Bizarre....

Not all love stories start with a hope of a wonderful end. An end where all fairies come true, all lands meet the skys at the horizon and the whole of world celebrates their love with heart and soul.

Some start with a crow's feather in the lawn of thorns with a hope for an end. It may not be beautiful but it still accomplishes the thought of a beautiful world in her lap where the way to heaven leads you into her eyes. Despite of all fear and trouble it ends on a "rock of remembrance" and a glaze of her beauty wrapped in innocence of the question that puts you in deafening dilemma.

It starts with a song where the goddess herself beckons the night to fall down. She, with all her powers and freedom pleads the night to fall down and awaits the dawn which will see her love in the midst of all. The night is long, dark and horrible but she still manages to smile at it and keep the conversation on.....

"Oh.. My dear lord, when will be the time we meet next, when will be the time when my eyes fall on anything and it turns out to be him"

"Oh... Lord this night is painful, its scary, its taking my soul with it. Please Lord, let me, show me, the way, the light which ends in the shadows of my love who has been long waiting for me; to see me into my soul, to look into my eyes, to answer the thousand questions arising in my innocence which is ready to break. To hold me tight in his arms when the souls see no bodily boundaries. To lock my lips in such a way that no breath escapes his scent and my soul enter his and I reach heaven. I see my in him my destiny a desperate freedom of being what I am and not being driven by the seldom changing blows o f wind in this cold night."

"Lord.... I am cold or am I dying or am I desperate?"

"Oh.... Lord...."

She talks long for her love, for her freedom, for her destiny, but the night is on. Its chilling cold blistering the ivy leaves. This night is on.

May be the Lord is not listening to her loud cries, her yells...... but a thousand miles apart, away from her, he recognizes the heat in the wind. It must have met her soul, it must have touched thou beautiful soul. It still has the scent of her. He can recall the wind when his lips were tenderly touching her's and she had her eyes closed. No questions arising, her smiles innocent and bright. Just the nod that she loved him, just the silent approval that she will take the pain, she will walk though any lane. "That they must meet or both shall die" in a hope to find an end.

He sees the blank and lonely road, closes his eyes and says to her "I believe in fate, do you?"

She says "yes"

He asks "I believe in destiny, do you?"

She says "yes"

He says "I believe in you, do you?"

She says "yes"

Hes questions "I believe in my self, do you?"

"yes"

Then he yells aloud to the stars "I believe that we are destined to believe in ourselves and our fate will make us find our way through." "Are you there with me my love, are you there where I have never allowed anyone to be till now. Will you come and fill the emptiness of my life"

"YES" She is crying now. With her eyes trying to find a place to hide and her voice choking.

Then come and hold me tight. Hold me like you will never let me go, like we were not two but one and forget everything. My love lets sail in this boat and let fate be our row.....

In the rain he lifts her in his arms..... the Lord was always listening...... he has showered love and the souls are wet.....

~x ---- There is always an End ---- x~

Ella dijo que era bueno, pero yo la creo? ¿No le pregunto una y otra vez acerca de si tengo o no era lo suficientemente bueno? ¿No muestran una de mis mayores debilidades de este modo?


Yo me pregunto ¿Era necesario? Y a continuación, responda yo mismo puede ser sí, no, seguramente sí. Ella debe saber mis debilidades antes de comenzar a gusto conmigo.

Diary....

Felt the need so its here....

Its like the day was going good, bright sunny morning, less hot day, then it became beautiful, oh..... the rain, the winds..... or was it gusty and dusty, may be muddy, may be too damp, may be... may be...

When I think of this day its not the weather or the mood of the sky or the speed of the wind or the brightness of sun or the peace of mud. When I close my eyes the gusty winds becomes an evening breeze at the sea shore humming and singing love songs into my ears.

When I walk down that lane I can see green earthly peace and I can feel the softness of an angel in those eyes. I can tap my feet and still be in the air to the tune of the rain with utmost ease. I can hold her hands and ask her one simple question "Will you choose to be mine?"

This rain is beautiful coz I can see your wet lips flickering to smile when you know that you are wet and it makes you conscious. These winds come as breeze with the aroma of your fragrant skin. The day is as bright as your smile and the nature seems to get its poise from you.

Do I deserve all this ? Will you choose to be mine ?

The answers came and passed by may be I did not see it well coz i was mesmerised by the bright sunny day that was presented by the almighty. May be I did not hear it coz the songs were too good and diverted my attention.

But does it matter after all ? I don't know what you said and I will never have enough courage to ask again.

Just Like That

Ever did I feel if not this, what would the life have been? Say I did not have two hands and all my pals had em, how would it have been?

I have been trying to place myself in the shoes of others, trying to feel what they might be feeling. But I guess each time I did that, I forgot one basic thing. Every time the foot was mine, the skin was mine, the brain was mine, the interpretation was always mine and I forgot that the individual whose shoes I am trying to wear is an INDIVIDUAL and rather than judging I should learn to accept.

