A pair of sottish eyes, watching over an outline of delicate drapes swaying tardily in silence so deep that I could hear the moonlight striking on the window. Every wrinkle of that ceaseless frown casting an insufferable fragrant desire. Too frail to even go near. Distant, like fireworks. Serene. Exploding emotions, awing the world. Shrieking words on the papers that hold no meaning now. Let him be free. For once. 

I'll tell you what a dream's made of... The moment when a snowdrop windflower glistens against the Moonshine. An enchanting Ecstasy, a piece of mystic Paradise. Few prunella modularis' Chirps on a farsighted pine. Amalgam of feelings in an Exalted saint's disguise. It takes the air and moons on for none but a mislaid Joy. It yens for a lily-white daisy - the blood-red Dream. Then a fulminant Drift of fear and a winged-heart ally. That's how a dream open its eyes. But how it breaks is different than it could ever seem. A Cut of reality, pitiless Pain or glistening crimson Gleam, sorrow of Solitude and horror of Denial are different stories. It's like a funeral of Warmth that forbade the Cold. Funeral Of hope that shaped a shangri-la away from Trouble. A Dearth of tears on a mournful eve or when the night Trembles. The night whose hint is a long time but Wave is the year. And like a perpetually mazed sorrowful Twinkle in her eyes or when the Auburn Wisps whiten and when a coven of faeries Tumble down. When glossy Clouds of candyfloss glory flight afar. Because dewdrops are the games of morning-field of gazing grain - like Emeralds lolling down the bedewed blades of grass But there's a world dear, there's a world!


Last night I had a very bad dream about me failing in the exams again. I woke up at 3 in the morning and studied to satisfy the little frightened kid that lives inside me - like those oddballs I used to laugh at. Then the frightened child cowered in the corner of my bed and tried to sleep but just could not so I wrote those lines *points the index finger at the long-winded lines above*. I just had to do something with my sleepless night. To add to it, it was my exam today, Business Taxation. Business Taxation is my favorite subject and that is because of that awe-inspiring kind of professor. The exam did not go that well though. I was sad for a while but then I came out and found out that all my friends were rubbing their heads with a weird look on their faces and told me that it went horrible and all like all guys say after an exam. They said the topper will have to take the rest to Pizza Hut. And you know what, it'd be Ce or B.H. We are cool like that. I know I should not be fretting about it here and should be sitting next to my dad watching the match on TV or maybe I should be studying something for the next exam. Wait a second? Am I fretting? Nope! But I just can't feel it. A little misstep can make me feel so low.. I'm so tired.. I'm really tired. I want to sleep forever and a day! Someone slap me or something!

Today was incredulously dull. I felt oddly unstrained. Strange because, I have gotten back into the race... race where time begins to matter, the blood in your veins races with the hand of the clock face on your wall, cell phone, every screen, building - everywhere - every second. The tick tock reminds you of everything you must do before sleep and significantly, of curbing any further missteps that can throw you off balance and turn your world upside down.



I want to write it all and watch the flow of the ink and the thoughts of this glum mind, the black fluid and the glowering thoughts spread across the lily-white page in archaic bards' runes. Every move of the quill pen smooth and refined. Neat.  I want to. But,  I'm contagiously distressed so I will  just send the signals of distress over to you.

Tick drop tock drip tick drop tock drip was what one could hear in that shallow twilight.
The noise of the wall-clock and the leaking pipe in the bathroom –– was quite grudgingly harsh to him in that silent twilight.

It wrote,
“I prevail. I prevail –– as a lowly slave.”
“It’s passing, it’s consuming me from inside and outside –– the times –– tabooed times.”

Another second passed, followed by another – the hand moved and went on, and then trembled a minute – and a minute melted into an hour followed by another hour and hours and hours.

The miles and the hours.

Tick tock, drip drop. Tick tock, drip drop. Tick tock, drip drop...

It wrote, “I’ll bend space and gravity, only if...”

The visions – blurred, emotions numbed and a sob unthinkingly was heard.
It slightly shed off the eye and made a way for the others to come; some followed it while others made their own ways. The tears they were, gleaming waterfalls against the room-light from the dark one could see. Trickling twinkles. Tick tock, drip drop. Teardrops embellished the cheeks like stars do to the sky.

Sobs.

The thunders of restlessness rumbled all over the place.

It wrote, “My thirst for you has become vampiric.”

