Dreams/Nightmares II

     Slowly the haze lifts, enabling you to twist your eyeballs for the millionth time. Everything shapes and breaks down, and takes shape again. Tiny, sad eyes stare blankly at every possible directions, apathy spilling over. It's a strange scene around you, a very familiar, but strange scene. Corpses lie around, scattered and scarred. Some beheaded, some with only the heads, some with everything, some with nothing. It's like a moving morgue has just been bombed right in the middle of the street, din-e dupur-e. A very familiar scene, a very familiar one. You try to remember. Where do you get to see corpses lying around everyday? You start moving, your feet get stuck in the muddy blood, bloody mud. It's like maroon tar.
     Strange dreams you have. Corpses lying around, while fedora toppinged men eat strawberry ice creams , debate with each other about sex and sensex, and bargain with invisible hands for the corpses. Some ask for whole bodies, others just want a piece of the meat. Dali, in a sickening, surrealistic sense. Not a nice scene, not even probably a dream. But is it a nightmare? Aren't nightmares supossed to be about scary horses, which bring out your worst fears, of something you are scared of? Nightmares are bad things. This scene before you, is bad, but not scary. This is something which you see every day, don't you? Dead bodies lie around you, while crooked, vultured men fight for a piece.
     Confusion riddles you, as the haze returns to encompass you. You turn around in your bed, REM slowly stops. You sleep again.


Anuprerona: Machher bajaar.

Dream/Nightmare I

      A windy night, while dreams float around your flushed cheeks. The owl hoots like the nightwatchman, the squirrel screaches out, probably a nightmare. A honey dew moon is smiling, at you. Your cheeks redden, the transluscent nightdress, reveals not much, conceals not less. You slowly step on the wet, cool earth. Tonight, the galactic milk bowl is overflowing, tonight is a beautiful night. The owl hoots again, begging you to wake up. The enchantment continues, you wake not up, lest you are barred to hear the lullaby. You wait for the song to start, but only the brook's monotonous lyre hurts your drowsy senses.
     A slow hum starts. The beginning. Next a gentle breakout will follow, followed by whistling chimes, ending with the slow, calm, determined sound of a sitar. You know the song by heart.
     But today the music is not sounding what it used to. The hum slowly becomes mild, thumping, clap beats, almost as if people are applausing the end of sermon in a churchyard. The music is getting loud, it's nomore the claps of the fallen, but the pounding of a million drums, war drums. You search for the source of the swivelling beats. It's not coming from the milky eyed sky, not from the lemon crusted moon, not from the spacy waters. Then where?
      It's coming from the depth of of the earth below you, it's almost like the earth is beating in million tiny hearts. The earth, which you considered to be cool, to be wet, is becoming hot. It's starting to melt into liquid red, blood red. The tumultous earth is moving away from below your feet. You try to reach for the sky, for the moon, for the rivers, but they have moved far, far away from you. What is left is the earth.
      You start to sink, and suddenly you hear a new drum beat join the hundred million drums. It's you, your heart, it's beating again. Slowly as you sink, you listen intently to the music of the new era.

Untitled V

Dreams are made winding through my heads
And before you know, you are wide awake.

As spiders climb up the chair
Mirrors stare at new born earthquakes.

Another vibrating cry inside the dead
Rises for a little girl's sake.

Claustrophobia, another name
Brand old wing, same old ache.


I know, I know. This sucks big time.

Memories II (Scary ones)

They come rushing in, filling every cell with the required oxygen. Another misty morning, and they come rushing back, as if it's dinner time already. Starting from a scratch isn't easy, ke na jaane, then why did I even try? I thought I could just erase each and every face, tear down all the wall decorations, and lay bare my memory attic, and wait for new faces to arrive. Faces. They have arrived, and they have decorated my walls, but old faces merge with new ones. Something I didn't wish for, not at all.

'Psychedelia brought us together'. That's heavy on the brain cells for any kid. How can goddamn illusions bring souls together? Impossible. And if illusions did bring them together, then it also seperated them. This is no sudden realisation, this is something which I gradually understood, and knowing the truth, I decided not to face it. But they come rushing back, like hungry dogs. Looks like its not the time yet. Let's wait.

I need a shave, and since i'm not getting it, this is the way i torture other fellow human beings. Muhahaha.

Human Spirit (The oldest one)

When I'm in my bed at night



A Voice whispers in my head

Voice: What am I?

Me: Well, how the hell should I know who you are?

Voice: No seriously tell me what am I.

Me: Bug off! Don't disturb me.

The voice keeps on nagging.

Me: Your a pretty little irritating twitch, aren't you?

So I ask it 'Who are you?'

the voice doesn't reply

Me: Well what's your name

Voice: I don't know, i cant remember.

Me: Then go bug someone else. I need my beauty sleep.

suddenly the voice speaks out loudly

Voice: Wait. I know who I am.

Me: Great! Congratulations! Now let me sleep, please!

Voice: I am Death

Me: What???

Voice: I give Life.

Me: What the fuck!

Voice: I am Fire

So you can feel Ice.

I understand its urge to pour some leaded philosophical lecture in my precious ears. There goes my fine sleep out the window.

It keeps on blabbering

Voice: I am Thirst,

so you will quench me.

I am Hunger,

so that you will sate me.

I am Apathy,

so that you feel Empathy.

I am Poverty,

So you will know Plenty.

I am Hate,

so that you price Love.

Me: Man are you then somekinda' god or shit?

Voice: No, I am not God.

And yet, I am not Satan.

There he goes again

I am not Paradise.

And yet, I am not Hell.

I am here.

I am not here.

I am there.

I am not there.

I am where you are.

But also where you are not.

Me: You're just confused.

There is another pause. Voice resumes, now slower.

Voice: Confusion, is a myth. I am just speaking what you wish me to speak.

Me: I don't want you to utter a single more shit!
But it continues.

Voice: For without death, where is life?

For without hate, where can you find love?

For without hitting the bottom, how will you now that there might be a way up?

For without me, how do you know that there is better, that there can be better?

I am, the one. I am, the none.

I am time, and I am space. Yet I am one without a face.

Now do you know who I am?



Silence



Me: Nope..........

 
This is one of my earliest pieces. I have tried to leave it untouched.