Neon Lights

Prologue: The Gift of Happenstance

2013-05-15T19:59:00.002+05:30

There is a very special piece of journal this narrator has acquired. It's a diary of someone who could be of great importance to mankind. I must admit it was a mere blip of a coincidence to have this book in my possession today. Nonetheless, I've realized it's worth and the importance of ideas this scripture holds within it's strange papyrus folds. I must share it with my readers; for the outflow of wisdom should never cease.

***

It was the wee hours of one of those full-moon winter nights. I love the most to roam in Delhi at this time. Me and two other of my gang were going to a place in the ridge near Kali Badi Mandir. 'Prince's Den', we would call it cheekily. There is a very interesting walk through the rocky ridge to reach PD. You have to follow a trail through thick trees and walk over huge water pipes hanging firmly 12 feet above the ground and surrounded by lush greens to reach this place. It is one of those very few spots within these cement walls where nature is in just about sufficient amount to unplug you from the chaos of the jungle we live in. There is nothing extravagant about PD though, it's just a clear space on top of a hillock surrounded by short trees. But on full moon-nights that place glows like an ethereal dream. That's why we popped acid and decided to head there that night. We go to there almost once a month. Although it's not a safe place to chill but we all have our ways of getting 'kicks'. But that night turned out to be different from normal escapades to PD.

We were almost peaking when we reached PD that night. We found a red bag in the middle of that open space. It was glowing strangely under the moonlight or it might have been that Green Martian taking effect. Anyway, the area around PD is a famous hideout for thieves and robbers. After a successful hit, they often hide inside the thickly forested ridge and segregate the valuables from the loot. Although the sight of that bag looked very unnatural to me, but my friends who were more regular to PD didn't care much- A snitch must have gone lucky and lifted someone's bag at the nearby railway station and abandoned all it's unimportant stuff here. I decided to inspect it and it actually turned out to be an ordinary bag belonging to someone who had traveled a long way to reach Delhi. There were clothes, files and folders and other ordinary day-to-day essentials. There was nothing inside that bag that could have indicated that it's real owner must have actually been a traveler- not of distance, but of time. Because I only got to realize it recently.

I have this tendency to keep things I find while traveling. Sometimes they act like souvenirs from all the places I visit and sometimes I keep them for the history they hold within themselves. I have a maple leaf from Paris; burnt notes from an army settlement near Puh; a hotel bill from Raithal; bus tickets of Bangalore and of various places in Himalayas where I choose buses as my preferred mode of travel. These are generally those things which don't have much worth in life once it has served it's purpose. But for me, these things are the bookmarks of my journey in life.

On that night I found a brown diary inside the red bag. What was written on it's first page grabbed my attention:

What remains away from the sanctuary

would be just words and the black veil.

Rest shall dissolve.

So I kept it.

Along with the diary I also kept a glowing unused sticker from the bag; the ones you used to stick on your notebooks, pencil boxes and book-shelves when you are young. However, this one had a very strange design on it and I thought of using it in my pop art poster that I was making at home. After coming back home that night from PD, I completely forgot about the diary and the strange alien-design label. I even forgot working on the poster. But a few days ago after umpteen attempts I finally convinced myself to redo the poster. At almost the same time I, I inquired myself about that label. I recalled keeping it in the brown diary. But I searched it everywhere at home and since it had been quite some time, I could only find the diary. The label must have been displaced. I didn't really look for it, because then my attention went to what was written in the brown diary. Once I started reading it, I couldn't stop myself to take my eyes away. It was so simple to understand! It explained to me things that I could never ever imagine to exist.

It was someone's diary; that's for sure, atleast it was written in that way. But all those things which seemed to be a work of fiction at first, sooner became the scariest truth that I could ever know.

I'm writing a story. I'll try to be regular, I promise.

The Woman in Red

2013-05-05T18:57:00.001+05:30

Her tender whispers showed me a world through her eyes:
Mystical, sublime.
Her world, an empyrean elegance.
It was an unfamiliar place,
Yet she had let me in
and I'd delved in her in the past.
Explored every inch.
Of her. With her.
The beautiful dream that she was.
A girl. That lil girl.

