Friday, 29 July 2011

Tragedy

I don’t know if I’m right or wrong. If the thoughts I develop are really mine or fragments borrowed from different minds. My handwriting – is it distinctly mine? There must be someone who writes just like me. How many people are writing blogs at this time? Must be innumerable. The time – 6 AM.

I am whining. I am whining. How easy it is for us to fall back? To feel vulnerable, weak, desolated. I am an entity. An atom surrounded by life. Life is running in the fast lane, while I stand here, cocooned in my own space. Why do I try to bridge this gap created by my mental shortcomings? Am I insane? Why do I have to make sense when I write something down? Why do I speak? What am I scared about? Of facing this self-created world; answering its innumerable questions? This world is falling apart. People are dying all over. Not just people, but thoughts and beliefs too!

I wanted my life to be a smile. Even a mild one would have placed me in a different perspective. But life is not what it seems. The seriousness of life shakes me to the bone. Tragedy is life. Life is Tragedy.

Tragedy is convenient. It runs on its own, like the ocean. Death, despair, and betrayal are on the march, and the storms, the tears, the stillness are all part of the entourage. Tragedy is clean. It is restful. Melodrama on the other hand is wrecking. With its traitors and wicked villains; its avengers and glimmers of hope it turns awful. In Melodrama death becomes horrible, like an accident. But in Tragedy, there’s no such problem. In it Death is serene!

Monday, 25 July 2011

End of Love

It is not easy to formulate lines

When all I can think about is my lost life

I was too weak then to acknowledge the truth

Now that I do it seems so clich├ęd, marked with spite and vengeance

My friends always told me it had to end

Love is never immune to the environment

Now I feel your fingers touch my parted parched lips,

Every time I pour water to quench my thirst

I visualize you kissing me, hugging me tight to your bosom

Is it too hard to reconcile our differences?

Living in the capital has its own demise

I’m not citing an excuse for my exalted misdemeanor

But once you live here you’d realize

This is the place that calls you in your sleep

Where soldiers fear to tread and magicians pray to Greed

Is it too hard to reconcile our differences?

My love has sprinted forward in search of you

Dived in deep oceans to cherish your saline memories

But your eloquence has no more meaning left to decipher

You are a conundrum of errors that happened long past in my youth

Now it seems too hard to reconcile with truth!