Circle of Life

The essence of life is going to be released soon, and the growing anticipation in the stands overlooking the field can not go any higher.

It is a dark blessing, to feel the essence travelling back to the universe. I don’t think the blessing works yet I stand in this restless quiet with people who crave this dark blessing like a lion a deer. My eyes fix on the equally dark Masters, working the fields in their peculiar long cylinderical hats. They look like chefs but only for the death eminent in the sky.

I can tell it’s going to be a great meal, even though the vessels are empty. So generous, this body of ours, these people I’ve decided to call mine.

The balcony stands are still filling up, the jostles are increasing as everyone gathered here struggles to get a front row experience of bathing in the dark essence. It’s just a load of rubbish, the Towers of Silence have always managed to make money out of soul release. I would never support this but I swore to one of the souls down below to watch her go free. So here I am, no complaints, only this quiet burning rage beneath my eyes I can’t get rid of.

Some of it is tears, because this anger has no release here and I can’t help look to the sky that is still waking up. And I feel a deep sense of serenity, washing over me, a wave clashing on a cliff.

The vultures have finally started arriving, huge and black in the dawn sky. Hunger and death ride under thier wings as they, just like us, quietly announce their presence. Waiting. Watching. Working up an appetite. The Masters are now working on the edges of the stony field. There are stone torches yet to be lit and the drop of blood yet to be donated.

This time, there are no crystals. No dried flower petals. Only hard stark slate-grey surrounding the bodies. Seven bodies. And they are arranged in a star-shaped flower; their heads side by side, feet out in seven directions. It is afterall a salad spread out.

The Masters are now sliding off the field, a chant under their breath and soon, crackling fires burst up burning in the stone torches. One by one, small enough not to scare the death but big enough to support the soul find its way back. Just as the last torch is lit, the Master of the Masters cuts his palm and gently touches the ground. A word rises up from the stands, a lover’s sigh.



In next minutes, I see what I promised myself never to see. The vultures are now screeching and howling and descending in a languid fashion. Wings spread out wide, each flap they make echoes a majestic sound. Still, they don’t pounce. And why would they? The dead don’t move, anyway. In a slow spiralling manner, they roam the sky low, as if they too are saying their last words. They are indeed putting up a show.

But then it ends. One of the Masters whistles and the vultures screech the last time as they swoop. Their claws hit the rocky mountain with an audible clink and their beaks are finally tearing up skin. I told you, it’s a trash scam. Nothing like a release of dark essence we all yearn for. It’s just birds with human-flesh addiction having early breakfast. And a quick one, if those spots of white I can make out from below is bones.

It won’t take them long; whole lives, whole bodies devoured in minutes. All they are leaving behind is bones and, memories and secrets that will fade away with time.

My guru lies down there. For almost twenty long years, she told me everyday after she ate the first morsel of food.

We are just living in miniscule points that a circle has. Could be a big one, could be a small one. But it is a circle. And I’d like to think my circle is fairly big.

Sure, Rujima, I don’t think how I’m supposed to measure the diameter but I’m here to watch it come to a circle.

~ s ~

Beginnings end

I know things begin only to end.

Between these dried leaves, I want to soak up all the rust of nearly dead lives. Let me stay between these mellow leaves. Crushed underneath the feet of disappointed hopes. Not angry, not vengeful, just plain deject.

Let me be. I want to be caught up with every single emotion I’ve ever felt. Every single overwhelming moment. I will save it between my dead roses. Dead yet their smell rest. But this, this rotting heaven, stinks of deadly renewal. It’s vibe stuck somewhere in middle. Or maybe lost. Like someone had to sway a lot on the not so soulful swing.

It’s a possession to hold dear — this rotting heaven. And I think it’s better than being in one irate storm of sentiments I cannot overcome. The waves of wealth I can’t hold. The white lather carrying all the emotions I’ve been dying to feel. Nothing reaches my hands.

The sun turns copper, far off in the breezy sky. Moment after moment, my mind steadily wanders to the thought of staying here. Amongst these soothing forked trees. Long lasting patience. Amongst these thin winds, who whisper compassion hauntingly. I think they understand me?

Maybe it’s a place for broken souls. A healing home to forget the nothingness of life. Sure I can stay. I’m at peace, breathing in this ochre heaven. I know things begin only to end. And things end just to begin afresh.