She is a woman now.
I saw her in red that day,
wearing her mischievous smirk.
On whatever we had indulged in the past,
I remember not much
Just a mark on her breast;
Her fingers, which would weave magic
through lines, colors and tiny bubbles;

and I remember of certain days
where we would just lie under the sun,
hoping to fix each other.
Although whether we fixed anything,
I'm not too sure.

But the woman that she now is.
Is from a distant world.
Yet with her, her old bit stays.
Through her face,voice and her ways.
And through her eyes
and her old mischievous smile.

I hope she stays happy and warm,
wherever she'd be,
That girl. The lil girl.
The woman she now is.

The woman in red.

Dilemma Over Perpetually Altering Identities

2013-04-24T14:26:00.000+05:30

When we'd talk about liberation,

Why did you choose to be

a faceless man

in a faceless crowd?

Leaving the host-face behind,
you picked up an ever-changing mask -
perpetually altering identities,
none your own.

You were away for sure
from madness and chaos
and from sycophants
who wiggle and wriggle.

But do you want to be just another grain

in a thousand grains?

Identical like sheep

an insignificant sublime memory?

Would you find peace then?

if you'd be without yourself;
if you'll be erased from existence;
a part of nobody's mind or dream?

Because aren't we feeding ourselves,

From other's memory

an image of ourselves

that distinguishes us from billion others?

Your definition of freedom and liberty

differs from mine.
I know that for sure.

I hope you explain me someday,

this liberation you talk about.

My Lucid Dream

2013-04-10T14:31:00.004+05:30

Close your eyes.

You know I love those brown eyes.

You know I love looking at them.

But close them for now.

Trust me it's going to be fine.

Give me your hand, would you?

You know I've kept them warm in cold days

and patted them dry in hot summer Mays.

and of course, you know how I feel when I hold your hand

so don't refrain just once again.

Come closer.

As close as two Dandelions locked in one.

Let me touch your skin once again.

You know how much I love

to run my fingers all over you

Like a young voyager

who has discovered his own paradise.

I know you won't fret for what I'd do.

You know me. And my wants.

And I know you.

Be here, for now.

Let us be content.

and forget what is real and what is not.

I know the night will be gone soon.

And with it, you'll fade away too.

But just stay here, for now.

Right here where you are.

Close to my heart.

So that I can remember,

the sound of your breath

and of your heart.

I know you'd listen to mine

You had often done that.

You would tell me when it was pacy, my heart;

and when it was calm like a sweet morning song.

I know there has been a lot of useless bickering

I know we have fought more than we could forgot.

But let's just stay shut tonight,

let's not speak a word.

Let our actions speak this time.

Let's just figure out what kept us ticking all this while.

Take off your sadness,

let me help you take it off.

We've done this before,

we've been there in each other's woes.

So help me once again
to take mine off too?

Because I hope you know,

that I'm not made of just tears and thorns.

No man is.
A happy face sits beneath it all.
The one you had brought forth.

Share with me your God

like you once did.

I've never had mine,

I never believed.

But in your eyes,

I had seen

subtle changes in life

faith can bring.

I might never understand that,

but I understood your belief.

Hold on,

don't sway now.
Clutch my hand tightly
like we always did.
regardless of the world
we kept close.
I know we don't anymore.
But it was something I won't forget.

Let me capture your smell,
before it's too late.
You've taught me how to.
I'll store it somewhere deep in my heart,
The way you always would
whenever we would kiss each other goodbye.

Don't fade away now,
please don't.
Let me grab you by your waist,
let me pull you closer.
mad man you'd call me,
a drunkard in love.
I fell into you
when you had already cautioned me.
But did I make a mistake?
Was it all a waste?
Don't you remember me; us?
don't you remember the stoned eyes?
Don't you long for my touch,
or for those silent whispers in your ear,
or for all the places we've discovered together?

You had a place in my heart,
I wanted to keep it special.
But one day it'll be replaced,
no matter how much I'd want it to stay untouched
the memory will one day get erased
only to make way for new ones
and to be forgotten again.
That's what life is isn't it-
loop spun infinite times over?

