His Fiery Cage...

His head was in a whirlpool,
His body stood still,
She was all he ever wanted,
She was now his eternal crime.

He had wings once, his glory,
He could soar high, his might,
Lived strong he had, his pride,
Bright as the sun he shone, his form.

A guardian, a man of the league,
The one to show them the way to light,
Help deliver them from dark,
The leader, he was set to be.

A woman, looked at him,
And she looked at him again,
Her want, her passion, her lust,
Take him, she knew, she must.

On a night, pretty, starry,
She stood at the crossroads,
Sure as ever under the moon,
Ensure, even more, for him to see.

White she wore, held a red rose,
Eyes had tears, she saw him come,
Knelt in dispair, she was patient,
That he would stop, she was sure.

"Lady, why do you kneel,
Alone, in this night, beautiful.

Lost, are you,
Or do you wait, for someone,
Is there something you seek."

She looked up at him,
A pinning gaze,
Smile filled her face,
Moon, shone in her teary eyes.

"It is you I wait for,
I have been, for long.

Adulation, utmost,
Respect, supreme,
Love, not warranted.

Take me, take my heart,
Let yours be mine."

This was new, confusing,
Pleasureful, yet it was,
Adulation he had seen before,
But this, not like this.

He somehow pined for it,
A want filled him,
Yes, she was it,
He knew, he loved.

She took him in,
Care, love, she gave him,
Balming her words, kept him calm,
Her touch, made him live on.

"Love are they not heavy,
Your wings.

You carry them around all day,
Night even,
Why.

Give them to me,
I shall keep them safe,
Take them when you need."

He obliged, it felt good,
For once, someone understood,
Someone was willing to share the burden,
Or so he thought, till he came to see.

"Love, I miss it,
My freedom.

I miss soaring high,
The drops of rain,
Shattering on my face.

My duty calls,
I promise, I shall be back,
Let me fly"

"No, I know,
You wish to leave.

Had enough you have,
Of me, of this,
To run away you want.

A choice you must make,
Either your wings, or me,
You must take."

He stood there, sad,
His love, it seemed, had shackeld him,
But the lives of many was at stake,
He knew he had to leave.

Took his wings,
He looked at her,
Went to kiss her,
She looked away.

Broken, he spread his wings,
Long it had had been since he did,
Took flight, a tear, a sigh,
The job had to be done.

Overcome by grief she was,
Abandoned she felt, worthless,
To see him gone, she could not,
Unable to bear, her life she took.

His sorrow, unfathomable,
Damnation for her, not ever,
To hell, the dead he followed,
To salvage her soul he hoped.

Alas! Long gone,
The innards of hell had taken her,
Was left nothing to seek, in the space, dark, dank,
A space full of shrill shreaks.

"Destroy you,
I will.

You took her from me,
No, I will burn you,
Obliterate your existance."

Wave after fiery wave,
His rage reigned supreme,
Hell did burn, and burned a lot,
But it was him in hell's siege.

"Impressed I am,
Your tenacity is extreme.

Yet, you cannot leave,
This fire you have set, shall never perish,
Amends are in order, I believe.

You came, unwelcomed,
I cannot consume you.

But your strength is unparalleled,
I can use you.

Rule this chaos,
Help me build.

Take my throne,
Be my king."

Reluctant, he had no coice,
A seat of hate, he did not enjoy,
With all the might and his rage,
He set to rule, the fiery cage.

Roots

I visited this region after a long time, more than two years, and I said to myself, not much has changed here. The roads are still quite broken every time it rains, dogs still run rampant on roads and many a time die without anyone giving much of a bother, cattle still roam around where ever they feel like, they relieve themselves or take a seat when they deem fit , where they deem fit. People walk on roads and pavements are meant for hawkers to sell vegetables, fruits, cheap knock offs, rat poison, medicines that claim to cure impotency and paan (a peculiarly delicious edible made using betel leaves, betel nuts and many other things I cant really explain).