But I am tired. My feet ache, my soul grieves. I want the ends. I am the awaited end. I don’t want to be the end who begins again.

~ s ~

Screw screws

Imagine how would it feel to be bad at everything you tried. A single task, a simple instruction, an obvious reaction, nothing you do turns out right. Imagine them laughing at you. Pretty cool people who you looked up to, idols and influencers, mocking your skill to screw everything up. What a glorious mess.

Not a single day passes away and you think, what should I do to be different? To be better? To be…less clumsy? And days pass by, you thinking and a bit more thinking, maybe. Nothing changes, the lack of courage to try something new so that a better you could emerge. Just you and your restless thoughts.

You’ve come a long way, thinking things through and thinking things twice, thrice, before taking any steps. Things screw up themselves around you. It’s been a mess since… so long that you can’t recall a single day when you were light as anything that is lighter than light itself.

Yet you don’t stop searching, thinking and imagining ways. We can be better. Maybe just by thinking. Let’s just scream out loud our daily failures, in spite of all these efforts, all these destructive thoughts, such heaviness somewhere in the back of your existence.

Who’s going to comb out all these unkempt knots? Where can you find one such soul that will share the burden of your dead soul?

It’s just then you’ll realise there’s no way out. This is what you have to go through. No turning back. You did everything right, yet here you are. Maybe this is what it is. A dead end.

It’s just then you’ll realise how much strength you used to get here. How much brave you were, still are, to be you.

~ s ~

Pieces of peace

I was lost in this world’s chaos, they said.

Lost from those great minds which once upon a time used to run with bare feet on the path of thoughts. Lost from those kind souls which earned happiness solely from helping others. Lost from hearts which used to be golden; now rusted from my absence. Everything was so full of voices – dull, daunting and dangerous voices. Apparently, I was lost, yes. But most definitely I wasn’t missed.

Oh, I stayed away from all those who were stretching their greedy callous talons towards the thing of material. Or running after those who took them places just to see the rotting view from the top. Hell, I even stayed away from wealthy slaves of constant success.

These all were a complete no-no. Strictly and passionately. They couldn’t have me even if they wanted me.

And I was positively flabbergasted when I actually found myself. And even more happily shocked where. Just when I’d thought I was building castles in the air, I found the very true land of little huts made just for me.

I was found amongst those who were doing that small job and yet sufficient of themselves. I lay with the love-struck couple, hands entwined, under the twilight sky. I was walking along that fat girl who walked the streets with her happiness flaring and the pride in her chin held high. I played with those little bundles of carefreeness, laughing on the stupidest jokes and crying on the silliest scratches. I even found myself in the wings of the birds as they fed their chicks and in the mane of ferocious as it strolled, thirst clenched.

Who said I was lost? These rumours must be because I was a strict treasure to be found. But I’m not supposed to found…because I’m not hidden. I’m latent within you, dying and lost.

You come across a thing of your interest, a thing of pure joy, a thing of beauty. That thing which makes you feel content, life easier and happier, and death meaningful… keep it close. Try it. Work on it. Stay close by and don’t give up on it. Go for a second chance, if needed. And then you can have me.

I’ll be all yours…I’m the peace you want in this rowdy world. I’m the peace you want even in the chaotic silence. I’m the peace of your mind.
Peace, out.

~ s ~

Internet pack

I remember the day

When I received that text message

“Your account balance has been topped up.”

Someone recharged my internet,

My pathetic self annoyed, if not overwhelmed.

I remember those sparkles,

When you said — “some secret admirer”

Hard to miss those sparkles, jaan.

It was such a useless move

For our splintering bond.

Naive money spent on not so smart

Smart internet pack.

I felt it, all at once and then none.

My heart a rbmk nuclear core,

No one knew it would explode —

A serene blue angst in the dark, showers of ashes

Somewhere around the sphere of my life.

My soul, my brain, my eyes

No one knew how to react to this

Disastrous act you put into motion

For the waves that scream in the ocean

I took all the wrong steps,

Never told you about the Calypso that cried.

Conflict, vain, the attachment we had.

I remember the day when

I found you

Recharged my internet.

~ s ~

Stop playing

Aquamarine catches my eye.

Amidst all the ocean of people moving in waves together. An aquamarine t-shirt. On broad shoulders. Hairs long enough to run fingers through. With a slight stride in his walk.

It’s him.