I guess the longing doesn't matter now,
when the raindrop has flow away from the cloud,
never to return again.
Even these illusions don't matter anymore.

So begone now,
fade into oblivion.
Let me wake up.
Let me forget it all,
Because
Away from me
Your world will be.
Away from you,
I will be.

Twilight Blue

2013-03-15T00:26:00.000+05:30

You and I

belong together,
Under the shadows of twilight blue.

Beneath the sublime folds of thin blanket,
Our intimacy create sparks,
As we hush sweet nothings
And let our desires surround us.

Flower child she was,
Her sweet aroma purged my emotions.
She caressed my happiness,
While i took refuge in her dreams
And let go of all my fears.

Our eyes hum the sweetest symphony.
As I held her in arms
And whispered in her ear
This is where i belong,
This is where my world ends.
Besides you,
Under the shadows of twilight blue.

Other People's Lives

2013-02-01T00:24:00.000+05:30

Silken scent,
feathered dreams
A buttered layer of happiness
garnished with rendezvous
and merrymaking communions.

Social psychonauts
brimming with hopes
Desires, dawn and
faithful summer songs.
Rainbow days
Cinderella Nights.

Smiling shining teeth
intentions true and neat.
Dialectical dialogue
amongst wise old folks.
Fortuitous epiphanies
and life wild, free.

The circus of life,
of other people's lives
devoid of lies
and adulteration, inhibition, infiltration.

The circus of life,
Like a sweet symphony
made of pretty notes
plays on & on
and on
until the last breath is not gone.

Change & It's Repercussions

2012-12-18T22:53:00.001+05:30

A demon redeems an unseen dream

under the nose of prying falcons.

Grave sorrow sweeps on famished land

as his request, The Old Pharaoh grants.

Grey watchdogs resent the unconventional step Old Pharaoh took.

So did ants; a million clones; self-proclaimed messiahs;

Blind Shepherds, who have taken upon themselves to steer 'the lost fireflies' through the night;

slaves of materialism, who balance truth on their own pedestal;

puppeteer & puppets private limited; prejudiced pawns & pansy prawns;

and unshorn brethren with binary vision,want & outlook.

They all cried foul when the demon redeemed the unseen dream.

Remembrance

2012-12-15T15:04:00.002+05:30

You.
Where did you go?

I was telling you something.

Something about the color of sunshine.

It used to be brighter when you were around.
Somehow, it doesn't seem to look the same anymore.

Himalayan Love & Chaos

2012-12-02T13:39:00.003+05:30

Trek to Chandratal Lake, June 22,2012

Grey Cloud, Blue Raindrop

2012-12-02T13:13:00.000+05:30

When raindrop leaves the cloud,
She consoles him tenderly,

"The will of life is such
That we've to live without each other for a while.
But that doesn't mean I’ll be far from you.
Yearn deeply from your heart
And I’ll be running back to you.

There is no power mighty enough
To keep two lovers apart.

I might be frozen in lakes
Near the glaciers of Himalayan north
For two winters to come.

Or I might be dancing through the night
Along with Beas, Teesta or Chandra
By the corner of a sleepy hamlet

Or I might be engrossed in a world
Completely different than ours.

But all the while
I’ll be biding my time,
To come back to you.

For it is you who complete me
As shadow completes light.

Yes, today we are breathing different air
And keeping different faces
But the only light that shines through me
Illumines from your heart.

It is in your love
That I've found immortality
Of thousands lives

It is in your love
I've witnessed the essence
In the shadows of time.

I'm sure you must wonder
As you wait for my return,
That why would Then I,
Be anywhere else?
But be here
With you bare?

Why would then I,
Stroll the land of hills?
And sing my heart
When you are afar?

I accept the irony of life
But understand me too, love
This is the path we've to walk.

Like a butterfly’s metamorphosis
Our love will bear wings.
Away from one another,
our world will grow
Within you, within me.

Nurture it,
Keep it alive,
In your heart
In your dreams
In your life
As I keep it in mine.

