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.
Showing posts with label Suicidal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Suicidal. Show all posts
Rose petals on grave
Monday, May 16, 2011
by B.H.
Look at you! You look like a happiness-deprived person, insanely coveting the energizing source like you would hope for a frosty bottle of your favorite drink while wandering in a scorching desert. I guess everything would be pretty funny without attachments, I mean that – in both ways. I feel like, I’m caught in a twister; flying around countless spirals. Circles, with no end to them. It’s not pleasant. My fingers scrabble at my throat to loosen the tension of this invisible cord that is choking me and I don’t find it.
I’ve spent my all day hoping that I’d feel better because I have a worldly end to attain. This fever of resentment has affected me worse today but tomorrow you’ll see me at bay. I have so many strangest words to write off – tonight – but I’m not going to do that – like always. Enough poetic bullshit! Why do I always have to sound like a moron? Every cloud has a silver lining and this cloud has one too –– because I have so many things on my list that I won’t even have the time to think about things that don’t matter anymore. And that’s it.
I think I’m okay now.
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Where am I and how far is it to heaven?
Monday, May 9, 2011
by B.H.
Where am I and how far is it to heaven?
I’m ready to go; I had fastened the Belt
Too long ago!
So letting it go –– and crossing the brink ––
Bonnets may blow –– in the wind!
For I dwell not anymore –– upon Graven Ink
Old –– we grow with Desires that float to sink ––
Eventually though.
But – dare I steal the quill feather ––
of your white-hot hat, ma’am?
So the ink could flow –– to heal the kink.
Where am I and how far is it to heaven?
How odd it sounds!
Like those violet rifts ––
Within the grey clouds in cerulean sky
Exceptions!
Goodbye to the life I used to live
Kiss the Flowers and the Hills for me ––
Bid the Rainbows goodbye!
And look upon the times just once
When I tended the daisies for you ––
‘Twas the smallest hour of all
That felt longer than a century ––
Stepped onto the falls together
And brushed the summers by.
I will send You – this Gem from my ring ––
How dim it sounds –– like the murmur of the Bee –– on a rainy day –
Rustle of the fencing –– in the longest night
I’m ready to go to the town –
Strewn with the Down
Where autumn leaves glow as ruby across the walkways
And there! The poetess of my dreams!
Such a small room she keeps.
Almost contented people. Bliss, Oh Lord!
Where am I and how far is it to heaven?
How fair it sounds!
When I lie down and hear the murmur of Nature ––
And sleep ––
On the heavenly grounds.
- B. Etch.
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From:
A talk to solitude,
Bad times,
Boredom notes,
Deaths,
Emily Dickinson,
Experiences,
Heck?,
Stupid,
Suicidal,
this n that
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The Isolation.
Monday, August 9, 2010
by B.H.
And again he starts walking on the hazy lands through hilly and hollow paths towards the beacon that appears so far – so obscure in the denseness of fog, and the mere feel of cold-white-smoky-tuft on the scars taken from past is numbing the traveler, breaking away of the tensity is difficult. But he keeps on walking, and this time he falls down and doesn’t get up for a while. Clumsy his – abilities might be, but he eyes there at the top of the mountain – there! The beacon calls. He leads again, grunts in pain and starts figuring out the path. The path is so blue and cold, with no lightening bugs in it, he can’t even figure out where the end is and where the start. Hindrance of time and toils – alone are good enough to make him fall down – give up. And now he bleeds, old scars taken from the dark pages of the ruthless past open their eyes to the cold fog, the blood seems to freeze and it pains infinite and he wishes to fall. He sways and swoons, falls on the misty dust, tries to crawl and slightly moans but is injured badly in the isolated journey, no one to save him, no one to cure the ailments. The beacon calls, but his eyes are shut, and he sees, the promises he made, the full moons of those nights spent with his better half he loved the most, the memories he saved, the giggles once he heard, the chirps and laughter are now a flickering flame that is fogged and tattered in the fog now.
