The Exile

Mourn, Oh beauty!
mourn for me
the sun passes
glades golden
gentle breeze
caress and cry
follow me not
softly and gently
come within
remember me
soul bereaved
steady steed
silent wishes
and whispers fly
wave me off
to serene sky
never forget
pray for me
hope against
but test me not
chaste love
and heart yours
tears cry
watch the horizon
wave to me
mourn me not
everlasting beauty,
mourn for me.

A Study in Solitude

Seeing someone's blood all over your hand has a curious way of bringing you back to your senses. The many rivulets of the warm crimson liquid gushing forth and coalescing to mark their territory can also just as easily push you into one of your worst nightmares. I, for one, am no exception.

As I stood there, watching with a smile on my face, the ultimate beauty of the farce called 'life', I could finally see. I could finally understand why I was attracted to her so much. Why she had come to rule my life. Why I had to do what I did. What I was seeing was beautiful beyond compare. She looked so serene even in death, my heart ached with an intolerable impulse. I wanted to capture each and every strand of her silky hair, capture the depth of those beautiful eyes, capture every single detail of what I was beholding. It was like looking into God's own eyes, communicating with him, apologising for my sins, and finding sympathy and understanding. After all, isn't that what destiny is all about?

My name is Kenji and this is the story of Misukawa, the girl of my life. The girl whose death made me find God. The girl who, as they say, made me who I am today.

A certain someone, impressed by my writing skills, had asked (nay, badgered) me to try my hand at books. Well I am a man of my word, and I did try. And as now there's no point in deferring it to eternity, I give you here the prologue I had written for it.


The beauty of the night

You know, there is definitely a distinct beauty in the darkness of the night. No, not just a beauty, 'coz beauty fades away. The night is everywhere and for everyone. It is the cool reprieve a poor hawker seeks. It frees up the space for a street urchin to sleep on the sidewalks. It provides cover for those seeking to unleash the beast within. It softly caresses the bereaved with a sense of anonymity. It is the one which helps you draw into yourself, making you think and believe what you wanna believe.

My Mishaps with Muses

Contrary to what I've told some people, my blog posts are mostly about or inspired by what happens with and around me.

Well before you start running to me, asking me to explain what I meant in this post and that, lemme just mention that it may not be as straight as you thing it is. The blog post may be a refinement of an incident, or some insignificant detail of one that caught my attention. But then again, it may very well be so!

Anyways, here we go...

Till date I've hit upon the love treasure thrice. Is that too many or too few? I don't know. Did they love me back? I may know a little, but certainly not all I wanted to know. Do I still stand a chance? Again..I know some, but not enough. What I do know is this:

The first one was so early I was'nt even thinking on love lines until the time came for her to move away. When I did realize it, she was gone. Don't worry though. We did meet online many times, and every time I dropped some subtle and some not-so-subtle hints at her. Did she not understand or did she just ignore them? I'll never know. I believe I lost this one because I took an aweful lot of time and because I did'nt put it in strong, concrete words. Anyways, that was my first and longest(by far) love to you.

The next one just sort of happened in college. You know, the way long-standing friendship progresses and all. That one fell apart, and I am not a big cricket fan, because of (mis)timings. Apparently we loved each other, but not at the same time. (If Karan Johar is reading this, read this as "my next movie on a platter") Well that was my most amicable one till date.

The third one (and the wound is still fresh here) is....well...the shortest(? arguably) and the strongest one yet. Am a maniac about her. Can't think straight, can't see anyone else, can't hear others when around her. I think you get the point. I have heard a lot of things, but I would like to believe that this one did'nt work because I jumped the gun and put it in too strong words (and yes, the irony is not lost on me).

So..there it is. My very own 'muse list'.

Barrier breached!

Gloomy and dark days spread across the horizon of my life as I drifted off in melancholy and despair. There was lots to see, but my eyes were blinded. The sweet music of love that once guided me through the muck had gone happily gallivanting with treasures of its own. Faraway voices of my fellow bloggers beckoned from across the darkness. Yes there was so much to write, so much to share. But the trauma had left me scarred and unsettled. Words forming behind my eyes could not make it to my fingertips, hitting some omnipresent barrier within me. Finally a sliver of light pierced through that barrier, puncturing it, ever so slightly, enough to let out a barrage of thoughts, words and what not!

This post (and the next one) is for that benefactor, the evangelist of sorts. Thanks Deepika for all that you did.