Smell

What is it to lose respect for one's own life? Is it an overwhelming desire to end it all? Is it a mere wish to change things?...
Why does one love someone so much that one desires to stay and wait?...Wait? For what? We draw a blank...
We all want to be free (forgive me if I'm generalizing)... free from the shackles of...what? I think I keep all sorts of birds in mys self, tagged, clipped and medicated...wanting to set them free but never actually doing it...we all have our birds...
I didn't know that birds had an olfactory map that helps them find their way and then back all the way reversing the process... But it rains all the time so my birds never find their way...it would wreck havoc in their sense of direction.
Why is it that a bird dropping is cherished as 'To Life'? It gets tougher and tougher as one wishes to set the birds free. At the same time there is this feeling that they are tame.
I never approved of my father's hobby of caging birds. I used to see them lying still with their legs facing the barred rays of light or simply dozing off to death in their rotten cages. They were replaced by new birds and antibiotics to keep them alive. I had always wished to set them free but Bapa would explain how a stupid attempt of mine would result in their being killed by the bigger birds like crows and eagles...another confusing pattern of one bird killing another...

My thoughts are branching out...it's late at night and I'm finding it increasingly difficult to follow the paved cobblestones of my thoughts as they turn into narrow lanes and bylanes...branching, meandering... twisting and getting contorted in their own confusion...
From birds to thoughts... my thought process is no longer candid. It's filtered, distilled and I don't know what else.
You should never depend on your dreams and should not allow the dreams of one to enter that of another. I tried to copy a butterfly on a piece of paper but it seems too fake to even give it a try...I did give it a try though...seems like I was bullshitting all the while.

Treason

There it starts...another chronicle springing from the desire to write something that transcends all wonders in the world of literature... (stifled laughter)...well, a facade actually...a treachery of words and feelings to be precise... a craving born out of sheer boredom.

Vector

I stepped off the kerb. He lay staring at me with his dead eyes blood trickling down his forehead. The lights started to buzz...whirr of sirens and vehicles...
I live the life of an unwritten elegy frozen meat lying in a heap...the blood and gore. I work in a slaughter house.
The old man played the harmonica...colours flooded the floor...the leper sang "What A Wonderful world" while urinating on the sidewalk and rubbed his stubbed palms together. The street lamp flickered.
"I need to see", the child insisted. The fat man puffed at his cigarette stub. People lined up on the platform. The tunnel walls get garishly illuminated. I saw the angel hovering with his dead eyes fixed on me.
The images pass by - blurred streaks of mangled colours. The girl looked up, eyebrows, earlobes and lips pierced. The wall behind her gives away to a profusion of red. I watch helplessly as she is swallowed by the red abyss. I close my eyes only to open them again. She sits there impassive.

Pillow remnants

Why do we gloat over our miseries?
A foresaken kerchief encasing a sacred pendant...a sacred relationship gone putrid or was there one? A lizzard scurries.
Long foresaken vapours condensing to minuscule drops of congealed water. I dream of a cave...flight if birds.
Silly questions "What is your favorite color?"
A lonliness that seethes a house haunted by memories a presence that lingers a voice that chases away sanity in me...obscurity demeans reason. I perceived or so I thought.

Wedlock

Marriage is a difficult proposition especially when it's an obligation and a responsibility rather than an intense desire.
One more swig, a long drag and the stars seem brighter again. Well, let us face it... I Don't Want To Marry. Although I have to.
The far off speaker howled 'Allah - hu - Akbar' once again...reverberating into the depths of the dawn... night insects slowly conk off. Another drag, yet another love song... the smell has to be masked.
I don't return to the bed I have to share with my Mater, it's hers actually. I'm just a guest, one who isn't allowed to sleep in her own room... do I have my own room? I don't actually...in this humungous place that I've been adressing as 'my home'.
The roadside temple bellows a devotional song - People God exisits and is watching over you...periodic reminders that "Hey! You don't breach My contract and I don't have to tell the truth and all is golden and good.
One does not expect any rainfall now. Scant roads scant people scant memories scant feelings.

Congealed Blood

Sitting on the toilet seat...fiddling with the tissue holder... a boulder fell from above.
lovemaking or plain fucking...whatever you name it...moaning and groaning...a boulder fell from above
playing with the engagement ring...wondering...a butterfly shaped diamond one...a boulder fell from above
listening to meaningless mushy songs...thinking of 'ol fucked up love... a boulder fell from above
kneeling down for a prayer...thanking the almighty... ha ha ha... a boulder fell from above
watching the sunrise...the crimson rays spreading their wings...a wake-up stretch... a boulder fell from above
brain ticking... a boulder fell from above

Excerpts from a coversation over stale coffee

sex is so ephemeral re
it jst vanishes...
yes, you can't hold on to it
It has a chewing gum value to it
You chew, chew and chew...as soon as the sweetness is over you'd like to throw it away only for someone else to step on your chewed rubber.