grief – Mad Decadence

Hope in the Light

Doomsayers and doomscrollers

Find it impossible to be hopeful

Quite rightly so

Everything that could go wrong

Has indeed gone wrong

And what seems to be right

Seems to be doomed too

It is like being buried

Under the debris of

One’s own making

Being trapped in that

Dark claustrophobic space

With no possibility

Of hope Or light

The only way out is to move

To move towards any

Glimmer of light

Or glimmer of hope

Only in such pitch darkness

Can one meet faint light

Which arrives from nowhere

Almost like a hallucination

Reflecting that elusive hope

Rekindling the dying spirits

Nothing is lost

Till everything is lost

We make it through

Through that dark space

Where we learn hopelessness

Hope always stays hidden within

That hopelessness

Stubborn hope does thrive

All that it needs is a faint light

That glimmer of light

In the kind eyes

Or from a bird’s flight

Or from that distant far away star

Whose light makes it

After a journey of millions of years

Traveling light years

It meets us right in the eye

Making us aware

The dark space isn’t dark

It is made of millions

Millions of stars and kind hearts

Betrayals

Time betrays

People betray

Family betrays

Life betrays

You betray yourself too

The true story

Isn’t the words said

The true story

Is never what is seen

It lies in what stays

Unsaid and unnoticed

And in life unlived!!

What betrays silence

Is the word

& what betrays the words

Is the silence

Between said and unsaid

There is a pause

A void so dense

Yet so empty

Bereft of trust and emotions

A Closure

I am not sure

What is A Closure?

Which everyone looks for?

Is it a signalling to end a phase of life?

Does life have such demarcations?

Before and after phases

Before school, after school,

Before marriage, after divorce?

After birth and before death

That’s the lifetime we get

We keep dividing into moments

Phases of growing up, coming of age

Falling in and out of love

Getting married, becoming a parent

Then the lonesome empty-nester

We keep drawing lines

Or adding chapters to our lives

While erasing the past which keeps

Receding faster, Doppler shifting away

Memories fade but hurt remains

We can’t get over traumas

Yet we call it PTSD

From the moment of birth to death

It’s just a few odd years

When we scale it

To the age of the Earth or the universe

We can’t even predict

Where the grim reaper awaits us

When we will close our eyes

The curtains will fall

And the drama will end

The drama of our life

That will be the true closure

Two dates in the bracket

Will define our lifetime

And of course

The perspectives of people

Who loved to love us

And who loved to hate us

While we were caught up

In their ideas of love and hate

The drama was never ours

We were mere characters in

Lives and dramas of others

Time does strange funny things

Somewhere in the future

One might get resurrected

In some random conversations

In another drama of not our making

A dead bright leaf also gets

A chance at immortality

When someone clicks a photo

Or paints it or turns it ornamental

In the Camus Universe

Existence has no purpose or meaning

And here we are purposefully

Decimenting and reducing each other

To almost nothing

Or whatever suits us

Then we seek a closure

Closure from hurt

Only to begin again

Another drama

Hoping for forevers

Which doesn’t exist

Soon I will be gone

And so will you be

We will be either villains or heroes

In shape, perspectives and

Narrative shifting world

How about seeking a fresh start

Maybe begin again

So where were we?

Yes…A closure…

Going Solo

It didn’t take long

To go solo

Be it movies

Or restaurants

Or museums

Or a bookstore

Or treks

I don’t even remember

When it began

Perhaps during my college

My long solo commute?

Every daily commuter

Is always alone

Though almost crushed

In a crowded train or bus

There is a constant

Inner talk with self

About a thing

Or millions of things

Or just an empty mind

Too fatigued to think

You don’t need people

When you grow up

So rugged

And then of course

There are betrayals

Of trust and time

Then there was beautiful phase

When my newborn boy

Became my extension

I was never alone

I was his constant

For that tiny life

I had brought forth

Into this chaotic world

I was never alone

Kids never let you be

Unless you play along

So often it would

Be the library or bookstore visits

Where I would sit solo

In line of sight of my boy

Far far away in the kids section

I don’t remember

Who exactly was I

Training to be alone ?

After the boy grew up

And flew off far far away

I made up my mind

To be the solitary reaper

Of my abandoned pursuits

I unearthed my buried self

In place of a girl in 20’s

Out came a woman in her 50’s

More calmer, confident and wiser

Much slower too

How I wish I could reach out

To that girl and tell her to go solo

The world abandons you anyways

Women are supposed to play

A second fiddle in everything

Wish I could spare her from

All the traumas and dilemmas

And of course all the tears

My dark circles are rightfully earned

But here I am in my 50’s

Carrying that abandoned

Spirit of my 20’s

I know it feels absurd

To those who never tried

(Or didn’t have to)

To stand up for oneself

And live for a while

Remember?

We have abandoned our earth too

Who moves solo in the dark space

And then there is the final solo act

When we depart solo!!

Prison

Democracy is imprisoned

In the name of justice

Justice is imprisoned

In the name of freedom

Freedom is imprisoned

In the name of Peace

Peace is imprisoned

In the name of War

War is shackled too

In the name of economy

Economy is prisoned too

In the name of capitalism

Capitalism is boxed too

By the markets and profits

One person’s loss is

Another one’s gain

The media is imprisoned too

In the name of propaganda

Propaganda itself is made of lies

Lies aren’t free too

They have to hide the truth

Truth is in gallows too

On non-bailable terms

Don’t ask who benefits

Everyone has lost the plot

Old money gets older

New money becomes old

Those who are poor

Remain poorer

How else will we define

The real rich?

