Remembrance

You know you’re alive,
For now,
In this place and time.
You sense it too,
It’s too short awhile,
People and places,
Happiness and feelings,
Moments and memories,
Everything dies.
But is not enough time,
To commit each line,
Into this world,
Give it life.
Each word read,
A lifetime felt,
A memory etched,
Another stretched.
Re-remembering the scent,
Re-finding it’s lost place,
Among the other million times,
Of similar days.
But you should,
For you’re the only one,
And nobody else can,
Speak the same tongue,
Utter the same words,
Feel the same loss.
And for memories,
Of lost friends,
And forgotten lovers,
For the existing colours,
And the ones unseen,
For the foreseen memories,
And forgotten days,
For the love you felt,
And the one which hurts.
You need to get it out.
Breathe into life those words.
Give them life,
And your soul.
Become immortal.
Conquer death.
All this and an unforgotten life.
Start now before it’s too late.
Die a thousand more times,
To relive a single memory.
Tell them all,
Show it to them,
Make them live though it,
Scream it out loud,
Create a world,
A universe,
A life they will all relive,
Though you.
In your memories,
And mistakes.
And myriad of fantasies.
And so I must.
To keep them all alive.

Through these words.

Pink

I loved you.
More so unknown than I could ever tell you.
I did tell you.
I know that you knew.
I knew that you did too.

It was supposed to be eternal,
You and I.
Doing what we do,
across time and space.
Being us. Just us.

You were a flawed being.
With your stubbornness and beliefs.
I was too, and still am.
But it was our little world,
and us against everything else.

I picked you over everyone else,
sometimes even myself.
I truly loved you.
You were my first and my last.
You still are.

Every memory I have is shared.
With you.
All our firsts,
and our lasts.

I miss you Pink.
More than ever.

I am sorry,
I should have been there.
I am sorry I couldn't be better.
I am sorry.

Your memories are all I have,
Our times together.
I do not know what this life is without you.
It hurts.
Terribly.

Everyday is a reminder of something we did.
You are always there.
You will always be here with me.
Forever.

You are the only one pink,
and I cannot forgive myself,
I wish we could hang again.
Like we used to.

I wish I could talk to you,
for hours, and speak about nothing.
I wish you could be here,
with me.

Battle your demons each day kids!

I sense your longing,
a lost fleeting song,
one with memories etched in its words,
fading away into nothingness.

You smile through the pain,
the struggles of someone too old to be young,
too young to be reborn,
too old to be someone else.

Some days seem unreal,
uphill battles and volcanic ashes,
and others fierce with possibilities,
and overwhelming strength.

Time to reset,
sleep, wake up and sleep.
Be aware and awake and asleep.
Let us postpone it to another day.

Life and the constant battle to keep your demons at bay.
Did you laugh today?
Or cry. Or think. Or dream?
Did you live today?

I did not. I have not for a long time.

Here, not for long.

I will write today,
As I did yesterday,
but not the day before,
for I too am human,
and share the species frailties.
But I too am human,
and I share the same hopelessness.
The same virtue of forlorn need,
for finding substance in subtleties.

What I did not write was about,
the words which are seldom said,
life chimes in wind,
each sounding different to the gust.
I did not tell you about the pain,
about how we stuff our hearts,
in square shaped boxes,
made to fit square shaped hearts,
but not for heart shaped squares.
About how we long for meaning,
for substance in truth,
for resistance in words,
for acceptance in silence.

I did write about the world,
about life as one sees it.
About existence in pain,
and perseverance in boredom.
About longing for love,
and loving her long.
I wrote about the lies we tell,
the ones we believe.
and accept and abhor.
About the empty promises we make. 

Where do dreams go to die?

A life too short to live,

A body too fragile to hold,

with concubines in this hive,

our lies repeatedly sold.

Is this what it was to be?

were we living a lie?

Where do our dreams go to die?

What happens to the promises?

