The Second Colour

You lit the match We kindled the fire. Burning since eternity. Note it down , I shout, Can't you see? It is feeding Thawing, gnawing Breeding. More fires and More fires. Turn around, look. Note it down , I shout - More is coming Nothing shall remain Neither you, sure. Nothing left To embellish, bejewel To paint, to hide To play music on To smile at To remember To live for. Eyes have melted Vitreous humour Evaporated off my face Ears are all  Full of crickets. Open your eyes! Look at it! Flaky skins, charred Bones brittle Hollow sockets Full of life. Everything exists. Can't run away! We began this! We killed us! No walking, running No legs No fight. Look at us Dying but alive Dancing, burning Eyes flowing down Ash in veins See us lose. Yours, mine Land, buildings, gods Grass, cows, children. Burning behind you. Not burning away. Wake up, please.

Come now, jump on this wagon, Of immense wealth, of madness, Of no laws and sins, of no truths, Of little sense but huge relief, Of great charm, of make-believe, Of houses made of dreams, and bricks of sand, Of all that you could love, and that which could love you back, Of no sorrows and no mercy, Of flying bodies and floating trees. Welcome to this world, of madness - The paradise of men and demons alike.

                                 Pankaj would be returning soon and Navni was counting the hours. She had her phone plucked into her saree at her waist. That was so that she would not miss a ping. Her eyes roamed around everywhere but her sight was stuck at the door and the clock. She had been asking herself strange questions like how early a flight could land and how easy would it be to get wings and fly to him before he could fly to her. On more than one occasions had she visited the so long forsaken temple in the courtyard, looked petulantly at the hoard of dry peepal leaves in front of the deity, and prayed. What did she want? She had not been decided on this matter for a long time. For an infinite measure of time, she had given up on God. For when that began, she was undecided too. It must have been around the hard times of graduation, particularly the time when she could not win the ra...

  These words were written on different occasions through the Himalayan Trek that I was a part of during the FC at LBSNAA. They were suitably edited later.                                 There is only one thing I know, and that is writing. When I am sitting next to the window and my soul is wanting to get out of my body, which is now but a cage in hands with the boundaries of this physical world, I can but write down what I see. The camera is too simple a tool to depict that. I look at more than what my eyes can see and therefore I must use the pen. What is there in the mountains, what is in this air, in this rain, that is so humbling? As the bus runs, I see flowers yellow and red and purple. The rhododendrons have started to bloom everywhere on the hills. They look like red Diwali lights on broad, strong trees, right in the stark daylight. They are everywhere. A wet weather. A cloud...

               Much of my life has been my struggle against fear. Growing up, I had tired myself wondering about how I presented myself to others, contending with how to modify myself, or how to get rid of sport activities (which I was never good at). It was a continuous battle against will, which in my case, was probably too weak. If there is anything that I have not given up before achieving anything worthwhile, it was probably the Civil Services Examination. Apart from that, I have tried learning the guitar, building some muscle, learning the German language – but all of it went into the air at the first moment of despair. How many stories did I delete before I could type the whole thing? I had almost stopped liking myself as a person at one point, and it, I believe, is the worst a person can do to themselves. Much of the Foundation Course has been different. There have been new, different people – many of them willing to talk to me, whi...

  I sighed with relief when he turned away, Smiled and disappeared behind his walls - I wished hard for the walls to not be, To lose their material, to forget their being - But things are things, and since they exist, He smiled and disappeared behind his walls. And since the walls had no bricks or colour, And all that was true, they did not hide - He lost his own shades for newer ones That suited him less but painted him strong. Colour in colour with his brittle barriers, He smiled and disappeared behind his walls. And since he had huge wings of a thousand colours And his feathers were warm in the cold, frosty world -  He cut them short with a silent knife of persuasion. Of course, he did not sprinkle oil and set them on fire  For in the carcass did he see himself in faith, before He smiled and disappeared behind his walls. And I am happy that he turned away Before he could shine at me a few more times -  No share for me in this insult and murder Of the innocent for ...

The train grunted to a stop Under the dark evening moon When the heart of the forest echoed With a strange and diery tune. The dewy scent of the winter air Was heavy with ash and tar; The generous black of the night Was moth-bitten by a fire. A thousand trees all burnt at once, A million birds chirped away, Holy monkeys danced in the raging Inferno that swept all the way. Hours and hours passed by As embers and angels danced, Horror-struck gods gaped with awe When the smoke-demons they glanced. Here and there they walked around, Till all the colours were dampened — They rose high and high in the nightly sky Till the gods themselves did feel threatened. The passengers shut their eyes  And to the mighty spirits they prayed —  Peacocks and mice, lions and bulls, No nymph and angel was betrayed. The demons, undefeated and unrelenting, Then conjured a brawling fallacy — A huge ball of bright white flames Burning on human malady. Time itself stopped to revolve, Stuck to this Goliath...