Do I have a problem with it, hell yeah I do. But there is flipside, and a rather big one at that. Life is simple, people are simple. Needs are few and people are generally happier.

It was after a long time I took a train. The route, Asansol, a town in West Bengal, to West Bengal's capital, Kolkata. The train station was filthy, the stench awful. But somehow, it was not entirely unacceptable. Do not get me wrong, it is not that I would not do something about it if I could, it is just that I do not dislike the place inspite of that.

The fact is that these are my roots and this is the person I am. I have grown out of this. Upon deeper consideration, roots have this nature. The more deep seated they are, the more unchanging they get. The fact that your roots are filthy and nothing much can be done to change them, signifies the fact that you are a part of something ancient. You are a part of a generation, one of many, that have derived their origin from the same roots.

So yeah, no matter how dirty, filthy and rigid it might be; this is where I come from and this is where I belong.

Journey

Travelling can be a very profound experience. I have heard many say that but this is probably the first time I am noticing it (or may be this is just the first time I have had the sense to record the thought).

Anyway, it has been brilliant. I guess after eight months of a state which might resemble your brain being hurled around in a centrifuge, I had eight hours completely to myself. No thoughts of bother to give me company. Just one, of a certain someone, very dear, very loved, taking up the entire space within my head. The sublime feeling of uninterrupted indulgence in thoughts of that one person.

Flying out of Australia is a pretty unique experience in itself. As you leave Melbourne, you leave behind a city with a beating heart. It is bright, vibrant, lively! But as you move up north, the population grows sparse and accordingly dwindles the density of lights you see down below. I do not know if I actually saw it or it was my sleep deprived brain playing tricks, but I at a point, just before leaving the land mass, did see a ring of fire. It was magnificent! Once that was gone, the flight just had the company of stars. The sky was clear and the view from the tiny window epic. It almost felt being in a time capsule. You know you are moving, you know the clock is ticking, but the object you are looking at just lies there, staring right back at you. The whole experience was enhanced by a drink of whiskey and the never ending loop of the thought of that certain someone.

I did watch a very crappy movie which could have destroyed the experience (Transcendence, don't ever watch it). But a couple of other movies saved th day (Million Dollar Arm and The Grand Budapest Hotel). Anyway, now I am sitting at the Kuala Lumpur International Airport waiting for my next flight and utilizing the time and technology to dish out this text.

Good stuff!

I have the right...if I can

It was a bright day,
A sunny day,
Thought to himself,
Come what may,
Think in a hopeful way.

He had reason,
He had scope,
Long it had been,
Since he had seen,
His peace not elope.

Time moved on,
Quick yet smoothe,
Confident he was,
He could now see,
Toil had lead to fruit.

Alas, this was not to be,
Not so soon at least,
Questions were raised,
Past caught up,
His thoughts in haze.

Why, why now, now again,
To himself he said,
It was perfect, immaculate,
Alas, wish it was easy,
Dejected, he surrendered.

His mind was puzzled,
His heart heavy,
Will almost broken,
Deep in his gut,
A voice spoke muffled.

Do not, he whispered again,
This is not the time,
Fight, push, get up,
Reach out unfazed,
Work it out, for me and mine.

I don't give a fuck!

I do not give a fuck a anymore,
Fuck this Shit!

The Diatribe

I am an employee at a million dollar firm. Well it could well be a little more than that, but that is inconsequential. And I am what is referred to as a deputed employee. It basically means that I am co-located with the client. People in my organization or any other would give a limb in my situation. Money is good and life is good; or is it?

The natural question is why. Money being good, life should follow right? I wish it was so cut and dried. As a kid I came to realize that man needs money to live a decent life and that was pretty much it. But when I started working and saw people around me work, it seemed that the purpose of a man's life to make money. Work is worship, a high concept when I was growing up, was taken a little too seriously and the attention to detail was mental. Competition was the word of the day, everyday.

Hence, the journey started. I was fully committed to the rat race and I was a winner. Progress was in leaps and bounds; the plan seemed to be working just fine. But whose plan was it and was it a plan at all? Another classic case of monkey see monkey do, could it be? Whatever it was, it was strangely satisfying.

