Panda vs Tiger- Animal Trade for Harmony?

Lately, it came to my knowledge that animals are exchanged across the globe as diplomatic gifts.

Not to Hate

With my previous post about hatred going online, I received few raised eyebrows and pretty good smiles. Nothing better I say. But hey! Last night I discovered something. The story, here it goes.

Our PG’s care-taker is one such fellow in my list of hatreds. Why? Because his eye balls google here and there, sometimes following a girl, like the scent of her perfume. He chit-chats with PG girls, every now and then, talking honey coated, sugary-jaggery and goes sweet and polite. All the girls are happy to have him around at the dinner table. Me and my roommates call that person chantu meaning clever in a bad way.

Yesterday, when I was done with dinner at around 11 pm, I saw him taking the lid off the food, and checking if anything was left to fill his own tummy. No dinning with the cheerful girls tonight? I thought and asked him, “Anna, why are you taking dinner so late?” His reply with a grin, “Oh I had a lot of work today.” Without giving a thought, I just went away to my room and later realizing that the owner of PG had dropped in that evening so mister had to retain his modesty.

Another point that hit my head was that this time I did not get annoyed with him; I just passed from there without bothering for his reply and thinking where he was looking. I realized that hatred is a self inflicted burden. You have to do that whenever you see the trigger clicked, like a drill. But you don’t have to do that, you don’t have to think and you don’t have to act and you will see, the grenade that would burst you, will be useless even when the pin is pulled out. You would have defused it!

To be in control of yourself is to be wise.

But mind you, this is when you are indirectly getting under the showers of acidic rain. If the cloud is right over, you have a right to take out your own umbrella and prevent yourself and may be even poke out googly eyes.

Hate

I have tried calming myself down when I see a person whom I hate or get irritated with. I, more often associate this feeling of hatred with getting annoyed with people. Yes, there are valid reasons, if you ask me. For instance, our manager, who seems to be overly interested in approaching girls with utter sweetness, trying for unnecessary attention unless he wants to prove himself as a pervert, which I had heard he actually has and now, am completely sure of. Staring at a girl like a piece of sausage gets you those remarks and even asking her out for coffee, without realizing that you have a family.

I have tried making peace with my mind over this issue, who never gives up on releasing my stress and anger hormones when humans like these are around. It is easy to love, may be easier to hate. Perceptions can be deceiving I agree but experiences don’t lie about the fact.

Sometimes even my brother annoys me, to buy him gadgets, I get irritated but I don’t hate him. Of course he is my brother and thus he has the right to ask for things, for which I have equal rights to deny. Thus this criterion seems valid to be devoid of even the mention of the word hate.

Hate seeds in the mind of beholder when people know they are doing wrong and deny acknowledging their deeds. Hate is invited when someone keeps their crime a secret. Hate is subjective and relative in all terms.

When it comes to those levels that our control goes beyond our comprehension and thoughts, we forget how to forgive. What to do in that stage, I have no clue about, because seeing things happen in horrendous ways doesn’t let one forgive. It is definitely not easy to forgive and leave the reigns of hatred, when bad and annoying things still continue.

This in turn sticks to our brains like cobweb do, and as they pull a trigger on their part, it brings a surge of uncontrolled hatred at my end or anybody’s for that matter.

How to deal with it?  How to forgive? How to forget?

She never looked back

The wedding gown burned
As she walked down the aisle
The ring in her finger
She never looked back
The wedding gown dragged 
And picked up the dirt
The tulips left her hands
She never looked back
The goblet of wine
Wobbled at the table
The window flaps sealed
And the light turned black
The candles raged flames
The wax dripped on skin
But the bishop read versus
And she never looked back
The kiss was perfect
Yet wounds popped
Brought poisoned slow death
Still She never looked back
The lie felt like truth
Thus became a habit with time
And so until she rested
She never looked back

O Sweet Heart

Be there 
O sweet heart
The one you want
Isn't the one who asked
Who looks for you
You shoo alas
And then complain
You are alone, You are lost
People in parade aren't together
They walk close
But do they gather?
They walk equal
But are they same
Why bother the one who runs away
Stays beside but still in haste
Who stops for you
You pass by and be through
And look beyond the horizon
To call back and woo
Someone that left
You think it will turn
Someone who is there
Once gone won't return
O heart
You insane piece of art
You play games and instead get caught
You weave a web
And instead get tangled 
And run for what you want
And he isn't the one that asked
Who looks for you
You shoo alas

***

Snakes and Ladders

And so you come to know the pain of breaking up. It makes you so cold so solid so emotionless that you wonder what a stone you have turned into suddenly. After all the trials that you make, to surpass the cloud of confusions, to reach the melted wax of love, you feel you are almost there. But then out of sudden, you realize you have just moved yards behind your goal. You are taken aback, you feel the push on your chest.

