The Game

Waiting for the Verdict

~*~*~

The clock was ticking.

She looked up with quiet desperation in her eyes; an almost crazed, starved, empty look, as if all feelings had died inside of her. Long ago she had come to terms with the fact that she would not feel love for another human being ever again, as no one would love her in return. This was the thought which crossed her mind as she sat silently, waiting for the verdict.

He sat at the other end of the room, smoking a cigarette, gazing at her face, trying to understand the girl he fell in love with years ago. She was not like the other girls he had been with, she felt real, genuine, almost alive. For the first time in his life he had felt that he was with a girl who truly cared for him, and who was not just chasing after his money. How could eyes like hers lie to him?

Circumstances under which they had met flashed across her mind, she still remembered the vacant look his eyes held as he walked past her, hand in hand with a Barbie Doll. She wondered whether she had felt anything for him, but all her memories could bring back to her were her pretenses to get to him. Had he never aroused feelings of love in her heart of stone?

He searched for even the faintest trace of warmth in her face, but found nothing but cold indifference. What had he done to kill the soft warm glow of her eyes, the infinite depth of her smile? Could she be telling the truth about how she never felt anything for him, and only wanted his money? He had always known when a girl wanted him for his money, but this time he had been wrong, and this mistake could cost him everything.

“I love him, I love him not,” were the words playing in her mind as if they alone could decide her real emotions. Either she had felt nothing at all, or felt too much for him; either way, all she could do was let him down. She enjoyed the disappointment in his eyes, the hurt, painful look of a dog once much loved but now abandoned by its owner. Oh, the bottomless pit of betrayal.

He remembered the smile she gave him as she walked down the aisle in her white dress. The memory was almost a dream, from a life so far ago; it seemed so unreal. She always joked that life was a game, but he never thought she would play her cards so cleverly, hell, he did not even know she was playing cards at all. It was a tough move to judge, and her face was so expressionless.

The judge called order in the court, the verdict was out. She was to be allowed to keep the property, she had won. The divorce was granted. She got what she wanted. He looked at her face, she did not look happy, nor did she look unhappy. Her eyes met his for the flash of a second, and then she was gone.

The clock was ticking. Tick-tock tick-tock.

After a month of evening drinking, and morning hangovers, he received a note from her lawyer. She had returned his money, every single penny. Confusion was his first reaction, his second was a sense of understanding. He called her lawyer.

She sat at the airport, watching planes take off. A single tear slid down her cheeks, as she walked into life’s open arms.

~*~*~

Choices

Daffodils

~*~*~

It was the rain that came down,
like a flood of suppressed emotions,
having altercations over which
would be the first drop
to touch the virgin ground.
No kings were born on lands below,
like cabbages waiting to be discovered,
some fortunate to be stolen,
others tossed into salad bowls.
The water drops gathered, merged,
became a face with a million identities,
yet identical in every respect,
meant to be forgotten,
but remembered nonetheless.
Cold to the touch,
like hands held underwater,
and brought to the surface
for the whiff of a breath.
Soaked to the skin,
she could feel the venom travel
softly down the curve of her spine
and disappear.
What more could she do but wait,
taking in the silence of the words
which were never spoken,
but which the rain whispered in her ears?

Centuries passed,
like vows undertaken,
oaths broken,
and friendships betrayed
for the clink of silver,
all in the span of a second.
Used and abused laid the emotions
attached to the end of a string,
with sticks poking through
their heart and their wings.
Yet always,
fingers reached out to mend
the shattering feelings,
fingers that caressed the forsaken soul,
fingers that healed,
fingers that deceived
and dug in deep with their nails.
Puckered up,
for the taming of the sands of time,
that came and washed away
all unwritten rhymes.
She had forgotten what was no more,
or was it that it never existed,
this petty dime for a dozen souls?
There is a fine line
between memories and dreams,
a tiny thread binding perception to fact,
such was the knowledge she had acquired.

Meandering through cervices
of lies and truth,
there was no end to the follies
played by the mind,
giving more than could be given,
and taking endlessly,
as if resources were infinite.
The guillotine is less cruel,
an execution instrument,
a clean swipe and it is over,
unlike the multiple blows,
life hits one with,
even though each one is worth it.
Dragonflies and daffodils,
more like a drop of sunshine,
coming into her life,
but leaving before she could grab it,
and she learned to believe in nothing.
It was hard to believe that one
could be so alone in this vast universe,
stretching on into infinity.
It was hard to comprehend
the magnitude of the fact
that solitude was one’s best friend
on a planet with seven billion souls.
But it was a choice she said,
not an obligation.

