Random Musings I

The babbling sounds of the river and the rhythm of the whooshing gusty winds could be heard through the mystifying  frozen air. His legs trembled as he walked through the wooden suspension bridge that lay connected to the other end of the mountain. His thumping heart murmured a thousand prayers for reasons known and unknown. He felt numb and motionless attimes, as his past revisited him at lucid intervals blocking his journey for finding his lost soul.

Losing myself - Part I

 I live on the 37th floor of this building - a dejected, hapless and sober building. I chose myself to be locked away from the madding crowd when their caprices and whims started becoming unbearable. It was occasional in the beginning but later I couldn't bear humans.

I felt the ardent need to self quarantine my feelings, to fetter myself in a room which really lacked comforting words, probing questions or looks of sympathy.

My room started to vibe with the melancholy which my body reeked profusely. Well I couldn't comprehend how much quantifiable my loss was!

I lost myself in my utopian world where my silence turned into murderous stabs. And when my body wriggles with that pain, there is a constant war waging between my mortal body and immortal soul.

Have you ever felt this? I mean what i feel now! I know this feeling might visit you very rarely but when you feel so, you face difficulty in expressing it. 

I chose the 37th floor of this building and allowed myself  to be cut off from the world just to feel myself and the solace of solitude it cuddled me with. Standing on the balcony of my apartment, I can see the horizon waning away in silence like my unspoken words. I can see how the darkness sets in and feel the cold wind sweeping over my body...........

Obscurity

 The feeling is strong but obscure!

How traumatized life can be at-times. We carry the past pangs of strife, we are destined to carry as a sole reminder to make us feel that 'it' existed at one point of time in our lives.

Something that made us feel bad about ourselves, something that made us point fingers to blame ourselves, something that made us to cover the scars  that we had earned in the onward journey of life! Even something that made us evolve finally into an ungrateful biped or an emotional fool through the severities of life.

The journey of life is subtle. Yet the paths through which it leads us are beyond words. By the time we watch and understand the drama of our life, we will be an unknown story for the world. 

As we all hold many untold secrets,which we carry to our graves....

 

Ruminations of a classroom.

Lockdown days...

It's been three months now, since I miss my classroom. I can strongly feel the voidity in my classroom. On a moments glance, I saw the world evolving into a different realm. Now I get a real example of Charles Darwin's Theory, "The survival of the fittest". Each and each second of life shows a disclaimer whether you might outlive the novel Corona virus, if infected upon.

Though the classes run online now, I detest the virtual learning at any cost - leaving my satiation point sink below the line in teaching. Yet my kids appear to be happy with the online teaching platform except the momentary network glitches that is freely offered in between the classes.

Two days back, I went to my classroom and felt the comfort of my chair. Oh dear! I miss the comfiness you gifted me, amidst the busy and long lectures i delivered, standing for hours in the class. The class appears to be hushed silent, which I wished I had while my students were in my classroom. The walls which resounded with the laughter,gossips and stories of friends, complaints of parents seemed to have lost touch. The benches and desks that have cradled many a number of students over the years stood motionless. A gentle and quite sleep......

The whiteboard  looked scarless. It has been three months since I last fondled him with my diagrams and notes. The air conditioners, the projector and other electronic devices agreed with the silence that room had to carry along. 

The potential energy that the room contained  was not agreeable to my senses, though I am getting used to it. Yet, What is a classroom without face to face learning, without random jokes, comments, scoldings, unexpected questioning and much above getting deviated from the subject matter taught, when the faces of students brightens up exhibiting, "Don't stop...Pleaseeeeeee Sir"

Unexpected is the re-opening, though the show has to go on. And I have to play the clown for the academic year wearing different attires and faces for different subjects, students and parents.

Hope to see everything gets back to normal without risking much of human life.

When I start Introspecting!

Unrestrained

River of agony via a letter

When thoughts starts hitting and there is no other way, rather than letting it flow like a river.

To Emer (My soul, who has been graciously named)

I am a bird!

The Test

Emer!

His moments

Momentary was his state of existence , momentarily interwoven with a myriad of emotions that ate up his memorable moments of life. Had he ever imagined, he would have fallen prey to the introspection of his mind that swayed and twisted the then moments he had craved for!

His yearning was to feel life and not enjoy it; to relish his soul than to satiate it with pleasure; to wonder and not to get admired; to learn and not to teach; to free himself rather than holding the bonds of his family.

As for him, everything was momentary; lying to the supposition in his own hands which could meet an abrupt and deliberate sophisticated end.

                                       - Maria Cluston Cletus. 

Wonderwall

You - My ethereal monsoon

Seasons, have I felt and seen;

But the sight of you was the onset of

the first drop of monsoon.

Oh! How I craved to be drenched in thy showers of care.

And, when you sensed my yearnings,

You did allow me to feel it,

Though momentary!

-As you are the monsoon & you never stay around.

But when I know that my cravings were not futile;

I’d; with honest love, prayers and hope

Await thy return….

Your voice resonates in my head...

   On a moment’s notice, even without knowing who you are,

I became enamored by you.

Now I fail to realize what I’ve become…

I fancy listening to your voice. It is like a gentle touch that sends chills through my entire body.

A touch of unspoken words and facts that are yet to be spoken.

At times, I’m forced to render your lips motionless from uttering anything; by pressing my lips against yours. Now I can feel your unspoken words, stealthily finding an escape route to my heart, drenching my entire body with your voice.

Though my eyes have become a stranger to your physical existence, I sigh no regrets but my heart aches and my eyes fill up every time, I fail to listen to your conjuring words…..

All I mumble against the pounding of my heart – “I miss your presence”

She swayed...

Being Black is Poetic - II

I see you in black, beautifully clad;

Near my body which has given away to the dark.

For once you came to see me last, I’m glad,

But to another world devoid of fancies, I embark.

Is it for paying homage that you wore black?

Or is it to relive those moments we both cradled!

They dressed me up in scented whites but not in black,

With white lily flowers and satin laced coffin, I lay cuddled.

Hymns rise along with the incense as prayers for me,

I see you eyeing me with unbearable pangs of strife.

Never regret that you are unable to find a replacement for me,

For I lived and craved for an ordinary life.

I’ll end up in purgatory, for all those heinous acts done;

Shoving aside the up-front choices of heaven and hell.

Remember that life is short and things done can’t be undone,

For I ended up in the altar, to witness my knell.

You - II

I slept in your arms marinated in love

I wished you were mine, but I know nothing that your heart commands.

I knew it might be momentary

But you never knew how much it would cost me,

To trade myself to the darkness that haunted me.

You let me go and now I’m sinking….

Being black is Poetic- I

I reek melancholy,

My room smells nothing but isolation;

My soul bleeds wildly,

And I .....

Suffer from depression.

P.S:Feelings culminating from heart: I need help.

Dated: 11/01/2018 @ 6.45 pm.

You - I

I like the way you and your memories resonates in my head.

Like a breeze on a day of spring,

Like a leaf moving along with the wind, my eyes move along with the images of yours that flutters in a direction unknown.

You impregnated me with your breath, you exhaled and I bore you silently swearing my love…

Lost, Love & Life

Profundity

Fraility

Passion in his eyes!

Apple of my eye...

Monsoon Diaries - IX #Sensual rain.

"Your sensuous eyes with clouded brows,

glares at my body, with lust profound;

 And when I lift my head up,

out of curiosity; you come as though

 you are determined to...

You feel my forehead, my eyes and my lips,

You never fail to hold my hand;

And you flow down my neck with

                             tickling passion. 

You embrace me, close to your chest 

 Where my hip is never amiss." 

                                        -to be continued...