Haphazard

Dear Dorothy,

Do you still understand the difference between a nightmare and a dream?
Or, have you lost the whole context too?

I'd like to believe that life isn't as complicated as it seems right now.

Watching him in my sleep is no consolation.
If it feels happy, it hurts.
If it feels sad, it hurts all the more.
Either way, its a nightmare in different colours.

Why do I think so much? - you ask
I try not to, trust me
I try to dive deep into the meaningless pile of work
I toil from morning to night without any requirement.
It doesn't always work.

My best critic has become more critical than ever.
She sneers at my sight in the mirror.
She laughs at my curls, at the bags below my eyes that no amount of facial can hide.
She reminds me each night - You don't know how to talk to people or how to respect anyone, especially the ones you love...
She has never lied to me.
Perhaps, she is right this time as well.

A swimmer drowns each night.
Each day, a bird burns to ashes while reaching for the sun.

I wish I could set fire to the guitar.
It plays so out of tune.

Hallucination

I want to now run home 

But then, I'm not so sure.

I beg to stay alone

But slowly, the loneliness grows.

I want to reach for the sky

But the winds are far too strong.

I want to wander in the waves

But the thoughts are painlessly wrong.

I want you to spread out your arms 

But alas, they are not for me.

I wanted to go all that far

But then, it was just a dream.

Haar

Bhasha jeno jhore jay
Sraboner jhoRete.
Bhalobasha bashi noy
Koloher ghorete.

Srote bheshe jaowa noy
Kokiler chhande,
Madoker taan nei
Kushumer gandhe.

Nesha aar dhore na go
Khilkhil hashite,
Hoyto ba dosh ache
Bhalobashabashite...

Every Tunnel has an ending Light

Dear Dorothy,

Its been more than a decade since I last wrote to you. You may think I've forgotten you. But you see my dear, I keep bringing you back in my thoughts. Each time when there is a deluge of words waiting to break free, I silently confess to you my meaningless emotions, and discard the shrapnels into oblivion.

You see. Nothing can be worse than imparting sadness.

I was looking through the rain messenger's diary today. Old days when life was still unfair, but hearts were raw - prone to breakage at the slightest wind. I realized, that I had been a poet too, some day in the past. There had been a time when words had flown with an innocence that now seems strange and distant.

Now, we are all busy racing against time, against nightmares, against failure. We race for wealth, for family, for success - for that unintelligible ghost called Happiness.

A race like this has no scope for a musing.
You can't really blame those of us who try to ignore this stupidity every day of our adult life.
Some choose to drown it in liquor, some blow it up in smoke, some slog away at activities that mean nothing to them...

But Dorothy - some things will never change. The rain will pour; the clouds will rumble..

Dorothy,

Is it the peace that torments you each day?
Or is it the noise?
Is it the lack of tiring allegations?
Or the uninspiring conflicts of emotion?

Dorothy,

Did you walk into the dark tunnel, awaiting a light at the end?
Did you see that light and burst out in joy?
Did you open your arms and greet the coming train?


My dear Dorothy,
If I had time to say goodbye, I'd have wished you with a hug...


Life. Always.


A certain friend had, a few days ago, urged me to pen down my thoughts. 
This one's for you, mon ami.