I am eternally special

Since this is my first prose and owing to the lack of any constructive ideas in my stagnated brain, I decided to write about something that no one knows better than me – Myself. A single, one-word description about me is that I’m special.

I’ll just take a moment to pause and let all the smirks, snickers and frowns to gradually give way to that inescapable quality we human beings are naturally blessed with – curiosity.

Pause.

Okay, now that I have your attention, I’ll resume. Before you have any preconceived notions about having to see some PJs about me being special because of my name (which, by the way, is not unique. A google search resulted in at least 4 people with my name) or PAN ID or even my college roll number. Neither has the conclusion about the title of this post resulted from an arrogance or high-handedness from my end. I have reached the conclusion from a simple application of an often found complex mathematical concept called probability.

I decided to take some common aspects of life and see how I fit in there before calculating the probability of other people in the world with the same fit. So here are my reasons for my inevitable conclusion:

·         I am an Indian

·         I have spent roughly 84% of my life in a post-liberalized India.

·         I have studied in 9 schools across India, including my current one

·         I am a vegetarian

·         My music interests include both Pink Floyd and Mukesh.

·         I have seen both Mulholland Drive (arguably one of the most complex movies ever made) and Marigold (arguably one of the dumbest movies ever made. Actually, inarguably)

·         My favorite cricketer happens to be Rahul Dravid (not Sachin Tendulkar!) and my favorite tennis player happens to be Nadal (not Federer!)

·         I do not follow the English Premier League (err…EPL, you don’t say the full name)

·         I have spent more time in trains than in flights and cars put together

·         My only visit outside India has been Sri Lanka

·         I still owned a desktop when I turned 25

·         My desktop was cheaper than my speakers

·         At no point in my life, did I own more than 3 wearable jeans

·         At no point in my life, has my weight crossed 70

·         I have read both the Famous Five series and War and Peace

·         I have had more accidents than the number of vehicles I have owned

·         On a side note, I do not have a driver’s license

·         I have had the fortune of working on both Logo as well as Flex

·         I have had the good fortune of seeing Tehqiqaat and Chandrakanta, as well as the misfortune of seeing CID and MTV Roadies

·         My favorite actor is Paresh Rawal (SRK’s not even close!)

A rough estimation of the gross probabilities of people having the same fit comes to around 0.00000000002, which translates to 1 in 50 billion people. The current world population is a little more than 7 billion. So for me to lose my special stature, would require 100 billion people, roughly 14 times the current world population. With the current growth and death rates, it would take another 3875 years before that’s possible (assuming Earth can sustain the weight of 100 billion people).

Therefore, I can safely assume I am eternally special!

Wishes...

The road keeps meandering away,
The storm holding me at bay,
Leaves of life blowing astray,
All I can do is pray...

The Stranger's smiling at me,
His wicked eyes I feebly see,
Stinging me with His stubborn rope,
All I can do is hope...

The Friend fades to black,
His voice is just an audible crack,
I see His blessings burn,
All I can do is yearn...

Thoughts swimming against the rough sea,
What is...What's meant to be?
The Stranger snickers hard at me,
The Friend solemnly stares at me,

The light's dimming...darkness galore,
The cloud's thickening...the skies roar,
Holding a leaf with solemn pride,
I fling it to the other side...

Flickering lights

The dark envelope stretches long before him,
The road's straight, the lights dim,
His voice drowns in the blaring song,
The mind's fuzzy, the spirit's strong.

He ponders, a look of restless concern,
The road meanders ahead, a slight turn,
The zooming cars pass him in a flash,
Flickering lights...don't be so rash...

He stares blankly...the fight with his girl,
An exchange of words, the ugly twirl,
The time to think, the unknown beyond,
Flickering lights...the shattered bond?

His body feels warm, an illusion of ease,
The wind's chilly now...the dense trees,
The words of his mind, an illegible font,
Flickering lights...what do you want?

His pulse is fast, the steering's fickle,
The movie of his past...a soothing tickle,
The end's uncertain, a fading gleam?
Flickering lights...what's your dream?