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A talk to solitude,
Bad times,
Being me,
Boredom notes,
Confessions,
Heck?,
Love,
Other,
Regrets,
Sometimes,
Stupid,
Suicidal
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So here I am
Sunday, August 1, 2010
by B.H.
O Earth! Thou my mother,
To thee, I bow, I smirk.
But might I fly over thee
And look for bread and butter
Dare I betray thee?
A million times dare!
So here I am, ended up waiting, waiting on the muse. My sire compelth me to stay
I know my toils’ worth, I do ask not for it. And I want no words to lose.
But what hinders me is the time
Appears a poet in disguise
A boy with cauldron of rhymes
The boy who believes in vat of lies –– fairytales, rainbows, falling stars and butterflies
Hath turned out to be lies
Oh why!
So here I am, O World
Waiting on the sun
Darkness all unfurled
The day’s just begun.
World torn asunder,
Amidst the white-hot flashes
I hear the rolling thunder,
I look down upon the ashes.
So here I am, Heaven!
Waiting on a prayer!
The bread that wouldn’t leaven
The pain I couldn’t bear.
Inside I know the truth
But my sins are not atoned
I, a prisoner of my youth
Thou, the king upon his throne
Here I am. Away, away from clichés like hurt and pain.
Numbed wholly, and they call me insane.
To thee, I bow, I smirk.
But might I fly over thee
And look for bread and butter
Dare I betray thee?
A million times dare!
So here I am, ended up waiting, waiting on the muse. My sire compelth me to stay
I know my toils’ worth, I do ask not for it. And I want no words to lose.
But what hinders me is the time
Appears a poet in disguise
A boy with cauldron of rhymes
The boy who believes in vat of lies –– fairytales, rainbows, falling stars and butterflies
Hath turned out to be lies
Oh why!
So here I am, O World
Waiting on the sun
Darkness all unfurled
The day’s just begun.
World torn asunder,
Amidst the white-hot flashes
I hear the rolling thunder,
I look down upon the ashes.
So here I am, Heaven!
Waiting on a prayer!
The bread that wouldn’t leaven
The pain I couldn’t bear.
Inside I know the truth
But my sins are not atoned
I, a prisoner of my youth
Thou, the king upon his throne
Here I am. Away, away from clichés like hurt and pain.
Numbed wholly, and they call me insane.
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Being me,
Boredom notes,
Musings in fog,
My Chemical Romance,
My Poetry,
Regrets,
Smile,
Sometimes,
Stupid,
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Thoughts
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That blue abyss
Thursday, July 29, 2010
by B.H.
With every beginning, there’s a corresponding end. Always I observe, before something –– that starts, something ends, before night trembles, twilight ceases, before it dawns the night has to melt; there’s always one side that has to lose hence the other side bags the victory.
Sun rises up, and sets in, some smile, some cry and some die but cosmos can’t care, and chirps are on even in the lowest of the low and never stop for deaths.
This rain is too ominous to be called ‘memorable’ in a sense, but we shall remember this rain always as a dark page of our chronicles. Plane crashed yesterday, a lot of people died, deaths everywhere, I see baleful darkness and reddest of the red –– blood, I hear the moans and cries of my people screaming out for their people, but death can’t care. And now, my friend, Bilal, he passed away a week ago, but I came to know about his demise now when the raindrops are striking the tin roof of the garage outside my window so hard that I can’t even concentrate what I’m thinking. I hate that noise; literally. Ill drops are descending the stairs everywhere, going low and low making me down and down. Every grief has its background music and vision. For me, it’s the noise of raindrops crashing on tin roof.
I am too confused and shocked to recall the memories of the moments that I spent with him in class. I don’t even know how he died; I just know that I lost someone, who used to sit beside me, who was with me when nobody was; there was a sparkle of loyalty in his eyes whenever he talked which I always overlooked, but that’s a stupid cliché I’d say. Because they say death makes a person more esteemed than ever. He was not my best friend and frankly I used to sit beside him only because he was always quiet and easy to endure. I am too low to write the memories. I feel too frail to type.