Wish too hard
And I’ll be back
Sooner than later.
In your arms
Through eternity to keep.

For I'm yours-
body, heart & soul.
For this lifetime
And ten thousand more."

So Long, Love

2012-11-21T18:38:00.001+05:30

Remember me,
how we used to be.
Because it's almost dawn
and soon I'll be gone.

And when you'll wake up
from this dream
there won't be me
but a faint memory
of how we used to be.

Bloom Within

2012-11-05T02:46:00.000+05:30

The walls are grey and growing.
Truth hides behind the veil during sacred rituals.
Bad omen contaminates vision.

The walls are grey and growing
but i've a bucket full of colors.

For the naive mind has set forth

towards lucidness umpteen.
Beyond the veiled truth
Within the self.

Twisted faces, Fixating addictive habits,
and Delirium grows around i.
While an Old madman resonates rapidly
around the passageways in mind.

But the naive moves on.
Towards omniscience.
where faces speak what they must
and life is devoid of untold hurt

Because there won't be many there.
It's a private conclave
between The Host and The Pilgrim-
I and i.

The journey is difficult
towards this ideal land confined in imagination.
But i've the sun, moon, five senses (which function properly), experiences, hope, will, courage, an extravagant mind

and a naive heart ready to take the plunge
into the great wide yonder.

Within the veil,
where truth is.
Beyond the self,
in the cloisters of I.

Addendum: i and I are personified characters. i is a mortal being, whereas I is the omnipresent energy seen only by an enlightened mind.

Sunshine In the Cave

2012-10-20T04:52:00.002+05:30

There won't be vision.
Mind is a big white screen.

The only thing you know doesn't exist.
The only thing you see is unreal.
Except for one.

World scattered to pieces.

Broken green glasses of wine lie on the floor.
The world was green before.

And the noises were music composed in A Minor.
That's all there was to see.

That's all there was to hear.
Except for one.

Voices submerge into compressed vapors.
Burning eyes fall from molten skies.

Words crumble,worlds jumble.
False promises lay naked in vain

and lies drool over uncovered truth.
Disturbed evolution. Disturbed sanity.
Except for one.

Except for this one:
Amidst the chaos of this grotesque world
Right in the middle of it all.
Underneath gloom,boom & doom.
Across the corridor from ancient faceless figurines: There.

There lies a puddle of water .
And,

And a little red rose floats on it.

Frenzy

2012-10-11T23:29:00.002+05:30

Masks unfold.
Uncontrolled actions.
Devour yourself,
In lost faith.

Unburden those chains

Hanging from throat
Growing unconscious conscience
Growls creeping closer

Heretic mind
Wander lust
Unholy host
Dummy peers

All bind within yourself.

Morbid.
Life.
Deceived.
Deceased.

On Madness

2012-07-12T23:40:00.000+05:30

A man who lived in a wooden house waited for the river to come. He lived with ants who were judgmental. They kept prejudice and made aware the man of everything. They were pragmatic. They told him the truth. Atleast the truth they believed in. But he was waiting for the river to come. For everything would be better when the river shall fall gently down this valley in the middle of nowhere . "I'm here,as much as you are. Biding my time. With only hope in mind. And a lonesome heart", said the man caged in the asylum of both his mind and society.

"For what else is my redemption? I wait obediently for something that might never come. Unlike my nature,I've been here". He had built this house on his own. Dark-grey stones of remorse set and cemented by the pain of all the wrongdoings of his past. Earlier he would wrap pain and serve it to the defeated soldiers of life, today it is him who is defeated. Although he himself has little recollections of his past life but he has accepted what too many people have told him. Too many people don't lie.

He was not a bricklayer before, mind you. His expertise lied in something rather strange. He was a weaver of some sorts. Of the unpleasant kind as they said. He wove lies. With his tongue and his eyes. And Oh! The shrewd kings of august world swear by his methods! Every fabric he designed with intimate detail. To create cursed masterpieces. Eventually, people smelt his disease. And he was brought upon the balance of cognitive scale. An impending downfall awaited round the bend. But he didn't stop. He couldn't. He didn't know how. 'He was living his act,that fine man',told someone who knew the man well to this narrator. 'He built it himself. And it was the rightmost thing for him. The man bore a stigma so let him be.'

