Euthanasic Death

Have you ever been in a dark room? No, a completely dark one, with not a single streak of light coming in. It’s all you and the darkness. I love that darkness. It has always been my love. The dark nights, the dark colours, everything makes me feel so good, cause I could identify with the blackout days. When I sit in the dark room I don’t find any disparity between the interior and exterior. My soul had always been this dark.

No, don’t rant about making it spiritually lighter, I am not a theist not an aethist. Neither am I a spiritual person. Don’t even take me to be a satanist. It’s just that I have not found out what to believe and trust, just like the people in my life. I am very assured that a very few people who are in my life are really good, lovable and so but sometimes I don’t know why but there are things, there are thoughts which are too dark to be shared. I know they would understand but sometimes being vulnerable is not so easy. These thoughts are like parasites hosting in your own body, they finish you by and by like a slow poison. I love darkness so much, but sometimes I strive, I pine for that streak of light. I sometimes want to bathe in that dazzling sunlight sitting in a garden full of flowers.

However, when that happens somehow, I again want to go back to the darkness. The wall which I have built around me sometimes suffocate me. I wonder whether these walls would be a traitor and kill its master one day. And then there are some people who do break the wall and enter; you feel grateful to them but what about their leaving you suddenly? With that wall half broken, with you being completely devastated, you realize one thing….the other part of the wall is leaning towards you, it is ready to fall and you have no way to escape the boundaries, they have a strong foundation. It’s leaning more and more, anytime your beloved room would be on you. Now you realize that you have no way to escape, so you give up all hope and sit there in that darkness of yours with all those dark thoughts running frivolously on your mind and then the rooms falls on you. And it’s over. All those inner conflicts, all those to do or not to do. It’s all finished. You were engulfed and killed by your own darkness. You are dead inside now.

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Tell him

Tell him, I still miss him,

Like a man who misses the warmth of the Sun on a winter evening.

Tell him, I despise all those nights which falls silent.

Tell him, I tried hard to unlove,

I tried to forget those moments,

Tell him, I am still stuck on the cold days,

I still love black dark nights,

I still stay up all night long.

Could you please tell him

That I have got some of his habits?

If you meet him, do tell him to take care of himself.

Please tell him, no matter what happens I will be there for him…

Oh wait!

I cannot go near him,

He is the fire, and

I am bound in chains.

But don’t tell him that.

After everything, please tell him

That I have went far away

Never to come back again….

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Iridescence

I don’t remember anything before that night,

We were lying on the grass, looking at the stars,

We smiled. We cried.

Suddenly you ask about my paintings

Or so did I hear.

You asked why were they all black and white?

I said I had no colours left.

we don’t speak after that.

Next day, you brought me various colours,

Colours I have never seen before.

I drew pictures, I drew the world.

A few days later, we were lying on the grass again

Everything seemed to be perfect.

“I wish to paint on your canvas one day” I smiled and said.

You smiled weakly and then frowned,

You looked up to the sky and suddenly got up.

I tried to pull you down,

You said calmly, that some wishes are meant to be buried forever.

I tried to hold on, you pushed me away and walked to the dark of night.

I don’t know what happened to you after that…..

But now all my paintings are black and white, again.

photo of white umbrella with blue smoke illustration
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The Ominous Swing

It was a pleasant day, I walked all alone. I did not tell them where I was going. As I was becoming smaller in their sight, my legs carried me faster. It was more than I could take, the sun shone but I did not feel the heat. After a few minutes I saw the yellow gate, with animals carved on it.

 “The park has opened early today.” I heard someone say. I smirked , anyway I would have got in. There was the bench beside the pond. I kept my heavy bag down and sat there. The sweet breeze went through my hair, touching against my cheeks softly. The smell of nature filled my nostrils. I closed my eyes and then the slideshow of those spring days came up.

I went up to the swing near the pond. No one had come to the park today. They considered this swing to be ominous, I found it terrifyingly beautiful. The swing takes you a bit to the pond and again back to the land. They thought this to be dangerous, it makes me laugh. Dangerous is beautiful. I start to swing myself to and fro, slowly at first. I close my eyes again. There comes those spring days, with that lovely face, those laughing eyes, chuckles and giggles which makes me smile. I gain momentum. The winds kiss me. I remember those words which made my heart skip beats, those promises of eternity. I am gaining more momentum.  The winds seemed to pull me towards them. Fading away….I am losing grip….the creaking increases….it’s becoming blurry….

