Hiking at Mt. Ida,Rocky Mountain National Park
Right now all I can think of how everything will change
My thoughts, the view, the people and their beliefs
My whole world will take 180 degree turn
Even though I’m still standing on even ground
I know a man who wants to die. A man who spent his entire life in a vague mist of daily chores. Never was he interested in what life has to offer. Never had I seen such a waste of talent.
He didn’t put much thought to others around him. As if concentrating only on his own welfare can keep the equilibrium of the world. To him written words are sense of understanding; work an ethical drama in which he played the lead and to raise a family, mandatory convention of society. So he earned an honest meagre piece of bread and never took a bribe or holiday. Also, he never tried to better his life as he was content,
He married a woman no less then a princess with her beauty, intelligence and haughty behaviour. Not because he fell in love with her but because their family arranged the match. The princess was supposed to be an ideal woman to raise a family with. But his dream actually did not extent to raising a family. You see he was pampered spoilt beyond comparisons while his dreams shattered because his parents were scared they would loose him. Just like Rapunzel not allowed to venture into unknown territories for one’s selfish reason; or like Sleeping Beauty not to get his finger pricked by a needle as he will fall into infinite slumber.
In his old age he speaks of death in respite. A relief from pain in which he lived for half of his life. The pain always alluded in his stomach troubling him sometimes he said for a day, then days to months but never this pain receded. Why didn’t the pain receded if he took all his medications on time and with proper diet? And as he walked many his age looked at him in envy for the old man could walk. Still it was not and could never be enough for him but why? Maybe the pain which alluded him was not in his stomach but in his mind. He seemed uneasy in company always preferring the old kins over new chums and sometimes old kins were too much. In large gathering you could see his lined-face in anxiety. His hands moving along from his head to cheeks in wonder. And it is then he actually seemed in pain. People were loud with their pleasantries, questions, and raucous laughter. He never felt alive in anybody’s company not even in the princess company. So, he wants to die.
Envy is a sign of sin. To envy is to have insatiable desire and discontent towards others happiness but does one have to be discontent when another is happy? I envy; I sin everyday. I envy my mother of having a beautiful family. I envy my friends who are moving ahead in their life. I envy the stranger who is smiling over an ice cream cone. I envy the ease with which people go on with their life knowing their path. And I felt sorry for myself because I lack the courage which people are so used to and apt with. Though I know it doesn’t have to be this way. Somewhere in me this courage is inhabited. Yet I don’t let my courage be free as if I will loose something if I let it soar. So, I envy my mother, the stranger, the child and the people. My treacherous mind lives in discontent unable to sleep in night and unable to open my eyes to morning light. This discontent of mind somehow doesn’t extent to other’s happiness but to my owns. My envy is of the others but my discontent is totally on my own person. And it is totally upto me how I proceed with this enlightenment. Should I let this envy be the one which breaks me and make me into a green eyed monster? Or should I use this envy to better myself and built my envy into curiosity? Curiosity of how the stranger can smile over a simple cone of ice-cream.
If I know I have caged my courage unable to let it go like a child holding onto his favourite toy. I should maybe take baby steps build my confidence, take my own time but keep moving ahead until I can smile so easily as that stranger did (my insatiable desire). After all envy is just a mere word and it is upto me how I define it and myself.
Shouting profanities giving new meaning to subtlety
Do you really think that nobody notices?
The clinch in your armour and the bruise you keep fresh in your soul
I have seen it all, I felt that pain in my bones
–
Forgiven are none when eye searches for vengeance
Punished are even those who seek such manner of redemption
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Mainting a classified relation with such emotions
Tormenting one’s mind with cynical solutions
Never to take a flexible posture
Rigidty and redundance are recipe of disaster
–
How the night never let’s you blink?
How the sunshine leaves you ticked?
And the inside is ready to start war
Culminates into silence, you are standing on the brink
I feel the presence of black shadow carrying you,
Taking it’s spill of treasure chest buried in your soul,
Mocking me with savage mirth, it whispers to you,
And I stand baffled of the power it carries on its dark wings.
Unconquered the thought that plagued,
Now a rivulet drops in a river,
I contemplate what manifests today,
As it bungles everything you cared for.
A measure of doubt is severe to the attention,
It grows in silhouette, and I need the intervention.
As the fear breads the anxiety in my soul,
I forgo…I forgo you,
So I’m no more under the surveillance of black shadow
(I)
If I were conventional I would have written you a love letter
Told you about my story, predicament and stature
Give bits and pieces of my soul for you to play with
Your brow would furrow bemusing over our ascend
(II)
If I were conventional I would have written you a love letter
Sitting on my favourite chair by a mahogany table
The leather seat would dip a little as I rest my back
I would leave the overlay window open for sunlit zephyr
***
And the picturesque view of calm will have my mind in stir
Little hearts drawn on the corners of the fragrant paper
An epiphany can be formed between you and me
With careful precision of a skilled calligraphist
The words to my incoherent thoughts will suffice
(III)
I would start the letter with an endearment “Dear”
All my thoughts I would lay before you without fear
May even ask “How are you?” without perspiration or stutter
In words that flow through my system i’ll make you understand
Of my story predicament and stature
***
Similar to rivulets of water on a chilled glass
Reaching down to form an impressionable mask
With every emotion i left exposed through my words
I will encircle and seep into walls around your heart
***
If i were conventional i would have written you a love letter
You would be my only confession of guilty pleasure
And in my story we would have “our forever” written in endless chapter
In a sudden movement, to prove the worth of my existence
The door i left open when i took step towards holy manifestation
Leaving behind the memories that chained my soul
I’m aggrieved Dearie, moving ahead but not moving along
An Indian Princess 