How is it like when you lose a friend, nobody taught me how to react. My parents never taught, my teachers never taught, they indeed taught me the ethics, algebra, physics but not about the death of a friend? They taught me about the every kind of losses in business. What about the loss of friend? Why did they not…? And today Bilal taught me through his demise that life… it is a fickle persistence, and death is blue abyss that is to be graced with our souls, death’s silence is heavy metal’s base, no one is to heal the death’s screams, no one is to stop it, it dances its way, away from cares, from the tears and the fears, life is a frail thread and death the robust string with a kite dancing in the skies too high in its folly, and it can’t be, no one can clip it to float it away. Death lies perfectly in life’s equation, he said. We won’t be ready and its manus will clutch us in, and will take our soul away from our dear and near ones leaving them with tears in their eyes and a corpse behind. Only tears… regrets and some memories that are too painful to recall.
And as Emily Dickinson would put in,
All but Death, can be Adjusted––
Dynasties repaired––
Systems –– settled in their Sockets––
Citadels –– dissolved––
Wastes of Lives –– resown with Colors
By Succeeding Springs––
Death –– unto itself –– Exception––
Is exempt from Change––
Sun rises up, and sets in, some smile, some cry and some die but cosmos can’t care, and chirps are on even in the lowest of the low and never stop for deaths.
This rain is too ominous to be called ‘memorable’ in a sense, but we shall remember this rain always as a dark page of our chronicles. Plane crashed yesterday, a lot of people died, deaths everywhere, I see baleful darkness and reddest of the red –– blood, I hear the moans and cries of my people screaming out for their people, but death can’t care. And now, my friend, Bilal, he passed away a week ago, but I came to know about his demise now when the raindrops are striking the tin roof of the garage outside my window so hard that I can’t even concentrate what I’m thinking. I hate that noise; literally. Ill drops are descending the stairs everywhere, going low and low making me down and down. Every grief has its background music and vision. For me, it’s the noise of raindrops crashing on tin roof.
I am too confused and shocked to recall the memories of the moments that I spent with him in class. I don’t even know how he died; I just know that I lost someone, who used to sit beside me, who was with me when nobody was; there was a sparkle of loyalty in his eyes whenever he talked which I always overlooked, but that’s a stupid cliché I’d say. Because they say death makes a person more esteemed than ever. He was not my best friend and frankly I used to sit beside him only because he was always quiet and easy to endure. I am too low to write the memories. I feel too frail to type.
How is it like when you lose a friend, nobody taught me how to react. My parents never taught, my teachers never taught, they indeed taught me the ethics, algebra, physics but not about the death of a friend? They taught me about the every kind of losses in business. What about the loss of friend? Why did they not…? And today Bilal taught me through his demise that life… it is a fickle persistence, and death is blue abyss that is to be graced with our souls, death’s silence is heavy metal’s base, no one is to heal the death’s screams, no one is to stop it, it dances its way, away from cares, from the tears and the fears, life is a frail thread and death the robust string with a kite dancing in the skies too high in its folly, and it can’t be, no one can clip it to float it away. Death lies perfectly in life’s equation, he said. We won’t be ready and its manus will clutch us in, and will take our soul away from our dear and near ones leaving them with tears in their eyes and a corpse behind. Only tears… regrets and some memories that are too painful to recall.
And as Emily Dickinson would put in,
All but Death, can be Adjusted––
Dynasties repaired––
Systems –– settled in their Sockets––
Citadels –– dissolved––
Wastes of Lives –– resown with Colors
By Succeeding Springs––
Death –– unto itself –– Exception––
Is exempt from Change––
An unanswered question
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
by B.H.
What do you see with your eyes closed? What do you see in a foggy morning? What do you feel in sleep? What is written on the moon? What does a goat think when she is alone? Where does the water go, where does it come from? Why does the thunder follow the lightening? Why does it rain? Why do we breathe? Why do you have to live?
These all questions have answers that I don’t want.
Teenage musings… change my life. Please.
Why does that star shine? What is God? Why is He? Why do these tears trickle down? Why do they stream? Why does it hurt right in the middle of my heart? Why do I love you? Why don’t you love me back? Why it has to be like this? Why not like that?