Unfulfilled ones lives on forever,

in the memories of their lovers.

Forgotten ones remembered,

in relived memories of longing.

Another world awaits,

for those left behind this one,

a better one with hope and happiness,

and unfulfilled promises. 

True.

Aren't we all becoming drones?
Doing what we think will make us happy.
Or lead us to happiness.
Feeling nothing along the way.
Hoping we are on the right path,
to someone else's idea of fulfilment.

We are transforming into something else,
nothing really matters,
no great wars to fight,
or hardships to overcome.
We look towards the past hoping for an answer.
And the past looks back asking where we went wrong.

How does one keep up?
Where is the quest in this life?
The purpose one claims to be his.
The passion in ones life.

In circles we run,
and nobody tries to break it.
no one stops to think what is all this about?
Who or what are we going towards?

I will move forward,
procreate and ensure my progeny too ruins the planet,
and then I would die out.
Like the rest of us.
Death will come unannounced.

There is no end goal.
No nothing to fight for.
Nothing worth investing your time in.
You do nothing.

Yet we do this.
We look at others for answers,
to questions only we ask.
Maybe I am the single consciousness,
in this vast system of drones.

The more i try to mimic them,
the less I succeed.
I cannot stop being me.
All this while I have been fighting.
A fight I will never win. 

Summer

I will forget you someday.
I did, the ones before you.
And create new life,
and an endless sea of hope.

We repeat these circles,
iterate over another,
scar our lives further,
hoping to bleed anew.

Breathing a new life,
each time over,
another cursed cycle,
another craving soul.

I wish I did not.
I hope to remember.
But I know this life better now,
I know time will melt the snow.

Now we part ways,
maybe we'd meet again,
in a crowded bar, playing old memories,
with the summer tunes from the past.

I'd get us beers,
or celebratory shots.
We're old friends remember,
who forgot to forget.

Away.

I miss you today
It's one of those days
When I struggle to breathe
Where I notice the void
Left behind by you
In my numbing days

I don't miss you On other days
When I have the world
To conquer and consume
When I replace you
With little things

But like yin and yang
You creep back into
Again and again
This lifeless existence
You disrupt my life
You make me notice things

I don't see colors anymore,
But see it's absence
Happiness almost present
Left longing for more
I hear your voice
Each note in every song ever made

And each night
I wish you were here
Every morning I long for your warmth
And all the things
That we left unsaid
I wish we could scream

Unloved.

The cigarette burning through,
smoke enough to drown dreams,
or dreamy smoke to fuel life.
Sitting watching the emptiness,
trying to feel,
Feelings to try again.
Who are you now?
who are you trying to please now?
Where are you now?
Are you alive? do you even feel?
Where did you lose brother?
How far along have you come?
You stay detached.
Angry at yourself, for being someone.
Feel, fight, pick sides, run, die.
Emote dear love, this is not you.
Let it all be free. Flawed.
Stop trying to hold on.
Let it go, let the world swirl into nothingness.
The madness breathing life.
wake up and be alive.
The numbness will die down,
warmth will flood your inner soul.
Give in to the wants, and want it all.
Worship your devil, and give him life.
for that is the only way. Be unloved.

I don't love you on those days...

I don't love you on all days.
I don't feel loved either.
Love, to me is transient.
It comes and goes in short pulses.
Like panic attacks in a crowded place.
I do not wake up wanting you,
I run away and hide when it hits.
Weakened and mortal,
I wait for it to pass.
I try harder on the normal days.
You don't understand that,
I don't feign my feelings,
Or tell you fancy things.
I just want to get through these troubled times,
hurting you less, wanting you less.
But I know how these things are.
They take control of you,
wrecks your defence,
warms your heart and finds your weakness.
I don't love you on those days.

