Living a lie

When voices can’t be trusted

and the smiles are just a lie,

When ears turn deaf and

the heart is left alone to cry.

When promises are broken and

the world around seems to crumble,

Words appear inadequate

and the mind begins to fail.

When loneliness is your only company

Amidst all the friends, and,

the person(s) you love and hate the most

is no different but the same.

When memories are all you have left

and life begins to stagnate

When dreams and nightmares are the same

and insomnia appears desirable

When you begin to enjoy the sadness

and derive pleasure by hurting

When melancholy appears crowded and

crowds appear lonely.

When every pretty girl reminds you

of what you lost years back.

and you still desire the same lap

to stare into that pure and serene face

You know the time has come

When all you do is, sigh

its time to get a life

and stop living a lie.

---Sriram

The Serial Killer(s)

She couldn’t move much but felt almost every heart beat around her. She didn’t have anyone to talk to and was all alone in a dark place unable to see anything at all. All she could hear was some horrifying talks. She was scared but there was no one to comfort her. She wondered what harm she could possibly do to people who wanted to end her. She lay there gloomy and wondering if she will ever see the light of the day. She was barely fed and grew weaker by days.

Very often she could hear some noise unable to make anything out of it. Like a helpless being, she just waited for the moment. She had no to call for help, for no one but only the killers knew about her existence. She was just an unknown soul with no place to hide and run and didn’t understand why she was in the captivity of those merciless serial killers. And one fine day, suddenly everything around her began to heat up. And even before she realized, she was reduced to a piece of medical waste. One of the killers showed some superficial remorse in the camouflage of maternal emotions but deep down both had a sigh of relief.

And the world didn’t even miss a soul. Or, did it?

ख़्वाबों के परिंदे

दिल में है एक अरमान

कुछ ख्वाब और कुछ सपने

कुछ कर दिखाने का एक जूनून

मगर दूर हूँ उनसे जो है अपने

दिन के उजाले में भी देखता हूँ एक सपना

रात की तन्हाई में भी करीब है वो अरमान

मगर इस ख़्वाबों की दौड़ में

छूट रहे है कुछ पल ज़िन्दगी के

डर लगता है उन गहरी रातों से

मगर हौसला ना हारूँगा कुछ ठोकरों से

उम्मीद कायम है एक नए दिन की

कभी तो छटेंगे ये काले बादल भी

सोचता हूँ कभी मैं भी उर पाउँगा

आसमान के पार चला जाऊँगा

देख सकूँगा परिंदों को अपने नीचे

सूरज से भी आँखे मिला पाउँगा

फिर भी एक सवाल उठता है जेहन में

क्या मंजिल तक पहुचना ही सब कुछ है

या फिर उन रास्तो में जिन पर हम चलते है

या उन छोटे छोटे पलों में

जो हमें ज़िन्दगी का एहसास दिलाते है

जो हमें जिंदा महसूस कराते है

--- श्रीराम

Random Ramblings

It has been a long time I posted something here. I guess there hasn’t been any recent heartbreaks which could push me into my melancholy and surprisingly the area where I stay doesn’t seem to be blessed with any pretty faces either which could bring up the lost romance. After all one does need some kind of inspiration and a push to be able to carve a way out of the writer’s block. All I get to see or feel when I come out of my room is huge amount of dust Gurgaon has to offer. And I didn’t really want to be another blogger criticising the mismanagement of the city or lamenting the ridiculous extravaganza Mayawati indulges in while hundreds of kids die of a disease. I do not want to throw in statistical bullets on the government for its lackadaisical approach towards almost everything going on. I think Mr Rajdeep Sardesai is enough for all that. And I certainly do not want to step into the big shoes of Karan Thapar who ends up speaking for almost two third of the total time when he supposedly there to interview people. And even if I want to, well the fact is, they would probably not even allow me in their premises. So, let me not get too cocky for my own sake.

I tried completing a half written piece of poetry which I once scribbled after I saw a beautiful picture of a dear friend of mine. But, the mood just didn’t set in. So let me just share the 4 lines I did come up with at that moment.

“She sat there in a silence,

her eyes deep and moist.

As her hair fell down her serene look

She held both her melancholy and the turbulence”

Somehow, I have come to realize that it is insanely difficult to complete a piece which is left incomplete. The original mood and the atmosphere are just so difficult to be recreated. There is another incomplete one which doesn’t seem to be nearing its meaningful destiny. So I guess I will just share this one too.

“Just when I had turned sober

Thinking it might be finally over

In a flash it appeared once again

bringing out the long hidden pain.”

I think it wasn’t too much and over the board when I once remarked to a friend. “Do not look into my mind. You will lose your way in its complexity. Look into my heart; you might just want to live their forever.” At the risk of sounding cheesy and melodramatic, I somewhere can’t agree to disagree from this thought.