~*~*~

Fear of the Dark

~*~*~

“Why do you fear death?”

“Because I love life too much.”

“Though you know that this life means nothing? Though you know this world is just an illusion to turn you away from the path?”

“I believe in living for the moment, enjoying this life I’ve been given. Is it a sin to have fun? Is it a sin to enjoy worldly pleasures?”

“In fact, it is a sin if you forget your purpose. When death shall take you, none of this materialistic gain will save your soul from its fate.”

“Death is nothing I worry about. I have a long life. Why should I ruin the moment of my happiness by worrying about something that will come to me eras later? This doesn’t mean I do not fear death, for I do fear it and for this reason I disregard it as best I can.”

“You must worry about your soul’s fate if nothing else. Don’t let your happiness set a curse upon yourself. Death can either bring you salvation or eternal torment. It all depends on how you choose to live this life.”

“You do understand why I fear death. I’m afraid of that eternal torment, that life in what they call Hell. Maybe that’s why I choose to ignore it completely.”

“So you do accept the fact that you’ve been living a sinful life? If not, then why would you fear death and its eternal curse?”

“My life isn’t sinful, it’s just too happy. It’s too full of comforts, and this is what is the root cause of my fear. The materialistically happy die a gruesome death, suffering that eternal curse, that torture to the soul.”

“Once again you’re in denial. You regret your past, don’t you?”

“Mention not the forbidden.”

“You must wake up to reality and stop running away from your past. You must make amends for what you did back then, not waste the rest of your life away in sin. You must stop fearing death, and do the right thing. No one lives forever.”

“I’d like to tell myself that I will live forever. Yes, I will live forever. It’s easy for you to say, but even you know how difficult it is to fix your mistakes, fix your greatest sins.”

“Yet deep down inside you know the truth, no one lives forever. God isn’t cruel, he readily forgives those who apologize from their heart, who truly make amends for their sins. You still have time, you can still save your soul from the eternal curse bestowed upon you by your immature past.”

“I wish it were that easy, but you don’t understand. I have gone much too far in my life of sin and worldly comforts. Turning back now will not change the Lord’s mind about sending me to my curse.”

“Yes it will, if you make amends from the heart, you can still make it to the Palace in Heaven. If one has the willpower they can even move the very mountains. Saving your soul is much easier than that. If you want, I’ll be your guide in the process.”

“You cannot change the course of destiny. My soul was destined to be doomed, and it will be, no matter what I do. Plus I have gone so far into my lifestyle that I’ll never be able to let myself turn back. Even if you guide me, I know I’ll let you down.”

“You never were optimistic, were you? If you have the willpower, you can achieve anything, anything in the world.”

“My will is broken, long cast away. What can I do now?”

“Rebuild it.”

“It’s not that easy my friend. Nothing ever was, ever is, and ever will be.”

“Give up your sinful life.”

“I cannot. My family depends on its support. I cannot let them down. I cannot let the people who depend on me down. What I once did for myself is now being done for them. You would expect me to give up all my sinful money as well, and I’m afraid I cannot do that. I cannot take their support away from them. I’m sorry.”

“So you can sell your soul to the Devil, but you cannot start over again? Why do you fear death when you know you won’t do anything to change your fate? Death comes to all, some choose to change, and some don’t. Those who fear death work hard to change their fate, but you refuse to do any such thing. Why? Do you fear change even more? Or is it that you are just playing with me right now, pretending to fear death?”

“Why do you play with my mind in this way? Can’t you just let me be?”

“I’m only trying to help you. You still haven’t answered my question. Do you fear change more than you fear death?”

“I do not fear change, I fear failure. What if I do not succeed in changing my fate?”

“You will meet the same fate you are deemed to meet if you do nothing at all.”

“But there will be that shadow, that feeling of darkness, continuously nagging me, telling me I’m a failure.”

“No, there will be that voice which will tell you that at least you tried rather than just giving up right at the start. Just think, what if you succeed? Won’t that be the best thing ever? It’s better to fail in doing something rather than regretting never having done it.”

“You speak as if you have already conquered your fate and changed it. Have you?”

“I once committed a serious crime as well. Hard to believe now, isn’t it? Most who have heard this or know this, find it hard to believe. I have changed beyond recognition, I have changed so much, I myself find it hard to believe I once did what I did.”

“What is it that you did?”

“Would you really like to know?”

“Yes, yes I would. It cannot have been worse than my crime.”