Three and a half years and the elation is now all gone. I work more than when I started, the standard of life good, even if barely so, but the quality of life is questionable. When a man sleeps, he should be allowed to sleep in peace. He should not have to sleep with his phone, always alert that his assistance might be required. He should not be made to feel that he has to save the world when it is not his job. Every issue should not be treated as a life threatening situation when in fact no life depends on it. What can be done another day, should be done another day, if time permits. He should be given enough time, enough space to spend time doing things he likes outside work. He should be allowed to breathe free and live a life with the people he loves. He should be allowed to go easy on the gas pedal once in a while.

It is a sorry state of affairs but unfortunately no one wants to do anything about it. The most anyone does is to sympathize with the situation and say, "Tough luck. Soldier on." People have given up, the system has given up. Welfare of the people is not something that takes precedence over anything.

So why do write this piece? Because I cannot do much myself. And yes, this is it!

Rambling again...

The fate of man is a funny thing indeed. Written by his own hand, crafted by his own actions; yet he blames himself not. Circumstances, luck, chance, influence etc. is what he hides behind to name a few. When he errs he wants to take solace in someone's pity while he puts on a mask of his ego to hide his crippled belief in his own capacity. None can match him at beating his own drum; he can do no wrong, righteous he is, ever so much. Give him the resources and he can move a mountain, or so he claims. Yet when the time comes to take a side, the ground beneath him shakes. His constitution is weak, his demeanour fake, he can sell the world if it were for his sake. And hence the doom, the end certain…

Sons and daughters of Adam and Eve,
Forever they run,
Forever they hide,
Pleasure and pain,
Side by side.

Stepping out

So it is the last day,
The job is done,
No more sobbing,
No more crying,
My time is done.

Not very long ago,
You were here,
Broken, shattered,
And I was picking pieces,
My job it was.

Not once, not twice,
Again and again,
You broke down,
Hit the ground,
Waiting for me to come around.

You are fixed now,
No more holes,
Pieces I took out of me,
Whole once again you are,
But where do I go from here.

An ode to the barbershop...Valentine's day

Thither thou art,
Thy doors wide open,
Welcoming as ever,
Not for me though.

Never imagined,
So painful, this change,
Never been before,
Will it ever be.

Oh Barbershop,
My Barbershop,
Cannot come to thee,
Do not know why yet indeed,
This day has come to be.

Last meeting,
Anger reigned over,
Rash, hasty, inconsiderate,
Messed up, I messed up,
It never came to me.

And there it was,
The crew cut,
No style, no frills,
A life sans thrills,
End of an era it was.

Drops shatter on the near bare scalp,
As I miss you when it rains,
Or when I ride along,
With no wind in my long gone hair.

Soon, if not sooner,
I shall make amends though,
All that's lost shall be regained,
A solemn promise I make, this Valentine's.

Another day...

It takes me 45 minutes to get to office. That does not include the walk from home to the station. Yes, I do take the train.

Why am I typing this, blogging from my phone? Reason could be the fact that it is a Monday and office resumes today. But there have been so many before this. Why today?

Trust me I am not making this up, I have never blogged using my phone or while I am in transit. Could this mean that I am so bored with everything that I just had to do something different. Yes, that definitely sounds at least slightly credible. Life is boring, mundane. Being able to vent the frustration it inspires is a reflief.

It is a weird feeling and is somewhat liberating. Feels like a small window opened up somewhere inside my head.

A to B to C to Z...

Man and misery,
Hand in hand,
Learn to play,
Never join the band.

Dazed and confused,
Yet marched unfazed,
Hoped for glory,
The never ending story.

The wannabe monk,
Bought an acre of land,
Thought would meditate,
Another castle of sand.

Looked up at the sky,
Not sure why,
Thought he would fly,
Never gave it a try.

So then he took his pen,
A sheet of paper,
Wrote about the lives of men,
And how they meet the maker.