Sunday 26 June 2022

The Fine Line


Browsing through my album, I came across this picture that I'd clicked during one of my expeditions into the wilderness. I looked at it and was lost in the breathtaking mystic aura that I had experienced when I'd come across that place. However, my brain immediately took me through a lane of memories, places and emotions that had nothing to do with that expedition but those with which I could associate it from my earlier memories. All of this happened in a second and I could also hear a song that I remembered with this emotion of reliving that mystic aura. Now the song is stuck in my head and already in loop even when I am not listening to it. Even as I remember the other associated moments of that particular day or year or decade, the loop expands and engulfs several adjoining memories. What remains is a remembrance of how I felt during those moments rather than what had actually happened.

Accentuated by the fact that it is already night(for a night owl it does make things more intense) with brain cells being hyperactive, I am in a trance that might(or might not) subside until I fall asleep or plunge into the waves of insomnia and another world of brimming creativity and imagination.

Perhaps the earliest memory of music in my mind(or any mind) could never be remembered distinctly. I am sure none of us remember that earliest memory but we remember the effect it had on us. It has the power to heal us, hurt us, enrage us or even calm down all those impulses. All I can remember is the immense power associated with this mysterious force called music.

Interestingly, I have known more people without really knowing them through their music. However, if you ask me what's the most personal aspect for a person to share, I'd say it is the playlist that they switch to when they crave to be close to themselves. Trust me there are songs that people would always enjoy or sing in solitude without revealing them to anyone else. It is that private space that cannot be intruded. It is safe and vulnerable at the same time. People do not want to share that easily and you can never know a person's complete collection of music with their numerous background stories and memories. Also, nobody else could associate with a particular tune in the same way as somebody else would. A melophile lives inside each one of us.

That being said, I also believe that finding people who introduce you to new music is important. It is such an infinite arena that it will never be enough even when one listens to new music everyday, for it has a blend of unknown cultures, histories and lands along with their stories.

Above all, it is not confined to language barriers. All you need is an open mind and a listening soul and it can show you an unexplored multiverse may be turn you into a melomaniac. That's an undefined line that anyone could cross and come back or stay there. Thanks to the beauty of being in several places at once with one's imaginative abilities. I am sure you've experienced that.

While I ranted out about the possibilities, that song is still playing in my head and taking me back to that place in the mist with the chilling wind, silence and the moist air that I can still breathe in feeling the dampness of barren trees surrounded by green moss. The whispers of the wind are creeping into my silence more than ever and I can still relive that experience. Perhaps, I have now crossed that fine line of being a melophile to becoming a melomaniac until I fall asleep.


The Woman In Red

The woman in black has been staring at the dark reflections of the city skyline, perhaps trying to find a silent hurricane of the anxiety and fears that so many people who often visit this place encounter, beneath the frozen layer of stagnant water. For the umpteenth time she seems to have lost track of what remains amiss despite her efforts to calm down her reverberating pulse. With every beat an echo of submerged fear of loss and failure resurfaces to send waves of doubts about her own answers, dreams and determination. How else could she have justified everything that seems incomplete in a life that is perfect?  Caught in an infinite loop, her attention is diverted to the glaring red signal from a beacon afar as it gives a transparent view of the reflections on the surface piercing into depths beneath the waves. Everything that had been engulfed shimmers for a while before it turns black again. She wonders perhaps this is how those waves swallow the anxiety of everyone who has been here. Perhaps she had been too harsh on herself owing to expectations from others, but mostly from herself. The fear of failure isn't what holds people back, who knows it is the fear of facing oneself being too judgemental. Now with the passing beats, her pulse becomes normal. A weight has been lifted off from her heart. The depths are never visible to anyone else. It is the superficial and transient persona of performance that is subject to judgement. But why on earth should it considered viable to certify something that runs much deeper and holds enormous power to sail through harsh hurricanes? With another glaring signal from the beacon, the woman in black has turned red this time, inside out. She releases her fears into the waves, aware that her strengths and capabilities run through her, make her breathe and cannot be subjugated by contradictory flashes  of performance adjudged superficially.


Thursday 3 September 2020

The Thorn's Song

I smiled when lilac tulip bloomed,

I prayed for amber wings in rain.

On fiery leaves with love perfumed,

blue angels kissed her blushing chain.

How oft fir-kissed drops fall as gems

absorbing pangs of thirst from stems.

My bare soul drenched in velvet chrome

longs to rest in her musk-soaked home.

When lilac tulip bloomed, I prayed,

I smiled for amber wings in rain.

With love, perfumed blue angels kissed

her blushing chain on fiery leaves.

