Saturday, September 29, 2007

Man Proposes, He Disposes

It reminds me of “Joan Crawford” from the movie Humoresque. I watched multiple times and always want to be Helen Wright (you never know when dream comes true). Time seeped in and I became Helen Wright, today; deep shadows of disappointment to my self-destructive, lonely love-starved soul as I suffer from tragic realizations. I am the Chosen child to Destiny: he’s always at his ugliest best.

I've tried my best a thousand times to tell you it doesn’t matter. I've tried a thousand times to tell ‘how much I love’. You calculate, you weigh, you thought, you decide…I’ve seen you measure! “Measure the Love”. Dunno, something about me makes you want to be weak and find ways to be happy with anyone, but ME.

I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all

Wait a minute! To all the pain you’ve placed onto me, take it all back! I still survive.

Why, if we still breathe, does life end until the rocky moment of acceptance? How does love end? It takes some getting use to. Never mind! You never understand and will never…

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Momma Told Me a Lie!

Years ago you told me a lie. A lie, every night and I bow faithfully with belief. It was some mythical prince who walked into epical Hindu saga as ‘Ram’ and made bridge to rescue his wife. A panel of Indian scientists concluded that the bridge was “a geological formation, which took place about 17 million years ago”.

That ‘Dude’ walked into (credited by his besotted followers) the history book like my corporate colleague who recently take the Microsoft pie after I’ve strained myself. What next Momma? Are they going to tell us that monkeys who wore clothes and fought with weapons and constructed bridges across seas never existed? Or that Ravana really didn’t have ten heads? Or that Sita was not really swallowed up by the earth? And most importantly there never was a talking bear named Jambavana?

The recent political drama over Ram Sethu (aka Adam’s Bridge) tethered Hindu beliefs into right and left wings and an affidavit. Neither does any stone left by Ram, nor does any bone of Ram, exist. So, they ask, how could Ram has exist? Well…King Solomon built a wall at Jerusalem; does his bone or stone exists?

Whether Ram is a myth or a reality does that change my faith? Am I so unguarded?


Any way, it is new experience for Ram himself. Poor guy! He constructed a masterpiece without an engineering degree and forgets to pay the bribe. Once exiled for fourteen years only to return and rule now convicted by Indian legislation. Who said ‘judiciary system is fragile’?

I Got an Identity

I’m young, witty, introvert but talented professional (keeping a heavy pay pocket) and single with no passport.

“You mean a Gay?” Well…!

That’s the initial impression and now wears it like a ‘label’. I don’t mind (in fact) I don’t care. The world around me is so homophobic that’s a tough question to answer. Gay, Queenie, Faggot, Chicken (hehe)

Does that make you know the real ME? How many times have you seen gay men go bowling and walk without swinging posture? "We live in a strange bubble." And, being a gay it seems to me you lived your life like a candle in the wind. Ready to blow-out still sputters, wave, and survive steadily.

I am single, young, witty, talented professional with no passport…now; they call me ‘Gay’. That’s my identity I live with it. Ain’t that makes life worthy to live than being straight all through? We're told to go on live our lives as we want then why judge me?


My father asked if I am gay
I asked Does it matter?
He said No not really
I said Yes.
He said get out of my life
I guess it mattered.
My friend asked if I am gay
I said Does it matter?
He said No not really
I told him Yes.
He said Don't call me your friend
I guess it mattered.
My God asked me Do you love yourself?
I said Does it matter?
He said YES
I said How can I love myself? I am gay
He said That is the way I made you
Nothing will ever matter again

Reuniting to Friendship

Fourteen years is too long time to say “I want my family back. I guess what I'm trying to say is, I want to reunite to the band”. You know, when you started getting invited to your fourteen year lost high school reunion, time is catching up.

Battling long lounge hours before the six-hour delayed flight finally covered the hundred miles, scent of reminiscences flushed through the fluorine streets. I knew them…I’m on my way to the reunion.

Oh, just until the reunion. This seems to be your day for renewing old... acquaintances. It was memory full of good times as I was recalling the pretty yearbook pictures so everybody I could recognize in the crowd. (lol) Sweet nothing and taste of ol’ times that’s’ what you take back when leave the reunion today. (Huh) Take a good look again!

Well, we’d excuses and apologies. For a while, I thought the whole point of going to the reunion was to impress people. I mean, how am I gonna impress ANYBODY by selling ban-lon smocks at Bargain Mart? Or sound, just another corporate big shot planning world conquest! Welcome to the magical world of reality.

The ashen faces from the pretty yearbook pictures changed. You don't want to go to the school reunion because everyone is gonna remember you were a...My friends have changed. We all have changed.

