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Saturday, November 9, 2013

All the lonely people!

I was listening to this song by Beatles_ Eleanor Rigby, which says
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?

I was connecting myself to the words and the serene music but then in the end it left me wondering, I was lying on my bed like a frog on a lily pad but the different between the frog and me was I am not a frog, though I would’ve if I had any choice but as I am somewhat a reluctant human being, I have some duties in life. But I wonder what my duties are? What am I suppose to be or do or do not? And why the hell there is so much stress when there is really no stress because as a mature adult if I don’t have stress then surely I am doing something wrong. What are the answers?!!?

I speculate! Where I have to go? And who are those lonely people? I feel lonely almost every time but I love my state of solitary! But that is not the answer, who are they then? Is it me? But the fact of admitting will prove me a loner and which will be an edgy proof of me being weaker than others horrifies me strong enough to make me think that I am not the one. Maybe I am one of them and maybe we all are, we are not some special breed that is born out of some black-hole, off course we have family and friends but they are just like our clothes or shoes or pencils, they are our and they are with us but that can’t make us feel better about our loneliness because they are not what we always demand.

Then I was thinking who we really need or demand or want? Maybe a lover who is not like our mother but just a patriotic lover, who is not a psychopath like us but is a psychopath of his own style, because obviously we can’t survive with someone exactly like us but yes we want his intellectual and maturity level same as ours because dating an uncle makes you feel shit always and it is still a mystery why women date mature guys and men can deal with sweet sixteen no matter how stupid she is. No I am not insulting men but this is what I always wonder because I cannot imagine myself with someone younger than me. Anyways the point is who we really call for? Or do us really need them? Maybe it is just a burden of society and psychological effect of watching couples everywhere, yes maybe this is true… we don’t feel alone sitting in a park until we see bunch of happy couples! Yes I literally mean HAPPY couples because that’s what hurts the most, we are fine if they are bitchy or hate each other… because it somewhat gives us a sense of relief that “that is why I stay alone”, but if they are happy and having great romantic sexual life then it kills us somewhere.

But it’s not what always happens; most of us are still alone even when we are with someone… It’s a dialogue in one of my favorite show that for men ‘we’ is ‘me and my dick’ and that is sometimes true and what happens in man’s case is they try to understand their woman but always fail and always will because women really don’t know what they want.

But all of this never exactly tells me who the lonely people are? But eventually I understand I may not need the answer because to the some extent we all know who they are. Let’s not accept who they are but all of us know, because the truth is; many times people make us lonely and many people are lonely because of us. But it is fine to live in a delusion that we don’t know who they are as its satisfactory!!


We are all walking toward something, something which will end someday and we won’t be needing any answers then.

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Eternalness!

Smoking...

Drenched in rain, watching your old cuts, thinking of your insane
Musing over the dream about your father’s death,
Craving over segregation you chose, but it was right? Wasn't it?
It was! But does that makes you happy? Does it? No!

Smoke up some more...

Chase pragmatism, right is the way, all alone you battle
For right you will fight, scared that alone you will die
But right was the way, wasn't it? You are tough and brave and aged and careful? Aren’t you?
You are! But is that permanent? Is it simple to encounter people, as it is lose? No!

Drag and hold up smoke in the chest...

Listening pearl jam, the words pierce through your every vein, but all you feel is void between the chests
You search every pocket, every road, every green, every wood, every black, every rain, every sky, every fire to unearth permanence,
But do you find it? Momentary is life then how will thou find it?
You will! But undying: is love; do you even have a piece of it? No!

Cough and smoke and defeat sanity...

No Blasphemy can stop you, you do what you do, and you devotedly face what you do,
Fight with millions for what is right, but can’t sleep at night,
Because all you see is tattoo of questions in your hand, about what is precise, do you know what is right?
You do, don’t you? Yes you do! But those questions always take a piece of your soul with them, don’t they?
They do! But you won’t change, you can’t change, you don’t want to change, will you? Can you? Want to? No!