The gloominess of the moment allows me to present my faithful audience with these questions: God and Time have shaped us in a certain way. In the Book of Man if certain iniquities are condemned as heretic acts, shall we play messiah and purge the poor man of his agony? Is it even agony on the first place? Or is it for the sake of our convenience that we have made ourselves to believe that everything about madness is

Anormalement Triste?

On Materialism

2012-07-05T15:15:00.000+05:30

Following are the excerpts from The Book of Verity acquired by your narrator:

A red brick road finds a hurdle in the bend of a corner. The talking monkeys condemned the brick road to pass. The road said, "I connect you with the mighty brain of Materialism. I'm the link to your convenience. Onto me great wisdom will ride to your shores and teach you the art to make silver spoons and shrewd masks among other things. You shall also be besotted by compelling urge to kill your integrity and put forth deviousness of highest order invoked by the horns that ancient self-centered man blows through his unconscious mind.

And it shall bring prosperity because they've promised me. Convenience and gleams of materialism will blind me and you and everyone else beyond comprehension and doubt. I present the invitation to drown with us, in the unimaginable pit of glitterati and false confetti of bodily desires."

"The path ye build is a miserable collusion of all the wretched, polluted, vulgar, inebriated, hollow, degenerated, infected, desolated, profaned and decayed methods to lead an everyday spirited life. Yet I offer my personal skills and knowledge of the area and other tangible services to you, for it is the ease of life that shines my dull eyes.

Let the benign man pass,my brethren! For thence our life shall move like knife over butter." pleaded The Wise One who was fiddling around a truckload of gifts given to them by agent of Materialism. It included items that were never seen before by the talking monkeys.
There were spices, firestarter, faces, power, electricity, automatic-guns, motor, butter & buns, medicines, king sized bed, cotton and thread, knives, bricks, cheap thrills, television, sins, long elastics and Neo-Mother Plastic.

"All this on the expense of exploiting your portion of Old Mother", red brick road murmured under his breath.
But no one paid attention to that sort of blasphemy . Why would they?

"Pass, our hero, in the name of convenience! " chanted the talking monkeys in unison and let the brick road be.

The Last Wish

2012-04-19T23:07:00.001+05:30

Triund, 26th June2011

When I will die

Throw my ashes

Over the flowing winds

Atop Himalayan hills

And I shall easily find

My way to heaven.

Holy Conclave

2012-04-14T04:42:00.000+05:30

Dayara Bughyal, 7 April 2012

I went near the end,

a place afar.

boundaries were laid here long ago.

by stones and man both.

The keepers of ancient league who guard the pious passages

and overlook the procreation of life from up above-

keepers, who are larger than time;

keepers, who are stronger than will and hope.

I saw them humble giants, through my eyes.

and I tread upon a primeval course.

However all that I did, It had been done once before

maybe more than a million times more

But it all seemed a little too strange to believe,

for it appeared to be none but I, who had designed it all

probably not tonight,

but once,

Once, on an enlightened night.

Theremin

2012-03-12T10:44:00.001+05:30

Science was speaking through music.

It was the sound of empty space around us that Science presented in the form of an instrument,

Theremin.

And the sound of particles colliding from within with within
lit the notes in silence.

And kindled a thought not imagined before
through sound fostered by altering the imaginary magnetic fluxes.
It was music they called.
It was Science they created.

I Politick

2012-02-02T02:22:00.002+05:30

There were lights and sounds and unknown mysteries.
Faces were replaceable
And they were replaced often.
Voices were condensed
Muffled to maintain the calm

There was a rugged jar
Which kept all the faces of the world.
And there were oceans around the universe
Which submerged every noise

For these were the penchants of our Master:

A 1000 Concealing Faces

Silence

Brown Eyes

2012-02-02T01:56:00.000+05:30

Thoughts churned in his mind.
He was looking patiently
In those eyes,
When her lips gently ushered
The words of an Ancient Poet

How were the odds
He wondered,
As the wind brushed through her hair,
To stand here,
Under the yellow lights
Falling from a sky so nigh
In a dark alley.
With her. And her eyes.

