Reckoning

I used to like cold rains at this time of the night. I don't anymore. It stirs up the emotions that are now dead to me.

I glance into this empty glass trying hard to find the answers, yet remaining indifferent to my dripping wet shirt. Or so I thought. It's hard to escape this sharp cold when it keeps reminding me of the warmth I felt when I hold her hands. When you can't keep the promises you blindly made, it comes back like a plague you can't run away from.

Maybe I don't need to find the answer. Maybe I just need someone to listen to. Maybe this empty glass is that someone. I wonder how many stories it has drank up. I wonder how it's still standing after all it has seen all. You can't but marvel at its surviving skills. The one that survived to tell every story.

Time as a source of salvation

I dream of its gift and I pity the science. I admire the conflict it triggers- the reality of the eternal or the illusion of the flux. The struggles of the human experience sometimes puzzles me whether 'the real' or 'the true' is present in a false or a lesser reality. Is there a 'real time' and a 'false time'? Maybe a real time is a time that encompasses 'significant' experiences- those having purpose and direction. Would then a false time be a time which returns onto itself ? But is the 'significant' already a part of the 'significant' waiting to be understood by us? Time present and time past are both perhaps present in time future, and time future contained in time past.

I wonder whether the phrase 'there is a time for everything' is a hearsay. Maybe it envelops the mere existence representing death in life and the spiritual rebirth with life in death. But there is time to prepare a face to meet the faces we meet. There will be a time to murder and create; time yet for a hundred indecisions; for a hundred visions and revisions. Having remained irresolute in the midst of the possibilities of salvation within our ordinary temporal experience, we will continue till we die.

The wait for the morning

I sit here wondering what went wrong,
When I had promised I would make everything right.
Next time I would show her I love her more than life itself,
That she is the first person I think of in the morning,
And the last before I go to bed.

I sit here wondering what should I say,
When she asks," Do you love me?" again.
Next time I would tell her ,"I love everything about you down to your hair."
"I love every second we spend time,
And that I am paralysed without you."

I can't wait for the morning to come,
To say, "you make my life worth living,
And my time worth giving."
I will wait for her like I do every morning,
And this time it will be the same as when we first fell for each other.

I keep wondering why the morning came and left so soon.
I look to the horizon but she never came.
For now, I will hold my story back.
I will dress myself with a smile to hide until next time.

The White Lily

I remember the time when you used to take me ,
To the mountains, to the place decorated
By beautiful colours and defined
By the modesty and majesty of the white lilies.

How splendid they looked!
Sometimes I wonder whose beauty I was admiring
Now I undestand why you are like the lilies.

At dawn they unite with the breezes,
To announce the coming of light,
To breathe life into this place,
And fill it with their fragrance.

A memory of a moment of happiness.
Sometimes I wonder if it would be the same without you
Now I understand why you are my lifeblood.

I tried to bring the lilies to my garden,
But they just refused to endure.
I have given them chances,
But they just let me down.

Its a lover's gift descended
From the blue tent upon the green carpet.
I just wish they could blossom in my curtilage
The same way I wish you could come with me.
I wish you would understand.

THE TIME MAKER

I have been doing this for seven years now. It's not like I love this job but I have no other alternative. I can label my father as a virtuoso and he has perfercted his craft over the years . I learned from my father and learned well. But I didn't learn to enjoy this work. This is not the life of a 22 year old although my thick glasses gives the impression of otherwise. I don't comprehend how someone, confined in a solitay room would enjoy working all day with instruments such as magnifiers, hairspring tools and hand removers. After going all through this, the customers don't even acknowledge your craftmanship. You will find almost everykind of watches here from the costliest to the one made by a local watchmaker.

I wonder if there ever was a creator for the very entity that a watch symbolises. Can he manipulate his creation? Did he ever get acknowledged for his creation? Can he repair it if there ever a need arises? Why is there only one model for his design? Its funny there is time ,on one hand, which the greatest of minds are trying to understand and a watch ,on the other, whose creator is clubbed with mediocrity. Maybe it was designed without a designer. Maybe its a craft without a craftsman.

P.S.: Inspired by "Who watches the watchmen?" (Watchmen 2009)

The Wrong side of Right

I wonder if what my parents told me were true. Am I being punished for not following God's plan? How would I know what God's plan is? I don't even know if any God exists or not. What is the definition of God? -Creator, Omnipresent, Omnipotent, Guardian spirit. But that is the definition given by man. People can take different positions for different reasons and apply it in different ways.

These distant thoughts are the only thing that takes my mind away from this dreary night. Maybe the single fact that I have not been able to escape the labyrinth of solitude is proof enough that I am taking the wrong stand. My mind tells me its a non- sequitor, some may even call it a blooper. I did not exclude the possibilty of some theoretical God or some specific God existing neither did I exclude the possibilty of someone else knowing for sure if some God exists or not. Its an ethical duty not to assert claims for ideas which we cannot adequately support either through evidence or logic. So I chose 'agnostic' to describe myself.

Its easy to label 'agnosticism ' as a an alternative to atheism or even a middle path. But I have looked at it as a separate issue compatible with both factions of the society- theist and atheist, different from the mistaken notion of the narrow, single definition.

This was not supposed to be the way I turn out. I was supposed to be a disciple of God and his teachings. Atleast when I was a child the hope of God gave me an inner strength, a psychological stability. I miss that. I don't know if the pursuit of knowledge is any better or worse than God smiting me with lightening. Whatever the case, the responsible thing for me to do is to suspend judgement altogether.