 

Thug life! 

You just watch in utter bewilderment as to what just happened.
No no nooo... Not to square 1. Its the feeling of getting bitten by the snake on number 99 before you reach the prime of your game. You feel like a half bitten apple, like a chopped off vegetable. You don't know what to do. Of course you think about the ways to get back but you know all ladders will lead to snakes and all snakes will bring you back to square 1.
Whitewashed look of disbelief hanging from your face and you say," No!"

London bridge is crumbling down crumbling down crumbling down..

Time..Halts! Everything simply stops around you, no matter if a person is even breathing out life, you won't give him CPR because dude , you are in need of it yourself. You are hearing yourself breathe in silence, in dark, at night. 

A pain in chest, not from heart attack but yes from heart attack. You wince , you flinch and a tear trickles down from the corner of your eye onto the pillow below and then another and then another. After a while the weight lifts from your chest.

You are normal, you wear a transparent mask of daily life, carrying out tasks as they come like pulling a break when nearing a speed breaker on the way.
When the night falls again and the chest feels heavy, you dissolve.. into a pool of burning candle, meeting wax and fuming gas. 

                                                                                                        You waste away.

People-Love-People

People. How they think love is so difficult, that love is not their cup of tea,
that love is that they will never bring themselves to. How they never unerstood that they were changed,
when they fell in love, that they were transformed into a better human being, that they were living each
day with even more zest. How they thought that falling always hurts.

People. They can lie to the world but not their hearts, that are always ready to endure the tough terrains, the crests
and troughs of this journey, that are willing to sacrifice for somebody other than self, that believes truly,
trusts deeply and cares selflessly.

People. They need love, they dont want it. They need the gentle touch of care, they need the assuring words of love,
they need the patient ears in silence. They need someone close with whom they can open up, against the canvas that they paint for world
to watch everyday. They want to give up, in front of someone, where they can lay with their open chests and dry scars, where they can
reveal the dark shadows that scares them, where they can fearlessly dance under the innocence, that usually hides within them.

People. They are far too soft inside, but they don't show. They can take risk, with many hearts, they can even take revenge on them.
But for that one heart, they give up their weapons and lay bare, lay weak, lay in their perfect selves.

People. They are slaves, of their own selves.

S - H - E

 

Everything was crumbling down. The downfall was expected, sooner or later.  Her mind spoke the bitter truth that she had accumulated over the years subconsciously inside her head, in the form of a fear from her previous experiences. It had been the best of her previous years, living the dream she had woven turn by turn, with careful consideration of each step that she had taken in building of this relationship over the period of time. And now what lay before her was a relationship that succumbed to the distances and misunderstandings that unexpectedly did more harm than it should have. She sat in her bathroom on the dry, white tiles with her head in between her elbows and her fingers clasped at the back of her head. She wailed, sometimes too loudly and then dropping her voice to silence in between breaths. Crying off the pain made her feel lighter but then it was equally exhausting in the end, that she gladly accepted to fall asleep and forget everything for some time for the least. 

 

She held on to the silence for a minute and went blank solely concentrating on the mind riff separating the two tiles and the dirt that stuck in between them. It was strange how you drift off and suddenly come to bring your mind to vague things with utter concentration for a jiffy and then roll back to your reality again. She got up, looked around and out of habit went in front of the mirror. She blankly stared herself for a second and then recalled what he had once said about her eyes being beautifully big and her lips being in their perfect curves and color, which suddenly dawned the reality upon her in bolts of emotional blows. She cried again and looked on at herself as she cried half unbelievably half animatedly. She walked out when she could no longer handle the mix of emotions that her own reflection teased her with. Falling on the bed she took less than five minutes to go in a deep sleep, her swollen sockets still trickled a tear on the pink bed sheet underneath her.

 

She woke with a sore throat and blocked nose, the cold bathroom floor was to blame. The light from the huge window had been blinding and irritating to her eyes that were still swollen with continuous crying her grief out. She looked around, sighed and quickly got up to draw them close. She comforted her eyes with the darkness against the heavenly morning light. Backing to her bed she thought of him, and the way he would cuddle against her into a spoon from behind, his heavy arms resting gently over her waist, pulling her closer to his chest. She wished she could talk to him looking into his glinting brown eyes, holding his hands to give him a sense of care through her touch, consoling and comforting him with not just her words but her presence and blow the cloud of misunderstandings away which had unnecessarily shadowed their four year relationship to an extent of giving up on it.

