Faces on My Wall

Last night, while shifting in an uneasy slumber,
I saw them all. I saw those faces on my wall.
They winked and smiled, stunned in wonder,
For I had surprised them, and invited them all.

I drew them on my wall, canvas of fickle whims.
Each of their expressions – sadness, disquiet,
Laughter, agony – I imagined hard and painted.
New feelings surfaced; appeased emotional riot.

Each scorn, and all the love, it breathed anew;
One by one I saw them live again on my wall.
Wanton hair flew amuck, so did nascent smiles,
Sunshine skipped around; I was there to see it all.

For so long I had ignored them in my vanity;
But they were there for me, at my beck and call.
One wistful pleading, or a fall from humility
Was all it needed to bring my faces to my wall.

They pondered why I was being so generous;
But little did they know about my dirty secret.
My fears had instigated this party so frivolous;
Fears so dark that even in my sleep I had fret.

But this time I have vowed not to let them go.
(And even in my dreams I promised them so)
For what’s a canvas with just blankness to show?
I hope the feeling lasts just long enough to grow.

Struck

She looked so beautiful tonight. Almost full I think. But it doesn't matter. Even if she were half of herself, she would have still paled everything else in comparison. White. The best shade possible. Small. As if teasing from far away. Gorgeous. Way more sensual than my wildest dreams. Pockmarked. She seemed to personify perfection in flaws. I smile in awed surrender.

Fuck. Oh fuck!

I have followed her trail, all through the night, across my yellow window of light. I still can not get enough of her. Gosh.

Potli Wale Baba

guchcha hai bhai guchcha hai
kahaniyo ka guchcha hai
kahani le lo...

khatti ho to namak laga ke
khatti ho to namak laga ke
gale mein atke paani
kahani le lo...

His mind had left the room and decided to go into an overdrive. He watched wistfully as it left the confines of the four walls. The room had relapsed into silence, once again. Well, almost. The only other soul had decided to tease his dream girl. On the other hand, he thought he never dreamt, neither in colour or white. So he had trouble imagining himself planning clandestine meetings with the love of his life. Often giving up in exasperation, he resorted to the comfort of yellow light. It smoothed the creases the day that had just passed had gifted him with. The soft notes playing in the background eased the transition into a different mode. The words seemed to be coming from a parallel universe. They spoke of exotic lands and romantic getaways. Sometimes, they whispered about woes and longing. However, he tricked himself into believing in them all. Not a soul objected. After all, his reason had just departed through the window for a game of poker with the stars.

Sometimes, his reason, sensing something wrong down below, sent his minions to check up on him. They usually arrived in all their pompous glory, not troubling with the much needed subtlety. Finding him alone and puzzled at the sudden fanfare, they would take pity on him and tell him stories about poker games and how his reason had often cheated and yet managed not get beaten up for it. It seemed as if hIS reason was a celebrity among the minions. So he began to take them from granted and believed they were just trying to get into his good books. But he was no fool to become too complacent. He listened to the tales from the other universe, rapt in attention. When they pompous guests had left, he sold their anecdotes as his own, not bothering with even copyright issues. He was never very creative to begin with. So his conscience never bugged him about the literary blasphemy. When the reason returned late into the night, he had already done the dirty deeds. He sniggered at his own smugness. Fooling one's own reason was a commendable job.

He went about his day in hurried eagerness. The minions would be back again, with more scandals. He had to prepare for their arrival. It seemed as if both needed the other's company. He yearning for it probably a bit more than them. After all, they had other windows they could slide into. But there was something about his yellow window of light that did the trick for them, time and again. We have heard rumors that he still sits there, waiting for the minions with their endless tales. We speculate that they never disappoint their strange companion.

Cheers Darlin'

It is 5 A.M. in the morning. I have just woken up from an uneasy slumber. "So very unlikely of me", I wonder.

I get up to drink some water. A lovely breeze is blowing outside. I think it rained last night. Hmm. I smell the sodden earth. So very refreshing. But this is no time for enjoyment and I shuffle back into the confined spaces. Yellow light flickers into place. I am in familiar surroundings.

I must study now. Numbers and electrons. Statistics and Holes. Modulation and Society.

A book is already open. The one I was reading before I went to sleep. I had found it boring I remember. But my choice in these matters is limited and I must trudge along.

"What's the problem then?", Mind retorts back. "Nothing", say I and shyly start flipping through the pages. But soon the interest is lost.

Mind wanders in unfamiliar lanes. They are not that pleasant. But it sticks around. Gaping at the horrors perpetrated. It's disgusting. The very thought of it all. Mind is overwhelmed and staggers back into the present.

"The future looks bleak", it tells me. "I know", I confess. "But I had thought it better not to tell you. You'd be troubled."

Mind doesn't speak to me. It's frustrated at my helplessness and and I at mine. We both amble along. Each finding solace in the other's company.