Twisted tale

Ours is arrange marriage 
Arrange, no?
It was arrange adding to love marriage

I met her at her house
She looked beautiful,
We talked,
She called herself "rebellious soul, never confined , never to be trapped"

I loved her instantly for the second time , My first wife was also a rebellious one so she left me early.
I told her I never give up and someday will confine her with a slight grin.
It worked...

We met every week,
Talked everyday,
She turned me down when I gave her bouquets, chocolates but was delighted to my gentleman efforts,

That's all I wanted...
She could never get slightest idea about our future that I had planned with her,
Everyday When I looked at her
"Rebellious soul never to be confined" echoed in my ear,

It is our wedding day,
She became mine.
Waiting for me in the beautiful bridal attire
That's my wife , right ?
I told myself the rebellious soul is being chased by me
It's time to confine her.

That night she slept peacefully
Never to awake again.
While she slept I choked her breath with her dupatta ; the love she bore for me now transformed into fear,

Rebellious soul , so she fought
But couldn't win because I am her husband right?
She was maintaining eye contact all the time and I thought how much I love her more ,
My first dead wife closed her eyes when I did this to her, pity isn't it?
But she looked right through my eyes, making me hold her dupatta more tightly around her snow white throat.

And then she peacefully slept.

I never give up I said with another grin while closing the door of my Giant Refrigerator , confining her with in.

“Last Entry of you. It’s a wrap for us!”

Yesterday night brought me contentment and the hazy sky before my eyes was finally clear after spending days in state of turmoil,

I have realised that the happiness I tried to give you is causing eternal pain to my soul.
This sadness, gloomy shades of depression is rotting me inside,

All this time when I was trying to fill you with my energies, you were still empty.
You have various pores in the parcel of life which will never let my energies settle in you.

It is an end for us since I can't fill your emptiness .
The void that you are, it's extremely powerful, engulfing everything .. Emitting nothing , retaining nothing.

I have realised I will become empty, will turn into numb void like you , My soul will rot away, leaving me infected with your disease.

So, Today,
I have decided to cut you off ,tear you apart from myself.
You don't belong to me, healing you is not in my control anymore.

I can live without you but I cannot live with the suffering self with you.

With this, let's just wrap the show.

They call you pretty!

It all began with a note, 
Slipping through the desks, passing hands with a message, "You are pretty,I think I love you."

Took me minutes to register, what does pretty has to do with love ?

Fitzgerald once said,“I hope she'll be a fool -- that's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.”

How do you respond to a confession?
Friend,
Teach me how you tell someone you think you love them but not to that extent to sacrifice your reputation!
But if you can't sacrifice how does it justify that it's love?
Well what kind of love can anyone justify!
And there it goes,
The loop keeps on widening.
Circle within a Circle within a mind of its own.

It all began with the thought!

Well, Does it mean you find me pretty that's why love me or You love me that's why I am pretty?

A day later , I heard her talking ,
They call you pretty, they love you more.
With this the loop widens and my question lingers on.

Ponder what?

And I wonder what people do when they want to leave? Do they come to you and beg you to release them from the bond of morality which has compelled them to stay with you or do they just leave with no explanation? Do they ever beg , to just let go of? Why do you think they add, “I hope you live a happy life?”, Well yes, I will since you are now out. Now I am left to myself determining how to start everything over again. Oh, Yes! It’s incredible to start again. Picking pieces of self, segregating them , finalising whether they deserve to be brought back or should be discarded. Would take a few more sessions with my therapist but I will figure out . It’s incredible for you to wish me live and find love and move on with somone else , because why not? I deserve to be happier. How unfortunate it is, no? Not for me but for you to realise that we have no future together. I am still wondering about the “forever” we sworn by? What should I do with the promises and the New allegations you added in order to just compel me to let you go ? Tell me love, Since when have you stooped to this level of hell? Was it before you met me or after you left me? Doesn’t matter, I should get back collecting pieces of my life. Afterall , your 33 allegations screams loudly how eager you are to see me “Happy”. Best Wishes to those who ends their note with , “May you find someone who is more loyal and confident than I was”. I rest my rant here.

Remember me

When I am gone and You wonder what to do next,
Don't fight yourself and listen to me,

Initially it would be strange to sleep alone
And you might be scared at night,
Worrying if I turned into a ghost,
Which I assure you, I won't .

But there would be those nights with troubled sleep,
And the memories of happy times will haunt your heart,
In those critical time, I want you to remember
I am looking at you from heaven,
Maybe from hell as well !
But I am looking at you, that will matter.

So, here is the guide to remember me curated for you especially,
Remember me as you remember the aftertaste of sweet lassi you drank at your grandmother's place in summer break,
Just like the melody of your favourite song you hum without realising that you are humming,
Just like the book, you pick as a comfort read and the place you drive to when you are upset.

Some days when you will miss me the most,
Buy a truffle cake and leave it on my grave.
I won't be able to eat but the sight is enough for me to cheer up.
Since you know what to do when I am gone
I hope you keep your words and smile more.

Spiral

It seems to me that a sickness has gripped me. I have become part of a spiral where thoughts come and then bead by bead the spiral keeps on increasing , layer by layer to a point from where I fail to find the beginning. 

My brain has stopped taking this, the pressure, the pain, the suffering I go through in each moment when I should be resting and I have become reckless with my memories.

Memories of yesterday,today and coming tomorrow . Why?
You ask me why?

Because it's unbearable to be in the limelight and pretend to be alright. Not being able to scream out, show your joy, sorrow, anger,hurt and pain.

Fear grips the heart yet the smile doesn't flicker.
Do you know how that happen?

Practice . Practice. Practice.

But it's enough. I am exhausted and I sincerely hope for the earth to stop moving and my ethics to stop talking .

Fever

Thermometer flashed 103, looks like
The fever has reached the core.
The body shivers,mind enveloped with the question why?
Yesterday, you danced like there was no tomorrow until you realised there aren't going to be any more tomorrows with him.

Today,
Grief has made her sick.

Sadness lingering in her mind has finally found a way to reach her bones.

It's strange the doctor said, grief could make you lose your strength.

Get well soon her agony said, mocking her with a big smirk.



Autumn

It begins in September,
With the rustling of the winds,
A change of weather is felt.

A messages is delivered through the changed course of winds,
Warm summer afternoons are soon going to be replaced with chilly winters sun,
The heat one hates in June will soon be loved in December.

Cold makes us appreciate warmth,
And Chaos - tranquility.
It all begins in September.

The weather of your heart will soon change,
The heat of anguish will soon be disposed of,
The heart which feels lonely will see the green pastures..

Wait, be patient!
For my love December changes to March as well.

Frame

This body is like a frame
Our souls are the paintings
Like the one we see In the art gallery,

The frames are usually made of glass, wood, or maybe cheap plastic
Yet handling the soul made of soil
With depth of honey and
Burning sensation of coal.

our soul fights everyday to come out of the frame, almost everyday to scream and breath and lie down on the green grass of our lawn and gaze at the open sky,
Only to realise, Maybe the frame is not just a frame but a maze of karmic connections.

There are endless reasons for us to remain in the maze
Yet we need just one to be out of this world...

Eventually the body is yet again just a frame within the frame.