dear memory

wish i could capture the light falling on your face
from the little indiscreet window
the window who seemed to be a silent witness
to that last memory i have of us

dear memory
i remember you all the time

wish i could capture the smell of your skin glistening in that little light
the dark brown skin who knew exactly how you felt about the moment
the skin knew exactly
how far were you from me at that moment

i was there trying to live the moment
while your mind was wandering in another world. far far from me

dear memory

i remember you all the time

that moment is over like lots of other things in life

dear memory
thanks for staying with me all the time.

a chapter in life

the question is. whether i should bookmark it or just close the book.

goodnight

she wished me goodnight.
i wished this night never was.

memories of The Warped Mind

often people call me the 'warped mind'.
well they are not exactly wrong in saying so. surely those who know me will agree. though me being warped haven't given people much of a reason to love or hate me. things have been the way it was.

once very long ago, when i was still an animal (not that i have changed much but now i look less like them). i remember how i fixed my prey. though my memories are a bit blurred as it was a long long time ago.

vaguely i remember the darkish room. with a dusty jute carpet. and there i lied with my prey. i was a bit wild not like a tiger or a lion, who come in the open chase the prey and grab it by the neck. my wildness had always been of being scheming i would say. hiding in the dark alluring the timid innocent deer or goat for that matter.

yes she reminds me of a goat ready to be slaughtered. a goat not knowing why the butcher is being nice and feeding her well, falls in love with the butcher. starts treating him like a savior. well i wasn't even a butcher. i never feed her well.

that day reminds me of being a nameless creature hovering around a half dead goat to die and then bite in to the flesh.

the dark skin in even a darker room gleamed as a short stroke of sunlight fell from a half broken window. a trickle of sweat over the timid eyes is what i can still remember.

would look up in to the sky to see big birds with bigger wing span gliding overhead for the same goat to die. i would lick the salt and smell the body in anticipation of death in anticipation of being the first one to dig in.

though i don't remember how many years have passed by, what i remember is that the clock was ticking by. a game needs to be over in a given time or else it starts tasting stale. i didn't want to bite or bark and kill my prey rather let it die a slow death by loss of blood, love and trust. i guess i thought that this slow death will keep the flesh a bit warmer and fresher for me to savour till it lasts.

somewhere it took a long time to die and i couldn't gather courage to eat her up alive. i kept on walking around for a long time...

...the day turned in to a night and then another day but she did never die. and i could not gather courage to eat her up alive. somewhere in the middle the thirst, lust and hunger drained me away.

much later i woke up, probably after years i woke up. it seems today i woke up to see the bones of the goat scattered around and a small bit of flesh hanging from the beak of the big bird now sitting on the branch of a dead tree. with the wings folded as if a gesture of satisfaction looking at me. mocking me.

i get up start walking towards the nearby village to find another timid goat. a goat i can allure.

why

"why" a simple three lettered word.
it can be lethal.
it can make you think.
it can make you change your perspective.
a simple word 'why' can push you to bullshit your way out.
or be honest and say all that you never wanted to.


at times i hate it so much.
but yet again it's beginning of an end.

who knows it may haunt you.
who knows it may push you to perfection.
who knows it may prompt you to write a blog.

yet you go without an answer to the 'why'.

the act

Sweat was trickling down her neck as if a drop of red wine slipped down the neck of a dark coloured bottle and gradually all the way down the smooth glass (a bottle which had just been stripped of it’s old withering label). The room lay heavy with the sweet smell of sweat mingled with that of overhanging smell of smoke of some cheap pack of cigarettes which lies empty under the ruffled bed. This smell of smoke I am not exactly in favour of, for me it dilutes the effect of the act of making love. It just reminds me of this whole thing being a cheap act of love. Well, one has to bear that smell as it was not a part of the deal to get a non-smoker tonight. And to top it all after the negotiations I made to get the best deal for the night, I doubt I have the right to ask for favours of asking her not to smoke. Though lot of people maybe in favour of smokers this is not about anyone else but about me. Otherwise the whole act was perfect. She almost made me believe that it was not “paid for” but as if she was making love for real. Tomorrow she will be acting the same act with another man like me.
The night is yet not over and it’s all paid for. Whats the point of lying next to her and watch her while she is half asleep, her warm body in a warm summer night. tomorrow she will be with another one playing the same act. or should i just let go and fall in love even if it’s for just for the night, why be scared of the morning to come. tonight she is mine. her body, her love all is mine.
i know it’s not true but still i’m imagining as if i saw love in those eyes. i know i am drunk and imagining. have paid for the body not those eyes. maybe that’s the way she satisfies her clients to make an extra buck. tomorrow she will act the same cheap act in yet another cheap hotel with another one like me.
couldn’t stop went closer held her tight, as if inseparable in love. atleast tonight she is mine. she lies motionless. soundless as if there is no end to the silent night. tomorrow she will act the same old act with another man looking for love at a lower price. her sweat has mixed with mine as i hold her tight. i know i am wrong but still felt as if she kissed me softly on the back of my hand as i lay still, half asleep holding her tight. the fan hanging from the ceiling makes this creaking noise mixed with the train passing by. no clue when i went off to sleep. slept as if i sleeping in the arms of my lover.


He held me tight as if he was scared of losing me tonight. i know i am imagining that he kissed me softly on my neck before he slept that night. his body was shivering as he came close to me that hot summer night. hope he gets the best out of the night. he has paid me for my body still i can imagine love in those tired dark eyes.
i know he wants nothing but value for his penny. still i believe it to be love though it’s just for the night. i hate cigarettes but no harm if that makes him feel good to be with a cheap whore in a cheap smoke filled night. i am happy to have my make belief love for atleast one night. tomorrow he will be in another motel with another woman paying her for another smoke filled act of cheap love.

i woke up early in the morning to realise she is already gone. checked my wallet to be sure she left with only what the deal had been, since a deal is a deal. though i wish this was love for sake the of love and not money.


i walked out in the morning before he would get up, didn’t want him to see love in my eyes. i wish this was love for sake the of love and not money. hope i meet him another night and we end up in another act of love.

flashes of memories

a little. sharp beam of fresh sunlight fell on her dark brown skin. the skin already layered by a thin sheet of wintry sweat. wish i knew the guy who has some control over time, would have asked him to pause. or was it stopped for a short while, i think i remember everything else staying motionless in that dark room except for our minds perhaps. who knows what was the truth, or is it all my imagination.

blurry images still keep flashing, though there is no way to stop and watch it again. all i am left with is smell of salt in the cold wintry sweat.