No more maroon pullovers over the silver tunics I am now among housewives with kids from convents and corporate husbands, oh-so-convert Buddhist missionary practicing Chinese Zen, corporate cowboys out there ripping off millions of dollars, a womanizer, a drunkard, a self-inflicted Juliet, a grieved but true painter (though lost). The portrait is changing.

Well, not all are that moron but even a sneak peak to their private after we’ve grown up is worthy. These are like, uh, different colors on a painter's palette. We all are separated to be reunited by friendship again.

Monday, September 24, 2007

Solna...

“Will you write me a blog?” she said me once.

There's only one explanation – I dare to! How many could stand before the sunshine straight face and say “She could use a few driving lessons, but, uh, other than that, she's all right”.

I met the little brat from school picture book whom I hardly knew much, other than now. Grown from her blue tunics to a nice cheerful little neighborhood, brighter as “Sun”, a rogue river-child; freed of bolted and steel-barred restraints seeking tributaries. I admit and owe that this homecoming season wouldn’t be an eventful if *she* hadn’t been there.

Let’s admit she was the perfect muse (okay, now you can feed to your narcissism) but on serious note, SHE IS. Vivacious, engaging, affectionate but isn’t blonde (sic). Meeting Solna was a nice experience, in fact she leaves you with sweetness like Danish pastries from Wengers®. Chewy soft filler guarded with hard crusty outline sweaking non-stop like spongy globs of jelly. You gotta boil it, till the glue gets soft. They think 'cause she’s a woman she’s supposed to be "Miss Merry Sunshine". Well the hell with that!

Exaggerate? Over-estimate? Nah…Do you like her? Hmm…Oh! I forget, even after 14-years she still stings like a bee.

A strange bit of curiosity crept on me (in fact) I was more observant as I spent couple of days listening to her only to realize what lies beneath. "All sunshine makes a desert". Yea…!

At time I felt like standing on the banks of river—no gurgling streams but a fading stretch that lose its way to the desert. You think she a feminist (hmm…) I, on the contrary, find her a mellowed and lost. With grievous eyes and desolate loneliness, she dwells in herself.

Solna! The name suits her best.

It reminds me looking at the sun shining brightly and radiant but ‘there isn’t a single star to keep the companionship. The lonely Sun! Stripped away of life's denial it’s burning itself inside her I was close enough to feel her scars. I never felt I will be meeting the spirited tomboy from the school picture book changed to a spindly woman seeking tributaries.

A single sunrise she stored away in the soul.
And a brave heart! We call her CEAT

Wednesday, September 5, 2007

Picture Perfect!

“…But it only a picture” I calmed myself.
Don’t get mushy… (lol)… Still the question lingers on “Why”? In my earlier post I said, “Dunno…” Seriously, I dunno…! You ask me repeatedly and last night too. I don’t owe anybody an explanation; I never did but now want to. Hmm…I’m confused?

Shocked? Hmm…ain’t all minds think likewise. Well, don't we experiment? Press some buttons, see what happens. I like to experiment. I would sell my soul to Mephistopheles and settle with a caveman. Hmm… Ain’t the idea thrilling?

Nah! To tell ‘ya “its quicksand” and slowly you sank watching everyone die a slow, agonizing death. I mean first of all, it suck you right in, and even if you scream, you get all that muck in your mouth. I never tried to defend just walk on. With clowns and queens [referring to others] having a date with hook-ups I turned hostile playing “Find a cutlet; lock in early, grind with all night 'till…” always a piece from cutlery. I played the game.

I was ‘unsure…’ Yea, that’s the key. The right word indeed *I was unsure*.

Look around and there are housefuls of clowns. Just because he's got a bigger boat he thinks he can take up the whole river. I wish there was something…(something) worthy to laugh about.

Flip the pages from life and you’ll know I’ve changed to an uncooperative, insolent, flippant, combative, anti-social, excitable (think of all likeable adjectives) *moron* for I met more frickin' backstabbers. Bastards! They ripped me down to my *soul*.

I was alone my heart was cold, it was a stone
My soul was lonely like a stone - there was no moss…
And when I danced
I danced alone because I *was* alone
.”

Nah! They all are ‘always friends’ ‘always cousins’ (Do you know straight friends? I never liked clowns they only serve as guinea pigs to my unsure expeditions). Some did coz’ ‘what I am’ others ‘coz they had ‘me’ in closed chambers. The stench, the muck, the lies of ‘friendliness’ now irritates me, scares me. I don’t trust ‘friends’ and ‘love’ anyway. I am devil’s best child he bless me *ill-fate*.

I fled. Having pulled myself to a new line (rather I crash landed and now rebuilding it again) I spilled down everything. My life, my early success, (yea, I was famous professionally) my career, my preferences – everything and start branching out new. I am lucky doing it endways. I've got to start focusing on what I'm doing. Self-realization (lol) I was thinking of the immortal Socrates, yet I’m not ‘Him’. I can’t hide myself, I can’t always deny, disguise, or escape. I can’t be unsure anymore when I’m certain.