Possibilities are every where, spread all over –– more than dirt-grains in a dingy cemetery, more than the stars in the sky in a clear night from the highest point, more than all the flowers, from this corner to that corner of this planet. She tells ––– I listen.
Why does she tell me every time…? Dare I ask you something? She always tells me to dare? Why? I ask this time… She is speechless… She is still ––– motionless ––– still. I know she won’t talk –– answer.
I am the fickle existence ––– like weather.
Say something. Change my life. Please.
I beg, I moan.
I want this cliché to become a surprising event.
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Depression days - MCR.. Demolition lovers
Thursday, July 15, 2010
by B.H.
History is mystery! Past is just past...
But I still remember. And ah? you're awake again? I wish you die!
Demolition Lovers
(My room)
Hand in mine, into your icy blues
And then I'd say to you we could take to the highway
With this trunk of ammunition too
I'd end my days with you in a hail of bullets
I'm trying, I'm trying
To let you know just how much you mean to me
And after all the things we put each other through and
I would drive on to the end with you
A liquor store or two keeps the gas tank full
And I feel like there's nothing left to do
But prove myself to you and we'll keep it running
But this time, I mean it
I'll let you know just how much you mean to me
As snow falls on desert sky
Until the end of everything
I'm trying, I'm trying
To let you know how much you mean
As days fade, and nights grow
And we go cold
Until the end, until this pool of blood
Until this, I mean this, I mean this
Until the end of...
I'm trying, I'm trying
To let you know how much you mean
As days fade, and nights grow
And we go cold
But this time, we'll show them
We'll show them all how much we mean
As snow falls on desert sky
Until the end of every...
All we are, all we are
Is bullets I mean this
As lead rains, will pass on through our phantoms
Forever, forever
Like scarecrows that fuel this flame we're burning
Forever, and ever
Know how much I want to show you you're the only one
Like a bed of roses there's a dozen reasons in this gun
And as we're falling down, and in this pool of blood
And as we're touching hands, and as we're falling down
And in this pool of blood, and as we're falling down
I'll see your eyes, and in this pool of blood
I'll meet your eyes, I mean this forever
P.S. I am officialy a weirdo now. Whatever.
From my pen, to my diary
Sunday, July 11, 2010
by B.H.
"You are an epic failure, who couldn’t even get his things fixed uptil this day? Day of harvesting!" I hear her saying with a bitter glare and I nod.
So silently, that I start hearing the inner me. A sore tear trickles on the fluffy carpet. And visions yet again come before the closed eyes as ever.
I, whose edges of sanity are always tinged with illusions and confusions. From whence – my delusion deposited in me the harshness and the bitterness – how can I get it fixed?
Beckoning are these major stunning lights of fascinating sinful, beautiful city and yet I resist – I strain – to free her grip from my wrist – wiggle and squirm, wrestle and twist…
And still she pulls me in the crowd – and introduces me with her friends – wearing the solid masks - despair. I even hate the first sight of life. I am not born for this – not for that – not for her – not for you but for this which starts from S and ends with E – the solitude.
Relentlessly pulling – my hand towards the people, she has the epic love for me, that can make my death so peaceful and heavenly, but I am silly or genius. And I try to flee, I can’t break away – the tension – Igniting as – now I want to stay and now as – I break through to sanities side – my eyes leak obtusely – as I realize, the place I’ve come back to… Is chock full of lies…
But I don’t want to stay, leave me, I love thee and I hate it. I am overwhelmed with anger on being piteous and yet feel piteous on being raging and then this monster – hatred comes – as I sprinkle it on both feelings, and I still have this monster – I’m opening the cage… But don’t go! I want you to hate you; I love you to hate you. I am the darkness lost in night, find me.
So silently, that I start hearing the inner me. A sore tear trickles on the fluffy carpet. And visions yet again come before the closed eyes as ever.
I, whose edges of sanity are always tinged with illusions and confusions. From whence – my delusion deposited in me the harshness and the bitterness – how can I get it fixed?
