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!!!