Well, then he raised his hand and said, “I want to die!”
and Death herself was taken aback, for a while,
at such brazen disregard for the pleasantries
of tears and laughter inherent in human life!
So Death with skin as lustrous as bright chocolate
opened her scarlet lips and whispered to the man,
“Do you have no dreams unrealized, no place to be?”
“None were left alive”, he said, “by the Tsunami.
When that vicious day became as dark as a night”,
he carried on, “thought I’d never see the light again
and her last words have been haunting me ever since.
In a voice so calm, despite the grimness around,
she said, ‘Do not lose your way in the maze of life,
as I shall be waiting for your love on the other side!'”
* Lovely Conversations 15
The longing that devours us from within
and emptiness that renders human life
a barren desert of dry rocks and sand,
let us label it as love of a fatal kind!
So often it has visited me that I
had to stop counting many years ago,
each time with a different look and face,
each time cutting me more but hurting a little less!
So I thought, love is painful at the very least,
frivolous too with haughty words and commitments
but when I saw her face, while thinking I could bleed no more,
soon I knew that I had never been with real love before!
With my ears full of her sweet, mellow words
and my eyes, too drunk on her lucid dreams,
let me step onto the forsaken path
of blind love, beyond all sorts of reasoning!
And I have seen how love conquers them all,
one by one – bloodshed, terror and agony,
when true and selfless love is in the air,
unless we live in a world of maniacs!
Like the moon, orbiting around this earth,
despite our common origin, I can
never be one with her, until I am
annihilated by love to born again!
But if it is the love for dominance
and power too for selfish gains like lust
for wealth or attention, I shall one day
rule the borders of this land of maniacs like them!
This emptiness that’s devouring me from inside,
is it a yearning for death in my weakened heart,
I wonder as the brittle shell around the vacuum
starts falling down, in pieces, like forsaken paint
from a wall, with years spent in utter oblivion?
Perhaps this is an act of the queen of seasons,
the Spring, failing never to rouse a longing for
the sweetness of her mellow touch on my bare skin,
that mildness of her pretty face within my eyes
and the softness of her warmth on my parching lips!