Tick tock, drop, tick, drip, tock, drop, tick, drip, tock…

The night had risen over the world and covered it like a shawl. The night it was.
The dark and the room-light and…

A broken heart, a pain –– seared,

It wrote again, “I’d dive far below the oceans… I’d fly far above the clouds… only if…”

“None is to be blamed, oh my love. I hope you’re fine. I hope.”

Silent in disbelief, with awkward clingy emotions – he was. At square one – he was. He was.

The death each moment – he embraced.

Music played: “With every kiss and every hug you’ve made me fall in love.”
And silence crept again. Tick, drip, tock, drop, tick, drip, tock, drop, tick, drip, tock, drop…

It wrote then, “Only if I could lie within your soul and mind… and in your arms.”
And, “I’d sell it all… all my materialistic treasures.”

Music played: “Tum bin jaa’un kahan, ke dunya mein aa ke – kuch nehi chaha….”

The swollen eyes watered the sear cheeks again. The heart moaned. And then it wiped off them, all of them.

[What does he hide? Behind those scarred humid eyes.]

And it wrote, “You are my strength, and I shall keep the promise, I shall never fall apart, I shall mend my heart, even before it breaks.”
“I shall keep the promise and you will keep it too.”
“I hear, miracles happen.” Hand trembled, but he continued in imperfections. “For roses can bloom amongst the wrinkled rocks.” “For water can spurt in oasis in midst of deserts” “And if needles and threads could not do it, I shall mend it with love –– that is still alive.”
“Distances are mere a frail thread, our love is the robust string.”

The night was young, but the feelings were feeble.

Tock, drop, tick, drip, tock, drop, tick, drip…

The night kept on growing. Seconds passed. Minutes passed. Hours gone by.
And a dewdrop fell from the heaven on a leaf outside his window; it smiled at him and fell asleep on that very leaf, he saw it sleeping and waited for the sun to rise.

And then the sun fought its way up the horizon. Beams came in from the window and he saw the halos.
It was a new day, but the promise was the same.

H: Y'all want amusement, even amid bruising times, trodden by the blocks –– a little red heart, when it’s unimaginable even to breathe. Y'all always want something. Mean –– they doth call you. In your eyes – lust overflowing, oozing out, I can see that. Mouth watering desires. Y'all! Unfurled are still, sheets – upon you sleep’est. Eyes on –– yours – are sandwiching it in pressures. Ya’ll! Don’t you have jobs? How much y'all want to suck out of a man’s organs? Flipping parasites!? I say no to you! And bye! Let it breathe the breaths it is left with amid death, amid fear.

S: Ain’t been nothing like that – the things you told, untrue beloved. You hast been bruised, that, I know. And this too, that it sleep’eth not when you goest in it, the organ you hast in your head. You dost close thine eyes, but it doth not. You think too much. Stop the rude; let it take a bath of sugar a little.

H: A little……Little… Little things, put a big mark, I guess the little bit has done to me too.
S: Water from thy eyes will go away; the history of sun says that, it’ll take them too.
H: The wrath of mystery inside me is mightier than even the histories of sun.
S: Chirps you adore are playing the tricks, open thy senses before they are done.
H: I traced it out in waters too, whirls were only I could see.
S: I have read it before it even was traced, on a wafting red dried autumn leaf.
H: It whispered it in the airs too, if only they could care.
S: Whispering winds came to me, ‘cause they wanted it to share.
H: But a great man said once, ‘they have no time to stand and stare.’
S: Sigh. Let it breathe the breaths it is left with, amid bruising life, amid pinching fear.

By B.H.

“How shall I wonder not, and ask?
The answers you hide – to unmask”
She looked suspicious –– I had to tell her–––
About the mystery –– ironical and artificial
“If you could spill your dreams out of yourself”
Now she gleams, or it merely seems
A fickle stillness surrounds the place
Of an inside out imagination –– a craze
But no word can tell ––the reason
A walk with solitude? A ride to past?
I asked myself, but–– I told her about
A jolly parrot with no frown––
But a folly smile on its face
It could sing the serenades of love
Far better than the angels of heaven above
A coven – prettiest choir singers
The feelings of love – an innocent felon
Roads ––that sailed and I just stood still
An owl that amused them with its musings
About the giggles of sparrows, the chirps of girls
And about a coward scarecrow and evil crows
How is it living a life –?
A good – in a bad – a life in fog
I told her – pointing at a flossy cloud
“It looks like us” before the sea view
She listens, smiles and kisses my cheek
Quicksilver imaginations! –
Sigh. It was mere a dream.