I wade through the ocean. Anxious. Upto him. Right behind him. We hadn’t parted in right ways. But he walks now in front of me. Tempting. Irresistible. Edible.

I see my fingers tapping him on shoulder. Urging him to see me again. And he turns. For a moment, I think of making a run for it. Mumble a sorry and be my way.

But he sees me. Grins that wide toothy smile. Pulls me in and holds me close. My chin on his shoulder. His arms around my back. And I swear it feels like everything is just like before between us.

Unlike it’s not.

He pulls back. Flashes me another one of his amazing smiles. Takes me by my shoulders. Gazes in my eyes.

And whispers — stop playing with me.

His fingers play on my hips. His eyes still play happy. A moment and his lips peck mine playfully.

Stop playing with me.

I let go. Disturbed. Confused. Haunted. Maybe I played with him. Maybe I’m not sorry enough. I watch him go. Away. From me. Back to the ocean of people.


~ s ~

Castle Unconquered

These walls make me a sight, to be attacked and conquered.

This vault allows me to be a part of this world and still be myself. I fit right in and don’t, at the same time.

And the more look around, I find everyone within their own self-built cages. Content. Scared. Pride surrounds these walls with a layer of fear for good measure. Some easily penetrable, some weak enough to crumble on the third strike and some rock-strong to survive any blasts.

It is these walls, I think, that make people do what they do. See what they want to see and live as they think they always wanted to live. Decide where they want their life to take them. Boundaries and, more boundaries. Hence, it is these beautiful, painfully built, walls that make people extraordinary. Different. A vision. An otherworldly experience that everyone wants to feel and achieve. Stakes are high. And people are armed.

And battlefield couldn’t have been more majestic as we march on to crumble these walls around our own people. Our friends. Our guardians. Our lovers.

And once these walls are down, you’re free to roam through the spirits that rest inside. Dark and mystical. Bright and hypnotic. Raw and familiar, yet so strange to know all these spirits were always churning underneath…watching.

I’ve got walls too. So strong and grandeur that everyone has tried to make a dent. At this point, I have merely forged a low door in. And I watch with disappointment when a close one is so close by but still can not find the door. But there is a catch. Sure, anyone could walk in. Anyone who thought there was treasure behind these mighty walls would be in for a show. No pure emotions. No innocent smiles. No high hopes. No more of that charming person with stars in eyes.

Just this quiet oblivion.

Without a body. All there is to see is this empty vastness, crumbling hopes and lost mist heavy in the skies. With no one around to share but these mighty walls

… and they’re falling apart on their own, with no blows, no guards.

~ s ~

Birthday Bells

Yesterday was my baby brother’s birthday and as ritual goes, we all decided to surprise him at midnight. With gifts, of course. And to make it more surprising, we decided not to disclose the fact that there were gifts.

As a real Gen-Z kid, my brother is self sufficient. He says he doesn’t need such surprises from friends. Or from family, I realised. An easily targeted and looted village in clash of clans is enough, apparently. This coming from a barely 11 year old kid? Preposterous.

But the dozen little things we gifted him made him squeal wih joy. Even if he had a sour throat, he enjoyed the cake and chocolates (only to have the worst throat this morning). Blushed real cute when I gave him flowers. And the math exam today had faded away into non-existence when dad announced dinner’s at Mangoes. Baby brother loves mangoes so much that he thought Mangoes offers all sorts of mango dishes the first time we went there. Since then, he has one sincere and naive love for that place.

A week before, we had asked him what he wants to do on his birthday. The apple of mum’s eye replied, “study all day”. Those second term exams were important for us too back then, weren’t they? But birthdays come once a year and surprise gifts are a hell lot better then surprise tests.

So even if odds were not in our favour, we managed to celebrate baby brother’s birthday with a bang. And I realised, it doesn’t take much efforts to make someone special feel special on their special day. Especially in this super connected world that we live in.


Happiness bottled

A little bunch of chocolates. Few cute flowers. Their all-time-favourite cake. A handmade gift. Whole lot of ugly embarassing pictures. That thing they always wanted to have. To meet up for atleast half an hour. Or a minute long call. And even if all these things are too much, just a few words, full of warm and happy vibes, are enough.

Happiness is to be shared after all. And birthdays are one perfect chances to do that. But since baby brother can’t understand the underlying concept, I’m always up for teaching him with a smack on his head.

I’m a good sister, after all.

~ s ~