i might have lost it forever

long back when i was hurt so badly that it was too difficult to even breathe , i had imagined that if i could somehow lock my heart overflowing with grief and pain , somehow contain the damage done, and throw the key into the bottom of an unknown ocean , it would help me. It did, yet now, when i try to reach out to my own heart, my own emotions , i still find them locked , and i fear i might have lost the key , Forever!
the thing about grief is that , there are no short cuts , you can dam the overflow, but someday the dam breaks and then it's only untamed fury that floods everything that comes it's way. so i stand here today , bereft of my ownself , my own emotions, like a relic of a building lost to a tragedy.

THE SON'S BOYFRIEND - PART 1 CHAPTER 1

vikram's apartment

it had been two days , vikram had not slept. he didnt know if he had done the right thing, abandoning vikas like that, but he knew he had to do it, or vikas would never be able to do what was required. he missed him terribly , more than he thought he would. to hold himslef from dialing that one numbr and hear his voice..

"damn the technology...why is it so easy to dial a number and talk !" he reviled the modern civilisation, but his bitterness was directed at his own inaptitude to sustain the separation. breaking up was so simple, and the suffering was simpler still.

yet when at that freakiest hour of the night when his cell phone rang, for a moment he dreaded if it was vikas, and yet he plunged towards it almost hoping that it be him. the call was dreadful.

bobby's house, chandigarh

pummy had just left, her sister was the only one she could have talked it about. " kuch ni honda bobby didi, tussi inni tension na lo " she had said. " just get our vikki married to a nice kudi, and she'll charm him away from that prick" she assured and showed a stash of photgraphs mostly showing photoshopped pictures of daughters of wealthy punjabi business men.

she had left after a hearty meal of butter chicken and roti. atleast food was something that seemed to provide bobby some solace. her own son had deserted her. first the husband and then the son. she had threatened to disown him and never ever to speak again with him. his words still resounded in his ears. the arguments still piereced like shards of glass.

her vikki was never like that. such an obidient boy. mummma's boy. and now he was ....."that scoundrel..what all did he do to my poor baby". two  days had passed. vikas had gone to delhi. she had been calling but he wasnt recieving any calls. 

yet when the call did come it was the least of what she had ever expected!!

THE SON'S BOYFRIEND

opening to a gay story- THE SON'S BOYFRIEND

The silence that brings life to a screeching halt begins to fade only when the past starts gnawing upon, he had fallen prey to the flawless poison, that our memories our. they soak you, drench you and then paralyse you. waves after waves of those silent memories were brewing the tempest within him. the final notes of the song that was playing were about to hit the crescendo and along with them he plunged several meters down into the maddening highway. 

He remembered his brown hair and sparkling eyes , sweet breath and before he could remember the touch he had touched the concrete.

later when they would see his room, they would find it in perfect order, no note, no wrinkles on his bedsheet, clothes folded , floor polished, books arranged, not even a speck of dust. And this was the only sign of anguish he would have left because vikas was never known for orderliness.

and even later he would realise that this wasnt an answer to the question that drove him to this extent. yes you read it right he survives! another gay guy will not die.

LONELY HAPPINESS

sillhouets of happiness, shed silent tears,
to the broken loss of the crafted success,
for what was sacred that ran in blood,
was lost at altar,
at price of war,
decorated corpse, raise toast to life,
red isnt wine ,when bodies bled,
a gulp of blood,
a bite of flesh,
vultures of vanity fed to feast,
palaces of bones ,
dont last long,
they crumble at feet of love,
for whats eternal doesnt survive in shadows,
it burns in hearts,
and then blows in winds,
oh! fallen son of man,
rise beyond the knowledge,
ignorance has a gift to bestow,
redeem what failure has to teach,
that success is not always sweet,
the celebration of death,
would never beget,
and vacant earth to what regret,
when u wont have a soul to share,
not even hate , no one to fear,
so banish be thou,
in lonely success,
eternal lonely happiness!!!

some where in the himalyas, unaware of the turmoil the country was going through, it was a village where time had lost its meaning. it was one of those days when the men would engage in a revelry of the the local brew and dance, intoxicated, in a riotous orgy of the festive aroma and the the thumping enormity of the gigantic drums , beats that would reverberate in the mountains.

the air carried the festivity to that isolated lush that lay hidden in the very heart of the barren, rough and solid rock they had responded the the music in a rythmn their bodies had never known to exist. the cosmos seemed small and they felt as if the cords of the universe were in unison with the symphony that resounded in the air, under the stars , their innocence basked in the primal lust of uninhibited love.

the soul of the forest smelled the ait that carried whiff of their deed, sinful though, it rushed to the lake and whispered . ripples shook the bottom of the icy interior, disturbing the skeletons of veer and vikrant , entwined in an eternal embrace, the curse it had whispered can now be broken

random musings

here iam in delhi, sulking hottt , may be not like the men in this city, but at least , delhi couldnt tarnish my sense of who iam,though its a constant struggle everyday , to not get involved into one of those expiry-date relationships, and yet keep on searching for one!!!!
yes the fish is in plenty,myriad colours and enticing hues, yet delhi is not what i had hoped it would turn out to be....i guess for once it failed to charm and awe a small towner, though that doesnt etches my name into its gloriously infamous past!!!!!
to live and breathe, if thats what constitutes life i am living, but the oblivion that seems to have descended upon my so far well preserved hedonism has been finally able to scratch its its surface...its hard to admit , but yes, i guess, i am turning into the jaded queen ( not very literally) that i had always loathed!!!!
pessimism is so liberating at times, that it sets in a very pseudo rewarding masochist pleasure of inflicting injury and then not allowing it to heal...but the price of this eroding pleasure is steep, it takes away inner subjective space, leaving senescent and brooding guilt...
i guess!! in a way i'm lucky that i'v realised this in time, but the difficult path lays ahed!!!
with old friendships and promises almost withering its gonna be one hell of a job!!! but if utopian manifestation of the higher being that i am so adamant to find in this universe, it will put me through tests , and only when i survive those, endure the wrath of heavens will i be able to find him...paulo coleho effect!!!!!
so i guess i'm still surviving not very happy, but very gay...