Free Verses

An older me: 

Some things in life are free. 

I wish verses weren't. Then at least I wouldn't have churned out such hogwash. 
But I'm glad I put this up as a page. It stays like that. Unvisited. Unread. Or occasionally glanced through. Not like a fresh post which gets read (Does it, really?!).

You might ask me why I have still kept this page whereas I could have removed it if I so detested to read through my own work. 

Well, life happens. And when it happens to pass us by, we choose to chronicle our best moments and discard the ones that sucked or caused us much chagrin. I, however, endeavor to remember all the parts of my life- the good and the bad ones, the proud and the embarrassing ones, the walkovers and the ones that walked all over me. And hence, I will never put this page down, I guess. For I want to know who I was then and who I am now. I care about the one that was Me a few moments ago and the one that will be Me a few moments into the future.  

A younger Me wrote all this a long time ago (Eons ago IMO)

"
I have a habit of scribbling down things. During my school days, I used to pen down stuff at the back of my notebooks or in the margins or on scrap papers that I used to keep safely in a file. After I got a mobile phone, I started scribbling notes and reminders. This page contains those scribbles and verses that I wrote without thinking.

22 July, 2009

I had started writing on sensible as well as nonsense topics. I was going awry. This was another shot.

Pain

It is a boon under wraps-

It gives as it takes.

A deep gash into the body or the mind

Creates an equally deep dent on one’s faults.

Pain digs up untended weeds,

It’s a good question and the best answer.

It’s not the end of the world,

It’s the beginning of another.

It initiates a new level,

You would never have gotten on,

Had you not gone down.

It’s different but not dark.

It’s a fast track to take you to the best of levels. 

***

Living in a Dream

It is like a parasite,

It is eating away my life,

Devouring my precious hours.

While people live,

I perish in the depths of unreality.

Blinded in subservience,

I am carried off to unknown lands,

Where unfulfilled ideas materialize,

A mere haze satisfies this pining heart.

Leaving behind the sun of life,

An ugly middle stance-it takes me nowhere

Just false hopes…

Its hold is powerful-the mind’s infinite range,

It shows my distaste in my world,

That I seek refuge elsewhere.

Sly,slow but sure degradation, depletion.

Innocent dreams make me live less,

I look for the monsters outside.

But they are inside, chipping me away every second.

Trading my life’s trueness

With the apparent brightness of the dreams,

I am doing injustice-perpetrating a fraud on myself.

Can I undo it?

***

Unraveling Love

The irrationality of it all

The blindfold of love, creating an irresistible elixir, filling everything else.

Is it the way meant to be?

Or the rational wheels that churn love into a palpable agreement,

More like a deal of pleasure

The irrationality of it all

Making one feel like a cipher without the other.

Is this loss of identity just?

Can self be retained in this blurring of identities?

Do they truly give up their individuality

In the fire of love?

Or is it a mere hallucination?

Imitation of the true love spirit,

That knows no boundaries,no limitations,

No individual, no language.

The love that holds the Universe together

And keeps it from falling apart.

The love that spells life,the love that needs no one to manifest it,

Because that’s all there is-that is the ultimate cause, the ultimate effect.

***

Culture

Experience and suffering plant these seeds…

Of cowardice and wise ideals.

Existing since the woolly mammoth’s era

Sometimes its beginnings appear to go back to when the world was created.

Superposition of the elementary ideas time after time

Wore away the young spirit

(Like running water wears the hardest rock with the might of time)

And built a wizened old man,

Tired and scared to venture and

Surviving with certain fixed rules.

Handed over to us those rules,

That work even when life stops working.

Age-old tough principles that can skyrocket one’s life.

Old has proved its gold.

But what about the new young spirit?

That loves erring and trying.

The aim of age-old culture is to

Accelerate our path to the ‘seniormost’ aspects of life

And provide us with the necessary ‘bent’ of mind.

***

The path which had so many bifurcations,

So high in number that all she was certain of

Was her uncertainty to take one in the future…

She had finally started to make peace,

With the ideas she once dreaded and viciously fought,

Mediocrity had claimed her,

She realized nothing does essentially change,

Neither her desires nor the world’s ways,

Neither her weaknesses nor her nature,

The futility of it all had stopped bothering her now.

She had accepted it all.

Too soon?

Perhaps…

When that was the end, she better reach it as soon as she could…

***

Bully Me

My fear, your fear, it has come out somewhere.

When I shout, its my insides screaming.

