'The truth will set you free' they said, but does it really? If yes, then how come it got me all tangled up in a web of unwanted sorrows and mysteriously horrid miseries? If yes, then how come I feel like every ounce of my self respect went down the drain and all I'm left with is a body, breathing but with no emotions, no love, no desires, just a body with functioning arms and legs, my eyes just see without any vision, my ears hear but all they can hear is my mind's chaos, my nose smells only the blood that drips from my veins, my mouth it just there, sealed, my skin, numb, doesn't feel anything but pain, it's like none of the senses working. Why do I feel so? If yes, then how come I feel like an anchor tied to my feet, my hands tied up, blindfolded and my mouth stuffed with unsaid feelings and choking on the words that my heart wanted to spill but never did, and drown in my own pool of tears, deeper and deeper, darker as in fall in my own eyes. If yes, then why am I feeling the way I am, the way I'm not supposed to feel or is this is the way everything's meant to be and am I supposed to feel this way? Is everything as it's intended to be? The truth does not set you free. It makes you die a slow and painful death every single day. Day after day after day. Truth is overrated. It doesn't set you free. It kills you, leaves you feeling worthless. Truth is a satanic verse which leaves your soul marred.
So just let me be, soaked in the heinous filth to the hilt, covered, entombed with the remains of the carcasses that I once mutilated and buried.
Just let me be, brewing in my shameful, despicable conducts, haunted by all the ghosts of my past I once troubled and bottled them in my soul.
Just let me be, intoxicated with the pungent, poignant life, inhaling the piquant scent of my own blood dripping from my nose that I once wiped and cleaned with a pathetic smile.
So, I cut myself not wanting to bleed life, but craving to weep scarlet tears of strife;
Hoping that these hopeless trinkles would take along with them my pain, (a vain attempt to make me feel sane) my anguish, (just so that I can sleep, a lame wish) my morbid thoughts, (I keep dreaming about self destruction plots) But I cut myself and I bleed life.
Exams scare the daylights out of me. My memory is weak and I'm not exactly academically inclined.
Before an exam Mom - Are you ready? I - Ready for what? Mom - I mean- Are you prepared for the exams?. I - I have tried my best.
After the exam(paper) Mom - How was it? I - I have done my best. Mom - What is your prediction? I - My heart says I should score good marks. Mom - What does your brain say? I - In such matters, it's always in conflict with the heart.
Before the results. Mom's in the kitchen but my nagging dad is with me.
Dad (before I open the website) - What is your expected score? I - I'm keeping my fingers crossed. Dad - Of course, I know. They almost always remain that way. You rarely use them for holding books. Okay, open the website now.
I open the website. Dad stares at my marklist and the expressions on his face harden. Enraged, he leaves the róom without a word, not even caring to tell Mom where he is going. Mom comes in.
Mom - What happened? I - Nothing. I always thought my brain was weak, but it emerged victorious this time. Mom - You mean you passed ? I - No. The brain defeated the heart. The brain had told me that it would be impossible to pass. Mom - But you told me you had done your best. I - Of course. But perhaps it wasn't good enough to impress those who evaluated my papers. It's not that I did too badly. I performed well in bits and pieces, You know, sometimes a batsman scores a century yet his team loses. Some of my answers were really brilliant and I deserve to be appreciated for that. Mom - Oh, no! (faints)
"Dilemmas out of dilemmas The chain Ceases not. I know not Where I stand Where should I.
A way pulls me home A ray fulfills my fantasy. A door opens wide A floor anchors my roots.
If black Then not white There's no grey in sight. Insights are alien to me. I show not What I desire unconditionally.
Unheard is my interior It speaks in serene verse. Superlative of vague am I Untaught of how to rehearse, I open up instantly In an instance I fall to bits, Bit of care works well... Well, who cares!
Even if I say, sing or shout They will hear no doubt. But none will be the one The one to converse with my soul The one to silence my scream.
Estranged I am from self How do I link with, Whom do I? Family or you? I'm sundered into two My halves, Drifting in the blue, At the Creator's behest Storming in my unrest."
Bewildered being Fear not, to face. With your fate You never race. You are blessed with might Almighty but has it most. It's you who drowns in the ocean But Him who takes you to the coast, You love someone the most Even more loving is He.
Colours.. they add spice to our dull & mundane existence. They melt.They merge.They boil. They shimmer. They cool. They refresh.They scintillate our lives with myraid of hues. We paint the blank canvas of our imagination with these subtle tints and bold shades. There is a shade for every emotion, every occasion with each shade holding its own significance. The bold reds in the shades of crimson, scarlet, raspberry or poppy. The lovely pinks with shades of fuschia, cerise, strawberry or peony. The cool blues in the shades of turquoise, azure, prussian or midnight blue. The gentle greens or the mellow yellows, the pristine whites or the cheery corals..colours enliven & inspire. Even greys & blacks have never failed to enchant us. Since time immemorial these colours have been the muse of numerous poets & the amore of every painter.
Colours weave magic. They allure & vitalize. Oh! piquant pigments.