notes
THE SMALL CHILD..
There resides a small child within me. The child who has not grown up over the years. The child who is still as innocent as any small child can be. The child who cries when scolded. The child who feels happy for smallest of things. The child who feels excited when he sees the balloons. The child who wants to lick the ice-cream from a cone and feel happy when it drips all over him. The child who feels sad when he sees some one in pain. The child who is immersed in his own little happy world. The child who wants to roll in the mud and the sand and feel happy about it. The child who wants to sing and dance in the rain. The child who wants to make balls from the freshly fallen snow and throw them at any one and every one. The child who wants to run all day in garden with net and catch butterflies. The child who looks at the night sky in awe and wonders how are the stars hanging from the sky. This child just wants to jump and catch the moon every night. For this child the pressures of modern life mean nothing. This child is happy in just being a child.
There resides a small child in me. But now that child is a prisoner of a three-piece suit. That child is prisoner of various fears. That child is a prisoner of expectations of the peers. That child is a prisoner of a luxury car. That child is prisoner of a fancy villa. That child is a prisoner of the fear of failure. That child is prisoner of the fear of being ridiculed. That child is prisoner of the fear of being unsuccessful.
That child still wants to jump out at slightest provocation. That child still wants to jump out at any slightest opportunity. That child still wants to make his presence felt. That child wants to tell the world that he exists but the suit blocks his way. That child will probably find his way out someday when there will be no suit blocking is way, but I wonder if that ever will be…
THAT CIGARETTE IN YOUR HAND !!
I am just another cigarette in your hand.
The cigarette which you just lighted. You obviously do not give a damn to the fact that you have set me on fire for your enjoyment. You are engrossed in your own thoughts. It does not matter to you that you are finishing me puff by puff. With every puff you take you consume a part of me yet I do not matter to you as if the sole purpose of my existence is to give pleasure to you without asking for any thing.
It does not occur to you that the burns you are giving me are causing me immense pain. You are engrossed in your own world. You will go on to consume me gradually yet my existence does not matter to you. You are holding me in your hand yet you are oblivious to my presence. You have me in front of your eyes, yet you do not see me. Gradually I have started turning into smoke and ash but it does not matter to you that you are killing me.
I am suffering in silence. I am burning and screaming in silence yet you remain unmoved. You do not hear my screams; you do not see my pain. You do not value me at all as perhaps you have many more like me at your disposal. Maybe I would command some respect if I was the last one you had. You would still have finished me but then you would savour me, you would look at me, you would admire me. You would marvel at the joy I was bringing to your taste buds. You would have still finished me but then at least my existence would have mattered to you.
I know, at this time you will not care. Few more puffs and my entire existence would have turned into ash and smoke. You will just throw me on the ground, grind my lifeless body under your boots and bring out another one like me from your pocket.
I hope you did not have any more. I hope I was the last one your ever had but alas……
HOURGLASS…
I waited for you my entire life
I watched you grow in front of my eyes..
I watched you grow grain by grain
I watched you grow minute by minute..
I watched your beauty through the hourglass
I feared holding you in my arms
I feared holding you in my embrace
For I feared you would slip away…
I tried my best not to touch you
I tried my best not to feel you
but my temptation got better of me
I held you in my arms, It was so beautiful
For a moment or two it felt like heaven
But I suddenly realized what I had done
You were not to be touched, For it was a sin
It was too late for the mistake to be undone
You started slipping out of my hands
I tried with all my might but all in vain..
All I could do was cry helplessly
As you slipped away grain by grain..
DARKNESS…
Darkness has a distinct sound. Darkness has a distinct colour. Darkness is nothing but an ever-encompassing void from which no one can escape eternally. Slowly but surely, one after the another, it engulfs every thing.
We are masters of deception. The bright colours of day are perfect camouflage for us. We can hide our true colours in the vivid colourful layers of our surroundings. We have bright colourful masks which blend perfectly with our surroundings. We have bright colourful masks which hide our ugly scars with ease. There is enough brightness around us which enables us to hide our inner darkness. We can mask colours of our distorted psyche with ease and blend it into the vivid and vibrant canvases out there. There is enough colour around us to fill the voids in our conscience. Taking advantage of lively sounds of light, we are able to hide the howling of the wolves beneath the layers of our scarred skin. There is enough warmth around us to enable us to conceal the chill in our frozen eyes. Light presents us with the opportunity to conceal our real identity and present ourselves to the world with a manufactured identity.
It is total darkness which brings to the fore our true colours and our bare truth. The darkness outside resonates with the darkness inside us. The void of total darkness turns us into what we always have been and what we always will be, bare primal beings. It is the absence of colour which brings our true colours out. There is no need of vivid masks to hide our ugly scars with. There is no need of colours to paint our face with. There is no need for any kind of pretence. There is no need to hide the ugly scars. The coldness in our eyes is there for every one to see. There is no need for the brightness to conceal our inner darkness. There is no need of colours to paint our words with. The naked chill in our words is on display for any one to see.
When the darkness calls, there is absolutely nothing to stop the wolves howling under our skin to come tumbling out.
No one is above the spell bounding sound of darkness. As night falls, this sound travels like a Tsunami, consuming and devouring any one and every one in its path and all that is left is countless wolves howling on the streets.. hunting for prey.
Darkness has a sound. ARE YOU LISTENING?
vikas sahar 