Beckoning are these major stunning lights of fascinating sinful, beautiful city and yet I resist – I strain – to free her grip from my wrist – wiggle and squirm, wrestle and twist…
And still she pulls me in the crowd – and introduces me with her friends – wearing the solid masks - despair. I even hate the first sight of life. I am not born for this – not for that – not for her – not for you but for this which starts from S and ends with E – the solitude.
Relentlessly pulling – my hand towards the people, she has the epic love for me, that can make my death so peaceful and heavenly, but I am silly or genius. And I try to flee, I can’t break away – the tension – Igniting as – now I want to stay and now as – I break through to sanities side – my eyes leak obtusely – as I realize, the place I’ve come back to… Is chock full of lies…
But I don’t want to stay, leave me, I love thee and I hate it. I am overwhelmed with anger on being piteous and yet feel piteous on being raging and then this monster – hatred comes – as I sprinkle it on both feelings, and I still have this monster – I’m opening the cage… But don’t go! I want you to hate you; I love you to hate you. I am the darkness lost in night, find me.
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"Life is unjust"
Monday, June 28, 2010
by B.H.
“Life is unjust”, “my life sucks badly” and “I’m curse”. That’s what I hear almost everywhere. I want to say that too, but when I think of what I think when I see such words, then I stop myself from saying that, 'cause it sounds hilariously pathetic, very very badly laughable! And maybe that's why I want to stick to this problem until it gets over tho' I'm pretty lazy about constructive things but still I must conquer the negativity; and I’m pretty sure that it is also one of those oft-heard pathetic sounding statement to you – the happy people (I am not comparing). But just imagine a life of a genius – misunderstood, a life full of flairs and hard lucks. And loneliness seems an outdated way of expressing one's boredom to you – the happy people (I am not comparing), ‘tis not, taste it if you ever can.
Today, I literally have zero friends if we count, zero percent sibling support, zero joy, boredom all the time. I never cried like this before. Ugh! I’m pathetic. Must suck! I thank God – Allah for this life and further, I do not have any complaints. I must get myself busy somewhere.
P.S. I am good at insulting! Beware!
And Ah? Fajr prayers call - Azzaan! wow!
I'm too sleepy too write anything positive with this.
P.P.S. I am writing all this with half eyes closed and full brain shut. Ma'azrat!
Today, I literally have zero friends if we count, zero percent sibling support, zero joy, boredom all the time. I never cried like this before. Ugh! I’m pathetic. Must suck! I thank God – Allah for this life and further, I do not have any complaints. I must get myself busy somewhere.
P.S. I am good at insulting! Beware!
And Ah? Fajr prayers call - Azzaan! wow!
I'm too sleepy too write anything positive with this.
P.P.S. I am writing all this with half eyes closed and full brain shut. Ma'azrat!
Exams, tension, preparations and aftermaths
Saturday, June 19, 2010
by B.H.
Sigh. Major sigh rather! I don't want to sound like a pathetic emo boy AKA long-haired-loser from now on ‘cause now I have learnt that I should always look at the bright side of every happening. Recently, I did the majorest (superlative of major) blunder by forgetting my roll number card at home on the very first paper! (I didn’t know my roll no. It was very long, more like some phone number) and the first word that came out of my mouth when I checked my bag and every pocket was something that rhymes with “Luck” and the other was that rhymes with “Land lord”, “gain-ford” or “main-chord” Okay! You get the point! Right? So I puked during the exam What?? I do it in nervousness, I can’t help! But good thing, I ran towards the bathroom without even asking otherwise, it would have been havoc… And the next paper was also bad one it was computer and it looked like an object code (Computer language in binary numbers) to me, it went horrible again! Instead of grumbling stuff like, why me? and I’m a curse etc I looked at the bright side, which was “I didn’t puke that day! Ahaa!” :D (My baba is very proud of me :P) No really I cannot recall even one day when things went my way, the day I can call perfectly awesome day, (Except for the Economics paper it rocked!) Okay so, my first paper went like this,
