Ramblings of an eccentric

(Warning: This post is way too long for the weak hearted. Enter at your own risk)

(Disclaimer: This is a work of sleep-deprivation. The writer/s have no frigging relationship to this post whatsoever. )

One day, when you have eaten something particularly indigestible, you’ll sit down for a long time and let your mind wander. If you’re lucky enough to have ignored a certain blood-pumping organ of yours for most of your life, then mark my words! For you, sir, are going to need a nice, thick magazine in your bathroom from now on. However, if you don’t fall in that particular genre and have always been unlucky, you’ll see all the people that were. Don’t let your mind wander too far for you’ll remember all the bad parts because you haven’t reminisced the good parts enough. But you’re sitting in absolute silence and all that you see is a crimson ash falling like snow. What do you do then? You start remembering.

After an absolutely preposterous and illegal amount of caffeine, I understood that it kills when the person you worry about is absolutely oblivious to it. What if someday the veil rises and you find out that you weren’t enough? Perhaps some of us have been doing it wrong all these years. We were fools to believe that all those motion pictures and all those bestselling books were true. It was our fault not to have been able to discern between reality and, well, the non-existent.

NO! I’m not going into a rant here against matters of the heart. Definitely not! (My girlfriend will publicly stone me if I do!) I’m just making an observation. We let people into our lives. Be it a friend, family or fiancée, the people we love hold the power to break, shatter and puncture our heart. Yes, we hold that power over them too. But nobody really thinks that way, do they? It’s okay. We are all a little selfish. We don’t want to change. Even if we do, we don’t want our dear ones to change. And when all of us have changed, it’s time to set fire to that house of cards we so carefully built. I’m a small-city guy with small dreams. I don’t know how it works in the big cities. I don’t know how to be ‘cool’ and get into recreational substances or recreational adultery (I do know sarcasm though!) and I certainly don’t want my friends to go that way. But then, I’m a small-city guy. What do I know about the culture and the society in the big bright cities of the world!? What do I know about independent women and the ‘players’ of this earth? Nothing, I believe. It all seems like a hazy dream to me. A dream many wouldn’t want to be in.

The more I think about it, the more it seems to me that life is a long game of Texas hold’em poker. You are dealt a hand and you play with it. You win some and you lose some but nobody leaves the table till a certain grim reaper is involved in the picture. I may seem slightly crazy but just think about it! All our choices and our decisions are not always right or always wrong. We travel on a sine curve, aiming towards happiness and then cascading downwards to a little misery. All the quotes and sayings about ‘not having any regrets’ seems a little bullshit at such indigestible times. After introspection and many a sleepless nights it’s pretty clear that we get screwed severely when we get a full hand of hearts. Because even if we get a straight flush, the house always wins.

But then, I’m a small-city guy. What do I know?

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Snippets

This is a poem of incomplete stories. A poem about a conversation. A poem which allows to hope for a better tomorrow.

“Tell me a story!”

A tattered body, a battered mind,
Dusty feet and arms covered with grime,
A broken heart and some bleeding wounds,
Yes, this is a story of poorer times.

“What about the good times?”, she asked.

Keep patience, for it is yet to be told,
Stay here if you want to see it unfold.
Because I’ve fallen a victim to the wheels of time,
And surely summer will follow these days of cold.

conversation

“Tell me about colours…”

I can see yellow, black, white and brown,
But I see no red or green around,
but I wonder, what if all was just a serene blue?
I could be colour blind without any bounds.

“Tell me about love…”

I looked for you in old lifeless pics,
A hint of love or the blush in your cheeks,
And selfishly i wanted you back near me,
Because my poetry is nothing but our crazy streaks.

“Tell me about yourself…”

On odd days, on bad days, on days real good,
Poetry flows out as I sit and brood,
And I keep hoping this time will be it,
This time I’ll say what my heart would if it could.

“There she is!”

Oscar opened his eyes slowly and didn’t recognize the place. He didn’t know the room, the lights, nothing. The only sounds were the periodic beeps of the various machines monitoring his heartbeat and body temperature. He looked at the table on the left and saw framed pictures of the only moments he could remember. He turned his head towards the right side of the room and found Sophie dozing silently on the couch. He smiled and said, “There she is”. She opened her eyes and  smiled at him.

