Words Which Were Almost Not Said

There were times when I had almost given in to the weariness that came from fighting the long and harsh battle that was known to me as life; I was ready to let Death lift me up and carry me away.

And then you showed up, this human who bore wounds bloodier than mine. You helped me get back up on my feet. You did not look away, not for even a brief moment; instead you remained.

You then helped me to pull out all the arrows that had punctured the vulnerable regions of my battle worn body and taught me look at them differently. In time you helped me learn to not throw away all of them out of sheer frustration, to replenish my arsenal with some and to use others in different ways on my journey.

Even though you were battered and bruised yourself, you patiently pulled out the pieces of my armour that had been bent and twisted out of shape and were doing a better job of harming me than shielding me, and you waited, and you did not take a step to leave until I had fashioned a makeshift weapon from all of the debris.

I know that I was blessed for having had you.

When He Tripped Over His Guilt

On his way to the next village a vagabond began to remember all the times he had found himself being drawn to someone.

He slowed down to a halt when he realised that what he had thought of a meaningful pull had been infatuation, every single time.

With his head held low the vagabond wondered if he had been unfaithful by giving in to this…fleeting and crude shadow of affection all those times.

He wondered if he deserved the love that waited for him somewhere down the never ending road he was destined to walk.

A Shore With a Better View

When the weight comes crashing from all sides and I find myself out of breath as the last shred of strength abandons me, I cease thrashing in the face of the fury of the ocean.

As more water gushes down my throat, I give in to a simple realisation that I have tried so hard to evade for a while now: I am no match for my captor. And so I close my eyes.

For a brief instant when all goes dark, instead of panicking I allow myself to be swept away by currents. I feel myself being carried, maybe somewhere faraway from these shores that have become all too familiar too me, not worried in the least that this inactive state would lead to a parting from all the privileges that are patiently waiting for me inside my little hut; being whisked away from the clamour of uncouth men and their machinations that have engulfed my neighbourhood for years is a cause for celebration.

I open my eyes when I find myself being gently laid onto a bed of soft sand, and the sight that greets me is a marvelous one: the star studded night sky. It is vibrantly alive with an essence that I am certain that I can not even describe to myself for it is nothing like what I remember from my brief visits to my hut’s window every time I tried to peak through the smog and the harsh glow of the streetlights. Out here I am able to get a clear glimpse of a great many stars, and even clouds of celestial dust of colours unimaginable.

Hours pass as I waste not a single breath, foolishly hoping that I will be able to drink in every bit of the majestic sight, for the urge to return thither to the forsaken world that I am all too familiar with has still not crept into my heart. I pray that it never does because beneath the calmness of the sea of stars I feel at home, a part of a realm more natural and truer than any I have ever known. Being able to breath in undefiled peace is a gift that I do not think that I deserve, especially while knowing deep down that I am not strong enough to take a leap and swim through the waters that I see before me; that I probably never will be.

While I lie so far away from the noise, the thought of not a single thing or a person that I have left behind crosses my mind, save but one, of you, the one whose radiance I know truly belongs up there.

I hope that one day I will find you here in this part of the cosmos just as you found me in the desolate world of noise; I hope that then I will be able to hold you close beneath the night sky.

What I Tell Myself

‘All of your efforts shall be in vain,’

I tell myself,

hoping that these words will be enough to snuff out the adamant part that still believes.

 

‘The true glow, you will never see its like again if you turn back,’

I tell myself,

as I force myself to take a step in the direction of the land where I am told the Sun still shines high in the sky.

 

‘Only when you will get there will you feel true warmth, it will be exactly what you deserve,’

I tell myself,

over and over again to keep myself walking farther and farther away from the village.

 

‘It shall be worth it, heck you will even forget the faint twinkle that you have grown used to obsessing over and over again,’

I tell myself,

right before I realise that I have once again set off fate’s trap.

 

‘What you perceive to be a spark, it is a lie that your weak human side has conjured up to comfort you with,’

I tell myself,

while unconsciously running freezing fingers over the bare skin of arm that is as cold as death.

 

‘It will fade away, such is the nature of all that humans feel; it is a folly to seek refuge with a flame that goes out,’

I tell myself,

as I rip off the chains of hesitation, and run back towards the warmest part of the village.

 

‘You are wasting all that precious energy to partake in an effort that will amount to a gesture which will probably yield a fleeting outcome,’

I tell myself,

before I take a breath and call out the one that I love from the crowd.

 

‘Its…everything,’

I tell myself,

while bathing in the glow of the nurturing blaze that burns bright in her eyes.

 

‘Is this what being human truly feels like, so fierce and strong while having the strength to love another,’

I tell myself,

as I feel life flowing back into the arm that I had learned long ago to accept as being frozen dead.

 

‘If it is then this…this is surely worth it,’

I tell myself,

while we talk.

A Much Needed Break

A thought strikes me on the head as something races past me…something that was important to me…once.

I stop and I think; being in pursuit for so long, chasing after what I didn’t have, have I pushed away all that I already had?

I am still standing still, for the first time in a while.