It was a fine sunny morning, butterflies were flying in my tummy and my exam was 2 hours away. I was excited and tensed at the same time. So, I read the horoscopes to distract myself, I swear Gemini said ”What a brilliant day you are going to have, success is yours today and money will come worries will go blah blah" my smile broadened and wrinkles lessened. I departed late for the college, 'cause I wanted to look at all the formulas again. I had been preparing for that paper since like forever ‘cause mathematics is my nightmare and digits and formulas can scare me to death, therefore, I had to do the best. And I don't know how but I forgot my roll no. card in the final math exam. I reached at college finally, excited! And then I checked my bag and all the pockets but my roll no. card was no where to be seen! OH MY GOD! (Censored curses and abusive language!!!) They didn't allow me to sit for one hour until my baba came along with the card! I was very nervous. I puked during the exam (in the bathroom) my hands were shivering on paper, my handwriting was being gay. And if I wanted to press 3 on calculator, I pressed 6 every time them backspaced then pressed 3! I forgot the simplest formulas i.e Harmonic mean and Correlation & Regression and I couldn't believe it! And it was 3 AC-ed small room, smaller than my bed room (no hall :-O) and I'm phobic to cold (You must have read my poem Winter phobia :P). I somehow managed to ask in a shivering voice if they could switch off the cold sprayers! More like death sprayers to me! But others opposed. I was HELPLESS, FRIENDLESS loser, I felt pathetic! And it was 10th of this month. I never pray to God in exams! Because I think it'd be gaudy and mean to only pray in exams like when I need Him (the most). This time I did! But what I got was this baddest (worst) day of my life. I cried my eyes out after exam in my locked room to the point I thought I was about to burst and wished to God to make me die, I wanted to hit by a bus. I never want to die actually but I just muttered that I don’t know why Time to write another painful, nihilistic, emo and gloomy poem, I did and ruined it. And then the day passed - consumed by twilight-consumed by night-consumed by dawn like every another day. And I witnessed the new sun that smiled at me and sprinkled the hot and loving beams upon me, I hoped for better.
I have now stopped saying the phrases like prayers needed, wish me luck and stuff. And I’m not going to read horoscope again in my whole life and I shall never let my kids and wife to read them.
My 5 papers are done and 3 are left! (Five cats rescued and three to go :P)
Very gloomy story, right? What if it was a mere one leaf from the diary! The Book of Vincent :P Scary na?
Some people have started calling me “Chalta phirta bad-luck” and “trouble” etc. But no heed no encouragement for them!
But I now don’t look at the dark side, Instead of the dark I look for the light, Instead of cry I look for laughter, Instead of solitude, I look for friends, Instead of death, I look at life.
I have learnt that,
Blunders just happen
Faith should not be shaken
Never feel broken
Enough is taken
If the wrong road is taken
Don’t lose the token
‘Cause the road not taken
Think, was godforsaken
Miley Cyrus in her movie Hannah Montana said, “Life is a climb, but the view is great.” Whoever wrote this I shall love her/him forever (ahm ahm) If she is a girl or woman then I’ll love her more, romantically as well as aaiwain (Don’t judge!).
And “The Climb” by Miley Cyrus. That’s my song from now on, the anthem of encouragement and consolation you can say! (And I shall love Miley Cyrus for this song forever)
Lyrics:
I can almost see it.
That dream I'm dreaming, but
There's a voice inside my head saying
You'll never reach it
Every step I'm takin'
Every move I make
Feels lost with no direction,
My faith is shakin'
But I gotta keep tryin'
Gotta keep my head held high
There's always gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be an uphill battle
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose
Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waitin' on the other side
It's the climb
The struggles I'm facing
The chances I'm taking
Sometimes might knock me down, but
No I'm not breaking
I may not know it, but
These are the moments that
I'm gonna remember most
I've just gotta keep goin', and
I gotta be strong
Just keep pushing on, but
There's always gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be an uphill battle
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose
Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waitin' on the other side
It's the climb
There's always gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be an uphill battle
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose
Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waitin' on the other side
It's the climb
Keep on movin'
Keep climbin'
Keep faith baby
It's all about, it's all about
The climb
Keep the faith, keep your faith, woah
P.S I posted the same story as a comment on some related post I saw somewhere last night just to share the experience!