Scarletta

2011-12-20T01:46:00.001+05:30

A winter sun
And her lazy mittens
Her neck around your arms
and her legs wrapped around yours.

You could feel affection in her eyes
And in her unknown emotion
That took you beyond herself
When her guards were drawn.

She held you close
Like a part of her own
Inside her. Deep within her
Secured in her embrace

Her silent nothings
That only your eyes heard
And her florid lips
That held onto your deepest fears
and made her own

She gazed at your bare soul
And submerged herself
With your sorrows.
Her breaths played
along your shoulder
like the desires in her mind
Which Echoed like a million raindrops
through her skin and her sighs.

Her name was Scarletta.
We have spent many a nights
She was beautiful than reality.
She was someone I could never find.

The Infliktor

2011-10-16T03:30:00.001+05:30

The blanket of darkness was being sliced open
I could feel the voice of the wind talking to me.
Whispering.
Asking me if I was certain about the decision.
I solemnly nodded my head
Everything was scripted already
I was sternly directed to perform the ritual
It was for the greater good they would say
And I can't raise my objections
My contract doesn't allow me to.

The leash of the wheels of the motor
And those lights that created shadows
Were held firmly by my driver
Stranger to the events
and the horror
that awaits ahead of him.

I could see dark figures
Chasing us, surrounding us
Trying to break into my body.
I could realize my clarity shaking,
I could feel them succeeding.
Because the voices were closing in
Dissolving into my conscience
Becoming more of me
than I myself am.

The milky white moon was about to hide
behind clouds and grace
For the saga that was about to unfold
Doesn't have witnesses.
The only audience is
The Inflicter
And The Receptor.
Not even silence knows
nothing about it.

I opened my bag.
And took out a violent force
Smeared with proofs of the past
Dripping in lives
that have already been silenced by it
And still wanting eagerly to draw more.

I knew where to strike.
And how to.
I felt myself holding it.
It was an evil force
And it was my obedient servant.

I lifted my tool
and with it
I lifted the mask
off my evil being:
The most bizarre nightmares
flashed in front of me
They felt more real
than anything else
that I've ever experienced.
And an enthralling sensation
ran through my body
As i struck a fearful blow
To break the monotone.
To disrupt the order.

Its this feeling,
That craves me
to perform this act,
of brutality
Every once in a while.
It's this art
That I'm certain
to have proficiency in.
It's this ability
That I'm the master of.

Maybe that's why I was chosen
from everybody else
Who resides within me
who wants to become me.

I walked away from the scene of crime
Taking away the existence of someone
Into the folds of darkness
To disappear.
To seek another game.
But am I really to blame
For this outburst?
Because Im just a puppet
guided by the master
Who lives inside my shadow
Or am I the one living in his?
Could I ever find that out?
Can you help me discover the answers?
Maybe you'd know better.
Maybe you could clear the dilemma.

So wouldn't it be nice
if you could pay me a visit sometime?
Inside those dark alleys
Under the shadows of night
When the white moon shall hide
behind clouds and grace.

Of the Prebirth

2011-10-08T05:35:00.001+05:30

If you had an orange sun
Rested in your womb

From one essence of life
To the creator of life
Folded within a personal realm
Entwined to be One

And the glow that revolves
Inside your being
is The cradle of time
The fountain of knowing
And you shall be bestowed as
The bearer Of life; Of million dreams

An Unwashed Manifesto

2011-10-03T23:26:00.004+05:30

It has been born.
The variant faces
inscribed on the minds of our generation.
A reality augmented on our beliefs
and on our dreams.

It is the want of freedom.
It is born now.
Would it die? It can't.
It is not its prerogative to make.

The age long agony awaits to be channelled now.
Devise the path fellow dreamer
and put your best foot forward.
For we see another future.

A future we control;
a future where we shall hold

the power of decision.