 

May be she could sleep some more and just let the pain subside some more yet again but thoughtfully and  involuntarily got up and walked towards the bathroom. A hot shower might be a healer she thought. So on, she opened her bathroom door with her lousy eyes and turned right to look into the mirror once again. She saw herself, emotionally exhausted, her eyes puffed up with overworking tear glands. The back wall had clothes hung onto steel hooks which she thought didn’t belong to her. She frowned and had a closer look at the mirror, with concentration, to what she just saw instead of turning back. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she got a wider view of her surroundings in the mirror. A halt in surprise would have been a delayed and expected reaction, taking in account her exhaustion from crying herself out, but she suddenly turned around to see two cots with two study tables beside each of them and two cupboards adjacent to the study tables. The toilet seat, the bath tub, the buckets, the taps, they were all gone! Actually her whole bathroom was replaced by a room that looked more like a hostel room set up for students. A bed was neatly made while the other looked like recently used with sheet left out in folds and wrinkles. There were books stacked at the far end of the table to her right while the one on the left had a couple of books scattered and a table lamp that seemed just too familiar. She couldn’t believe her eyes and was literally taken aback. She leaned against the door that closed all of a sudden with a thud.

 

 She looked behind her. Nope, this wasn’t even close to what her bathroom door looked from behind. It was wooden, painted white in oil paint. It freaked her out and she resisted the urge to go near the door to open it and find out what lay behind it or where she was. She wore a loose peach colored top and black short that were comfortable to get into for a good sleep during the warm May days but suddenly she felt cold and her thighs got covered under a layer of goose bumps. She was drawn to the green table lamp and slowly walked towards the table. Surprise turned into shock when she saw her name written on it, and she came to realize that it was the same lamp she had given him when he was leaving the town thinking it might help him during his late night study schedules. The reality fell upon her like a bucket full of cold water. 

She was at his place! 700 Kilometers away from her home, in his city, in his college, in his own room! Telepathy?, She asked herself wide-eyed in disbelief. Did any angels or fairies hear her making a wish? Willow wisps? Cinderella story? Time travel? She just went through any possible way that made it look sensible in the least bit. Is it even real or May I am just in my sleep and I am dreaming because you dream about the last thing you thought before sleeping. That’s how they say. She tried coming up with a satisfactory explanation. So I will wake up, it is just a dream, just a matter of time, I will wake up now. She closed her eyes and tried recalling the moment, the minute before she fell into sleep. Her pink bed sheet, the corner of the bed, her soft pillow and she tried getting her mind back, tried drifting into sleep if it was one or waking up if doing that seemed sensible. She focused not to concentrate on reality, on the window from where the morning light came in and that gave a lush view of the outside flora, instead of the blurred glass window of her bathroom. She almost thought she is losing her mind to nothing when she heard a voice from outside the door. She heard him. It sounded real, it sounded louder as he approached with only the wooden door separating him and her now. Was this really happening? Is this too a part of the dream? What will happen next? She couldn’t digest the sudden change that was unexpected and unexplained.

 

She fixed her eyes at the door without blinking and pinched herself to wake her up before the madness of her mind took over her very self. This can’t be real, I can’t be here, this doesn’t make sense.  The sound of the steps got closer. The voice grew louder and so did the thump of her heart out of both excitement and fear. Before she could think of what to do or say the door knob turned round with a click.

 

 

 

                                                                                                         To be continued . . .

 

 

 

A Little mouse

Tears trickling down the cheeks of a little mouse
Rolling down a distance of not much height
Years wearing off from the ones so low
It fears if it might not survive the night
Bars of prison in the rat trap
It bangs against the door so very hard
It bleeds thin but it bleeds within
Late wounds now turned into fresh scars
Seized under stress, wagging its tail
Somebody will save the little rodent
Thinking so, it waits and wails
Until the hell under breaks lose its vent
Little mouse had a terrible tooth
Lost in a flight in search of ruth
Little by little receding in dismay
Little mouse let the night take it away
In the end when the light went down
Mourning over that squeaky sound
When all rat pack followed back their trail
That's when the bars did finally fail
That's when the doors went down
And a little soul escaped to Underground

The Ring

The ring fit well but

She thought it was heavy
The ring circled close but
She thought it was loose
The ring shone white

She thought it should soon glitter
The ring that she wore
She thought wore her
The ring that protected
She thought bounded her
The ring of love and life
She thought was interpreter,
The ring of relationship
She thought so but didn't know
The ring was to make it better
She thought of responsibility
The ring was the circle of love
She thought as another circle of life
The ring was not so
She thought of vigilance
The ring gave away the suspense
She thought of betrayal
The ring defeated its influence
She thought of cold
The ring stood thick and bold
She thought but failed
The ring never did