I wonder what truly matters.

First published on VeryContemporaryLines on 20th July, 2016.

 

An Ode to the Heroes

There are those of us who use their deliciously magical craft to make people’s mundane lives…livable; their prowess is truly incredible, almost superhuman, when their creations strike something within us, a nerve that lays forgotten, while we trudge on from one day to the next.

The rest of us, we owe it to them for showing us the attraction of being human, of gazing beyond the cocoons of boredom that we tend to conform ourselves to…

We owe it all to them: painters, actors, poets, authors…and other artists.

First published on VeryContemporaryLines on 29th July, 2016.

The Fear of Losing It

I haven’t been feeling well lately…I still can’t seem to write as well as I could…or even make myself try…

And this failure has made me question whether I still have it, or was it just a spark that burned out, a phase that was doomed to pass…

Its light…its heat lost to me…

Leaving me in the cold embrace of my doubts…

The breath of my fears climbing up my spine…

The thought of being insignificant closing in for a kiss upon my lips…

First published on VeryContemporaryLines on 19th July, 2016.

Free Will…and Man.

God Almighty made Man the best; gave him free will and allowed him to touch great limits, to soar above angels or to stoop lower than the devil…

But what if he is robbed of it, his wings clipped? Would he be able to still call himself a Man?

And what of the usurper, he who stopped someone from becoming a greater version of themselves? Would he be able to still call himself a Man?

First published on VeryContemporaryLines on 18th July, 2016.

The Night Sky

The night sky is a beautiful place to be under on the darkest of nights…

When the world below is an expanse of silence, its many twinkling specks preach of valour and hope while others are guides, ancient and trustworthy, that help the lost make it through the night…

And if one is lucky enough, they might even run into a lass, her beauty unparalleled, who is sometimes shy and rarely bold, lighting up the darkness…

The night sky is so much more, if one but forgets the Earth and glances upwards.

First published on VeryContemporaryLines on 7th July, 2016.

Alone With a Song

It has been hours since the last soldier stumbled out through the bat-wings of the bar, intoxicated not from the whiskey from half filled bottles in both of his hands that he splashed all over his face, but out of sheer joy…

The war has been won.

Then why can I not shake off this peculiar sensation?

I light up another cigarette, draw in all of the smoke that I am able to, and I keep it locked up inside so that it would drown the noise.

‘You have been through so much…you deserve it,’ a voice whispers.

I breathe it all out in vain. I turn my head to gaze at the saxophone player who has just finished playing the best song that I have listened to in a while. After packing his instrument, he walks out of the bar without a word.

And yet the melody that he had played all night, all the richness of its sad sound, it is still fresh in my ears. Maybe it has chosen to stay because it too knows what is in the heart of a soldier who has to make another choice the moment he sets foot outside of this bar…as I have always had to.

‘If you do it…then this would be far worse than what you had to do back in…,’ chirps another voice.

I crush the cigarette in my hand. I pay no heed as its tip, still alight, singes the inside of my palm. The crumpled mass is soon part of a small heap of its brethren right beside my shoulder; I was a fool to think that nicotine would be able to buy me enough time to atleast get a few hours worth of sleep.

The smooth whistle of the sax continues to persist. Even though a bottle of what I think I need and what I have already paid for, lies within an arm’s swipe, the tune’s magical hold convinces me to not pick it up. It also brushes away any thought of taking advantage of the barman by helping myself to a few drinks in the rack behind him that I can not afford, while he lies sprawled over the counter lost in a realm of dreams.

‘It must be done,’ the melody beckons.

I relent.

A wave crashes over me, but what I feel is not much harsher than the caress of the wind on a hot summer’s day; it is because that I have been here before.

And so I began to wonder…I have fought for so long that I can not be sure if I am the same man who walked with anxious steps into the thick of the first skirmish…the beating in his, my chest during those fleeting moments being that of a human heart.

Over the course of so many years since then I realise that much has changed…much more has been lost than gained…and with what is left, is it enough for me so say that I am still human?

The song in my head has reached its end.

Does this…thing that I have become…does it…do I deserve to give in to that little spark of humanity left inside of me…to let the will-o-the-wisp lead me to the warmth of another who could be let into my life?

Silence. Even the barman has stopped snoring.

‘But do not forget the horrors that could spill out of your eyes and mouth if you are not careful enough…think of how it would affect this person? You are a broken man with a fragmented soul, uncertainty in the wake of your actions dogs your every move…condemning someone with the company of nightmares, if it ever comes to that, is that not the worst fate to haunt any human?’

The melody starts playing again. I decide to seek counsel from the smooth sound of the sax once again…

I am told that one of the voices is lying, and that there is not much that could help me discern which one of them it is…

‘Another blindshot eh?’

More like a leap of faith…

‘Bah! I will just stick to calling it a damned blindshot, force of habit you see.’

I reach for the bottle of whiskey in front of me, the one that I have already paid for, and proceed to emptying it into my glass. I know that both the sweet song and the night are far from over.

First published on VeryContemporaryLines on 26th June, 2017.