Celebration is for other people ….

Affliction is something which nobody can define. Even I can’t. It is always felt and then forgotten. Some forget forever and some remembers everyday. I should pat my back and also thank a few who helped me get out of the continuous affliction that tore me apart the whole last year – I was never the same anymore. Some people say you become strong, you become this and that … But nobody knows what I have become … Let us forget what I have become, and focus on what other people perceive of me… A friend told me that people have branded me as someone who is emotionally unstable and all my writings/poems seemed as if they are the product of such instability. He is an honest guy and what he told me about the perception is true.

Funny, that people, for whom I am going through such affliction, oblivious of it (highly unlikely) asks me to have fun, celebrate festivals …. very condescendingly.. and worst part is that they pretend to have not known about what I have been through …

I don’t know why I am writing this post but will soon figure out … perhaps it’s a product of my mental instability … perhaps celebration is for other people …. perhaps other people should always celebrate … but leave me alone …. I don’t want to celebrate and never will …

Wordsworth beautifully wrote the following in The Affliction of Margaret:

Beyond participation lie
My troubles, and beyond relief:
If any chance to heave a sigh,
They pity me, and not my grief.
Then come to me, my Son, or send
Some tidings that my woes may end;
I have no other earthly friend!

Ambivalence?

I write and I erase… and I write and I erase and I write and think that I will erase but then I keep writing and later erase and I write again to erase and more so I write while I erase …

Am I afraid, detached, tired, clueless, confused or just ambivalent?

Treacle par excellence?

Earth splits …
The skies bleed …
I die every moment …
And my soul’s not freed ..

Quirk of fate

 

Tumbling down in a quite bright light

Supporting myself with past of the night

Clamorous Truth

 

Probing in the shadows of Truth

Embracing the mirth of the ruth

Tenacious Spirit

 

Fading soul and haggard Spirit

The wretched tree has borne seeds

Ludicrous End

~ Ashok P. Bania

 

Ode …

There was a time .. I forgot what it was like .. all I can remember now is that there was a time ….

Words escaping me nowadays.. fatigue of physique as well as mind has connived to make me forget how things were like a few years before. Questions arise and answers float… have no time to catch them. This is life perhaps… it has its own mechanism of copying sorrow. I heard that average mourning time of someone’s death is 6 months. I have mourned for more than a year… tenacity I guess. But now finally nature has answered. I am forgetting … things are becoming hazy … yet there is a lump on my throat and a throb in my heart, which will never fade away ….

Here is a great poem by A.S. Byatt

Who are you?
Here on a high shelf
In webbed flask I
Hook up my folded self
Bat-leather dry.

Who were you?
The gold god goaded me
Sang shrieking sang high
His heat corroded me
Not mine his cry.

What do you see?
I saw the firmament
Steady the sky
I saw the cerement
Close Caesar’s eye.

What do you hope?
Desire is a dowsed fire
True love a lie
To a dusty shelf we aspire
I crave to die.

- “Christabel LaMotte”, AKA. A. S. Byatt
.

Fresh

Drops of indemnifying tears
Fills the chalice of grief
Overflowing it

I wasn’t so bad after all … after all that I was made to feel ..
No I wasn’t

I get a mouthful of fresh air
Filling my lungs with freedom
You are free and so am I

But ……

I wasn’t so bad after all ….

Memories …

You will be missed dearly …..

“Where is Abel your brother?” He said, “I do not know; Am I my brother’s keeper?”

But, to think of it, how can I hate you? Isn’t hatred blind, the way love is?
There have been a lot of instances when you really made me feel happy – a pat on my back, a good advice, a ruffling of my hair, a childish argument, stealing a kit-kat for me and what not!

Many a playwright writes tales of revenge – read The Count of Monte Cristo – they showed great man rose from the springboards of hatred. But for what ….? They sought revenge and it was over! Now that could have worked for me. But I have had the misfortune of seeing a beautiful side of yours. In a span of 24 months, which ended bitterly, I received more love than I received in my entire life. So how can I be vengeful.

Love can never be vengeance… not in my case. And I wish others also should feel the same. Trust me … thats a limbo you should create for urself … between love and hatred .. initially it will be a perilous journey and one fine day you will see, you’ll forget … you’ll forget everything …. and all that remains will be the memories you want to retain … love will conquer…

For that matter, I wish that even Abel should have received some love from Cain sometime ….