It was a fine sunny morning, butterflies were flying in my tummy and my exam was 2 hours away. I was excited and tensed at the same time. So, I read the horoscopes to distract myself, I swear Gemini said ”What a brilliant day you are going to have, success is yours today and money will come worries will go blah blah" my smile broadened and wrinkles lessened. I departed late for the college, 'cause I wanted to look at all the formulas again. I had been preparing for that paper since like forever ‘cause mathematics is my nightmare and digits and formulas can scare me to death, therefore, I had to do the best. And I don't know how but I forgot my roll no. card in the final math exam. I reached at college finally, excited! And then I checked my bag and all the pockets but my roll no. card was no where to be seen! OH MY GOD! (Censored curses and abusive language!!!) They didn't allow me to sit for one hour until my baba came along with the card! I was very nervous. I puked during the exam (in the bathroom) my hands were shivering on paper, my handwriting was being gay. And if I wanted to press 3 on calculator, I pressed 6 every time them backspaced then pressed 3! I forgot the simplest formulas i.e Harmonic mean and Correlation & Regression and I couldn't believe it! And it was 3 AC-ed small room, smaller than my bed room (no hall :-O) and I'm phobic to cold (You must have read my poem Winter phobia :P). I somehow managed to ask in a shivering voice if they could switch off the cold sprayers! More like death sprayers to me! But others opposed. I was HELPLESS, FRIENDLESS loser, I felt pathetic! And it was 10th of this month. I never pray to God in exams! Because I think it'd be gaudy and mean to only pray in exams like when I need Him (the most). This time I did! But what I got was this baddest (worst) day of my life. I cried my eyes out after exam in my locked room to the point I thought I was about to burst and wished to God to make me die, I wanted to hit by a bus. I never want to die actually but I just muttered that I don’t know why Time to write another painful, nihilistic, emo and gloomy poem, I did and ruined it. And then the day passed - consumed by twilight-consumed by night-consumed by dawn like every another day. And I witnessed the new sun that smiled at me and sprinkled the hot and loving beams upon me, I hoped for better.
I have now stopped saying the phrases like prayers needed, wish me luck and stuff. And I’m not going to read horoscope again in my whole life and I shall never let my kids and wife to read them.
My 5 papers are done and 3 are left! (Five cats rescued and three to go :P)
Very gloomy story, right? What if it was a mere one leaf from the diary! The Book of Vincent :P Scary na?
Some people have started calling me “Chalta phirta bad-luck” and “trouble” etc. But no heed no encouragement for them!
But I now don’t look at the dark side, Instead of the dark I look for the light, Instead of cry I look for laughter, Instead of solitude, I look for friends, Instead of death, I look at life.
I have learnt that,
Blunders just happen
Faith should not be shaken
Never feel broken
Enough is taken
If the wrong road is taken
Don’t lose the token
‘Cause the road not taken
Think, was godforsaken
Miley Cyrus in her movie Hannah Montana said, “Life is a climb, but the view is great.” Whoever wrote this I shall love her/him forever (ahm ahm) If she is a girl or woman then I’ll love her more, romantically as well as aaiwain (Don’t judge!).
And “The Climb” by Miley Cyrus. That’s my song from now on, the anthem of encouragement and consolation you can say! (And I shall love Miley Cyrus for this song forever)
Lyrics:
I can almost see it.
That dream I'm dreaming, but
There's a voice inside my head saying
You'll never reach it
Every step I'm takin'
Every move I make
Feels lost with no direction,
My faith is shakin'
But I gotta keep tryin'
Gotta keep my head held high
There's always gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be an uphill battle
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose
Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waitin' on the other side
It's the climb
The struggles I'm facing
The chances I'm taking
Sometimes might knock me down, but
No I'm not breaking
I may not know it, but
These are the moments that
I'm gonna remember most
I've just gotta keep goin', and
I gotta be strong
Just keep pushing on, but
There's always gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be an uphill battle
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose
Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waitin' on the other side
It's the climb
There's always gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be an uphill battle
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose
Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waitin' on the other side
It's the climb
Keep on movin'
Keep climbin'
Keep faith baby
It's all about, it's all about
The climb
Keep the faith, keep your faith, woah
P.S I posted the same story as a comment on some related post I saw somewhere last night just to share the experience!