Changing the subject, last night I did come up with a thought to scribble on. I was going through my contact details on Yahoomail and came across some really funny, weird, alien, rebellious and innovative Email ids. I could stop laughing at some of those. Some were rock stars while others where heart throbs for some I even had to look up to the dictionary to decipher the meaning. I know what you must be thinking. Of all the people, how could someone who was specifically pointed out by the Placement committee and the interview board to change his email id talk about this. For all that matters he was even notoriously facilitated for the same by popular measure. Well, this is why I didn’t write a dedicated post on this. I didn’t want to give a dear friend of mine another chance to call me a “hypocrite”. :)

For now, I will cherish a onetime memory of having watched a movie alone in a theatre. And by alone, I mean, all alone in an empty theatre. And FYI, it wasn’t some shady movie. The Three Musketeers didn’t seem to be such a bad option either.

---Sriram

When Insomnia appears beautiful

As the life begins to lose its motion

I am stuck in the myriad of thoughts.

When the reality fades into oblivion

Only dried leaves welcome the springs.

When it is easy to look the other way

Or to not look at all

For the journey is often exhausting

And the truth is nothing but bitter.

When the nights and the days seem alike

Eclipsed by the shadows of past and future

Suddenly, the chaos seems to be

more comforting and desirable.

Just when I feel in control

The moment arrives

When it all starts to slips away,

Dropping me into the sands of time.

Day after day as the weeks pass by

I hang on to whatever I can

For when dreams turn out to be a nightmare

Even insomnia appears beautiful.

---Sriram

Dear Sis

There are relations of blood and then there are those of matrimony. There are relations of romance and then there are those of friendship. For each of them we have probably a long list of festivals and associated traditions and rituals. Each comes with a certain degree of rigidity and unnecessary expectations at some level. And then there is a relationship which exists at two levels; both social and natural. Among the hundreds of festivals, this is the one free from most mythological stories and gender biased rituals. This is one day when the males of the society, for a change, promise something to the females and I would believe they mean it. This is one day which promises purity of relationships in the world where this word itself is rapidly changing its meaning at a very existential level. This is a reason for one of the strongest bond between two people who often fight each other as much they love.

Growing up in a joint family, I was blessed with 3 elder sisters who still love me like a baby brother. They are the ones who still find me more capable and believe in me more than I myself could. They are the ones who still love me and scold me, irrespective of how old I am. Back then it was just about exchanging gifts and having good food on the rakshabandhan day, but I could realize the more important things only late growing up and missing them every single year.

I still remember those times in school when every year, guys used to literally run away from the class during the recess fearing that they might be forced into the brotherhood. It was weird funny and strange at the same time. There was always one guy in class who would have had alteast 10 rakhi sis in class and a bunch of others who made sure they got only friendship bands a week earlier on the friendship day! Sometimes it seemed fun while at times it did look ridiculous. At the risk of being hated, the fact is a friendship or an amorous relationship might be temporary, but not the one which symbolises the most delicate and purest relationship, man has ever known.

I never thought when my childhood friend (Shivani) tied rakhi around my wrist way back in 2001 that our bond will only grow stronger. But today, I am a proud brother and consider myself lucky to have her in my life. She is someone who has always stood by me in the best and worst of times. We may not talk for weeks together, but whenever we do, it just feels like we were never away. But, while I was coming back to my place after meeting for such a long time, my mind was perplexed as usual. I was happy and yet some thoughts kept coming to me. It would however be unfair to those who have loved me no less than any sister could possibly. It would be unfair to someone who has always treated me like a brother and a great friend as well, even though we may not be biologically related. But who can possibly stop the tide of thoughts which come and take you unaware.

I have always wondered if only I had a younger sister of my own, how it would have been. May be I would have been the usual possessive brother who would have irritated her to the limits or maybe I would have been her best friend. May be she would have kept all her secrets away from me or maybe we would have shared every single thing happening in our lives. May be I wound have been conservative and hypocritical when it came to her or maybe we would have been each other’s biggest strength. May be I would have been jealous of my dad loving her more than me or maybe I would have loved her more than anyone possibly could. I don’t know. Life would certainly have been very different. But, then there are times when that void seems to make its presence feel. And it gets more and more visible whenever I see two siblings fighting like cats and dogs and then again fighting for each other against the world. I guess it is just natural and inevitable to feel this way.

Sriram

I see you

Every time I see you

I find a reason to smile

Every moment that I miss you

I still walk that mile.

Every time it rains and the cloud thunder

I can feel my “heart” ponder

You call it love; you call it imagination

I still see you mesmerized; in all the admiration.

I may not be a romantic

I may not be a star

But, as I look up, standing in the attic

I still see you like the way I want you to.

And yet, I wonder when days turn into nights

What if,

I hadn’t lost my sight

Could I ever, have seen you at all?

(In honour of all those people who still find life beautiful even when they can’t see and to remind the lucky ones how beautiful life is only if you could open your eyes to the beauty around.)

---Sriram