dreams
dreamt with your thoughts.

Friends

1. I've always valued the worth of friends in my life and yesterday they truly made my belief in friendship more firm. How easy it is to just be yourself, shedding all pretentiousness of being normal when you are not; the whole life is actually a series of pretensions that lead us blindly towards the end of our precious life.

But being in the company of these three people made me spend all my negative energies saved up building upon the miseries and the pressure of it. Rinchen and Dechen had never been the 'I'll cook, do the dishes' kind during our school days so the moment the four of us met, Dendup and myself, the duo who played more motherly role since those days said our thoughts aloud that the other two who had drawn the plan for that dinner would be nowhere near the kitchen. True to our words, the moment we stepped into the house, Rinchen began with her beautifying tasks while Dechen, the always confused about what to begin with started wondering about the menu (which was actually discussed way earlier). So, knowing it was already dinner time, myself and Dendup took over the kitchen like the all knowing chefs and started the task for what we were actually invited for by the other two who had not yet stepped into the kitchen. By the time my emadatshi was cooked and Dendup's fish was in the boiling stage, the duo stepped looking beautiful and fresh like invited guests. "So, what's cooking?" Well, well, that should have been the line uttered by the two of us who were grinning there with a look that spelt,'didn't I tell you we would land up cooking?' And the four of us left out huge laugh in unison understanding really well that was exactly what was going on in our minds.
Reading each others mind has always been an easy task with the four of us. Finally, we made ourselves comfy in Dechen's sitting room and then flooded the wine and talks, which flooded more, I don't remember. Giggles, laughter and reminisces of the bygone days intoxicated us and filled the room with total euphoria. Laughing at the good old days is one thing but after wine filled our happy memories we started shedding tears. "You were always the sentimental fool among us," and they cried before I could. Filling in what we had missed with laughter, tears and wine. It amazes me how words seem to flow like a smooth river when drowning in the spirit of friendship.
Constant beeping of my mobile, a reminder that I am way ahead of girlie things made me return to the new world. My three friends reached me till my doorstep and went back. I wonder when will we get another such night in our lives that seem to have buried itself into the other agenda in life?

(should have posted this long ago, supposed to be my farewell night)

I'll love you

Lies may be your speech
false charm your entry fee;
illusionary dreams your horizon
fake smiles your weapon.

But you've conquered me
heart and soul, so be it
your false love doesn't matter
atleast I'm glad my heart is true
with all its love.

Back to Egypt

Not having quenched my thirst to know this place I sought for the same place for yet another night and immediately found me transported to Egypt the land of the son of the God, sand and many mysteries yet unknown to humankind. But this time instead of finding myself standing in front of the great pyramid, I found myself scuttling away in a cemetery adjacent to the river Nile. Hyenas chuckled maliciously; the wind carried the orchestrated eeriness found in the desert night. It rattled my senses, I didn't find washerwomen singing songs or carrying their task, no grooms walked past the stables I passed through, it was just me and the wind travelling as companions. Suddenly the wind stopped blowing, I felt like the people must have felt when Mosses parted the Red Sea to let them pass through it, and I felt as if somebody was paving the path for me. It didn't take me long to understand the scene that I would witness next…Standing with proliferate grace was the GOD of Egypt himself. The power that emanated from that pair of openings called eyes demanded easy submission without any fortitude. But it shocked me to find him beckon me to sit beside him; it was a visual treat to find the great pharaoh standing in front of me but my little knowledge about their world belittled me. I chided myself for giving up history long time ago when I was a student. "I am Ramses II," he said in his commanding voice that seemed to ring an echo throughout the desert making the sand pay their respect to him. I sat there totally awestruck as he told me how he was raised and I reprimanded myself for finding it weird that the great pharaoh was not raised in front of the eyes of his loving father. But I know he understood my feeling that came from its strange system of THA DAMTSE and LEY JUMDRE which they didn't believe in. He told me about how his stubborn nature had earned him the wrath of people in his family and how he had finally succeeded in winning the way to the throne. He told me of his quest in the faraway sand quarries where he flung the pride of being the younger son of the great pharaoh and worked his success as a stone carver, his role in the court as a royal scribe, this reminded me of the hieroglyphs I had seen during my previous visit and wondered whether it was his work I had set my eyes, he gave me a smile reading my thoughts and nodded. He talked to me about the battles he had fought that made his heart harden, of tests his father conducted on him, the treachery he had to live with as a courtier, the mysteries of God's hand leading him with unknown force through the storms of nature's forces. I travelled in time with his words on the various travels he made in his lifetime to unknown places to meet unknown perils teaching yet some more of life's wisdom to him. It was just when he was going to tell me about the fair Iset, his companion who saw his heart and not his failing position then, I felt time pulling me back to my roots and Lo! I found myself out of Egypt for yet another night. But I started dreaming of Iset the fair even after reaching my grave and without the great man having to tell me the details, from the look on his face I understood that what they shared was beyond the wish of human desires. It was the union of the heart and the soul.

My visit to Egypt

Human mind is the fleetest vehicle one will ever find that can take us to places without any hassles. Lying idle with no intention whatsoever to come in contact with yucky blood, I started thinking about visiting the Seven Wonders of the World one day, oops! one night. My mind just had to think the thought and I immediately found myself literally in front of one of the seven wonders, I was in Egypt, one of the cradles of human civilization. Standing in front of the mighty pyramids I felt like a mouse scurrying in front of it. Its size awed me and I stood frozen in amazement. The mighty pyramid made me shrink in my strature, I wanted to conjure up all my arithmetic lessons just to accurately get the size in my own brain. I started delving in the obliterate world of forgotten sin, cos and tans to think of measuring the size but my trigonometry failed me so next I tried to conjure up the Pythagoras theorem we had learnt in school but Mr. Pythagoras was a mystery even then so it was so no use trying to burden my poor brain. So I gave up the whole idea of the measurement and went to the bank of river Nile. There I was the bank teeming with washerwomen in their busy hard labor. Invisible to them, I splashed my feet in the cold Nile water with the desert sand blowing across my face. After watching the washerwomen speaking the strange language I couldn't comprehend, I left them to go further in my quest of the Egyptian world. I visited the noisy taverns, where men wearing tunic that seemed to enclose all of their vulgarity sat drinking and merry-making. I've never felt comfortable in presence of men so I quietly left the place. I went inside the pyramid; saw it guarded by mannequin like sentinels who hardly budged. I saw the beautiful hieroglyphs on the walls of the pyramid and started wondering about those artistic hands who must have left their print there for eternity. I wanted to venture in the most private of the enclosed walls and meet the much feared son of god himself the great Pharaoh, but before I could venture any deeper, a wind like whoosh pulled me back to my grave, it was time for dawn. Maybe I'll visit the pharaoh the next time.