Throws the cigarette butt!

Monday, October 21, 2013

Socha to tha!

Socha tha ki ab nahi sochungi, par ye bhi jaanti thi me esi hu nahi...
Raato ko ab to neend bhi aati hai, sajti bhi hu sishe k aage, kajal bhi me naya laayi thi..
Par me ab vesi lagti nahi, jo me dikhti thi vo hu nahi me...
Nikal jaati hu sunsan sadko pe shaanti dhundne, par daraati hai vo raahein mujhe...
Ki me isi shaanti me khatam na hojau ek din, akele hi to bitayi hai zindagi... kitani shaanti chahti hu or...
Ishq dhundhne se nahi milta kehte hain log, par apne aap bhi nahi milta ye humse behtar to kya hi janega koi...
Us din akele nikal gai thi ek gali me cigarette leke, socha shaanti milegi... par ehsas hua ki use ashaant me kabhi na thi...
Fir socha ki hota jo sath to kesa hota, koi pakadta mera hath or ishq se dekhta to kesa hota... koi karta mujhse bhi mithi batein, koi hota jo kehta ki hu me saath tere... par koi hota to kehta...
Kala rang bada pasand hai mujhe, kaash koi ho jisse rang pasand ho...
Socha tha ki ab nahi sochungi, par ishq mehsus kie bhi saalo guzar gae...
Kash mene soch lia hota!
 

Friday, September 13, 2013

Waqt Aane to do!

Fir mene kaha ki aane do... Daro mat! Aane do bas
Par khauf ne kisnki suni hai… lagta hi rehta hai… jesa pahaad ki chotti se niche jhakne me lag raha hai
Hum bhi jaante hain girenge nahi, par ladkhada sakte hain… upar se khade bhi to akele hain…
Barish bhi horahi hai, bach to tofaano se bhi gae the… teyaar hain aaj bhi…
Par hariyaali chodh k naye pathrile raste kisse pasand hain…
Par ab ruk bhi nahi sakte, waqt badal raha hai… nayi zindagi aane vali hai..
Kese bol de use ki mat aa… bulana to padegi hi… zindagi jo meri apni hai,
Akele jeena hota to shayad naa bulate, ye duniya bhi to mann k andar jhank rahi hain…
Jese puch rahi ho ki kya chahte ho? Badna hai ya nahi? Jeena chahte ho?
Par kya jawaab du jab khud se wakkif nahi hu…!
Paav jaama nahi paye hain abhi, nayi zameen pe fislan hai thodi…
Par sambhal jaenge shayad, mann ko bhi kya samjhae… ab thaka hua sa hai
Ab samjhana bhi chod dia hai, par uski thakavat kam nahi hoti… shayad bhatka rehta hai
Sambhlna bhool gaya hai… salo beet gae par lagta hai gehri neend nahi soya,
Mene to koshish ki use samjhane ki… par kehta hai ab or kuch liya nahi jata..

Par fir mene kaha aane do… daro mat… jo arha hai, aane do bas!!!!

Thursday, September 12, 2013

The Capture!

“You don't make a photograph just with a camera. You bring to the act of photography all the pictures you have seen, the books you have read, the music you have heard, the people you have loved.” 
― Ansel Adams

















































Monday, September 2, 2013

COME FIND ME!!!!

