Letter to the Bastards.....

You sickening bastards,

What the fcuk do you guys get from that?  It totally slips me...

I do not understand the joy of a fleeting second of your hand/body touching/hitting skin/dress?

Why cannot we enjoy a moment of let down guard?  Why should we be vigilant all the time?  Why is it our fault if we walk down a road enjoying the scenary instead of watching out for the sicko in every person we walk past. . .

Nobody is going to bother if you go to your fcuking corners at your homes and do sick things imagining random people you see on the road...  Atleast we wouldn't know. . .

Do you even know how humiliating it is, those few seconds/minutes?  Well, do you even care. .

There is almost no girl that does not have a flashback of having been abused.  Beginning right from childhood...  I really don't want to start on child abusers.  There would be no end, the sickest of you all. . .

And all those educated bastards... These are the decent ones - with their friends and aquaintances - but walk to the Pubs/Coffee Bars/Dance Floors or any place that has crowd/drink/smoke/dance/music - where women would want to let the hair down - and start showing their ugly side just because women are "out and bold enough to have our share of fun" . . .  They have the face to even say that to their friends -"well what are such places for... After all the women come there to have their drinks!"

Just because a woman drinks or goes out with her friends doesn't make her "easy"...

The things you do in public, range from flashing to brushing past to shagging to groping and pinching... What sickening joy?!!!!

Well, get this, I know it probably doesn't hit you at all, but in the weakest of your moments, where your inflated egos and disguised insecurities are exposed, remember this!  You are the most despised, hated beings that could ever live on earth. . .

Last wish. . .

The rubble around her intrigues her barely awake brain while she is quietly indifferent, to all that chaos and cacophony of the dying.  She is careful not to walk upon any piece of flesh whether a part of an alive being or dead and it is not a conscious effort - it is involuntary.  She is so numb with exhaustion that she is incessantly aware of every infinitesimally small change in everything around her. She extends her hand to feel the morbid air, thick with the thoughts of so many thousand weeping and feeble souls, most willing to die quickly than live the horrible pain, while clinging dearly to the little of life left in their atoms.  She braces herself against the raw cold, and walks without paying heed to the calls of the few sane people trying to help the helpless.  She is sane enough to watch and understand the hurt and gauge the gross damage. She is not sane enough to help anyone there beyond dragging herself away from them before she kills everyone to a quicker, more peaceful death.

She slowly comes around to hear her mother's voice; opens her eyes to get a startlingly clear picture of her mother with eyes that seem wise and strange - worn out eyes, sore with dried tears - reflecting a hardened soul, cold with strength, fighting against the weakness of emotions.  She sees her nod towards the doctor.  She understands at that precise moment.  Her mother did not let her down even now.  Her mother is always right - she smiles towards her gently - she knows her mother would have heard her think - I love you!  She looks at the single pearly tear that trickles down her mother's cheek, the one she always loved to rub against.  She can still recall the smoothness and the smell of it.  I love you mom!  She closes her eyes to the tiny pin prick of the needle – the last of pain she was to endure, the last of anything she was to feel in her short life.  She closes her eyes, gratefully!

Agony... Sweet!!

My eyelids close, my heartbeat slows . . .
I feel myself in rhythm with the silence around me . . .

It takes me high, stoops me low
I now not where I am, nor where I was ,
                              let alone where I should be
For I know not who I am, nor what!

Deafening silence bellows into my eardrums,
I keep my pace and lower my face
Burying myself into the deepest of crevices I find inside my darkened soul . . .

I see but there's no light and I see that there's no light
For darkened is this tunnel, this tunnel of void . . .

Moving through the fog and mist,
My body growing numb with cold . . .

Cold sweat breaks down my spine
And I find myself abandoned . . .
Naked fear my only wrapping . .

I see your face dawning close to mine
Like beckoning into more of pain
More of agony, sweet!!

And there I groan my last wish
Whisper my last kiss into your sinful lips. . .
                                My illusion . . .!!

And it all fades into more darkness
Irony, there was no light to begin with . . .!!!

An evolution of the dying . . .