So, let’s face the harshness with equal cynicism and be a rebel. I pity my heart for I strangled and gagged it. Honestly, I am now a dead meat. But I still long I dunno ‘why’ but I do.

Does that pull you?

Partially ‘YES’!

To tell the truth I’m still too soft if you crack the crust. If you peel me I cry. You ain’t a clown (nor the other two’s) nor a friend. I ain’t scared of you neither do I *hate*. Picture Perfect! Twinkle eyes, mischievous smile, dimple cheeks “you a face, a chat box, coded bytes” mysterious. A picture, a chat box and I still I love thee. Yea! For once in lifetime I know ‘One’ who won’t betray. How could a picture betray? I am safe. You can’t *use* me…you…you…! Strange, ain’t it?

A faceless figure, whom I never meet, knows the deepest secret of my life. Truths that I won’t share with others told to a stranger. I, who has never agreed to throw an explanation, now willing to…I say I owe you ‘One’. I spend the best of my hours decoding the cryptic bytes, playing wit games, being guileless and Original. I could message you nonsense (hoping you’d read them all) while you close the window and I won’t know. The person on the other hand reply to me, listen to me, laugh with me, flushes, blushes, in fact, ‘You’re same as me”.

Crank! Oh, I’m a madcap and outrageously blunt. There dwells a lonely ache. I’ve caged myself for years now like to soar high. You, a reason – A joyous reason, did that hurts? I won’t deny I seriously am in ‘love’. You!

Sunday, September 2, 2007

Joyous Heartbreak!

[This part of my blog is about ‘love’…yea! I can’t say a lie to my blog and now wish my blog be never discovered. But let me confess. Wish it might get me relieve of myself. I’m a writer. They say I play with words but honestly words haunt me. I am sick of words. And, today for once in my lifetime I am wordless…I lost my words…” This part of my life I call it “Deeper feelings for a Dr. I have heartache”]

Dear Love...
Dunno! But for some strange reasons I would remember the *SUNDAY*. A silent path full of clumsy green trees on the sidebar, brighter sun showing over the sky and stray dogs coiled. A quiet place I've found. A lonely place! Haunted by the broken cry of a solitary crow, the dry bones rattle of paled beech leaves and the shades of those who crowd close 'round, felt the warm touch when I’m heartbroken. The occasional bicycle bell and silence outspread otherwise it was surreal. I’ve haven’t had a lonesome Sunday like this for ages!

I lighted my last cigarette and watch the smoky ringlets fade in horizon. There’s writing on the wall you’ve quoted, “I desire for a known he knows me not. An unknown feeling I don’t cherish.” I remember…I remember again…I cried…I… An unknown feeling entertains me night long, did you realize?

Reason? Duh!
Reasons aren’t important now for I am love struck. It’s only the feelings of a ‘lost love’. I know I'm in love when I see you. I know I’m in love for I long to see you. Not a muscle has moved. Leaves hang unruffled by any breeze. The air is still. I have fallen in love without taking a step. Sometimes you land as a mall fish to your bait. You unhook him very carefully and place back in the water. You set him free so that somebody else can have the pleasure of catching him. Poor fishy! The little one had wounded him more deeply with an intoxicating love bites and return loveless.

Where to begin? I’ve lost my way. Look at my eyes; the breeze of pain, deepening loneliness I can’t stand over the aisle saying you ‘goodbye’; I would die. You’re beautiful. You’re mysterious. But, why are you so scared and apprehensive, so defensive and withdrawn? I know not. Several times this evening, I want to cry aloud; I returned empty-handed.

I shall never have another. I couldn't, now.

I keep worrying that by cutting you out completely, I'll be burning the bridge I so desperately believe will one day lead us back to each other. But, it’s a fanciful idea for I know the match will end in futility. Dear… Things have gone so far that it is quite impossible to restrain myself. I feel an awful fool. Will I ever come to that happy moment? A faint imagination filled me often if I’ve had a DAY with you and me. I would read you poetry in a moonlit night, walk by the countryside and thousand *kisses* to tell “the sickness the doctors cannot cure, the wounded...”.

Wish, if I had one perfect day...I know that isn't come true. I'd lose the very single moment we met. Deep down in the hearts of all of us there dwells a lonely ache, a desperate yearning for those we love, and a fear. A fear of becoming forgotten men (love) but one thing I must do perfect, I wouldn't say goodbye…ever, any day!

I desire for a known he knows me not. An unknown feeling I don’t cherish.” I remember you’ve said. Now, a million pieces of heartbreaks I keep to myself.