Midnight Fever II

  Tell me something people, do you smell the air? I mean, I know there's a whole lot of  better things than the air to go around smelling, but do you? I do. I smell the air when buses burn, when I ride a diesel engined train, when I'm in a hospital, or an antique shop. And when it is a night like tonight. Tonight, it's awkwardly cold for a mid summer's night. It has rained in the evening, and now, the neem tree just outside my bedroom window, I'm sure is glittering, though no one sees her, except maybe that pagla kokil. It's nights like these that make me homesick. Homesick, yes, you've heard it right. It makes me long for the mountains. I know, I'm a hardcore city chap, with Dominoes and pornography inscribed in my brain. But, it is nights like these, that make me want to run away, and go back to the mountains. I get the same feeling when I listen to Denver's Country Roads.
  That strange, cold, pure air burning the insides of my lung. If I close my eyes, I can see the clouds rushing up towards me from the valleys, and above, in the mountain top, hundreds of Tibetian flags, people think they're supposed to spread the message of Budhha, but actually, they're just trying to tear themselves out of that flag post, and fly away. Birds. Yes, they are the true birds. I can smell boiling thuppa, which I'll gorge on in a few minutes, I can hear the sound of utensils in the kitchen, tea is being prepared. I stare out of my bedroom window, and down there, right below, far away, is the world, and this, is the heaven.
  One of my secret (not much of a secret anymore) desires in life, is to marry a hill girl (my mother says they don't bathe a lot, but who cares, even I don't.) and it is maybe because of this reason, everytime, when I visit the mountains, I fall in love with a girl. Now, because Im such a li'l twat, so with me, falling in love ain't a big issue. I seem to fall in love rather often (which in turn has decreased my chances of getting laid to miniscule proportions). But at present, I'm actually being reminded of one certain girl. I don't really remember her face. Just a red sweater, and red snickers. I never even talked to her in the 24 hours I was in her vicinity. I didn't get to know what she thinks, what she feels, what is right, and what is wrong to her, 'cos I knew, it wouldn't have changed anything. And seriously, I wouldn't have actually cared, or maybe I would have. The things I mentioned, they matter a lot for me. I guess my desire, will always remain a desire.
  I remember her name. Shiring it was, if I can remember properly. Shiring, is the name of a bird. Beautiful, tai na? I know, why I always fall in love with hill girls. Maybe because, they symbolise, the mountains to me. They, She, symbolises the mountains. Free. Pure. Still untouched by profits, demands, and supplies. Virgin. Yes, you've heard it right. Virgin.
  And maybe that's why, I'll always stay away from her, cos, that way, she'll be virgin, to me, forever. Mountains are my home, a home, I'll never dare to settle down in. It's rather better to smell the air instead, searching for that sweet, cold, misty flavour. And again, when I'll find it again, maybe I'll sit down, and tell you all a bit more about my home.

Sisyphus Revisited

  It was midday now, and no one was in sight. No one was supposed to. Not a single tree, a shrub maybe, for some shadow. God, this is one lonely place, it's midday, the sun is beating down on the earth like some molester, and he's just halfway through the mountain. The top, still far away, and this boulder just seems to be increasing in weight.
  It's getting heavier and heavier, the boulder. And if he doesn't complete this task by sundown, he'll be in for some hard times, but then again, what if he doesn't, what if he stops now? It'll roll back down anyway. No, he couldn't have stopped, maybe just this once the rock wouldn't roll down, and he'd finally be able to see the sunrise from the mountain top.
  Did he really need to think himself better than the rest? Would it really be hard if he just stayed quiet and submissive? But no, he had to go on and give the higher being a piece of his mind, stupid bitches. Now, suffering. He almost spat out in rage, but decided not to waste the fluid.
  Suddenly, he saw a figure, a tall, maybe slender figure appear in the distance. It had flowing hairs, and the curves in the right places clearly pointed it out to him, that figure, was the representative of the opposite sex. Must be one of those stupid messengers of the higher being, he thought, as he approached the figure.
  "Hello ma'am. Looking for someone?"
  The figure turned towards him. She had no eyes, but stones in place of the eyes. She turned around towards him, and stood still.
  "Err, ma'am, you looking for someone, or maybe are you lost?" He kept his patience, and asked.
  "Are you Sisyphus, the banished one?" What a killer voice, he thought, better than any Monroe or Hephburn, on any given day.
  "Yes ma'am, I am the one you ask for. You need something from me?" He dared not flirt, who knows what might be the end result.
  "No. I don't need anything, and stop staring at my breasts." He checked himself quickly, thinking how could she understand that, being all blind and stoned.
  "I heard you were looking for some shadow, on this broken earth?" She asked.
  "Yes ma'am, today's kinda extra hot, and since there's no lemonade stall in sight, a little amount of shadow to rest would be nice."
  "But don't you have a work to do, pushing stonechips up the hill, or something?"
  "Err, yes. But that can wait. Actually, it can roll down again, I'm quiting this job of pushing stuff up mountains, I wasn't built for this kinda hard labour. I was actually thinking of joining movies maybe, don't you think I'd make a nice little hero, or something?"
  "I don't know, I have no eyes, hence I don't see, what you see. Tell me, do you want a little piece of shadow?"
  "Yes."
  "Then come, stand behind me, where my shadow falls on this earth."
  "Err, ma'am, you're kinda on the thin side, and I'm rather proud of my chest size. Do you think I'll fit?"
  "Try."
  "Err, okay."
  And he squeezed himself into the shadow of the woman.