Afar, yet my love sings along

if only she'd hear a thorn's song.

*This poem has been written using a form of Sonnet called a Charonnet which is quite different from the traditional Sonnet. It uses the rhyming scheme as abab ccdd efgh ii and 8 syllables per line. Also, in the third stanza, the lines from the first stanza are swapped to form the four lines.*

Farewell Shirt


farewell notes perfumed with ink~ white shirt that always escaped laundry

*This is a Japanese Monoku which is made up of a single horizontal line. It is similar to a Haiku in nature but unlike the Haiku which is made up of three lines with a total of seventeen syllables, a Monoku features a single line consisting of seventeen syllables or even fewer. It contains a pause brought about by speech rhythm with slight or no punctuation. The first letter should not be capitalized – but instead written in lower case.*


I brought giant fur cats,

the perfect home remedy intending to cheat

nasty rats.

More wicked games

and they simply refused to eat,

wrong flames!

What vice!

Cats would not beat


I brought giant fur cats

and they simply refused to eat


*This poem has been written using a form of Rhyme poetry which uses total 12 lines (4 stanzas of 3 lines each) with a rhyme scheme: Aba, cBc, dbD, ABD. The 4th stanza consists of repetition of 1st line of stanza 1, 2nd line of stanza 2, and 3rd line of stanza 3. The poem has a chosen theme through all stanzas. A twist can be introduced in third stanza, if required by the theme, to make it more interesting. The syllable count for each stanza is Stanza 1: 6,12,3 (3 times 2,4,1), Stanza 2: 4,8,2 ( 2 times 2,4,1), Stanza 3: 2,4,1, Stanza 4: 6,8,1.*

All In A Day


The Prophecy:

An ordinary December morning

extraordinary hopes in white,

streets adorned with snowflakes

embellished in red crystal dreams.

She boarded her cab to airport,

awaited holidays had arrived.

From carousels of Tokyo city

to sledges in the Alps, a while.

Roads blocked in snowfall,

eh, just a glitch in the matrix.

An hour early was a wise decision

she couldn't miss her flight,

home calling season it was.

But oh the flight was delayed

by seven hours for clear weather.

'It'd be a roller coaster ride',

her roommate had read a horoscope.

The tiresome day had just begun.

The Adventure:

A birdie spreading new wings

exploring corners of terminal,

unexpected fascination at stalls

infant desires of relaxation.

Strangers seemed welcoming

a town thriving with journeys

she traveled for 10 hours

without moving geographically.

At last announcements made

she boarded with nostalgia,

the journey to her homeland

began with a gleaming dusk,

golden sunset kissing adieu

to sequins of ocean waves.

She read a verse or two

then dozed off with clouds.

A feather travelling afar

in alluring worldly delight.

The Glitch in the Matrix:

Until they had to pause,

just an intermediate stop

where she stepped out to stroll

retracing steps to board again

caught in freezing showers.

Warm at night, she shivered

longing for her cushioned bed.

A long interesting day though

she wouldn't want it again.

With lilac morning whispers

it was time for her homeland.

Outside was a soothing warmth

veiled in white familiar gleam.

She finally cuddled in her bed

with mother's handmade meal.

Woke up to a cup of coffee

and checked for calls on phone.

Gosh! It was still yesterday

dreaded to repeat she'd forgotten,

her body had traveled in past

Alas! It was a different time zone.

Joy Overflows

Oh fears echo in hollow caves

my little ship sails in storms,

I hear my thumping heartbeats

blinking a hopeful soothing song.

Azure streams of magnificence

adorn sparkling fountains,

a mellow breathing to sprout

to revive my garden of ecstasy.

There's a joy bubbling courage..

The restless waves of paranoia

calmed down by blooming pulses,

hyacinth seeds brewing with wind

caressed in brisking serenade.

A symphony of beguile birds

from a distant shore somewhere

showers healing drops of elixir

on wilting vineyard of agony.

There's a joy pouring hope..

I fly like a newborn albatross

over stormy seas I survive,

my weariness in blissful aurora

melting memories of melancholy.

How chrysanthemum blooms again

behind lilac curtains at dusk,

my dreams now blush in silence

unfurling nervous sapphire petals.

There's a joy blooming with love..

I plant moments of velvet lullabies

beyond my receding anxious walls,

gracious ballads of generosity

sprinkled upon me from heaven.

The world plagued with malady

draped in veils of forgiveness,

divine fingers touch the tendrils

growing in dulcet meadows.

There's a joy unveiling kindness..

That joy lives in me,

I share it with the world

it leaps and grows freely..