And there are days I give in,
I let myself be wrecked,
I stop caring about the fire,
I wait for it to burn me down.
And I regret those days.
I want to hold you close,
Feel your warmth, touch your skin.
I lose control over myself.
I crave for you.
I tell you I'm not ready for love,
even when I'm filled with it.
I tell you to go away,
when all i want is to hold on.
I don't tell you I don't love you,
on those days.

Goodbye bee.

I wanted you. I longed for you.
Truly. Wholeheartedly. Honestly.
I wanted the whole of you. Every bit.
I wanted to make you smile.
And I wanted to make you mine.
You are that one memory..
I've played over and over again.
It gives me the shivers even now.
Thinking of that one moment in time.
How it could have gone.
And how it ended up being.
I know you felt it too. That one time.
And that's all it was. That one time.
Now I see you. And I don't.
I long for that feeling to return.
I hope against hope that you remember.
But I know you don't. Might never again.
Yet I gaze away from your eyes.
I'm afraid to show you my burning soul.
I will wait for it to burn down.
And the memories along with it.
I'll be broken again. Melted and cast.
But I'll be shinning on the outside.
And you wouldn't know.
I wished it was different this time. 

The Medium

You are submerged in a dark liquid.

No light dives beneath its surface.

You cannot see. The darkness is absolute.

You are held there. You are not floating.

Not drowning, just still.

You can feel the medium all around you.

Yet you cannot touch it.

Your skin is foreign to its touch.

You are no longer breathing.

You are not suffocating either.

But you long to breathe. 

It does not kill you.

Its changing your reality.

Are you ready to accept now?

That there is no air to breathe.

You do not have to breathe anymore to exist.

Your existence is felt through the ripples, 

Not the bubbles.

Tear up now.

So there we were,
In our little infinity.
Holding on to whatever that was left of us.
As we wished time to stall
and life to go on.

Maybe years later,
I'd come back for this.
This little envelope of time,
in which we shared our love,
warmth and let it go.

I'd stand outside,
looking at us make the same mistakes
Over and over again.
Knowing somewhere deep down,
That there was no right decision there.
Only love. And loss.

Shipwrecked lives

Awake, floating off to the unknown,

part wreckage of the known,

ship that once set sail,

Little it did against the Gale.

Awake, with your back to the moon,

clueless you float till noon.

wondering if you were the one,

to chaos, to reign over their sun. 

Hear their cries,

their plea to the skies. 

Those fallen along,

who played your song.

It began with you,

And so shall it end.

those together were few,

and those broken shall mend. 

The Selfish World of the Selfless.

The world is out to get you,
keep a watch over your shoulders.
The world is going to hunt you,
fight you with its soldiers.
They are going to brand you,
torture and break you,
all forms of induced pain,
for all reasons of selfish gain.

Go on now, be the hunted,
run for cover, and be shunted
till your legs falter and begin to bleed
till your last breath before you fall and plead.
And stay down, lie really low
cower yourself and await the next blow.
While at it, recite a silent prayer
and skin your ego, another layer.

Oh you loved them! You gave them power,
And the life was good, while it was your lover.
You danced to their songs and whispered in their tongue
knowing very well, when they'll have you hung
And that is when they had you blind,
had your trust, appeared too kind.
But you played along, all too well.
let the dream be, a tolerable hell.

And now,

Don't you hear them anymore?
taunting, tempting.
offering everything that was before.
Don't you hear your laughter?
from an another time, place.
Calling you back, asking your price.
Would you give in? Please come back.
Once more, Just once.

Fade away.

Slowly you fade away
From their nights and day
And none will seek your name
It's then you've won the game

You walk among men known
And yet you feel unknown
In your mystery lies power
Hidden for you to discover

Would you have then mastered
The claims of those bastards
Who sought to deceive all
With them in their fall

And when you do return

after long years bygone,

Who would you have become

living in the memory of some

A lovely song plays,

it takes you back to those days

When you were the one

whom they called 'Son'!

And now you are back

with a heart that is dark

would you be welcome now

to the places you did love

I wonder. 

do you?