  And the sky became dark, clouds were hording into that little space above, like bulls. And the heat, it vanished, a wind started blowing in its place. And suddenly it started raining. He sat there, quietly, in the shadow of that strange woman. And the woman, she stood there, like a nightwatchman turned into stone.

  As he sat there, he observed the earth keenly. It didn't seem that barren, infact, grasses were actually present, here, and maybe there. Wonder why he'd never noticed them. And he actually observed a little sapling, trying to grow up, right beside where he sat. And he saw rabbits and gazelles run away, just a few feet away from him, and birds seemed to flock the dark, smiling sky. All the while it drizzled. It drizzled on, and on, and he had no umbrellas with him, he forgot to bring it today.

  He stood up. Enough. He walked out of that little piece of heaven. And everything vanished. There he was, the boulder lying a few feet away, it still hadn't rolled down, and there was the midday sun in the sky, the burning inferno, and there was the mountain top, still a long way away, and there he was, standing.
  "What's wrong? Didn't you like the rest you received?" For the first time, the woman sounded concerned.
  "Yes. I did. And I have a job left to do. Thank you, and goodbye." He left quickly. Before the woman could utter anything, he moved on, leaving her behind.
  He was rolling the boulder up, he was sweating. The top was far away, and it was a long journey ahead.
 
  Sisyphus, was stuck.

Kill For A Dream Tonight

Life's too short not to forgive
And to scream and shout and not to live
I'm here if you wanna call,
Standing in front of this wall.
You're moving too fast in the back of the car
There's too many people stuck inside a star.
You tell the driver never to stop.
I've left for the last gift shop.

I'm giving it another try
Staring at the deep blue sky.

Dreams have just bounced, out of my mind
I'd kill for a dream tonight.

A looking glass, shattered in pieces
You don't see it, but I see the kisses.
Everything pretty is gone
Yet the beautiful world cries on.
Well here's my glass, meant for you
Cos' these dark eyes mean something to do.
Standing in front of this wall,
It's time for a curtain call.

I'll give it another try. [I Promise]
Flying into the deep blue sky.

Dreams have just bounced outta my mind
I'd kill for a dream tonight.


I don't care if this is the worst piece ever. Believe me :)

Midnight Fever I

What if we're inside a coffin, a wooden one, and we're six feet underground. Buried, and finished. Well, not totally, we still have an axe. But instead of using it to break out of the box, we chew the wooden handle. we keep on gnawing on it. Who cares what kinda wood it is, as long as the woody juice comes out? It takes us days to finish up that wooden handle, and make cellulistic drumsticks out of it. And once we're done with that, what's left is the head of the axe, the heavy, sharp, metallic head. We try to gulp it down, but it's way too sweet, we search for salt, but there's no salt around. Just woods, cloth, and the clay outside. Clay, is like flesh; soft, wet, and once we make a scar on it, it doesn't take time to heal. But that's way too phylosophical shit, err, I mean clay. The thing is, we, all of us, we're inside our individual coffins, and we're buried, deep down, near the heart of the mighty planet, very near. We had an axe, a last chance of escape, but instead of escaping, we just dine on the flesh of our chances. But all good things must come to an end, and when the dinner is over, what's left? The hard to digest metallic head, and a lot of clay around. And then the question arises. We're stuck, all of us are stuck inside these itsy-bitsy coffins, and there's no way out, no way out left for us. No more chances.
"But then, what will we dine on now?" That's the question. Pretty deep, huhn?