To You

On the lines of E. A. Poe …

I heed not the love of the world, nor that now I heed all your attention … I don’t expect any goodwill nor would I ever expect any fulfillment of the promises you’ve made … I will never ask for any advice nor will I ever ask for any pity ..

God forbid if I ever ask for your support nor would ever be any occasion when I would yearn to hear from you …

But only thing that is so saddening is that you’ve turned out to be just a passer-by, a bystander who never understood my trust and respect, who belongs to the category of people who doesn’t value another person till the time that person ignores you ..

Shame, sham … you have lost both my trust and respect, which, only a few people are lucky enough to get … coz everything else follows after trust and respect — everything else includes love, friendship, solidarity etc….

I seriously hope that you receive it from lot others … truly .. genuinely … not for what u do … but for who u are …

To

O! I heed not that my earthly lot
Hath little of Earth in it,
That years of love have been forgot
In the hatred of a minute:
I mourn not that the desolate
Are happier, sweet, than I,
But that you sorrow for my fate
Who am a passer by.

~ Edgar Allan Poe

Ways & Means

Train of thoughts .. very fast … very furious … racing past me… You know what! These days, one of ‘those’ again coming back to me. I think about it every where I go and every thing I do: anytime anywhere. For instance, when I am travelling in an auto I feel like jumping out and stand in front of a big truck …. in a highway … Then, I was sipping coffee… cold Delhi-winter morning, on my 17th floor terrace… in my office, I wanted to lean over the window-without-grills. Felt exhausted and peaceful … my acrophobia got stomped at the flick of a switch … and I wanted to jump off. And then the other day, when I was taking a hot water bath … I was enjoying every bit of hiss the hot water made touching my cold skin … saw the electric extension cord… wanted to dipp it in the very pleasing hot water. I hate you … I hate you pleasing me … when was the last time I told myself the truth – you pleasing me?

I am a bit exhausted, you see, writing this crap on a measly bit of webspace, showcasing the world a treasure trove of misery and run-of-the-mill bull crap which nobody will understand unless they experience it … alas world! And you ask me has the world gone to the dogs … haha funny ain’t it? … life that is ….

Died with a sweet memory of yours

I see you as a bad omen now
You follow me everywhere I go..
Says your ghost, “Will let you live no more” …

Every nook and corner I shift to in fear…
I see you looking with your piercing eye…
And a bad memory touches by …

I can feel you breathing and whispering…
Comical whimsical atypical
Coward laggard haggard

I see numbers and patterns and there you are
What kind of game you are playing?
Calculating in concinnity and conspiring ….

Let me die if you don’t want to leave
And if that’s so….
Then let me go
With a sweet memory of yours…
Of yore, life and galore

#Comments from old blog#

the vagabond said…

when i was a kid and still in school, our teacher was explaning a poem when soeone asked,”sir, did he write this poem after death?”

i politely borrow his line and ask you the same question.

9:37 PM

Crazyfoetus said…

@ the vagabond: Yes he died metaphorically …

1:43 PM

Till death do us apart!

If I knew there is life after death
wud it be so attractive?

If I knew there is no pain in death
Would it be so adventurous?

If I knew I am not missed
Would it be worthwhile?

There is no solution
with death
with life
and its fret

What I know now is real
And all the elegies are drivel
The song I am singing
will soon be a part of the past
And all that I remember
Will remain unto the last

To life ….

What did u think
when u started it?
That there will be an end?

Are u responsible with feelings?
Was this an adventure-
You would like to call “your own”?

Breaking a heart is so easy
It’s like smashing a beer bottle
- the bottle you drank with gusto
Have your tried mending one?

Have you believed in something that’s alive?
Have you tried burying someone dead?

Have you breathed free for a day -
without guilt, regret and shame?

Regret your life everyday
Or just live your life once

A choice you have made
A life you want to live
A question you’ll never ask yourself
Even though it lingers in the air -
you breathe, sing, dance, work and make love

Why did you meet me?
Why did you show me -
the unwritten story of yours
Why did you haunt me
With fervent hope of unbearable elation

This is a half written log of ur life
Which is twined with mine
In small knots of moments
when I felt you were not half as dead
As I thought you would be

Where do I start and where do I end
It will always be half written
Coz for once I realised
I knew you half as I thought I would

#Comments from old blog#

kihba said…

hey bania…nice poem man…:)
howz HT treating you these days ??