I walked on the beach

In my days as a village belle I always dreamed of going to town some days and finding myself a husband there to settle there for good and live life town style but when my menpa left me with his final parting words, I felt my dreams of town life crashing down but it wasn't just my dreams, even I went crashing down that cliff along with my dreams. But thanks to the sorcerer who helped me with this life, now it isn't just the town, I can reach any place in a twinkling of an eye. Just yesterday I badly wanted to go to North Carolina, the place of Nicholas Sparks's romantic novels. I found myself in a house right beside the sea, it was night time, and of course now, zombies never come out during the day. The moonbeams were kissing the lashing sea waves and I found myself opening a can of beer on the porch which was dimly lit by a single bulb. The warm summer air made me breath heavily and I noticed beads of sweat on my forehead. So I strolled down towards the beach. I noticed I was walking barefoot; I liked the touch of the coarse sand rubbing on my sole as I prodded slowly. Then I felt the tingling sensation of the cold seawater touching my feet. I walked languidly, letting the whole scene seep inside me; the clouds playing hide-and –seek with the moon, the small pebbles flung on the beach joining the sand to become the beach I've always longed to walk on during my human days, wishing my love to take me to that place and hold my hands gently, his hands brushing against my body accidentally sending the shivers down my spine. I wanted him to look me in the eyes and tell me about undying love, make me feel like a princess although in my heart I would always know I'm just a plain girl-next-door type. To take me in the heaven of his embrace and love me like it was our last day on earth. A fish squirming somewhere jolted me to the beach I was strolling all alone, I took one look at the sea and saw the image of my love drifting along with the reflection of the stars, so I sat down and continued staring into the water waiting for that reflection to say all those things I always wanted to hear form his heart. Darn the cockerel, its cock-a doodle-do took me back to my grave.

I'm not talking about split personality

I have two souls dwelling in my being; I call one the master soul and the other one the slave soul. But the duo is on a constant hide-and-seek role; when one emerges the other remains subdued and hiding in the recesses of time. My Master soul is confident and so sure of what she wants. Maybe this soul originates from the fact that I am a Leo by birth, my sun sign tells me that I am a born leader maybe this should explain the existence of the master soul in my being. This soul teaches me to fight all things against me with a vengeance truly born with firmness. When my this soul is overpowering my being I stand tall in the crowd and leave all terror aside and I am not scared of performing any task I am asked to perform. I remember one instance from my teenage days, I was playing truth and dare game with my friends and I chose dare. I was asked by my naughty friends to accost the corner boy in our class who never talked with any girls in the class and carried the girl-hater look on him all the time. I guess it was my master soul who made me daring on that day for I went full tall and said "I love you" as if it was merely asking him for the direction to our class.

But wish as I may, I find my slave soul reigning over my total being most of my time. My slave soul makes me stoop low with minimum self-esteem, belittled so much that I'm scared to voice out my choice in my life, making me unable to assert my right as a human being and above all I become a cry-baby for most of my time as a slave soul being. I'm easily overshadowed by my friends and an easy prey to predators who find their mark in practicing their aim of hurting some soul. And I know when this slave soul was born in me; it came into existence since the time I started living as a guest in the houses which I would otherwise have called my homes. Since then, the slave soul has overpowered my master soul and I'm a very docile, so unsure-of-myself being right now and it'll be ages before I see my master soul win the battle against my slave soul. Maybe I would die with the slave soul reining my being and never getting the chance to see my master soul overpower me ever.

The same old stories

Leading a solitary life of a zombie I've got the time I needed to pull myself to the laboratory of my past life as a human so that I can understand what kind of a human being I've been. I was a loner perpetually drowned in the ocean of melancholy thrown in freely by the mighty hand of the creator. I used to think of myself as a mannequin in the store of the Creator put up for displaying sadness in its various shades. Now when I look back I think I could have saved myself from that ocean if only I had learnt to swim; maybe I was too lazy to move my limbs that I took it for granted that I could never swim. I see myself as a pathetic fool who deserved to die a brutal death only because I thought only I was leading a melancholic life while all others basked in the glory of beautiful life. I found myself shedding tears; tears of forlornness, tears of failure, tears of discontentment, tears of betrayal, tears of broken dreams, tears of what I didn't have and others were blessed with, I had shed so much of tears that my eyes had become a barren desert devoid of any moisture. But now when I travel to various household, not to hunt down preys but to seek life in its various colors, I see the story I felt was only mine being played in all the households I've visited so far. I've seen people swimming in the whirlpool of their broken dreams wanting to play harder at attaining just one chance before finally relenting to give oneself away to the adversity; I've heard people thinking their thoughts of dejection aloud hoping to find solace in the echo of his own voice, pretending that echo to be the voice of another lost character like himself; I've learnt of beings putting up a façade of someone they were not because they simply wanted to play foul against the hand that was bent on proving them otherwise. Kahlil Gibran's voice then spoke softly in my ears," A Thousand years ago my neighbour said to me, 'I hate life, for it is naught but a thing of pain.' And yesterday I passed by a cemetery and saw life dancing upon his grave." I didn't have to check on my grave to see life dancing on my grave for since the time I learnt that all beings pass through the same stream of sentiments in life I felt a different tug in my heart in place of the age-old pull of sorrows. An exulting feeling empowered my weakened senses and I roamed in the shower of new rains which didn't remind me of all the tears that I had shed in my human life. If there ever is heaven's manna of wisdom you seek, you find that in the load that you carry in your heart.

Marriage is a candle

My nightly sojourn has been a soul-enriching project at least in the matrimonial case. I've visited many households and in many cases I've been overhearing spouses having tiffs; sometimes it is the drunken stupor that leads the couple to peg each other with abuses which they would never think of doing while sober; at times it is the monetary issues that sets in the drift between the money-is- not-important love affair; and many a times it is the third party given the name of mistresses that does the trick of spoiling the sanctity of the sacred institution of marriage. I'm not an expert on marriage and I'll never claim so but overhearing the problems of the nuptial world in its myriads of forms I couldn't help but draw the conclusion that marriage is a candle and the spouses its light and the wick. The husband with his role connecting with the outside world is the flame on the candle. While the wick or the wife is the backbone of the candle; I mean the wick having to perform the most difficult task of giving oneself totally to keep the flame or the spirit of the candle alive while the husband gives the true meaning of the candle to the world by lighting and showing itself to the world. The flame burns in all its glory and the wick finds itself being consumed to keep the flame burning. When the duo meets, they give their shadows to the world; further more wicks and flames to continue the other candles burning. But the flame should be very mindful throughout the whole flight of the journey together, it shouldn't give in to any passing wind which might snuff it off and break the ties of the wick and the flame. While the flame can get carried away by the wind to another candle, there can be other flames dying to burn on that wick. Another lesson for the flame to learn is that the wick sacrifices itself to keep the flame throughout and the flame should also understand that the moment the wick's life ends, so does the flame but of course, the flame can immediately transfer itself to a new wick as soon as the end of the old wick draws near. But even when the flame takes its spirit to burn on another wick, the old wick remains on burning till its own flame till the end of its life. Marriage is a weak affair like the wax that trickles as a result of the burning of the duo, no marriage in the world is free of the melting wax or the tiffs that make the flame waver at times. But all should understand that where there is candle with the flame burning there is bound to be melting wax. Hey! I already feel like an enlightened zombie, at least in this case.