The hands freeze, The turn begins,
The trees replace the road, the car spins,
The medics arrive, their faces grim,
Flickering lights...can you save him?

Her First Song

As the silent river, she gently flows,
Her rhythmic waves echo softly,
As the sparkling dew, she radiantly glows,
Her quiet drops beat calmly.

Her words are crystal clear
As she speaks her heart out,
She has no vice to fear,
As she speaks of her own doubts.

She stops to catch her breath,
As the walls resonate her voice,
She signals the stop's death,
As she slowly breaks the ice.

The passer-byes stand still.
As she whispers into their ears,
She has a wish to fulfill,
As she overcomes her own barriers

As the words end, she smiles,
The river ceases to flow,
She's ready for the trial,
As she completes her show.

Shaky ground

The ground sprawled before his tiny eyes,
Echoing with the sounds of his childish cries,
The ground had space, the child had time,
Together, they swayed in this timeless rhyme.

The man walks the dim-lit hallway,
Thoughtful eyes, mind in play
The closed walls echoing his silence,
Time was scarce, his ground - tense.

The flurry of cool breeze in his hair,
The expressions of unthought care,
The playful stings of the ground,
In pain, joy was easily found.

The man sips the bland coffee,
Poisoned by the futile work spree,
His face reflects his somber tale,
Helplessly bound in his own jail.

Time passes by like epic prose,
The ground shrinks, the child grows,
The theory of evolution wins,
An age ends, another begins.

The new ground came up fast,
A stark shadow of its past,
The space was small, emotions nil,
And His happy world became stony still.

Fly High

The music's booming in your ears,
Blaring loud like your skimpy dress,
The cheers with overflowing beers,
Your brain, they shall together caress.

The light's capering in myriad hues,
Flickering fast like your blurry eyes,
The wobbly legs in expensive shoes,
Your mind slowly turning to ice.

The heads beating in rhythmic motion,
Shaking hard like your stomach fluids,
The frenzied body in fiery commotion,
Your mouth spurting the smelly fluids.

Hands clasped around unknown waists,
Long hair scattered on young faces,
Periodic kisses with alcoholic tastes,
Your pulse nervously races.

Brash laughter and fake smiles,
Hideous tattoos and navel rings,
Tripping down in dramatic style,
Your heart quietly stings.

Fly high, boy, for it's your reign,
Fly high, girl, for it's your cash,
Fly high, for it's your drain,
Fly high, for it's a cursory flash.

The Knell Song

It was a gray day in Autumn,
When the trees were all solemn,
When the sun lost it's light,
When...their day became night.

The leaves lay yellow on the streets,
The birds lost their cacophonous greets,
The black dog sobbed on the grey wall,
Their number had just become small...

The brown grass lost their rainy shine,
In barren grounds idling like rusty shrines,
The concrete towers radiated dark shadows,
Their tears...their grass-less meadows...

The vultures' mouths were all red,
The dying crow stared with a half-head,
The western breeze lost it's voice,
Their hopes...their unchosen choice...

The distant church bells silently rang,
The skies watered, the swan sang,
The priest quietly spoke his words,
They closed their eyes, vision blurred,
Hands clasped, they recited a final prayer,
As the coffins were lost under the sandy layer.

Dreams

The warm whiskey trickling down the throat,
The ash from the fireplace, a rhythmic note,
The high of the spirit, the spirits are low,
The pale face glows against the outside snow.

The hourglass spinning lazily on the aged table,
Each drop a grim reminder of the nostalgic fable,
A time to treasure, a time magically lost,
Life or time?...A lifetime has its cost...

The fading pictures hanging on the shabby walls,
From their false smiles, a teary shadow crawls,
Tears of happiness, the shadow of stark regret,
Reflecting sadly on the vision that has set.

The rusty trophies in the forsaken showcase,
A petty symbol, once a sign of proud grace,
The pride's a relic, a pride of dark sorrow,
Staring in contempt at the unthought morrow..

The fire goes out, the eyes hazy...dim,
The story of life now just a swan hymn,
Unmindful of the wistful passing years,
Sleeping through a gaze of hollow spheres.