10:31 PM

Crazyfoetus said…

@ kihba .. thanx a lot man .. HT is cool man .. they shifted me to Virgin Radio .. now working for launch in Delhi

10:45 PM

Attenuation of fluttering spasms (ode to …)

Attenuation par excellence has been the order of the day …. but attenuation of what? Those who understand me will jump up the gun guessing … and as predictable as I am … they are right again. I have started practising minimialism and moderation rituals… Moderation rituals which the society understands and considers to be proper .. Practice maketh a man perfect .. I have started believing in the adage however quotidian it is yet it didn’t fail me. A heavy drop of tear is what was left in my dried eyes and that too it didnt come out. Kewl!

Its very easy to see people with jaundiced eye … after all BIO classes ingrained in us the self image and perception fundaes … today someone mistrusted me and mistook me for no fault of mine. I lent a helping hand today thinking it will benefit the person but alas! the be person misconstrued it … I am now agape at the reaction of the person… may be the person had reasons which i didn’t comprehend … may the person thought that my move was malicious.

This was the last straw .. already I had enough problems … it hit me hard today .. I started thinking about past ghosts … they haunted me … calling names … harsh words … I sensed rejection .. I sensed lonliness … I remember black february … February 2006 … but a new awakening of my sensitive side … I attenuated my expressions … thought still my heart hurts in the same intensity and in the same spasmodic time period… a huge anachronistic journey I had today …

I wish no harm to anyone … Only enemy of mine is my photographic memory which keeps coming to me and pinching me with those happy moments of 2005.

In the past month, I lost a lot of things … two precious people who loved me and I loved them so dearly … they r in antipodes and I am just haninging by the moments … Screw the world … what will they teach me … teach me to love?

But I am thankful to the world … they have made me a part of them … a walking zombie with attenuation and control … difficult to brave the new world? Nay …

#Comments from old blog#

Anonymous said…

u remember the quote abt humility and underwear? it applies to lending a helping hand too. expecting helpee to be grateful is a false expectation, defeats the purpose of help.
bolivar

I need rest too!

Image of the my Last Supper with them in IIML

Lo! some we loved, the loveliest and best
That Time and Fate of all their Vintage prest,
Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before,
And one by one crept silently to Rest

~ The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam 21

O God! You r the last one with me …

Peace my heart…

Peace, my heart, let the time for the parting be sweet.
Let it not be a death but completeness.
Let love melt into memory and pain into songs.
Let the flight through the sky end in the folding of the wings over the nest.
Let the last touch of your hands be gentle like the flower of the night.
Stand still, O Beautiful End, for a moment, and say your last words in silence.
I bow to you and hold up my lamp to light you on your way.

~Rabindranath Tagore

Excuse

I am suffering from extreme parsimony in writing my blogs and jotting down my thoughts. Probably with the gamut of activities around me, probably my mind is overloaded with thoughts (as usual!)
Sometimes I think about the utility of this blog … what purpose does it serve … do I really want to share with you what’s going through me … People like blogs with opinions and I believe nobody wants to listen to anyone’s rue or confessions … its so much like 6th standard. I want some medium to jott down my thoughts into … a journal could have been a better idea but then it would be just the same – keeping those thoughts to myself. Living with them has been such a trauma .. hence I hope someone will read it …

P.S. So far so good … I have joined this company which has the ability to churn out my potential … but then its just the beginning… Missing people, I love, a lot. Probably they don’t know it. It’s so amazing to know that 2 years you have spent with someone … had an intimacy … and bang! one fine day when you separate, you forget about them … Most people told me that real friendships should be cherished and friends always occupy a space in your mind and frienship needn’t be expressed … If that’s true I am at peace … but then it’s never true .. I believe that you need some amount of responsibility and more of love to maintain it …

You can’t benefit a friend by giving him accomodation in the tiny brain cell of yours … Expression do wonders …

Most of my friends would have forgotten the happy days we had … the time of turmoil and triumph … the time of seeking each other … I for one haven’t and won’t …..

