Sugar coated pepper,
rolling sweetly on tongue, screeching bitter down the throat.
Salt immersed tears,
holding onto blink,
sinking every boat.
A matured summer hoping for teenage rains,
to help a tanned afternoon discover it's spring once again
Tragedies drowned in melodies,
struggling to swim past the channel of memories,
it wasn't just music,
it was a confession making its way through lyrics,
the words no one else could listen played loud in your mind,
sailing on the notes that vividly rhymed,
with the journey...
things just felt right before going wrong,
those scattered emotions made the piano solo into your song..
Calender read Oct 19, 2021.
Watch read 19.46.
But i was sipping cola from college canteen in 2009,
and worrying about the appraisal of March 2022.
All these while chipping the overgrown nail of index finger and waiting for 19.50 local train.
It felt as if the urge to escape from routine present made me a drama writer, who is simultaneously working on two stories. Both would not end in mind, but screenplay born out of overthinking would be potent enough to numb the present. Adding more air to the bubble of past and sucking every drop of hope that future could hold onto seems to be an art human has mastered while going through evolutionary process.
Or maybe mind wanted a high without consuming any substance. So mind began creating a cocktail of timelines.This episode made me ask a few questions to self.
Am i living my life?
Am just busy hijacking the moment with memories and imaginations?
Do we spend most of our times thinking about life, trying to predict outcomes, making ourselves believe that good is already gone and there is no chance it can recur ?
Do we subconsciously prevent ourselves from experiencing something new or unknown?
I am sure this has happened with many of you and many times. It is still happening without you even realising it.
The drama won't end easily. But being aware of the drama may always help.
Whish happy moments could be xeroxed and relived . There would be no need to rush to consume things, seek namesake companies, appreciate imposters.
Kya suraj dhalne par shaam hui
shaam hamesha se thi, bas suraj ki chakaachaundh ko humne apna din bana liya tha
Blood drips from the wound as if pain crying in relief
out to find their meaning
growing thirsty for ink to meet their full stops
Not all the buds cuddled by breeze,
warmed up to the sun.
Otherwise butterflies and bouquets would have more stories to tell.
khwabo ki woh kadi,
jo le chale hume,
us sire tak,
sach hoti zindagi,
jhoothi naa lage,
khushi mere haathon ko achhuti naa lage,
palon ki woh ladi,
jo haseen waqt ki,
saans deti rahe,
bheetar samaye andhero ko
asmaan se churakar,
zara si chaandi,
raat deti rahe…