For lack of something better

Miniscule and trivial as the cause may seem, for lack of a better cause, life seems distraught. To what occasion I owe this wrought of unrest and fraught of the more benign spirit of humankind, I may not and cannot concede to whatever hungry ears and eyes may now be devouring this piece of utter un-worth.

Thou art here and I know it. To what imaginable usage that can be put, is a question unto eternity? Is it thine intellectual disposition or your predecessor’s ineffable affection? What is it that hast bound me so? Which of you has my emotions chained rendering them unemployable for any other? Can I accredit you with so much for a mere acquaintance of a few months? Or can I undermine the impact of your predecessor’s affliction to the heart whose echoes leave me not after all the time that hast past?

For lack of a more noble and worthy cause, for lack of a more engaging habit, for lack of a more driving purpose, for lack of some source of engulfing employment I submit to thee, the most unworthy of causes, thou love.

Dramatic

A female is dancing. She dances showing what once was. She dances and dances and dances till all her energy has been exhausted. And when you think her desperate death dance is going to stop, she begins to go round and round. She turns and turns and turns, showing her agony in her face. And as she does this, her face and hands gently rise up in appeal. To whom? I wish I knew. They rise and finally she falls. Incapable of any further movement, she drops, lost in abysmal unconscious, dead to the world above and around that stands in mock dismay at a performance. That applauds a performance. That applauds what it perceives, to be a performance. A performance it is, a recital. A display, a show! Of a dying soul. Of a heart long dead. Of a being extinguishing. Of a thin wisp of white smoke that escapes out of that befallen being. Out of a being that once was. Now all that is left is a materially mortal remain only which the world has ever seen, or been able to see. Has at least that being that now lies dead to the applause ever seen anything more of itself than does its audience now? I wish there was some sort of affirmative, however miniscule. Alas. Mercy is not to be had. What is this? Tears? At a death dance? Whatever for? If nothing, you at least would’ve had enough sense to foresee this, I am hoping. You saw this. You predicted this. You knew it was due and you saw it coming. And yet, your all pervasive knowledge helped you not, in doing anything about it. You knew of its death. And you chose to be a spectator. So be it.

Some One Day

I am a lot more than all that. And I will prove it to you. Someday, when I am ready to show you and when you are willing perhaps. You presumptuous beetle, you. You thought you could write just because you had the tools to pen down in front of you? What is the extent of your knowledge? What have you been able to comprehend so far? What makes you think that what you say shall stand the test of time, let alone, a few other peers? What makes you think that you can come up with a random bunch of sentences and just get them to be passed on as your words? Do you know that events have consequences in the form of other events? Don’t you even know that what you say unpreceeded by thought, as always, has implications and shall indeed affect others around you and alter the way they perceive and react to you? don’t you even understand the fundamental fact that those others around you are human and not necessarily naively humane enough to excuse your idiocy of emotion and will not stand to stand by you no matter what? What blinds you from the fact that... you are meant to walk the path yourself. Yes, you are here by yourself. No matter what you do and how you do it to curtain and shield yourself from it, you are bound to be so. Yes, they will not come. Neither him nor him. Your way is perhaps as yet undefined in your mind’s eye. But already defined, it is. And you shall go just that way, like it or not. And reach you will, that ultimate pinnacle of destinations, whatever that may be for you. So stop not, that will not help you. Doubt not, that will not push you. Believe, blindly if need be, in the strength of the purpose of your creation and sustenance till date. And keep hitting.

to be contd..

I have been sitting here for the past, I don’t know how long and I have been trying to get some of this ‘useful’ info into my head. And what has gone in? Fairly less than little. I suppose I could have said an avalanche of material has gone into my head. But facts indicate otherwise. This still room, the blinding lights, the deathly quietness, although there is a distant music from some television far away. The entire disposition of the atmosphere is stillness. Except for the clicking of the keypad as I type in this useless piece. Life would have a lot more to offer you if you had a lot more to offer life.

And..?

I wish I could scream and announce to the whole world. Whatever for? I do not know. Just so someone might actually hear. I do try. And what do I manage to get out? A whisper? I wish. Nothing. Not even air. And the best part? No one’s listening. Don’t tell anyone that. It’s a secret. Of course, when no one’s listening, there doesn’t arise the question of its being leaked to someone. Anyone. I wish I didn’t have to be so aware of this fact. I wish I could live out the lie that encompasses and engulfs the lives of so many around me, whoever they are. I wish I could live a lie and pretend I’m happy. I wish I could live in oblivion. Yes, I would be untrue to myself. Yes, it would be a fallacy. Yes, I would be denigrating myself to being a hypocrite. Yes, I would hate myself fully and properly then. Yes, I would be living in a superficial and hypothetical state of being, the state of the so called happiness. Why all this hype over that state of being? Asian paints royale play ad featuring Saif Ali Khan. The new one with all the retro music playing behind him as he splashes and plays around myriad strokes. What do I say? Bad advertising job. Too long. Who’ll sit and watch so long an ad? They didn’t have to start from his getting up. I feel aloof. And I am so aware of it. I wish it didn’t have to come to this kind of a face-off self admission. I didn’t need this mirror moment now. Man, I hate growing up. Life’s best when you live it out in naïve oblivion. Ah that sense of ignorant happiness. That childhood. Those imaginary troubles. Hmm. A nose ring? I wonder.