I wasn't eavesdropping, i heard...

The nightly sojourn was a task I dreaded but had to continue doing so since my soul had not been liberated in the way it should have been. Sometimes I wish I would meet some DELOG on the way so that I can pass on the message to my relatives in the human realm about the truth of my death and my decayed remains waiting for proper cremation. May be it is this renewed wish but I find myself wandering with more enthusiasm now.

Just yesterday, not meeting any DELOG, I kept on walking to find myself standing in front of a house I had never seen before. I know eavesdropping is bad but a shy zombie like me can't help it if I overhear conversation while deliberating with my mind to enter or not into certain houses. Inside the couple seemed to be having a fight of their lifetime. "Give me my youthful days back," the woman shouted followed by a thud sound. She must have thrown something at her husband in her anger. "I'm not GOD, I can't return your youth," the husband retorted. "You came wagging your silly tongue promising me happiness for eternity, ETERNITY, hah!" the woman seemed to be spitting venom like she was some snake. "Speak up! What happened to that educated tongue of yours? The silver tongue! Come on!" was it some kind of a challenge? I continued listening but the husband seemed to have taken a backseat in the battle. "You come home drunk each night and I'm supposed to take it with a smile, aren't you ashamed of yourself? I sit at home, cooking for you and looking after your kids and all I get is…." She started sobbing uncontrollably. I really wanted to have a look at the look of that drunkard husband but the thick walls obstructed me from the view of the drama I was listening to. It's like listening to your favorite soap in a radio, you recognize the voices and the emotions yet there is that thirst for wanting to see the actors in action. "I don't want your kids, I don't want your home, just give me my youth back." Again I heard her ask for youth, maybe the husband should seriously think of buying a time machine so that he can fulfill what seemed to his all caring wife's only wish. Instead I heard the husband meekly say," But they are your kids too." So much for an argument I thought. "Enough! I can't take care of them anymore, not with you drunk all the time," she said in such dramatic voice I felt pity on that woman instantly. "But I earn…" he protested but couldn't complete as his wife cut him short," That's it! That's it! You feel just because I don't earn! Isn't it? I know you are seeing somebody who is also earning, isn't it?" She started beating her chest at least that is what it seemed like with that small thud, thud sound. "But don't you remember I was working in that resort when you met me? I was earning too. But you didn't want my delicate hands to do chores for strangers. Now those same delicate hands have lost its charms, isn't it?" Wow! Women surely can present their debates in clear defined points. A strange silence prevailed for sometime; I was scared thinking maybe both of them might have killed each other, otherwise why so silent? For the first time after turning zombie I dreaded the cockerel's timing, I didn't want dawn, not now; I wanted to listen to their argument right till the end. A soft laughter ensued from within, was I too sleepy to be hallucinating? "Sorry, sorry" I heard the husband say weakly. Another giggling, it was the wife who had forgotten all her demand for her youth to be returned with that single sorry from her husband. I knew the drama had come to an end; they were united for yet another day, until another 'drunken husband situation'. "Bah! Women and their assertiveness!" I thought and returned to my grave with another night of no action.

This is how i died

Each night having to wake up with the loud voice of the sorcerer reminding me," Don't forget why you had to get up from your grave," is an ordeal in itself. What could have gone wrong in my human lifetime that although a Buddhist I was in a grave and not turned to ashes in some crematorium. But anyway, as I was already brought forth in this fashion I guess I have to continue playing this role. So, for yet another night I graciously got up from my grave, it took huge effort on my part to gather my mutilated body to walk in search of preys the sorcerer instructed us to look out for. The curtains of yet another ghastly night was lifted and in tandem with my sound orchestra (don't forget the jackals, owls, eerie wind and all other sounds to create the atmosphere of a zombie wandering night) I set forth climbing the rocky cliff and venturing out towards human habitation. As I was passing through the small forest at the edge of the village, two dark figures greeted my sight. I almost screamed in fright but my reasoning power proved the better of me and I knew it was their role to scream at my presence and not the vice versa, but these two humans were too entwined in their romantic spree that they didn't notice my ugly presence there. Seeing them that way struck a chord somewhere in my heart and the truth of my past life returned tumbling in the twisted, maggot filled brain of mine.

I was an introvert village belle who was orphaned in the year her parents finally relented to the village headmaster's plea to send her to school albeit the fact that she was twelve years old. My disdain for mushrooms saved me that day but my dislike for mushroom turned to hatred as it took the lives of both the hands that blessed me. The promise of education and its fruit of success forgotten I grew up into a girl to get hooked up with a menpa who used to visit our village once every month. He was elegant looking in comparison to the village lads who walked in their stinking ghos, unkempt hair and lewd remarks ever ready at the sight of us-the female counterparts. His sparkling white coat took me to a trip in the wonderland of love- the secret meetings, his visit to my house at odd hours by the village standard. But I felt if I had ever lived my life it was when I was in his embrace. Although I was totally absorbed in his life I could never muster the courage to ask him to take me with him.

One day, after completing his usual monthly round he asked me to accompany him on his way back to town. My head spinning dizzily, I knew this was the moment I had been waiting for, so before setting off, I confided the secret to my best friend that finally I was going to the town to marry the man of my dreams and at the same time I made her swear to the oath of secrecy until I was gone for good. We walked; I went ahead of him so as to make our escape unnoticed by the villagers. We met near the rocky cliff which was quite far from my village. He made me sit down and I knew it was time he told me that I have to accompany him to town to clean his house, cook meals for him, weave ghos for him and bear his children. Instead there was a gush of tears from my eyes as he told me that he was already a happily married man and a father of three school-going kids. The reverie of beautiful life married to the man of my dreams smashed on that rocky cliff. There was one moment when I felt like going down on my knees and begging him to take me with him but as I gazed up he was already away in the next bend from where I knew he would never return. Tears made my return journey a foggy one and my bleeding heart made the journey even more difficult. The instance next, I found myself shrieking with a sinking heart.

