Demons of past

There is little darkness in us, no matter how little or large but it’s there. It has a permanent space with in the escapes of mind. It resides in brain, heart, liver or immune cells.

We are fully aware of its existence yet we develop the denial of its patience. Sometimes we keep it hidden in the layers of our mask and sometimes it’s dormant for years till the tigger.

The awakening sets in when we accept our darkness. We make the pact with our demons and turn them into our lifestyle. The deal is simple, you reap the rewards till the demons ask for their share.

The darkness brings more darkness. It creates a current sink for all the happiness residing in us. Eventually we are left with no happiness but the doom and despair.

The first thing, that dark affects is the light of hope. Till we keep it alive, survival is easy. Find that hope within and out. Light is everywhere. It can reach to the clefts of ceiling and in the wooden hearts. Find that light and guard it from the winds of past. What’s past is past. We can’t undo the past. But we can chose the future for better or worse.

Ask and shall be given.

Look back and beseech, love is always there.

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Living in a casket

Just yesterday, I was reading this short story ‘third resignation’ by Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s, when I could not stop myself relating to the paralysed man who lived 12 years waiting for his casket.

The day was not over with the haunts of emotional turmoil when I stumped into Guzaarish movie playing on my television set. I was laying in my couch with the old blanket for it’s warmth, wondering if I am living in a similar casket.

For years, I am nomore than this dead heart. I can feel the pain, but other senses have gone numb. I can smell the pain near me as I am hungry for more.

It’s like living in a coffin which is well laid with cushions and well carved mohogany. People see me living in a happy and peaceful place while I can feel the rush of 6 by 3 feet of bound space.

Suffocation numbs my speech. The noise of insane crowd kills my anger and what lefts is a dead me with an amounting pain.

Until today, when I placed my self outside that casket. The space is more, there is ample air to breathe. There is chaos of people loving around me. But deep within I hold this fear. The fear of going back into that coffin.

You know you living in is much better than carrying with.

Perhaps living inside a casket is much easier than living with.

Take a break

Pain is like a leech. It bites you everyday and twice on Sundays. It grows with in and reproduce with simple mitosis turning you into a ghost with exoskeleton.

My friends often find me a good source of their vent outs. I do no have complains for their aggressive outlook towards life, yet it kills me to see that they live a unfulfilled life.

Desires and dreams often become greed and a constant feed for the pain. To fulfil a desire, we often succumb to do the undesired things in life.

Lately, I have been keeping myself busy to umpteen level. I realised that this attitude is costing me my friends. I don’t have time to see them and cherish their presence. They have settled with the fact that I am always busy with no weekends for them.

The source of pain is pain itself .

I work to travel. And I travel to run away from work.

How in the same word, if I settle for less and see if the remedy exists?

A day off in love

She asked, “if given a wish, how would you accord a day off, full of luxuries”.

How less I could wish on this day, ” I would like a lazy morning with my newspaper and some magazines with ample amount of good tea. A breezy day and sunny side brunch. A stroll through the cold street or may be a rigorous cha cha class ending in nostalgic lanes of my past.”

She blurted, “I am offering you a future, and you still want to saddle on your past”

Yes, said I.

I can’t afford a day off from loving my past.

Scary

She asked me, “what is scary???”

I giggled, “read my writings”.

Falling in love may be as scary as falling out of it. Love happens easily. But how often it’s the true love, is scary. 

The agony of being lonely is scarier than the agony of being in love. The unrequited love is more ugly than a fulfilled one. 

Last I remember, the scary was the height of mountain I climbed past. It was the moment I felt on the top of world with a bit of fear for falling down to ashes. 

Nothing is scary unless believed in. Scary is the insecurities of dying lonely. Scary is the insecurity of being cheated in love. 

Scary is the insecurity of unseen and unfelt. Scary is future. 

Scary

She asked me, “what is scary???”

I giggled, “read my writings”.

Falling in love may be as scary as falling out of it. Love happens easily. But how often it’s the true love, is scary. 

The agony of being lonely is scarier than the agony of being in love. The unrequited love is more ugly than a fulfilled one. 

Last I remember, the scary was the height of mountain I climbed past. It was the moment I felt on the top of world with a bit of fear for falling down to ashes. 

Nothing is scary unless believed in. Scary is the insecurities of dying lonely. Scary is the insecurity of being cheated in love. 

Scary is the insecurity of unseen and unfelt. Scary is future. 

Why does love bring sorrow? 

Why does love bring starvation? A hunger of being loved more than ever. A desire of owing that love what beholds beyond the reach of heart. 

Its a sin to chase what’s not yours or holds your name. Yet you desperately looks at it all that moment with a hope of being taken up. 

Why does love bring sorrow? Even in the intense sessions of love, the orgasms have holy demons of insecurities or complete possession. Even the divine love is once short of its infinite lust for more love. 

What brings more sorrow in life is not the love but lost love.