My three score and ten (Scathingly)
Thursday, June 17, 2010
by B.H.
(Of boredom and gloom)
Horizon is about to swallow the sun. It is spilling the beautiful orange shades upon the clouds alongside the sun. And moon with its glow – is to take control in the sky and the falling water is shimmering and reflecting the pale and full moon and the flashing stars on the pearly shawl of the earth. This day has faded and night has grown after twilight like every day. And with this night - this feeling is growing inside me, it happens often, maybe depression. It is slowly starting to bite, a kind of restlessness, I don’t know what? Some flashbacks, some voices, are haunting my mind, wait a minute! What are those eyes doing here? I know them, those eyes full of love, even bluer than the skies above of one fine evening. Looking at me at dagger point, what eyes? pointed like sword in a seductive way. But I thought no more is that those eyes’ gaze was seductive for me. Things – apparently, have changed! I thought I’d moved on, but it seems that I was and still not completely over, still stuck somewhere in her memories, I have got to take control of my life. Where are my giggles? The glimpses of my hurting past are still within my every vision.
So I sliced myself into two, to escape from all the painful frigid gloom, and gave a piece to this cruel and ruthful moments and other to my happiness - ‘so called’ and imaginary. I have never been happy with life and if I have been, it was for sometime. They say rise and fall is the part of life but I say if the fall is often and more than the rise then it becomes a crutchy life, a life in fog and in uncertainty all the time. You often happen to think you are alone even amid the bustles. If you make blunders you care less about them because nobody taught you how to care, nobody cared about you before. The bright side takes a lot of happiness but the happiness looks a mere grain of sand when compared to the ample deserted beach of the gloomy side. I never wanted to die and still I don’t want to but I am not keen of living either. Life is not ample but the events are. I just want to feel the real love by them, the real happiness, the real sun’s happy beams and I want to live in the real smiles, in the real beauties of life and nature and with the feeling of there-is-no-burden and I’m-free-from-cares. So, I shall apply law of equi-marginal utility but it has drawbacks like every hope I have ever hoped. Utility cannot be measured but life can be. Similarly, nature – my love cannot be measured but my life can be.
I just want to say, life is not enough, so gain most using least. Life is once and very beautiful, live every part of it, the gloom the light. Every style of it, the poor, the rich. Every taste of it, the conservative, the moderate. You have no time; just complete all your answers before the examiner comes and asks to return the answer sheet. As Emily Dickinson would put in:
I had no time to hate-
Because
The grave would hinder me-
And life was not so ample
So I could finish - enmity-
Nor had I time to love –
But since
Some industry must be –
The little Toil of love –
I thought
Be large enough for me-
Broken Notes
Friday, April 9, 2010
by B.H.
Bahadur Hussain
(ambitious amateur)
Today, the sun is happily shining for it has no worries. And it maybe a cliche to every one. But, today these happy beams of the sun are burning the edges of my soul and cutting the wings of my heart. As I feel caged in my freedom. And the agonizing feeling of being an ambitious amateur is even more painful. It’s a kind of state where hot beams of happy day touches you frigidly. Where the voices of beloveds quietly surround your broken existence. Pieces of your shattered hope shatter more. And where the peaceful serenades of love and affection sound bitter and sad. And the dirt of land and the smoke of vehicles of a brightened day seem autumn mist and fog of a dark night. Where hustle bustles spread all over as the sounds of mourning of funerals. If someone walks on green grass, it turns into brown dried leaves of autumn, where one can not imagine things like blessing, luck but only curse…My pen traces out these ailing words today, the words of my dreadful soul. And for a moment with little spans utter silence triumphs all over the place when the foggy visions trickle as twinkling tears on this fluffy carpet of my room. As I feel abased, dejected and of no use…!
(ambitious amateur)
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