The two lovers had heard me loud and clear and they left their heavenly abode of love and fled the scene without even trying to comprehend who shrieked in that blindness of the night. I looked at my dilapidated body and knew I had fallen from that cliff and died while my best friend had already told my village people that I had gone with the menpa, so that means no body felt the need of cremating me and conducting my final rites. Okay, so that's why I roam around as a zombie.

Yet another night

Being a zombie is not a pleasant role, you have to tread on the face of the earth at some hideous hours of the day and particularly for me it is difficult because I've not understood my role clearly as of now. After my first nightly tryst, during the next convention I was given the yuckiest task of cleaning the mess of stinking blood spilled in that conference hall. The cleaning part is acceptable till certain point but the meanest eyes set on me froze not only my stale blood (if I had any in my withered body) but it surely had iced my creaky bones that I had to literally drag my feet to get out of that room quickly.

The second night I decided its time I get down to serious zombie like business. Agenda to hunt down prey afresh in my mind, I set off with the fierce wind bellowing notes of horror aided by the other nightly creatures. To set up a scarier setting I went to a dark cave in the nearby forest just adjacent to my grave and drove out the blind bats hanging upside down in their cozy hideout. It was as if the darkness had silenced all other humanly sound to pave space for other unearthly sound that would send any human awake rattling in their bed.

I reached the house I had set my foot just the night before. Hoping to hear the routine snoring sound I almost placed my foot on the threshold when the voices inside startled me. A husky female voice sounded loud and clear, "I literally had to run in the cold February rain to search for that book, I feel like killing you for putting me to such task…" I wanted to walk further and search for preys who would have surrendered themselves to slumber hours so that I would not have to hear their shriek( I'm a woman but I've never screamed in my entire human lifetime, somehow I have always dreaded that girlie habit). But that voice was talking book, a hobby I had attained from my childhood till my death. I remember reading MEMOIRS OF GEISHA and entering the Geisha world just before my mysterious death(some other time I'll tell you all how I died). So I stayed on waiting for that husky voice to talk more about the book. "I ran all over the town and none of the bookstores seemed to be having the book you asked me to buy for you." There was a pause, husky voice had stopped talking but there was no other sound, "weird!" I thought," is she talking in her sleep?" "I know it is important…….." that husky voice again. "Okay, so she must be on the phone," a bell of wisdom rang in my ears. "I know you want me to buy the book and gift-wrap it," a deep pause and again then there was a laughter. That laughter surely would qualify for a witch and I felt that we were playing role reversal here, she was like some creature of the night and I was like a human quietly waiting for mother sleep to bless me. "I bought the book." Another one of her cackles filled the night air. "And I met the Birthday girl and gave her that book with your message." Wow! Using a book to bridge two hearts, how come this idea never struck my heart during my human time? I felt like barging in that room and ask the lady what book they were discussing about in the dead hour of the night, but my rotting senses had sense enough not to make my presence felt if I didn't need a shriek, the shriek I had in mind seemed more dangerous after hearing the lady laugh. But whatever the book was, I longed to go to the grave and read myself a nice book, of course I cannot say "I wanted to go home, take a warm shower and read a nice book!" So I trudged back home via the cave intending to find a book to read before my next nightly adventure.

My First nightly tryst

The first vampires' convention taught me the following three golden rules that I must follow as a zombie:

1. Zombies wander at nights.

2. Zombies should never stoop, rather zombies structures are not programmed for stooping.

3. At the first crow of the cock, zombies have to return to their grave.

Well, keeping the three rules engraved deep in my dilapidated heart, I went for my first nightly tryst. Lazy that I am I chose the first house that came in my path. Jackals cried their full-throttled cries, owls hooted to lend in an eerie atmosphere, wind lamented with creepy cries that made me move with a swiftness I surely knew was insaneness of the new world I had been forced into. In the dark, the house, almost weak with age stood promising me my first prey. During my human time, my grandma would tell me that in order to keep zombies out, villagers used to build houses with small doors, knowing the fact that zombies can't stoop. Not wanting to play the zombie role seriously, I wished the house had small door so that in the next convention I can report that I had to return empty-handed each day owing to the low door. But my ill-luck from my human days had followed me to my zombie days too, the door stood tall in front of me giving me the space not only to walk smoothly but had I chosen to jump and hop like a spring, I would still have been able to enter the house without breaking my stiff neck.

Still not beaten in my reluctance to play that role, I started frantically looking for a winnowing sieve hanging somewhere on the door. Now who hasn't heard the myth that if you hang a winnowing sieve on the door, it'll keep the zombie busy, counting the holes in the sieve hence, the zombie would have to return before the task of counting the holes in the sieve would been completed as the cock would crow by then. No such luck, I guess zombies have become such rarity that people have stopped hanging the sieve on the door. I felt like singing a song in rhythm of the snoring that ensued from within. But do zombies ever sing? Well that's a food for thought for people reading this and for me to ask the sorcerer during our next convention. Just then, "titit……titit…….titit…" the alarm clock sounded from inside. Aren't clocks replaced by alarm clocks in the present day world? Yippee! I jumped with joy and darted back to my grave to rest for the day. Have you ever heard of a lousy zombie like me?

Vampires Convention

Black fumes with strong odor of strange concoction greeted us, an old man with white flowing hair stood across a table with an assortment of strange items in front of him. I sat in the middle of extremely ugly-creatures, appalled at the kind of faces who greeted each other as if it was the most normal things in the world to have contorted faces with blood spilling in all places. The stench of age-old blood mixed with some fresh blood gave me fever and I wanted to go out, vamoose from that place with an accelerated speed but the hard stare of the Old man held me captive in that room. After what seemed like eons of eternity, the Old man spoke with a voice of steel that made the air in that room freeze but it failed to solidify his venom spat in our direction. "What did YOU do after getting up from your grave?" The exaggerated YOU thrown in my direction sent a chill down my spine, "I….I…,"I stammered feeling stupid and at the same time unable to comprehend my roles and responsibilities as a Zombie. Well, it is not everyday that we get to play this role. "Don't FORGET how you died and WHY I had to bring you back like THIS!" He banged hard on the table as if he did me a great favor by bringing me out of grave and I cast a quick glance over my body to find half of my face rotting, the skin sagging and wrinkled, my hair unruly and unkempt, my nails long and curved like a claw of some creature, eyes bulging out minus its eyelids; if there was ever a time in my life time that I felt like becoming invisible-it was now. "I wouldn't be seen dead like this, forget about meeting any other creature," I wanted to scream, but, wait a minute! Who am I kidding? I'm dead and this is my new look.