When I hit, I am doing a turn back

To the one who left a scar in my mind.

I’m giving it back.

I’ll get my fears out on him.

I’m insecure of myself-its my only way out.

I see my way out in him.

Its so difficult,

To stand up(against),to keep down(compulsion).

I’m not weak, but I am made out to be.

I haven’t got much to go by.

My trueness is damped.

My sensitivity played with- I can’t do much.

His sneering face reflects my weakness, my shattered dreams,

I am coiling up, no hope now…

The cycle goes on,

The black hole of defeats

Gravitating both in,

No hope unless

Both stand up for themselves,

Turn brave enough to face their own faces.

***

Mind

I have had the fortune to experience,

To know more daily, to see and

take in all sorts of natures,

peek in all the diverse lives of people.

I wonder how it was all created –

This difference, this extraordinary gap in all lives.

Every person I meet,feels different,

Thinks different,talks different,

Gets troubled up on different matters.

The Creator of all these- is he different or the same?

My mind never stops wandering,

Its enjoying its fastest pace yet.

I try to temper it every time the sun decides to rise,

But no more than a jiffy creeps by and my mind digs up all sorts of graves, treasures, truths…

It reverts to its favourite pastime –dashing ahead- working relentlessly.

I wish I could work that much –

The way my mind creates endless reserves of energy

Whether my physique is stable or not,

The mind doesn’t care if the world ends,

if there are wars or clashes,

it only knows how to run.

A fascinating history, a muddled future

Or an uncertain present,the mind creates a medley,

An endless saga-

Whether awake or asleep-

It has its own magic-

Its own charm-its own endless  life.

***

My Search

I, sometimes, delve into myself,

Look inside the vast ocean that is my soul,

Wonder who’s pouring all the life into it,

Who is creating magic in my being,

Who sparks the flame of ambition in me,

Lights the candle of love,

Neutralizes the miseries

and diffuses it in that vast ocean,

creates inspiring ideas and fills my mind with it,

Is it I?

Then who creates the fire of revenge,

Produces vile intentions, spreads the germs of inertia,

The hopelessness, the faithlessness, the despair,

The desertion, the hurt, the broken heart.

Is it I?

Then which of the poles is true- is I myself?

I wonder if this eternal battle will ever be resolved.

***

Its Raining For Me

I wish I had some means to capture this breeze-the sweet pounding of rain, the leaves dripping with water drops.

As I extend my palm to feel a drop, I want to live this moment to the fullest.

I want to record the vibrant noise-the lively cacophony in the house.

I want to feel the creations’ love for us…despite the war we against it.

I am fortunate to be blessed with this form of nature’s beauty –even if it is for the shortest while.

Because we have banned nature from our creations…

Though drowning in our own flood, we still wait for the Creator’s mercy-for some merciful drops,

That quench a season’s thirst,

                Invigorate a lost spirit,

                Spark the flame of life and inspiration.

When I am wont to shattered expectations, broken heart and chipped confidence;

The water comes pattering on my window making its presence felt.

I wish I could bottle it up and uncork my bottled senses.

It knocks harder, showing me my path.

Telling me to say no to some right roads,

To dash into the roads to my heart.

It wants me to take its nature-

To be as gentle as a dewdrop and

As powerful and driven as a whirlpool.

To let the world know what I am,

Just like it shows itself when time beckons.

Dissolving my insecurities,

Releasing me-I feel blessed.

***

 My School- My Temple

The gates seem to smile,

The walls liven up,

Days spring to life.

My school seems to say-

To learn life’s lessons, you came to me;

Like a bud not knowing what or how to bloom,

I showed you flowers of colors lively, textures lovely, scents pleasing and natures varied,

I taught you to grow and know, more and better.

I inspired you to learn.

I helped you to persevere, to try and try until circumstances sense the power of your toil.

I taught you to love without condition.

From the basic alphabet to the higher algebra, from creating pictures to experimenting science, I gave you all I had, all I could.

Now I release you from my sheltered arms-

To fly as high as your spirit can take you

As far as your dreams beckon you

And when you stumble-

Just look back at your alma mater-your temple-

Know that your guide is with you and

With fortified vigour, move on and on, even when the pace seems to slow down forever.

Hang on- even when no rope can be seen, just feel my hand upon you and experience my love,

Go and spread your thought.

The world has to be a better place-

Make it as your light shows you.

Live, Love and Be.

And know that-

Come what may, my love will stay.

With you. For you. As long as you wish.   

"