Abyss 5

Someone walked in through the bedroom door,
Walked out through the balcony,
And jumped to the ground below.
I kept looking at him, a known silhouette,
A plethora of emotions, a croaking of a raven,
The smell of first rain, and the salt from the sea,
The early morning breeze, and the hundred known faces,
All converging into one, then diverging into many.
I looked at the mirror, he looked at me and smiled,
Then vanished as the waves that lap against the shore.
He jumped back from the ground into the balcony,
This time I jumped to reach him, to hold his hand,
He wasn’t real, the face was now mine,
We had interchanged, only if it were for true.
The smell of smoke, of petrol and the wind in my hair,
We were racing on a road travelled years ago,
He looked at me, and his bike speeded up,
In a moment he vanished.

I was back on my bed, getting down to open the door,
He visited me for some notes,
We broke our fast together but his plate was untouched.
There was another woman going up the stairs,
She waved at me, and her face changed into his.
Then there was laughter, and I was in the classroom,
Sitting behind him, and he cracked a joke.
Everyone around was laughing, laughing merrily.
We came out of the class into the open air,
The grass so green and soft, like it was alive all over again,
We smiled, and yet tears were shed.
Someone shook me and I woke up, it wasn’t that bad a dream,
After all it was only a dream.
Or so I wished.

Pecks on my Shirt

I kept sitting there, wondering what to do,
Whilst you came and took a seat beside me,
I kept quiet then, wondering what to say,
Whilst you smiled and talked to me,
And how naturally and gently it came,
Two pecks on the left sleeve of my shirt,
That I didn’t even care to think of it,
Now that I do, I feel I should have.

The slightest of perfume behind your ears,
The life of a wren, silent but long,
The smile on your face, wry but persistent,
And the tears which I’d wish were mine,
I wish I could love you, a dream impossible,
But aren’t most of them like that?
You know how I feel, and you’ve kept it that way,
That I’d move forever like a pawn in the game,
Though I wished I could have walked liked the queen,
Now that I miss you, a lot more than before,
I’d think you do too, had you said that to me,
It’s an incomplete way to finish what I wanted to say,
But my life’s incomplete too, so it would do.


She looked into my eyes and said,
What never before had anyone,
“You’ll suffer one day for what,
 You’ve done to me for your fun”.
The words and the moment in my mind,
Are fresh as today’s morning dew,
The thorns she sew on my path are there,
And bruised I am in places few.
I remember that night as a moment splendid,
One of happiness, joy and laughter,
Though she never came to know,
Why I did what I did after.
The steps we took together in that hour,
Her right foot, my right foot, her left, my left,
Are the marks which still lie inside my heart,
Though she had long ago it to rot left.
I remember the moment when I held her hand,
A rush inside my nerve,
Time however spilled like a fist of sand,
And I didn’t see her beyond the curve.
She comes in my dreams sometimes and says,
What I did was wrong, I accept that in fact,
And I pray to God to take me back in time,
Only so I could keep a few things in tact.
The day she left me was the day I died,
And a million times have I died since then,
As from a high branch of some forlorn tree,
Falls the nest of a silent wren.


For I promise you tonight that as long as I stay,
Even the strongest gale won’t extinguish,
No pain shall touch you nor no anguish,
And your night will be merrier than the day.
The warmth of this fire that has lighted tonight,
The heat that the happiness has brought in,
I hereby ask for forgiveness for any of my sin,
This fire won’t disappear, will withstand all might.

Names Fade

The breath passes softly through the air all time,
Creating a warmth that makes all the bells chime.
Standing beside the window on a cold frosty night,
Sticking myself to it very tight,
Writing her name through the breath on the window,
Trying to get rid day and night of my shadow.
But the breath disappears into its shade,
And although I don’t want, the names fade,
Fade and settle at the back of my mind,
And I can’t recall her face how much ever I rewind.
Everything which they said was impossible,
Now they seem so easily possible,
And they said getting you was so much possible,
Yet it turned out the only thing impossible.
The colors of life are fading slowly,
The lights diminishing, the light of life,
Those names back there in my mind are fading,
And I am going through a tough strife.
It seems as if the window panes cry each night,
They behave as if they are in a fright,
Fright that they too will lose from their pane,
A name that was written by a boy insane.
They cry aloud and the rivers murmur,
That he was the only one made for her,
But time keeps moving, and it will,
Until the day my body will chill.
I tell God at last, she is my only jade,
And may in my mind never her name fade.