For the next set of eternity I sat as each zombie/ vampires call them whatever you want to, gave an inventory of their evil deeds. Since I was just born, I mean dug out of the grave I was given orientation of what a zombie is supposed to be doing, so LOOK OUT! HERE I COME WITH A ROLE TO PLAY!" (As soon as I fulfill my first I'll report here.)

A New me

It's me a ZOMBIE, freshly dug out from the grave I've been lying in for the past ten years. My grave had me and my series of never acquired dreams titillating me and making me a sourpuss whom no one ever noticed existed in my lifetime. This new journey is a renewed vengeance playing straight from my shattered heart and now no mercy shall be spared for the people who wronged me. I'll lie low till the dim twilight gives way to the darkie cousin of mine and then, hand in hand I shall come dancing with the tune played by the stars. In the darkest of the dark hours, I'll do the things I've never done in the light of who I was then, but it doesn't matter anymore now, and I'll set my own rules. There was a time when my head moved up and down in an ever approving nod whenever I was dictated to live my life as per the rules others set for me but that time is a history, I am new, born again to live my life like I've always wanted to. God has given me a second time to prove my worth and that I shall do with all the might I would be required to have. The ugly staid girl of yester-years has withered in that grave of her relentless dreams and now the new cells have given a clone with a different heart and a different feeling to hurt, not to get hurt; to stand tall and not to bow low; to think wisely and not to act that emotional crap thing anymore.

My Boss!

Man! He shows himself with pride
Yet! There isn’t any, who believe him,
Big boss growing moss all over
Over-riding the peace of all
Simply trying to prove his might
Sinister ploys dancing in his mind.

Oh! How I hate the sight
He spoils with his presence
Hovering over our breath,
Out to outwit any plans of joy
We might have in our mind.

I ain’t the only one
Hating him from the core;
Always supporting him in front
There are people detesting him,
‘Enough!’ I want to yell
However, like all others
I, too, land up agreeing with him
Maybe, I am wrong in my judgment

(Written in utter hopelessness felt after trying to call my boss whole day through with no response from the other end.).

What's mine and what's yours!

Bad times are mine I guess
no,no,its not you I blame,
Bad happens to Evil people,I guess
and like you said I am Evil
so bad times are mine I guess,

Its dark here, but I know
you won't hold my hand.
Let it be, like you always say
I'm stupid, always saying wrong things
so wrong things are mine, I guess.

Life offered me your love
I accepted it! What comes
goes back, I guess
Now life brings emptiness
so I belong to emptiness,I guess.

Bad times, wrong things, emptiness
all these are mine! So good things
righteousness and fulfillment
all belongs to you I guess!

love and it strange ways.

Strange are the ways of life:
with the person we love the most
we've to disagree the most
eventually hurting the only soul
who means everything.

But wait a second, it is love
that gives us the freedom of expression,
would we say the same to strangers?
Nah!
Right! So the person with we whom we fight
the most is the person we love the most
for behind every argument is the guarantee
that you can afford to do that
and still have that person in your life.

And the thing to wonder is, the more
you disagree with that person
the more you miss that person.
If in a relationship, everything was full
agreement,
there would be nothing to feel guilty about
nothing to look forward to in the absence
of your loved one;
if you have hurt someone, then in the absence
your heart awaits him more
'cause you have found the explanation
and can't wait to show him the reasons.
The more you await somebody's arrival
the more you miss that person
and the more you miss that somebody
the more you fall in love with that person,
and the more you love that person
as I said before, the more you love him
the more you disagree...........
and the cycle continues! This is what everybody
calls LOVE AND ITS STRANGE WAYS!!!

she lives.....call it life?

Frozen in time capsule
that twelve year old, shrieks
of pains untold, fangs cutting deeper
injecting severe reality
deep in her nerves.

Death, Divorce, Drama of life
diverting all drains of happiness
away from her existence;
deserted in dreary desert of life
she thrives.

Tears, drops of piercing pain
her constant accomplice
in sadness and life alike
flows in anguished rivulets
flooding her total existence.

I MISS MY DAUGHTERS

Mama,she says,starts singing the 'waving flag' as if the world cup fever just got started. Tears sting my eyes, it flows unchecked, she continues singing. My eyes are red and she looks up innocently and askes me, "mama, why are you crying?" I shed more tears. "Don't cry.When you reach back home, you won't recognise me." she raises herself on her toes to tell me that she will be taller than she is now.I laugh.

My daughter, my angel who taught me to laugh in the saddest hour and who made me shed tears in the most happiest hour. Since the time I concieved her, I made a understanding with the heavens above that my death will be put on hold till the time I see her fully settled in life. I would write letters to her, telling about the progress we made each month of our togetherness.
My days were never the same after she came in my world. I found reasons to live life in a different way. My nights would be filled with songs she made me sing. Now looking at her, through the monitor, I see our roles has reversed, she sings now and I listen. When I shed tears, she consoles me; when I am down, she plays the clown so that I can laugh.

How much time has elapsed since I craddled her in the nook of my arms; how her rosy innocence is blooming into the sweet essence of girlish charm. How I long to look up to catch her eyes and feel her hug me with gentle care. How I long to run after her in the meadow of dreams where winds carry the messages of love to the heavens above.

Dear daughter, what do I write to tell you how much your mama misses you.

OF DREAMS AND REALITY

Well hidded behind my lips
lies thousand unspoken dreams,
and buried deep within my heart
is all the prayers
for these dreams I've dreamt.

Infront of my eyes
lies the harsh reality,
feelings that tarnish
all truth of the dreams
I've dreamt with care.

Now, struck like a stranger
in my own being,
I wander like a vagabond
with no dreams as companion
and no courage to face reality.

HAPPINESS

HAPPINESS, is a strange emotion
you don't realize its life
until its death occurs.

You seek for it all lives through
yet when you've it
you hardly notice it.

But when it leaves you
there is a big viod
that nothing can fill.

And if you realize you've it
there is an extra thirst
for the more you have it, more you want.

Happiness is like a drug
it numbs all your senses
and encloses all your being in it.

Euphoric Feelings

Some lives are lived waiting for the right moments to alight, and some are lived in expectation of something new, but the life that is lived with what you are bestowed with is the blessed of all lives. I can't say I am the most blessed of the human kind, but today I feel blessed indeed. Living life in the ecstasy of feelings truly felt from the heart is one that keeps me alive even when the harsh storms of sorrows tend to blow my entire soul.
Yet! moments such as this, the silence....the unspoken messages spoken in few beats of heartbeat. Only my heart understands the song played by your heart and I know its this song that makes me dance to your tune. I dance like crazy being, mesmerised by your gesture of love and live for yet another turmoil filled life in the ecstasy of our love.
Love, Lets say, we are divine for the way we love eachother is divine. No mortals can ever decipher the strange language that our heart speaks. it is a language spoken by many but truly lived by our hearts.
Wow! this almost feels like the high school days, silently lighting a torch inside the blanket and writing lovenotes, well protected under the blanket. people might say I'm too old for love but I guess love knows no age, it is for old and young alike.I can hear the echo of love once again resounding the empty spaces created by life in its course.