*

The first time he had seen her was a day he could never forget. A mutual friend had set them up for a date. He was running fifteen minutes late. He dashed out of the cab as fast as he could after paying the fare. For the rest of his life, he had described the next twenty seconds something like this, “I saw her waiting, waiting for me at table number 7. The way her eyes looked when she smiled, I felt like crying. I knew that she was the girl I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I looked at her and said to myself “There she is”.”

woman in cafe
Six months later they got married. And two years later, he started forgetting things. Doctor said it was early onset of Alzheimer’s. Sophie started staying at home all the time, working from home itself and taking care of the man she loved so much.

*

Five years had passed since then. Oscar’s disease had hit him with full force leaving behind a broken man. He remembered nothing except Sophie. And during his periods of acute dementia, when he had a few moments of clarity, he would kiss Sophie and utter his three favorite words “There she is.” He would remember their first date, their initial life and then like a firefly, that entire glow would fade slowly.

*

Sophie looked at Oscar lovingly and adjusted his pillow so that he could be more comfortable. She sat on the couch and looked at the first man whom she had managed to love truly. Then that smile slowly faded.
She went outside the hospital room. On a chair sat Matt, the person who was responsible for them meeting each other. As she occupied the chair next to him, Matt asked, “How’s he doing?” Sophie let out a sigh and looked at Matt, “His heart his stable now. The doctors cleared up the blocked arteries. They say I can take him home this weekend.” Matt squeezed her hand and leaned in to kiss her forehead. “Don’t worry Sophie. I’m there with you through all this.” She suddenly felt sick. She told Matt she had to use the toilet. She locked the toilet door behind her and broke down crying! “What am I doing?! I love Oscar! What the hell am I doing with Matt?” she asked herself.
She looked at herself in the mirror and started talking to herself. “I can’t take care of him anymore. I’ve known my husband longer with Alzheimer’s than without. I’ve watched more of him disappear than I ever got to know. I just can’t do this anymore.”
woman crying

*

Oscar gained his senses and became aware of his surroundings. He found Sophie sitting next to his bed, smiling. “There she is!” came out his voice, loaded with love and affection for the woman of his dreams. “Yes, Oscar sweetheart. Here I am”, said Sophie. Her voice sounded heavy and sad. “I need to go and see the doctor, honey. Now, you be a good boy and don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”
She stepped out of the room silently closing the door behind her. The nurse handed her a clipboard with various forms attached. Sophie paused for a moment and then signed on all the forms. She was sending Oscar to a special facility where they took care of people like Oscar.

She handed over the forms to the nurse and looked at Matt. He put his arms around her and they walked in silence down the hospital corridor.

Last Bench

I may have left the school days behind,
but the classroom never really  left me.
It’s still the same old routine of coming early,
to fill the last benches first.

Gone are the days of uniforms and lunchboxes,
gone are the days of “kneel-down”-ing.
The professor doesn’t give a damn and neither do we,
we just worry that he doesn’t disturb our sleep.

Image

But then, the last bench has its own way,
of forcing you to sit and think.
And While the breeze hits me from the left and from behind,
I stare out of the window and get lost in my thoughts.

I’m pushed back in time, pushed far away,
away from the college classrooms and life.
The professor gets switched off just like a radio,
& all the last bench jokes become buzzing of bees.

I remember old jokes, I remember old pranks,
I remember all the times we laughed and cried.
I remember all the punishments we ever got in class,
I remember each and every smile.

My brain starts playing old videos,
kiddish fights and childish talks.
I remember all promises, all secrets we shared,
all that we thought was the ‘world’ for us.

Games class and football fights,
cat-fights and the gossip vine.
All that philosophical thinking and search for “love”,
nothing but leave a wavering smile.

‘Sharing’ lunches and diet-food!
Borrowing water bottles during a class.
Sticking chewing gum under the desks,
and writing our names over the walls.

Image

The bell rings and my day dream breaks,
I want to stay but I can’t.
Lifting up my bag, I give the bench a look,
and a smiling me exits the class.