I Love You Even Today

Men may change, time may pass,
Things may, or may not last,
Towns get looted, names fade soon,
The heart burns under the sun every noon,
Whatever may happen, and whatever does,
You should know how I feel, you really must.
Those days have passed when people understood,
Analysed their love, and it against the sand of times stood,
Yet the sands got washed by the sea one day,
The water took it away in its own way,
The strings got broken, they cried in pain,
The girl in love did things insane.
But deep in my soul, I do know a bit,
What people may think I don’t give a shit,
I want to tell you be it night or day,
Just like before, I love you even today.
Tired I am of staying alone,
Looking for hours your pictures on the phone,
So far from you yet so close I am,
People may say I am insane, I don’t give a damn.
I wait at the front door, you will come one day,
I am sure you will, how much ever no you say.
Smiles and happiness will kiss my feet,
Hand in hand, we’ll walk down that street,
And you know how I feel, even if you don’t say,
Just like before, I love you even today.

The Roof Beam

“That was the ultimate story for the night,” said my father, keeping his glass of tea on the wooden table in front of us. And then he burst out into laughter. Mr. Farmer looked annoyed, since in his past sixty years, this was the first time someone had told him that the things he spoke were all a joke. “Ghosts do not exist Mr. Farmer, and people do not die looking at a beam under the roof,” said he, bursting out into laughter again.

Indeed, the story the farmer told us was clearly made up, just like the ones we used to see on the television. Who would indeed believe that there was a ghost in the haunted house who killed people, and the people were found dead, each one’s eyes staring at the roof beam above. Mr. Farmer, annoyed now, said, “Fine, then why do you not go there yourself and check out whether it is true? I give you a chance, prove me wrong.” Silence followed, after which my father again burst out into laughter, which annoyed the farmer even more, and said, “Okay, tomorrow night I go and meet your ghost. Let me see what is so charming about the roof beam that everyone dies looking at it,” and winked at me. I smiled wryly, already too sleepy to indulge in this conversation. I was tired by the day’s journey, and here my father was over enthusiastic and wanted to wait for another day only to prove a fable wrong.

I stood up, went into the hut where we had taken shelter for the night, and started looking for a place to sleep. There was no bed, nothing to rest my head upon, so I just went near the fireplace and lay on the floor, it was warmer there, and the mosquitoes would not come troubling me, put my head upon my hands, curled myself, took an empty dirty sack for a sheet, and went off to sleep. The noise of the heavy rain on the tinned shed behind kept me half awake. There was no light in the room, no fan, only a hand-fan which the farmer was using for himself. I stopped thinking about the ghost, or whatever it was the farmer was saying, and concentrated on sleeping.

The next night, I was not so over enthusiastic. In fact I was a bit afraid of the farmer’s story turning out to be true, but when I told my father what I felt, he gazed at me with his mouth open and gave a wtf expression that made me quiet again. We had dinner quietly, although father tried to crack a few jokes at the farmer’s expense. Post-dinner, we walked up to the haunted house that we were told about the previous day.

The house indeed looked like a haunted one. The dark sky, no light around except the full moon on the sky which made a shadow of the house overlap with the trees surrounding it, and silence all around. It had two big windows, and the door was made of wood but was broken from the bottom. A bird had made its nest in the house too. It started making me nervous too, and I wanted to stop my father, but then I realized how foolishly I was behaving. I bid bye to my father, and we had a hearty laugh about father being the ghost’s dinner for the night. Then we came back to the farmer’s hut.

I could not sleep that night, partly because of the monotonous sound of the rain on the tinned shed, and partly thinking of what was happening at the haunted house. I was somehow desperately waiting for morning to arrive, and I do not know why, but it seemed as if the night would not end. The farmer snored in the other room whilst I played with myself, and kept looking at my mobile now and then, checking whether it was time enough for me to get out and rush to the house and check the circumstances there.

The first chirp of the bird made me stand up on my feet. It was a twenty-minute walk from this hut to the haunted house, and even as I said the word “haunted house” in my mind, it made me smile wryly as to how villagers term every small thing so huge. I was almost near the house when I saw my father come out of a side-lane that led to the house. I was overjoyed to see him. I went up to him.

“So, how was your experience last night?” I asked.

My father again burst out into laughter. He threw the twig with which he was cleaning his teeth and said, “See, I told you. The farmers say anything that comes into their mind. Everything is a lie.”

I laughed and said, “And what about the roof-beam? What was so attractive about it that all people looked at it and died?” winking at him.

He suddenly became serious. “No, there is something about that beam.”


“I do not know. I cannot explain. But there is something about that beam. You need to see it and then may be you would feel alike.”

“Okay, then into the house I go and get infatuated about the beam,” I said, and we both burst out into laughter.

I rushed into the room, and it was then that my heart pumped faster than ever before. There was my father, lying on the bed, his eyes gazing the beam, his eyes not blinking anymore, his heart, no more beating. He was dead. I rushed out to find the man to whom I talked, but there was no one outside. But I just talked to him outside. Then who was he…?