Epistle of forgotten dreams

24th Aug, 2010

Dear Selden,
Feels like ages have gone since I last sat down to write this letter to you, but something terrible happened and I had to take a break from writing the letters.I don't want to burden you with the details of the tragedy that struck me but these past few days I thought of you more than ever. I wanted to put my head on your lap and cry my tears dry, hoping you would take me in your arms to asssure me that life is a melting pot of all such tragedies and achievements. I wanted your soothing words to calm my senses. I know when you hear this your heart will cry and you will want to rip yourself apart for not being near me in my terrible times. But its ok dear, I know if you ever hear of my grief, you'll just leave everything that holds you to just reach near me and hold my hands.
Holding hands! Ah! don't I know the ecstacy of the warmth of your soft hands? Many a times during our school time, I would dream of holding those soft hands forever and sometimes the perfume of those hands would linger even when I actually got up from my dream. I can never forget the time that dream actually came true. It was lunch time, do you remember? So unsure of my steps, I jostled with nervousness to dare to lift my hands to hold yours. It took a mighty energy to take that step and when I actually took those hands in mine, my god! now I understand what people mean by heavenly feeling! Wow! still now I can feel that softness! After I went back, I looked at my hands with admiration as if they had performed world's greatest feat. I didn't wash my hands that entire day. Given the choice I would have wanted to keep my hands unwashed forever but I got the sniggering glances from my friends who guessed my plight after witnessing my rendezvous with my hands long into the dead of the night. So the next morning I had to sadly wash my hands, but I tell you the scent remained and even now I can actually get the whiff of that scent.
Enough of my hands now, I can almost hear you say, so dear madam, let me rest my story about your hands for now.
I'll get back to you later,

Wangyel

The moment

Listen! I still hear the tiny bells
tinkling in the chambers of love
deep in my heart; they sing
of our fingers that clasped, unclasped
and clasped again, with tremor
of love felt so deeply and truly.

Look! I still see the tiny patch
of coyness, deep red coyness
imprinted on my cheek, the shy mark
of love your lips left behind
in the dark alley of togetherness
which heavens had planned for us.

We met, we loved, blessed that hour,
when death takes me away
I know I shall still hear
the tiny bells deep in my heart
louder than ever;
and the coy mark you left behind
will glow its brightest red ever.

HATRED

Distant cousin of love
living in its backyard,
ready to pounce
as soon as love leaves.

Most powerful of all feelings
can make one's blood boil
turns friends to foe
and puts the world upside down.

Fiendish feeling, one can't help but feel
nurse it, grows in leaps and bounds
hide it, makes you peevish and gray
show it, deprives you of all things good.

Dump it, that you can't
for it lives in the backyard of love
and pounces on you
as soon as love leaves you alone.

Grief

An anguished heart that was shattered into thousand pieces made a pact with the wind and the wind decided to carry a piecewith it every time it blew to a new direction. One day, a small piece of the heart was blowing with the wind, silently sighing with the rustle of the leaves when it reached an unknown place. It was a cloudless hot scorching sun and no soul walked on the earth. The heart (that small piece) made this deserted place its home and started living there. People from the neighbouring area heard an unusual melody being blown in by the wind. Everytime it passed near them, time halted and every person waited to hear the melody. But as soon as the wind direction changed, people forgot all about the song and the tears it made them shed.
Such is the story of grief, it strikes all heart but it doesn't linger in any heart for long. This time it has struck my heart but I know I've to wait for the wind to blow it in the different direction when the season changes.But when will the season change? How long does it take for the season of the heart to change? A lifetime?

My final wish

I just wish for a smile
to submerge all my sorrows in;
just ask for a kind word
to spread on my scalded heart;
want to have a tender look
to rekindle my life
and want to live my life
in a new fashion altogether.

The typhoon of grief whirled around
uprooted my soul from its core,
and then when death knocked on my door
I smiled, and let it in.
Ttender death,most tender of all sorrows
come take me to your heaven.

THE END

The light gets fainter, more blurred
I feel the coldness that holds me;
The starlit night adorned our love
As we laid with even love,
You smiled your way into my heart.
Smile- that wicked grin, thine smile
Of late, that smile ‘as submerged
And a cold glare fills its space.

Dear, as you sit next to me
I feel thy body, cold and hard
Wherefore art that warmth gone
Where those affections?

Night is cold, so is the air
And thine own love;
The coldness has taken over
Love, I shalt leave thee.
Merry be thy world then
Merrier thy sentiments.
When spring shalt sow
Love’s bud will emerge within
No! seek me not, I’m gone
Alongwith the coldness thou hast shown.

The unreachable Nearness

Grooped in the darkness of the night
I gaze out of my wee li’l window
Tiny twinkling lights adorn it;
The stars are on my window
I feel I can touch it,
I raise my hand to feel blankness
Near, yet! Unreachable.

I glance down, fireflies dance merrily
The beauty entangles my total concentration,
I join them in their dance
But they disappear all at once
Near, yet! Unreachable.
On the other side of my bed
Lays my Lord in slumber
His lips parted, a message left unspoken
I draw near to him
But he continues to be lost in dreams
Near, yet! Unreachable.

Waiting for you

Hurt me, hit me, hell make my place;
yell at me,mock my presence
detest my world, call me names
spread rumours, falsify me in the eyes
of God and people around me.

Taunt me, shred my heart into pieces
shatter my world, break all promises
leave all wounds in heart and soul;
make tears my constant companion
let me die a new death each day.

But one day, there will be a sun
peeping through the viel of unknown force
allowing you to see the truth
of my weeping world
and the honesty with which
I gave you my heart and my soul.

Dreams

Go I must one day
and I know you'll too;
But before you leave me
and my world,
I give to you my world
woven with intricate dreams.

Dreams of love abound
of hopes renewed,lives relived
of dreams rebuilt
of truth retold, of hearts reunited
of feelings felt again.

I give you all those dreams
and sprinkle over it a new world
of more love, more truth
more life and a new reason to live all over again.

I hate my kids

I Hate My Kids for:
Moving on in my absence
not missing me like I miss them
not crying silently in the dead of the night
thinking of things I do.

Not clutching my clothes
and try to sniff me through the fabric;
not holding my books
like I touch their toys
trying to trace the invisible fingers
that clutched those lovingly.