End or beginning?

Its been 2 months 3 days at home … and this is my last post … last post written by me sitting in that small room of mine … with lots of windows .. a table full of stuff .. 4.1 speakers .. the mirror and a king sized bed .. I spent the 2 months 3 days at home in utter turmoil and disgust .. digusted not by my home but due to the sheer existence of elements that surrounded me .. sounds surreal ..

Not a single day has passed when I didn’t regurgitate what has happened around me – past or present .. let me adumbrate ..

I had a very tumultous beginning of 2006 which broke me .. I mean it ended all my dreams, hopes and whatever the world calls it .. I lost trust, respect and love ……..

When I reached home on March 23rd, I wasn’t the same guy I used to be – all listening, all smiling .. I remained aloof all the time .. so aloof that I responded to people only when they shake me or talk to my face … As fate would have it, I find myself in difficult times coping … erstwhile happiness held no meaning for me … Paranoia – u can call it … But every action has an equal reaction — well yes … not opposite this time … The more hard I found to cope the worse was my environment .. I was taunted … misunderstood and more often mistrusted ..

Punishment for love?

Nevertheless .. time heals .. 2 months have passed and today I feel bad to leave my sanctuary .. Leo Tolstoy in Anna Karenina said “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way” … fate I would call it … but never was a day when I harbored any angst against anything … probably God should have given me the power to hate – a power which can move mountains …. The more things try to move out … the more I want to catch upto it .. Probably this is the reason for my success … Probably this is why I love ……….

Waah Gulzar saab!

I have made an attempt to translate it in English …

Some things of mine with you I have left behind…
A few wet wet days of the rains …
And a night wrapped in a letter is left behind..
Blow away that night….
Return those things of mine

Autumn is really something .. isn’t it?
In Autumn, the gentle rustle of leaves falling
I wore in my ears once and came back,
The naked branch and the last leaf is still trembling…
Fell that leaf…
Return those things of mine

In one lonely umbrella, we were half wet,
Half wet and half dry … dry was what I brought back…
The ‘wet mind’ might still be lying near the bed
Send me that too….
Return those things of mine

One hundred and sixteen full moon nights and one black spot in your arm
Wet mehendi’s smell and some false tantrums
Send me everything….
Return those things of mine

Just give me one last permission…
To cremate these …
And I will sleep there too ….
And I will sleep there too ….

Reinvention with style

Changes and changes .. but somehow a Deja Vu is troubling me. Thought the situation is not so complex and could solve it easily. New ghosts are troubling me and ripping me apart.. sucking each and every drop of blood. Eternal Sunshine of the spotless mind is just an wishful thinking. How naive I was! One can never erase one’s memories. Nor one can forget the past. But one who can still move on (in different ways) and still live with these ghosts is the winner!

Once a close friend of mine said “You have recieved too much of undeserved flak”. That time it consoled me but now … things are different. No matter how others feel about the “undeserved flak” I recieved what matters at the end is the state I sleep in every night. That will never change.

People do wrong things for right reasons … I did too .. and others are entitled to do the same.

All I want is no one should feel hurt at the end … including me!

Exhaustion

You can’t ask the sun to be more brighter;
You can’t ask the wind to blow south;
Somethings are meant to be in dark corners;
Never wake them up and make them shout.

Sleep

I have found a new way to put a stop to all worries and depression. Earlier I thought it was death but now its sleep. Sleep is almost equivalent to death for a temporary time (the time you sleep). So I am enjoying every hour of my sleep. I have time now and I am using it for sleeping. When I am awake I do all the things I like – reading, listening to music. I have started attending classes with diligence and also I listen to them with my full attention.

It’s good sometimes to detach yourself from the world and be alone. Yes, it’s difficult to do… believe me very very difficult … it’s emotionally taxing and straining. But I can’t keep on attaching myself to people and get hurt by them. It’s not their fault. Getting hurt is mine. It’s just not done when everytime I get hurt, I accuse them of hurting me. How would they know what I expect from them? And by the way relationships are two way. How long will I keep on intruding their lives?

Sounds like escapism, but this is all I can do to keep myself from getting hurt and also hurting others…

Sleep…. that is it ….

#Comments from older blog#

Kaustubh said…

zzzzzzzzz…..