Escape

The consuming bells have begun to ring,
The knell song you like to sing,
Your frosty knives snipping my wings,
I shan't fly this spring...

The ticking hourglass is a toxic drone,
The sadistic pity you like to loan,
Your steely heart usurping my throne,
I shan't rule this frozen stone...

The burning ash has begun to rise,
The suicidal fire you like to devise,
Your teary gaze sucking my eyes,
I shan't see summer's sunrise...

The mortifying face is a murderous road,
The dignified ego you like to explode,
Your insolent shadow eclipsing my abode,
I shan't stay at my wintry ode...

The rains have begun, the words are out,
I've ended this happiness drought,
The grounds are bare, new seeds to sprout,
I've ended this aching bout...

Nightmare

The perplexed mind wakes up to life,
Spinning in a shower of incessant strife,
The world is black, the visions- bright,
The delirious brain cowers in fright.

The eyes twitch just a trifle,
Incoherent words audibly stifled,
The breathing's fast...in spurts,
Saliva trickles out in squirts.

The images swinging past in a hurried cycle,
Moving around in spiral circles,
Images of truth mingled with lies,
Brightening the dark mental skies.

The hands shiver, the hairs stand tall,
A slight contraction in the abdominal wall,
The legs are drawn towards the chest,
The body slouches in quiet protest.

The mind becomes active, becomes wild,
The interior's boiling, the exterior mild,
The frenzied heart skips a beat,
Is it succumbing to the heat?

The mouth's dry as a desert,
The heavy breathing's now inert,
The face becomes pale, turns blue,
Beads of sweat like the morning dew..

The images merge, a distorted reel,
The fear's real, the movie surreal,
Demonic emotions fueling the twister,
As Life gives way to guilty blisters.

The journey ends, so do his thoughts,
The visions consume into a tiny, dark spot,
The images have fulfilled their will,
Everything is calm now, it's simply tranquil...

The little kid

It rains hard, the streets flood,
The tall trees fall with a thud,
The clouds darken, the weather's cold,
I see that kid who's eight years old...

Splashing hard in the rain-induced rivers,
He realizes it's chilly, he shivers,
Yet, he's naive, he's an innocent,
Having fun is his only intent...

He splashes hard, his face becomes muddy,
His poor mother beckons him to study,
Yet, he plays with drenched pebbles and soggy sand,
His thoughts are spontaneous, his ideas unplanned...

He stops suddenly, gives his face a soft slap,
He rushes home with a series of child-like claps,
He returns moments later, His face full of glee,
Paper Boats!!...he releases them in the muddy seas...

He squeals with laughter, No one's happier, You'd reckon,
The boats' voyages last for but a trivial second,
The simple joy in the act - worth a lifetime,
Still lost in laughter, he breaks into a touching rhyme...

He picks up a stick now and beats the eddy water,
He loses his footing a bit, he falters,
He gets up again and beats the lifeless current again,
The water and kid fighting to enforce their reign...

It's a pleasant sight, brings a smile on my lips,
His uncanny acts bring forth a fleet of nostalgia ships,
Those golden days of juvenility, there was no time to care,
Those times of eternal joy, How I wish I was back there...

Allowance To Plead

The rains are here, wetting the parched streets,
Heated furnaces giving way to rhythmic beats,
Blinding sunshine replaced by vast black sheets,
A pang of regret, a reminder of my defeats...

A cheerful juvenile I was, no care for judgments,
Monkeying with ephemeral toys, no time for sentiments,
The world was my playground, I was the king,
If only I'd learnt to strum the benignant string...

An arrogant stripling I was, no sense of wrong-right,
Feeding on pampered wealth, soaring like a kite,
Master of vanity, condescending God of upset beings,
Obscuring myself in the abysmal abyss I was digging...

A manager in my late twenties, Was I remotely deserving?
Trampling on naive souls, A selfish brain I was serving,
Scavenging on their failures, my inflated ego shone,
Losing the human religion, Losing my childish throne...

Three marriages, three divorces...nothing did I learn,
In my raging egoistic fire, I let this also burn,
The world was stupid, foolish, I shimmered in this unreality,
The farceness of my belief, If only I'd known the fatality...

