See you soon.

I am going to meet you up there, soon, oh believe you me, very soon.

I am going to ask you, why you screwed up, soon, yes, very soon.

You better have answers to why you thrust pain. Is it because of your small ego, everyone’s worship to gain?

Do you really think, you are getting away, from your own Karma? Do you really want to pull off your game, call it all Dharma?

With all your big words on love and peace and harmony, all fake, all just hollow. You really think you will enjoy your cushions in heaven, while grief is what I swallow?

The evil lives on. The devil dances infront of your eyes. What use are you of, witnessing all that’s happening? Have you got no shame? Seeing you silent on it all, is deafening.

I am going to meet you up there, soon, very soon.

You better have answers, why you screwed up, and made me look like a fool, a loon.


The Scar’s Still Deep.

He woke up, with a wide smile. His heart was throbbing, ready to tear his chest apart and jump out. It was a dream, but as vivid as life. It had been days since he saw her, rather years now already, in life. But today, he finally had a glimpse, even if it was a dream. Yes, a dream this vivid, as vivid as life.

Minutes had gone by. He now started recovering, into the reality. The dream had come to an end. He, now, felt the chills of the northern air. Chills that could freeze. The blood felt like being called back upon by his heart, as he sat still like a ghoul. And now, there were no winter air chills. These were the chills that could freeze a soul.

This girl, this petite girl, who could do no harm, or so he thought, had entered his life, half a decade back. She plucked his heart out, and threw some life into it. Made him a man, who could now laugh, breathe, smile and enjoy small pleasures of life. And he allowed this sin. He let her pluck his heart, and carve it with her own knife.

Sin! Sin! Sin! Is what living beings around were yelling into his ear. But he couldn’t care less, for his heart, mind, soul was already handed over to this petite brunette. She showed him perspective. She showed him songs. She showed him breath, what it felt like living. He always feared life, but now with her, he feared death.

Everything seemed just perfect. On the last day of his life, half hour before he died, she cried, ”I love you! And I fear, I can’t live without you!”. He returned the words with a ‘too”. But the devil had different plans. Satan started dancing at the last half hour. He did not know, that would be the last night with her, and future had no chance.

Half of half a decade later, today, he sees her still. But not in life, for he is dead already, yet he still dreams. He woke up, with a wide smile. His heart was throbbing, ready to tear his chest apart and jump out. He finally had a glimpse of her. Her mother calling from the balcony. It was her, it was her, it was her without a doubt.

She was with him, as her mother watched up from their house, who knew, he loved her daughter, heads over heels. They had endless talks, right through the nights, right through the days. It felt like theirs was a story, that was about two inseparables. They celebrated even the month anniversaries, each month, in their own ways.

That was the dream he had that night. He dreamt of her. Her eyes, her sweet lips, her hair, her smile, everything from a fairy tale. He remembered every feature clearly, the mole beneath her lips, the long nails painted always. He even remembered how she weighed. In his dreams, it was their spring days.

Time. Though time is a player, who keeps his cards close. Never reveals. Has never disclose, as to what is kept in his deck. That bastard. Oh Time! That bastard! Showed them days, euphoric. Made him feel that she is now all his. All of her was all of his. Made them feel like question of tying knots was now only rhetoric.

Everything came smashing down. She went away. He was left behind. For months to come, he kept writing letters and odes to her deaf ears. The ship had sailed, said she, without bidding goodbyes. Hell. He would have never accepted a goodbye. So she moved on as he held on. She went away, but he would stay.

Half of half a decade has gone by, and yet he holds on to her, her spirit. A dream makes him smile, a dream makes him cry, a dream is all he got to live now. He has been dead long time past. Only these dreams act as a window to his life, to his past. He walks alone between the fringes of time, one moment present, most moments in past.