“You’ll be surprised. Your crimes are nothing compared to mine. I was a murderer, a cold-blooded murderer. Escaped from prison, yes. I was a threat to the world, but I was religious at the same time. This is what saved me and made me who I am today.”

“When you killed, you didn’t remember you were a religious man?”

“When I killed, all I knew was that I had to see the bloodshed. It was a rampant rage, a furious vengeance. I still remember the day, that day long ago, it was a cold January morning in the year 1968. I was hardly seventeen when I took my revenge from the people who took my father’s life when I was a mere child.”

“You had a reason to kill though, it wasn’t cold-blooded murder! It was only revenge for what had happened years earlier.”

“Ah but you see, I killed his whole family, even the two year old child. If this isn’t plain cruelty, then what is? I was caught red-handed, and I was sentenced to death. I still remember the torment of death row. Yet I escaped and found my way to a church.”

“Church? Now I understand what you meant by religious.”

“No, I went there knowing I would find refuge if I confessed my crime to the Priest. This I did, and the blessed Priest changed my life forever. I left my country and started my life all over again. So you see, it isn’t impossible to make amends. Your sins aren’t nearly as bad as mine were. It’ll be so much easier for you to make a new start.”

“What you say is really hard to believe. Yet I know you speak the truth. Tell me, how long did it take you to make your peace with your fate?”

“I’m still in the process of it.”

“You see, I don’t have a whole lifetime left ahead of me to make amends. All will fail, I just know it.”

“My dear friend, you don’t need a whole lifetime to correct your mistakes. Did you murder anyone? No you didn’t, you just lived a corrupt life. Trust me when I say that is not nearly as bad as homicide. I need a whole lifetime to make amends, you just need a few years.”

“And if I fail?”

“Your position cannot get any worse than it is now.”

“I see you make sense. One thing I don’t understand is why you want to help me so much? I did nothing for you, in fact, I hardly know you. Are you just using me to help you make peace with the Lord?”

“Now, now my dear friend, I have known you for a whole year. How much longer should I know you to be able to help you? Plus you do realize that every good or bad thing a person does is purely because he has a selfish cause, don’t you? You are right about me just using you, but you do know that it will do you good as well, thus you will let me use you.”

“What you just said says a lot about your personality.”

“Is that so? Like what?”

“You’re not as chaste as you seem to be, friend. You are not as pure and religious as you claim to be.”

“You’re a clever chap, no one has ever recognized that part of me as yet. I’m beginning to think you’re a bit too clever.”

“Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?”

“You’re a fool of a person! You should know by now I do not flatter my victims. I’m surprised you have figured out an important point in my personality but you haven’t guessed exactly why I am here.”

“Victims? You do mean friends, right? Anyways, you’re here to change my life from what you’ve been telling me. You’re here to remove my fear of death, my fear of the dark.”

“Yes, that is by taking your life…” From under his shirt he pulled out a pistol and shot a bullet into the man’s forehead, killing him instantly. “Now you shall never fear death my good friend, you shall never fear the dark.”

~*~*~

So the above is a piece I wrote years ago, and going over it the other day, I kind of liked parts of it. I removed certain parts that sounded lame to me.

To Nature

Somewhere along the woody roads, the icy cold streams of one’s imagination can be heard, beckoning the unknown to come forward and take a plunge into the night. The woods are a lovely place, for it is where the earth comes into existence, where the earth becomes a fountainhead for all the beauty, for all the life, for all the wonderful things that nature has given us.

The song birds chirp happily, letting the song of their heart diffuse into the air, until a faint fragrance of life itself hangs lightly in the atmosphere. The Spirit of Dreams descends into the forest and brings with him the dust of hope, sprinkling it onto all that can be touched, and the soft glitter of this dust warms the heart and brings to it solace from the storms of everyday life. Silken threads of sleep bind us and gently lay us on the forest floor to become one with the meaning of life, and bring to us the cravings of our hearts. What would we be without nature’s dust shimmering in the twilight bringing ease to our minds?

The streams are made of crystals, sparkling like rainbows formed at the first shower of spring. Like cubes of ice, the water slips off the tips of our fingers, leaving traces of a frigid freshness. The golden fish glide through the silver moonlight, catching the rays on their fins as they dance to the music of life. The river cleanses all the dirt in our souls, leaving us at peace with a polished heart of gold. The water heals all that it flows over, and the blood of our hearts is returned. The water spirits smile brightly on the river bed.