Not making their eyes sore
and their nose red
sniffing silently,submerging the silent sobs
in the ocean of wishful thinking
wishing the to harness the anchor
in the harbour of togetherness.

feelings

A kind smile, a caring heart, an honest conversation is all it takes to win somebody’s heart. But the journey into the heart of another person is not as simple as it sounds.
The journey into that heart depends on the thoughts and feelings of the other person. Yet! Your own feelings aren’t at the whim and fancy of the other person; if it happens so then you are not true to your own heart. Say, you learn that the other person doesn’t feel the way you want, should it change the way you feel? No, definitely not. If it changes then the feelings are not yours but belong to that person. Say, I am happy and I want to share my happiness with another person but that person doesn’t see it as happiness. Does it cease to be the same? It doesn’t, right? So why should any of your other feelings change?
Be it hatred, love, anger, jealousy, name any feelings one feels…..it should never change just because the other person doesn’t see it in that light.

LOVE

I remember my friend Karuna w ho used to say,’ one is never too late to fall in love.’ Back then I used to mock at the absurdity of the tone of her statement but today as I sit remembering her, I see the truth and the wisdom of her line.
Love, to me is not a two way traffic, for me there is nothing called unrequited love. Love is a feeling built in the heaven where flowers lent the freshest of their fragrance and Mother Nature filled it with the most colorful colors from her larder.
Love, when felt in anticipation of acceptance from the other end is plain longing, or if deeper than that, it has to be desire or if still deeper, then it has to be avarice.
Love, is not the hope for togetherness. It isn’t about owning each other. It isn’t reciprocal of what the other feels for you. It doesn’t have a beginning nor does it have an ending. Love is not a race, to have starting point or ending point. Love isn’t a pact that should bind one to the other.
Love is the purest of all feelings which comes free of all other complimentary feelings. There is no free packaged gift with it. You love me and I’ll offer you something in return; if this is the understanding then its plain business and nothing else.
So, if you ever feel something tugging in you heart, yet you find yourself not expecting anything in return….that’s LOVE!

Don't give me!

Don't give me tears
I may not know how to swim
away from the whirlpool of sorrows.

Don't give me sighs
I may not know how to shield
myself from the typhoon of emotions.

Don't give me rage
I may not know how to remain rooted
in the storm of wailing heart.

Don't give me empty promises
I may not find way back
from the desert of rejection.

You give me.....N I'll give u

I promise you:

You give me one sunset
and I'll give you thousand sun rises;

you give me one song
and I'll give you thousand music;

you give me one movement
and I'll give you thousand dances;

You give me one dream
and I'll give you thousand moments;

you give me a thought
and I'll give you thousand imaginations;

You give me one image
and I'll give you thousand pictures;

You give me one love
and I'll give you......
well! love that will last for thousand ages!

I'll come to you

Before the rain ceases to fall
and the sun forgets its track;
Before life sends me to its doom
and death embraces me with its fangs
I'll come to you.

Before the flowers wilts
and the streams dry up;
before clouds turn black
and the birds stop singing
I'll come to you.

Before the wind halts in its path
and the deserts starts having rains;
before the oceans dry up
and the sky hangs upside down
I'll come to you.

Before the world ends
my wish should reach its bends.

Picture Perfect

I am a camera shy person or maybe I should say the camera makes me a shy person. I've gone a clicking, smiling the best of my smiles, trying to look the best of my appearance but when the snapshot eventually lands up in my hands I feel like ripping it apart because I never look the way I want to look in the photograph. But it isn't the fault with the camera nor the fault of the hand pressing on the button, the entire fault lies with my being. There are times, when I silently sit in front of the altar in the mornings and ask God to grant me a beautiful look that will send loving glances towards me whenever I walk past people. There are nights when I dream that I actually get up in the morning looking like a princess. But the image that greets me every morning in the bathroom is of the same dejected, rejected being splashing water as if the drops would splash away all ugliness from that face. Every mirror I pass through, even the glasses of the showcase around the dingy bars where you can see your hazy image I see myself peering into it as if hoping for a transformation to have happened in the few seconds I missed seeing myself.
People who know me might be thinking of me as some really obnoxious being so much filled with myself and nothing else but what they don't know is that when I caste those looks at myself, I am actually checking on myself and waiting for that picture perfect moment.

Hope

When the days are dark and dismal
when shadow's all that envelops your world;
when tears becomes your constant companion
when life sheds its harshest weather
when it rains in your heart
when everything is set against you;

A tiny something flutters deep
down in the gutters of one heart.
It's one thing that remains perpetually
in the core of the hardest being
as well as the softest of the creature,
this thing called HOPE.

HOPE gives one the reason
to continue living when death
has knocked one cold and hard;
gives one the blanket of assurance
when the cold bare truth hurts one;
makes one smile amidst tears.

What do I do I know not!

Do I not cry when tears sting my eyes and find their way down my cheeks eroding all trace of small joys hidden in the pores of my being? Do I not sigh with pain piercing deep in my heart? Do I not crease my forehead into deep furrows of anguish when people hurt the inner core of my existence?
My existence is a shadow, a dark shadow and all I perceive around me is darkness, blinding darkness of sorrows buried so deep that no imaginations of joy can uproot that.
There are times when my selfish self awakens from its deep slumber and propels me to carry out task my conscience would never approve of. But why do people forget that I am just a human being and I’ve the basic human urge….of acceptance and greed for happiness.
I’ve gone a-begging for happiness at the doorstep of God; he gave me a small purse and told me not to open it till I met someone who would shed same tears as mine.
Well God, I am still searching for that ocean of tears to send my tears of anguish so that I can eventually get what you always planned to give me. Till then, I guess I have to continue shedding the tears I am supposed to shed.

I've pondered on this issue for a long time now and it still makes me giddy for I've still not been able to comprehend why people do that.And why is it that women are always made to carry the burden of this guilt even if the main person behind all these is man.Take for example, a woman finds her husband in another lady's house at odd hours and a huge mess follows after that,the whole town starts talking about it. But nowhere in those talks do we find people pointing their fingers at the male counterpart, its always the wife and the other woman who are throughly talked about."Do you know that other woman is stealing that wife's hubby?" goes people in their hushed up tones a sif the whole secret is some kind of valuable truth not to be leaked out for the safety of the nation.the hushed up tones sends an uproar through out and still make the listeners believe that it is the latest news available.
Back in the household where the husband was caught in the wrong place by his wife, the husband is sulking with guilt. and the wife is crying her world out, wishing death to engulf her.At the same time, she is left wondering,"where did i go wrong? Didm't I give him enough of me to make him stay by my side?" and thousand other lines pinning her more each time of her life.On the other side, breathing heavily with shame and guilt, yet finding no solace in any reason the supposed mistress hands over herself to the mesh of wretchedness.
At the end,what we find is two women each questioning her intregity while the man responsible for causing such pain sulks for sometime but his heart wanders to the next prey immediately after the duo makes peace with him.