Marginalized communities

Define the majoritarian

Who turn authoritarian

Till…till everyone loses the plot

And the script flips

Nature loves entropy

But it likes balance too…

Not everyone gets away

With it all…

Where do you stand?

Counting Privileges

Not born poor

Neither rich

Not born marginalized

Neither a majoritarian

Not born with old money

Neither there is new money

Not born beautiful

Nor very ugly

Neither here

Nor there

Being somewhere

Also nowhere

Neither ultra left

Nor right or far right

Neither a doomsayer

Nor a dreamer

Somewhere in between

Nor a perpetrator

Or a predictor

Nor a victim

Nor cruel

Neither the kindest

Perhaps inbetween

Negotiating space

Counting Privileges

And gratitudes

Neither totally dead

Nor totally alive

Neither absent

Nor present

Somewhere in between

Totally exhausted

Brain fogged

Toiling like Sisyphus

Also being a zombie

Neither seeking

Validation

Nor rejection

Being there

And not being there

Trying to be

And not to be

Breathing in

Gasping out

Counting my privileges

As well as my curses

Silent spectator

Living while dying

Superposed states of being

Adding to almost nothing!!

As Tears Go By

Marianne you sang

“As Tears Go By”

At a very tender age

And then life happened

Men took you for granted

They were seen as Bohemians

But you were labelled a slut

You went down the rabbit hole

Found yourself living on the streets

One has to hit the bottom low

To reverse the curve

Which you did brilliantly

And with much grace

You didn’t hate the men

You chose to rise above them

They sought popularity

You took refuge in literature and poetry

You forged your own solo path

And gave the world its own

Cold war anthem

“Broken English”

A complete arch of life

Beating all odds

Seeking depth and beauty

Amidst all the darkness

Your voice changed too

But your singing didn’t

The world denied you awards

Time and again

But you never cared

Life has to be lived

After all for life’s sake

Not for the sake of

Judgement and validation

Validation from whom?

And for why?

People will discover

Your “Seven Deadly Sins”

Which actually saved you!!

Oh! Marianne…

As life goes by…

Your words ring so true!!

Image courtesy: Album cover of Broken English

Poetry Ai’nt Luxury

If poetry were a luxury

Afforded by only few

The world wouldn’t have known

Realities of poverty, hunger and war

That lament of loss and grief

Poetry ain’t luxury

Thankfully

A little girl hiding in an attic

With just a paper and pen

Multitudes of thoughts and emotions

Finds an alternative realm

Realm of words and emotions

Those damn slaves, those blues singers

Poetry freed them from slavery

Songs and poetry of protests

Gave language, words and idioms

To the oppression and violence they endured

Poetry gave the moon and stars

Silver linings another meaning

Metaphors for hopes, love and loss

There wouldn’t be lullabys

There won’t be haikus

Long and short

Lyrical and free verse

Had poetry been a luxury

It belongs to those who own it

A craft they are willing to hone it

It says much even in its pauses

Brevity is its expanse

Poetry is a friend

Who walks along

Encouraging one to face life

It is like those fallen and trampled flowers

A true evidence of life lived and unlived.

Difficult Days

These are difficult days

When reality occults the dreams

It is bizarre isn’t it?

Reality that we try to figure out

Or try to make sense of ?

Is this also imagined ?

Then what is real?

What I think is real real?

The time that ticks away?

Or the dream that fades over time?

Is time too imagined?

Just like dreams ?

Sun does rise for real

But again it’s a play

Play of light, atmosphere

We see it before it even

Peeps over the horizon

While setting sun lingers elsewhere

It rises for us in full glory

It illuminates the tiniest dust particles

While darkness engulfs elsewhere

With no power to light their lives

Powerless have to make through

Another cold imprisoned night

Maybe darkness is a blessing

That hides the cruelty, rubble

That amputated humanity

Missing its phantom spine

Where do we go from here?

Dreams are the only ransom

We can pay

To continue existing

Dreams of freedom

And that hopeless hope

Stars twinkling away far off

They are the witnesses

Of how our sun was born

And our Earth came into being

How dinosaurs roared and vanished

Maybe if we can fine tune

From somewhere

Maybe it is still visible

How it all began

The eternal cycle of

creation and destruction

It is such a pity

We want to behold pleasure

Which comes at the cost of pain!

We want to behold AI

Which comes at the I

These are difficult days…

Far too Long…

It takes far too long

To figure out the right from wrong

It takes far too much

To comprehend how much is too much

It takes a lifetime

To figure out life is about time

Sometimes it’s far too late

To let go what is already lost

It takes too long to figure out

There isn’t any blue print

And there isn’t much to figure out

By the time we find the puzzle pieces

It is too late

The puzzle actually is being undone

And not all pieces fit in

It takes forever

To know that silence is eloquent

Conveys more than words

It takes too many wars to know

To know what actually is at stake

And wars go on far too long

And love?

We can barely hold it for long

It slips through fingers like sand

The moment you define it

It becomes a possession

A caged bird

Which rarely returns when set free

It goes away far too far and

Far too long…