There are just too many dead around me for me to care for one loss

There are just too many hurt around me for me to tend to one wound

There are just too many crying around me for me to wipe one tear

There is just too much sorrow for me to sympathize

There is just too much emotion in the around for me to empathise

This is my world

This is my life

And I am a walking corpse

And I look around once to realize I am one in a herd

And I pause and let the crowd go and realize it is not a small herd but a whole population

A civilization of dead

An evolution of the dying

I won't stay around happiness for long . . .

Don't keep me too happy,
'Coz I won't stay long then. . .

A soul that seeks the pleasures of sadness
that seeks the little points of light that leak in the crevices of darkness
I won't stay long around happiness. . .

Blessed with the curse of gloom and melancholy,
The joy of pity and the grace of sorrow,
The pride of shame and suffering insult -
Keep my sparce soul drugged. . .
So I won't stay long around happiness. . .

Thoughts of bitterness and memories of disgust
Keep me alive and remind me of my existence
N I won't stay long around happiness. . .

So don't try my love, to give me the joy of your heart. . .
Don't try my love, to keep me drunk -
drunk on your innocent love's insistance on laughter and sweetness
For I won't stay drunk for long my love...
I won't stick around happiness for long...

Let go of me I tell you,
For all I would do is hurt you
and hurt myself in the process
For I am drugged on sorrow my love

Clinging to the sheer pain of life
I draw you near to my weeping heart
Make you go through all that turmoil
For that is all I can hear in my head in the eternal silence of life

I live in a world of grey
where you are pricked and poked in different levels of pain
just so you would know that you are...

Which is why I tell you

I won't stay long around happiness...
For I am a soul that seeks the infinite bliss of killing one's own soul just so as to say "C you are alive"...!
- the ecstacy of slow death, a privilege of the mortals. . .

Whack!!

Heart is a pros***ute and the mind is the pimp!

Writing is like love, you can't decide to write even if you feel like you want to... It has to happen!

People lie because they're scared, either of telling "you" the truth or of the "truth itself"!

Theirs. . .

It was her.  He picked the ringing fone softly flashing her name to her fav song.  Her voice melodious as always, tugged at the depth of his heart. He could hear the excitement - of a secret about to be shared - in her voice, as she invited him to their fav meeting spot to tell him about something important, "for a special surprise" as she put it.  His eyes were softening at the sound of her voice, but also had the pain they always bore, whenever he heard her.  He smiled, so she could hear it in his voice and said he'll be there, for after all, he had been expecting this call.  He went about his day of work, without any visible distraction, but a neat undercurrent of memories, wishes, hopes, disappointments, love, misery.

He was there, 15 mins ahead in time and stood at the shore and let the lapping waves soothe his tired body while his heart raced.  But he exuded calm and cool, as always.  He sensed her and turned, she walked to the spot beside him and stood enjoying the soothing waves and the beautiful scenery, emanating soft beauty, as always.  The beach was mostly deserted at this late twilight hour.  They walked to their fav bench, she entwined her hand through his elbow on the way and he responded with a reassuring smile.

As they sat at the bench, she took his hand in hers and smiled, eyes widened, he understood her question and pretended a "no guesses" shrug of his shoulders but with enough enthusiasm to egg her on.  She placed his palm on her abdomen and he heard the faint but racing pulse as his own rose to match.  He searched her eyes and she replied with her twinkle eyed smile, cracking a dimple at one cheek.  He fell in love, all over again, as always.

"I did it", she said, almost trembling with passionate enthusiasm, "Artificial Insemination, State sperm Bank, they did not reveal the donor, not even to me, rules, and am only glad.  Called mom and dad and gave them the news.  They cut, not just the call."  He could see her swallowing the bitterness and disappointment gracefully and bring back her charming smile.  He wanted to engulf her in a hug.  "It's ok", she said as his care and worry for her showed in his eyes, "this heartbeat cures more than I imagined it would", she looked at her abdomen fondly.

He did not take his hand off her pulsing abdomen till they parted for the evening.  He dropped her at her door, a cozy little house where she lived alone, refused her offer to go inside with a whispered goodnight kiss on her forehead which she returned with a warm bear hug.

He left after she walked in and waved a good bye from inside the chain locked door.  He reached home, called up the doctors, the sperm bank and his confidente, the friend who pulled the strings.  Thanked them all  for her safety and for keeping his identity a secret, as a tear drop streaked his one cheek.