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Tears fall down from my eyes, I am crying, I let go, I hear a splash. I feel water everywhere; I don’t want to open my eyes. The winds no longer pull me, but the water pulls me down to its lap. I see that smile, I hear that voice, I can feel my heart skipping beats and it feels like my lungs are burning. That laugh rings in my ears, I let go of the name for the last time….but then I feel someone pulling me up.

I sit here on the bench and still wonder, is that the swing which was ominous? When all it was doing, was to help me? However, I smile again as I see that swing broken and kept aside.

Stuck up

Did you see the butterfly sitting there?

Oh! I know you don’t notice such things,

But you notice her hair so carefully

indeed you love her.

Can I say something?

No, I can’t, something holds me back,

I say it to my mind.

I have silly thoughts, no need to be bothered.

I am here for you, even you are there for me.

I stand up suddenly,

You were a little surprised

But not surprised.

I turned away, you seemed not to notice,

I started walking away, you held my hand

And tied it to a pole.flower-rose-nature-white.jpg

Reminisce

It was a Sunday morning and I was having a look around my house. It was 2 years since I have visited this place. With the lukewarm black coffee in my hand, I stood in front of the cupboard which required dusting the most. It made me smile when I remembered how often I used to open this when I stayed here. I moved on and finished my coffee. After all these years, visiting the grave would be too much of turmoil.

After a few hours, I  bowed down to the temptation and opened the cupboard, and there it was. From the smallest memorabilia to the fattest book it was all there. These books which helped me to fall asleep at nights, those diaries which I wrote late at nights. I took all of them out one by one. The past which seemed to be memorable.

There was I, sitting above the pile of memories going on a rollercoaster ride of emotions. I was not afraid of being broken anymore…. I laughed at my innocence, cried over my foolishness, those were happy golden days. And then at last came out a small notebook, half burnt. There it was giving me goosebumps…

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The smiling Mickey Mouse on the cover was almost charred, it looked more like a victim of an acid attack. It smiled hauntingly at me. The Minnie Mouse was completely burnt. I opened it and there was a chocolate wrapper half burnt and as I turned the pages there were cute little hearts and roses all stuck to the charred papers.

I smiled, I smiled the smile which made tears swell up in my eyes. All came back like the river which gobbled up the village when the dam breaks. It was very easy, you ought to have forgiven and forgotten. I did not do so. Here is your punishment for that. It was years now, I had dug the grave, but I did not want those days back, I don’t want the person back, I have walked away from it a long time ago. However, somewhere I found a similarity between me and the notebook in my hand. I turned the last page and there was written the lyrics of the song which I used to listen a lot…..

I wanna be your vacuum cleaner,

Breathing in your dust.

I wanna be your Ford Cortina,

I will never rust.

If you like your coffee hot,

Let me be your coffee pot.

-John Cooper Clarke (I wanna be yours)

The Imperious Choice

I shall be telling this with a sign

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference .

-Robert Frost (The Road Not Taken)

pexels-photo-116833.jpegIn this poem, Frost dealt with how he had two bifurcated roads in front of him while traveling in the woods and he ended up choosing the one which was less traveled and that is where it made everything so different.

Have we not come across such fork paths in our lives? Making that choice is easy when you have a lot of time to think about it. The real difficulty is when Situation and Time ties a chain around your neck and drags you to the road which you never wanted to take. Sometimes you want to break free, break all the ties and run back to the place where it all started; beg them to leave you or make yourself understand to return back to your house, this wood is dangerous for you.

This wood, with all its darkness, is just what would gobble you up. It would take you into its lap and fill you with its own darkness. And when you will run away from it’s clutches realizing your folly, of leaving that pretty house of yours and coming up to the woods just to explore, it’s all over! You are void and numb.

Those raindrops don’t make you feel anything, they are just water from the sky, the butterflies mean nothing to you, just insects who help in pollination, you lose those sparkles of your eyes! People think you to be just another object cause they have found out, you don’t feel anything anymore; you went out to the woods at an early age and stayed their too long.

Alas! We all have to visit the woods once in a lifetime, leaving a bit of ourselves as we stay there, but fortunate are those who had made the imperious choice and stayed there and were completely gulped by it.