SMILE

Its amazing how a simple thing like smile can work wonders in this delusionary world. I set off from home with a heavy heart and the wild sorrows riding on my already weakened heart. Trudging slowly to my workplace, i met a strange looking lady. I've never tried to judge people by their looks but today was different. I guess it was my heavy heart playing tricks on me for i found myself staring deep into the contorted face of that lady. If you measured people by the symmetry of their features, this was the most assymmmetrical face i had ever come across. Maybe I had stared too long at those pair of eyes for i saw that thin reed lide lips part and grow wide at the corners. Being caught off- balance i had no other choice but to smile back at her and I smiled my most beautiful smile to hide the fake ego hiding in it. And i found the lady smiling a different smile for the second time. I smiled yet again and that made the cut wider on her face. I liked the way we stood there smiling at eachother. No words were exchanged but we went on smiling for what seemed like an eternity of smiles. After reaching my workplace, seeing that lingering smile on my face, my grumpy collegues smiled at me and i smiled another smile back at them. And hence continued the saga of beautiful smile. It was smile, smile, smile everywhere.
And it did make the environment in the workplace lot brighter.

"Marriage is a sentence,a life sentence,"I remember my husband telling me this in our initial days of courtship,and i would laugh at his sense of humour. Today,we've been married for nine whole years and there are times when I try to sit all alone and try to analyse every second of our married life. Not that I plan to do anything but at times i wonder at the type of human beings marriage can make us.
I remember we used to quarrel a lot in the beginning of our married years, that was the phase we were trying to adjust with eachother.Humans are highly adaptable beings, i mean just look at it this way, this man whom you've never seen before enters your life and claims you as his property and you don't wince about that,infact you open up evrything like he is more important than your own parents who shed their blood and sweat to bring you up.You clean his house, cook food for him, wash his clothes and smile all the time as if your life has met success you've always wanted to have.......the biggest achievement of the life time. You give your time and energy to build a home he has always dreamt of having and if you are not very careful he might accuse you for lack of love if you so much as divert your attention to your kids(after their arrival. God! Husbands are impossible at times. I retort at him then, you are like robber who has robbed my everything and after taking my everything you blame me for wearing fake jewellery.
Whatever said and done, no relation is as true as this relation. When you fall, husband will be be the first person to leap into the pit to save you from getting hurt. Husband is a person who will stay awake the whole night to allow you to sleep peacefully when you are scared about something at night. Husband is the one who will get hurt but won't hurt you ever. (Well, the tiffs and impossibilities that are free packaged gift with this thing called marriage, haha)

Coming Back Home

Fourteen years ago I bade farewell to this small town I called my village, my home. I grew up swimming in its rivers, walking on its dusty path and singing songs in the rhythm of its frenzy breeze but this same roads, rivers and the breeze robbed me of the reasons for living with it so I bade it a teary farewell when I lost my little sister along with the breaking bond of my dad and mom.
But today, after fourteen years I had to come back home, to the embrace of the world I had forsaken for all these years. As I drove on the winding path, I started feeling dizzy but it was not motion sickness, it was the feeling of euphoria, of coming back to the place I belonged and will always belong to no matter where I build my home now. I saw myself in the streams winding alongside the path I took and felt the same fear of my mother’s scolding filling my heart. In the dusty path, some kids were playing and as I gazed closely, I saw the snotty little girl who frequented on these same dusty paths some fourteen years ago. In the lengthy stretch of the road, I saw the innocence of same snotty girl which died in the reigns of the mighty hand of fate but once again taking this same path I saw that girl taking life for another time. Before long I found my eyes well up with fresh stream of tears that lay hidden in the fabric of responsibilities that had me enclosed me in its embrace. I cried silently and from the corners of my eyes, I saw my husband looking at me and as he silently drove the vehicle I remembered the journey he was taking with me and saw a glint of smile that spelled happiness. I looked at him, facing him and smiled back the same smile, the smile that assured me of a life I knew that brought him in my life. He would always tell me I would never have married him had I not been forced to leave this place and in his smile I noticed the hint of thankfulness to this place which had disowned me only to make him own me.
But whatever, it was a fresh feeling of love of coming back to my roots, to my home, back again after all these years with a new world that meant a lot more of my achievement since the day I decided to part ways with it. Today I learnt that the world I had created was a mere illusionary world of the world I had left behind and today it was like coming out of the shadowy dark cave to face the light of the real world.

The other side of me

I sat in front of my laptop, unsure of my next step when my hands had already typed Druknet.com and before long I found myself enter the chat room. Chatting in this site is always a mixture of embarrassment with the touch of naughtiness gripping in one’s heart. I hardly visit this site but after I came to know few nicks of the people whom I know I have started frequenting this website in search of my friends who don’t show up in our regular site. On this day, the upper side of my lips twitched as if going on a verbal spree but I tried to reason out against the urge to believe it. Not finding any of my usual friends I was about to click myself out of it when I saw a “hi” blinking on my screen. I could have easily ignored that message and saved myself from the embarrassment but my boredom won over me and I found myself answering back. The next query that was thrown to me was about my nick, I never knew the kind of nicks you chose for yourself mattered, I mean I’ve been calling myself by various names and never has it had anything to do with my being. But when this man( I don’t know he said he is a man) asked me about it, I felt as if somebody was trying to uproot me from the place I belonged to and I casually told him I am from eastern Bhutan. I could have easily lied and got away with that but no, I had to be truthful to this horrid two faced (or may be hundred faced) being. Then tumbled all the things we hear about the sharchops, ara thungmi (as if it is only the sharchops who wallow in the whirlpool of booze), our curries that is more of water than the vegetables, Marrying one’s own cousin, blah blah. I took that as a joke in the beginning but he kept on going with the never ending blah blahs about the people of eastern Bhutan. I gave him a dose of my anger and after much heated argument; I left my laptop fuming with anger.
I sat outside my house, cold winter wind slapping my face as if angry with me for those verbal accusations. The more I thought about that the more I loathed the idea of having gone ahead with the chat although to ignore that would have been the most sensible thing but how was I to know that it would turn to such tone. Rewinding the argument I saw myself like that same two faced being I had quarreled with. He accused me all the things as if being sharchop was life’s biggest mistake and I did the same in response to his words. Tears swelled up in my eyes acknowledging the person in me I had never imagined dwelled within me. I have always told people not to be prejudiced, that was the quality that I’ve loathed in people but after that heated discussion I felt the same in fact was a part of me too and I felt miserable. That day I cried, not because that person called me names but because he brought alive in me a kind of a person I’ve always been against.