There can be no empathy its always your feeling in that situation might help you to understand but rarely fruitful in making a guess of what it means to that person. I always have an explanation for what I am doing. Same is true for every one else.

May be a life without hands is better because we don't compare, we accept and we appreciate the life which is reflected in everything that is experienced.

Abstract

I can tell u this coz i know u don't belong to me.......

There was this kid left squealing on the road.... howling to get back the hand that left him there.... I left that kid long back... coz this child was asking for much more than i cud have given ... much more than i have ever got ..... may be its envy may be its instincts.... but i left the child all on himself in the midst of the road...........

This kid died long back and ... no ceremonial funeral for people to celebrate another incineration of a bud that cud have blown off big hats....... that wud have made wind so ferocious as it never has been....... This kid did not deserve a funeral ....... Lost in the conscience ...... trying to be reborn .... this kid never deserved a Burial....................

That Black Coffee.

I was taking a sip of wat is called a black coffee, when suddenly in a relaxed state of mind I found my self wandering.... I did not realise until the time wen I knew wat was i looking at.... It was this gal wearing a smart jeans, tapering down and she was very beautiful and fair ... not white fair, more of the color u have .... I came out to be comparing the tapering of her Jeans with the bluntness of the one u used to wear.... was back in time wen it was a regular site seeing u waking down that lane.... trees on both side of the lane wassailing and cheering at me and u...... I remember the blunt bottom of ur jean used to sweep the tar road.... the lane still drives to the same point where the sun sets under the water with its bright redness lightening ur face..... It was the best thing I had ever seen......

Thinking of you

Thinking of u in bleak sunlight today again a chill of wind pierced into my spine..... i knew u were here but i did not see u.... walking beside this lake with the wind blowing on my face i dreamt of how it had always been a warm sun when u were beside ..... Never miss u but always incomplete the story always bring in a reference of those beautiful ways u have made me felt special...... it not the same... it will never be the same again.... but wat it was, was something more than a lifetime.....

Life is always on Its way

I was having this conversation with this guy.... he was quite old.. wrinkled face big and broad forehead ... almost perfectly gray hairs with all his tooth intact... or may be they were artificial, but i think they were natural....

So we were talking about this life .... how we live and when and where we do mistakes , how we come realisation that a mistake was done etc etc....

So I told him the story of this guy who claimed to be in love and then had said that he will never be able to live if he did not find his love.....

The old man was quiet and listening very carefully to wat i had to say... then he brushed his hands on his eyes, this is when it reminded me his eyes were perfect ....

He said "Son ... I was in college wen i first met her it was not love at first sight. We met over and over again, it was not falling in love with her with the passage of time. Then we moved apart, i missed her, I missed her presence in my life, and if i say now I missed myself the way I was when she was around."

"I married the same girl, lived my live with her in a perfect way. Then one day she left me, never to come back, I could not gather myself for almost an year, I was still missing her but then i realised i had her enough to miss her anymore. She is so much a part of me in the way i do things that I don't miss her."

Just Another Day

SO wat is it today that i wanna tell you.......

Yesterday on 13th I was going with my frns to buy a laptop with them. As always I found it difficult to locate the exact taxi that shall be our conveyance. So we moved to another bus stop on a Riksha.... (an extension of a bicycle to accommodate more people, especially for those who are too lazy to walk by foot)
We crossed one cross way and were traveling in another direction. This was the time I was thinking of "MISERY". For a moment I was thinking its miserable that this poor guy the "Riksha-Puller" has to put so much of efforts for each penny.
Suddenly a figure crossed me. I am sure I saw him. He was walking alone, but i did not think he was, because he was talking all this time and making gestures. He looked dirty, very dirty. He had long beards that looked almost as if they were the forgotten repository of experience and goodwill, long hairs which one would confuse for dry dung cake easily, face was like the road to the battered monument in history which reflected aura of anonymity. I never actually had time to look at his cloths because i knew they were dusty and greased. I wanted to talk to him.... to know the history which was magnificent.

I met God, I saw him asking alms, begging for every minute peace of live as he told me life is as I see it because he was happy the way he was.

When I was a Kid

Cuando yo era un niño el mundo era redondo, que era verde, estaba limpio, fresco y suave, pero ahora es un gran edificio con aire acondicionado y la ahogaron ventanas. He visto la vida en el polen del árbol amarillo cuando el mundo entero parece haber sido invadido por la felicidad y la victoria no es mejor que la derrota. Cuando yo estaba corriendo solo he visto que siga mi camino, a veces en voz baja a veces con el silencio y en ocasiones con ráfagas, con intenciones de amor y cuidado. No me hace falta, o yo no? Lo necesito o no? ¿Me gusta o no lo hizo? Hay preguntas exigentes mi respuesta, pero todo lo que puedo hacer es lo siento nunca pensé que sería así. Lo siento por que te daban por sentado. Lo siento por el hecho de que soy responsable de lo que es ahora, y merezco el castigo. Con mi cabeza abajo con mucho gusto la bienvenida a lo que usted tiene para mí.