The wind locks the trees in a dance inescapable, bringing to life the heart of the woods. The leaves rustle, the branches shake, and the blossoms fall, making a carpet at our feet to lead us softly into the heart of its dreams. Butterflies flutter, playing games with the ancient and wise trees, laughing as the leaves fall softly to the ground. The leaves are Mischief himself, harmless but fun, shading us from the moonlight, and letting in the sunlight at noon. The trees admonish these little fluttering leaves, leaving a mist of their breath hanging loose in the air, waiting to fall onto our eyelids as we sleep. Oh, dancing leaves, swaying trees, keep the world at your feet and protect it.

Dewdrops on the mossy floor glisten at the crack of dawn, like embedded diamonds singing the song of their soul. Each flower having flavored dew, attracts the honeybees to sing softly, whispering in their ears. The drops on the grass bring to the musky Earth a gift as they trickle down the stalk. The dewdrops bring a promise of life renewed, a life we have only dared to dream of. As the day does progress, growing older, unto death, the dewdrops slowly disappear, with a vow to return at the rebirth of a new beginning. They are tied to the dawn of a new day, the birth of a new start, these dewdrops of my heart.

Sadly, the beauty is fading fast, merging into the artificial pseudo-ecstasy, the temporary intoxication given by the most lethal of drugs. The song of life grows fainter at every passing moment, as more of nature is taken away, to heed the addiction of the material world. If only we could learn to live in harmony with the life around us, if only we could respect this special gift, this gift of nature, the elixir of life and death. There is no intoxication, like that of nature dwelling in our hearts.

Note: I got the above image from Utsav’s Blog.

Where is the Light?

Oh, dear dreary darkness of this dreadful life. Will thou not let the drudgery of thy mind be washed away with the rays of the sun? Let it shine through the cracks of the walls thou built within thine head, let the rays with their own force, break apart these walls, and let in the fresh air. This damp and deeply pungent scent in the air, banish it with the warmth of thy mind opening up to accept the golden rays. Oh, dear dreary darkness of this dreadful life…when will thee let in the light?

Aye, this eternal sadness of the mind inflicts upon thee a sickness, the curse of a broken heart. The agony becomes ubiquitous, flowing into every crack and imperfection of thy mind. Oh, if only our minds were immaculate, such that the despair, desperately looking for a hiding place, would find none and slip off the surface like water on glass.

Love dies the death of a miscreant, yet with it lies dead the hero, Trust. We never fall for the villain’s treachery twice, but when the death of a dream takes place, when all Trust is lost, what will aid this broken heart? When all Trust is lost, with whom do we grieve this shattered heart? Say a day comes in our life, when we find we cannot even bank upon ourselves, what is it that we must do? Must we sink into the ground and die a desired death?

If we were such stuff that dreams are made of,  then the empty heaviness of the heart would not matter. The heart would lie silent, subdued by the stars sparkling in the night sky. The whispers in the air would bring comfort, a longing to live a wonderful life, even if the life demands we must live it alone. Dreams would carry us in their arms, sing us a lullaby, and soften our eyelids with faint traces of star-dust. Aye, but the dreams have broken, leaving us empty and cold. Why live this life with a broken heart and shattered dreams? Why go on?

Alas, the heart lies tattered and torn, in the darkness of a new moon night. The dreams lie strewn haphazardly, shivering on the snow-covered ground. All that is heard echoing in the silence of the depths of time is a faint whimper, then deafening silence once again…

Someday…

Someday, someday, when the morning light falls on my face, I want to feel myself flying like a bird in the sky. Carefree, with a feeling of ecstasy in my heart, and a song of melancholy on my lips.

Someday I want to feel the rush of the raging river, sweeping me off my feet like a magical charm. I know it would feel like floating, quietly drowning in this river of life.

Someday I want to listen to the sound of silence, lingering in the night air. It is the silence in which lies a meaning so profound, a meaning that the burden of words can never truly find.

Someday I want to touch the stars that hang like fireflies in the night sky. If this could be the stuff dreams are made of, they would be made of star dust, that fall onto our eyelids while we sleep.

Someday I want to pick up from ashes, a fallen bird, and nurse it back to life. Yet I want it to be oblivious of my presence in bring it back to standing on its own two feet.

Someday I want to look into the eyes of a stranger and see my life pass by with him by my side. I just want to dissolve into his being, and him into mine, for we would be one, like where a river meets the sea.

Someday I want to make all your dreams come true, these dreams that keep you ticking. Only the dreamless like me understand what courage is needed to dare to dream.

Someday I want to feel myself falling, only to pick myself up again. It is the fall that teaches us to smile and learn to not take life for granted…

Someday…someday…someday…