Come, find me. If I am to be found...
Lost in the translation of intuitive dreams to oblivion...
Do I always have to say it? The ridiculousness of psyche.
Better escape to wander more from self-recognition
Waiting under the invented serene tree, for becoming comfortable in discomfort...
Violent, cruel, pitiless, brutal, sadistic... INSENSITIVITY!
Are you coming? I can kill you... maybe no, but yes! I hate to be found.
I didn’t know what I was doing, neither do I know now and I hate to explicate too.
Who you are to me? I won’t talk to you... you say things I don’t say to myself.
I look beautiful when I go out, but so ugly too... you know how I hide that undercoat of blood? No you don’t! How can you... I don’t talk to you... I think I have beaten you in this game, maybe no. But I don’t care.
Don’t you dare come near me? I am trying to find peace or maybe no I am not. But I don’t want your fucking peaceful words of sanguinity. GO FUCK YOURSELF you peace of filth.
I command you to never impel me to reveal my demon... I suppress it because I like to over-rule it.
Your fucking sanity gives the impression of being insane to me... I don’t want to confess my anguish... I don’t even want to confess that I don’t want to confess. STAY AWAY!
Your concern over my potential rub up the wrong in me... I go madder or maybe maddest within self. I become immoral than you can ever even think of. I won’t admit that you know me; I hate you and your fucking sweet God like understanding.
Biting nails unpleasantly and even the pink soft skin till I realised I am eating my own self. I know you want me to realise that. BUT SHUT THE FUCK UP! I WILL DO THAT, MAYBE NEVER OR MAYBE SOMEDAY; BUT I DON’T KNOW WHEN. AND DON’T EVEN THINK OF ASKING ME.
I am trying to behave wise... I think for moments I realise it... The conscious and sub-conscious meet for moments but for how long I wonder. WHAT IF IT WON’T BE LONG AND I WILL LOOSE EVERYTHING AGAIN? Is that’s what you crave? Because you don’t have a fucking idea of how fucking scared I am or maybe I am not... I’ll think about it. But there is something which stops me, AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT IT IS!!!
Don’t try to talk to me and fondle me with your care... I DON’T NEED LOVE; I DON’T NEED YOUR SYMPATHY. WHY CAN’T YOU JUST STAY NORMAL? Or even if you stay normal I don’t give a fuck. I JUST HATE YOU.YOU BETTER NOT EXIST. But that’s not in your hands, that’s why I IGNORE YOU!   
But I guess I know what you want... but why don’t you understand it’s not easy or maybe if you do then why don’t you help me the way I want you to. I know I scare you and repress you and hold you deep back inside and make you numb BUT YOU ARE ME.
 You can’t lose. YOU JUST CAN’T LOSE!
I think I am just a thought! Not a reality. I have to meet myself. I don’t know when but I will. I WILL MEET YOU! TRY TO FIND ME. I ALLOW YOU DEMON! COME FIND ME. I FEEL ASTRAY!




Wednesday, August 21, 2013

I feel!

And then I sat there for hours, not that I wanted to but because I wasn't able to feel my feelings anymore... the only thing I could feel was blood... blood raging in my brain over n over again. Like I was some deceased body and that hustle of blood brought me back to senses every time.

I tried to think something, but I was wedged to nonbeing... that numbness was so surreal that maybe my conscious would have felt scared but no one was conscious there.. That dead drop silence was stabbing my ears like that maddening echo of water droplet... like that echo of lizard in the dark... like that echo of timepiece.

I have felt numbness earlier but certainly not like this where I can’t even feel that I can’t feel. Then abruptly I feel something... like thousands of eyes are scrutinizing me n I am in the center of them. Like that bottomless black water hole in the middle of the ocean where you fight to survive but sink instead.


I overlook that feeling slickly because I am connoisseur in that. I move my hand down and rip off my clothes. I feel the wetness in between my legs and start stroking myself. I like that sound and hotness and wetness.... I pinch myself brutally so that I could feel the pain but I fail... I knock some more mercilessly... I turn hotter n red n wet ... I begin to feel pleased... my legs and veins become stiff... my hands pain... I feel the pain but I don’t hold back... I stroke n rub n fondle myself more n more until I drew blood on my hands... Then I pick up a wooden stick n stab it deep down until I feel deaden with pain. With pleasure comes a beautiful pain and that’s all I feel. I feel contented when I see blood running down through my legs... I identify my feelings eventually.