Do you live to die?
Or wake up to fly?
Do you run to win?
Or feel the wind upon your chin?
Do you smile to hide?
Or laugh to snide?
Do you sing to feel?
Or scream to heal?
Do you fall to land?
Or await a helping hand?
Do you get up to fight?
Or just reach for the light?
Do you remember to relive?
Or forget how-to believe?
Do you pursue to let go?
Or wait for it to slow?

I did. Or did i? 

Tonight...

Where are you girl?
Fighting for me.
All by yourself, tonight.

Where are you girl?
Holding my hand
Tightly bound wand, tonight.

Where are you girl?
Laughing for me
Our little secrets, tonight.

Where are you girl?
Screaming at me
Your broken half, tonight.

Where are you girl?
Walking away
Hurting yourself, tonight.

Where are you girl?
Smiling at me
In my dreams-lost, tonight.

All awaiting eventual doom

Gloom fills this cheerful room

spinning its webs on an ancient loom

swept aside by a hopeful broom

All awaiting eventual doom

Achachi

I lay comfortably twisted on the floor; you know that one particular position that seems to work for you. I am at my native; or rather you can say my dad's native. I have very fond memories of this place. Ah! what beautiful days those were! Childhood at its best! Every summer spent in this part of the world. How I used to long for these vacations. We did nothing and everything. Every day was as eventful as the previous. So many memories etched on the plantation trees, on the tiny pebbles in the tiny river-lets we bathed in.
All these memories remain fresh in my mind, lamenting at the thought recreating the past. The past remains beautiful, shiny and crystallized in happiness. But i stare at the fact that it is the past, and as all beautiful things memories too die away slowly.
I characterize time with respect to events. I associate the passing of an era with something eventful that happened at that point of time.
It had been a year since my last visit. The last time i was here to visit my grand-dad, for the last time. I miss him dearly. Now when i try to remember my time with him, I always see a smiling face. I cannot remember him as a sick and bedridden person, but as a strong individual going about the rubber plantation or the house doing odd jobs or fixing something. I remember he used to make bats and balls for us, using some or the other part of a coconut tree. He was always there to make our vacations memorable. I remember the time we used to buy chocolates in his name, and he would pay the shopkeeper later. He never complained. He was a happy person. I wished it could have been different, wished he was here with us. Life could have been a bit kind to him. I am sure he’s still with all of us, still living through the memories we have of him.
He loved us all. We all loved him too.
'Achachi' - That's what we grand kids called him. His name was A. P. Govindan Nair (the 'A' and the 'P' for his house name and fathers name respectively). He was a small stout man. He had a small frame but he seemed big in the eyes of a 7-year-old.
 He had thick rimmed reading glasses. There was a framed picture of him hanging in the dining room, Achachi in his youth. He looked immaculately dressed, like a perfectionist. He always had a knife kept under his pillow, a habit from him youth i guess. His hair was pearl white, and we almost had the same hair-do.
He used to go to the village 'Vayanashala' every evening, he and his fellow comrades playing cards in the library. I wonder if they gambled there, or if he was even good at it. And while returning he used to get us chocolates again. Good old chocolate-rubber-trees-coconut-bats filled days.
He had an old steel suitcase under his bed, it was green in colour. I always hypothesized that it was in this, that he stacked his bundles of rubber-money. I was wrong of-course, but it gave me a sense of mystery about suitcase. It was what I wanted to believe.
What else do i remember of an old man who lived in a faraway house middle of a plantation? Who used to be a Malayalam teacher, who conjured play-things out of thin air when we need something, who used to hang rubber sheets up in the kitchen chimney to dry.
Who had that ever so welcome smile.
I miss you Achachi.

We have all grown up now, Ammu chechi just got married. The house on the hill is uninhabited and the rubber trees in need of your attention. Nobody visits during vacations and no more chocolates in your name. No more coconut tree bats and no more memories to etch.

Appu