A lonely cottage, a lonely old age,
A lonely strife, a lonely life,
Demeaning dreams, Demeaning esteem,
No will to live, No life to will...

An accident, a paralysis...a living stone,
Dumb words, wooden eyes, silent moans,
A mind waking from slumber, a body dead,
Dying in pain, Living in dread...

The world's green outside and so is my mind,
A Wish to relive, A wish to rewind,
Requesting God for one last speech before my heart bleeds,
A last chance to apologize...For mercy, I want to plead...

Déjà vu

He walks slowly along the sea shore,
His face is pale...eyes sore,
He needs a balm, pains galore,
He has been here before...

The gentle waves play with his cold feet,
The chirping birds singing...divine treat,
The palm trees bloom...happiness soars,
He has been here before...

A tall man sprints past him,
Chanting a very familiar hymn,
It's a song he cannot ignore,
He has been here before...

He continues with his wobbly gait,
But he feels a heavy, inner weight,
His hidden intuition comes to fore,
He has been here before...

The voice asks him to pause,
He doesn't know the cause,
He turns around, the man is unseen,
To meet him, why is he so keen?

He becomes restless, his hands shiver,
His silent lips start to quiver,
A sudden realization...He had seen this before,
But they were to meet..that was his chore.

He walks faster, then breaks into a run,
He ran for miles, there was no one,
Tired and exhausted, he evoked his dead mother,
And sitting beside him was his long-lost brother...

The walls are falling

Standing atop the strong wall, he silently stared,
Watching the restless weak...no longer scared,
He felt the thinning strength of his strong mind,
Quietly reflecting on his injustice to mankind.

An invincible king he was, soon to be in a heinous grave,
A tyrant in the past, now...a would be prostrate slave,
The winds were his, they obeyed him...the master,
The winds have changed...fading away...faster, faster...

The walls beneath him have become weak,
Their chances of survival are bleak,
Brutal, misery tales are all they speak,
Salvation from drudgery is what they seek.

The king's reign is coming to an end,
He wants to be reborn...to restore...mend,
His muted apologies, he wants to send,
All his blunders, faults...he wants to tend.

No company he has, no one hears him,
The hitherto daylight has become dim,
His heartbeat's the only happy sound,
Six feet tall...six feet of ground...

The distant, agitated roars come nearer,
Visions of an impending death are clearer,
The finale of an era...a stark age,
The birds freed from a hideous cage.

He sees the faces...feels his warm blood,
He sees the hate...feels the watery flood,
He sees the joy...feels the tangy guilt,
The walls crumble...they blissfully wilt..

Journey into the self

Closing his eyes, he sets his sails,
This voyage promises unprecedented tales,
He knows this...he takes a deep breath,
He's nervous...it's not about life and death.

He gropes around in the dark...the search for truth,
He'll leave no stone unturned...the energy of youth,
He's in a free fall...there's no sucking gravity,
There's bliss at the end of this black cavity.

A faint light turns into a lighting shower,
His eyes shine...he feels his inner power,
Reflecting mirrors up to the shining brim,
He stares into them...This can't be him!!

He's lost, perplexed...a vomiting sensation...he faints,
His self restored, looks into the eyes of unseen saints,
The mirrors are still there...Shining more than ever,
He wants to know the truth...his anxious endeavor.

The lights turn to projectors and the mirrors- screens,
A reflection of his life...clear and hazy scenes,
A repository of images...Most known, some unknown,
Myriads of faces...each different, the name- his own,

The man he was...is...a man- unauthentic...fake,
Masking the true self in the shadows for others' sake,
A face crying to be released...to be free,
If only...he could hear its frantic plea...

What he is...what he should be...they remotely meet,
Like two unknown strangers passing in the street,
The real appears to be a bleary mirror,
If only...its vision could be clearer...

The choices he made...not his true choice,
The voices that echoed...verily, not his voice,
The faces that altered...not his real face,
If only...he could find his absolute space...

The truth dawns...there's tears in his eyes,
The past flashes...a cheat in disguise,
He tears his mask...unveils his self,
He has learnt his lesson...be yourself..