Poetry, Quill

And…

And I look at my mom – I see a distant image of what she could be
If it wasn’t to be what she should be
If it wasn’t for dad, or for me, or for my elder brother
Only if she had a chance of being herself first – than being a mother.
I sit with her and I look into her eyes, as she cries,
And glares back to her younger side, through me,
And hear it say, don’t worry mom, you raised two good men,
It’s all gonna be all right.

And suddenly at four in the night, the insulin level
shoots and he’s sweating in the cold night.
He grabs a snack from the side and munches on it
while me and mom look into his eyes – they still ain’t watery
Maybe too dry to cry. These nights are so lengthy and
the sun doesn’t shine for even he- who fed fifteen at a time.
Yeah, that’s it, it’s his fight with the time,
Dilapidated and weary, he still smiles down at us
and says don’t worry, I’ve got it, you’re all mine.

And as I glide, through the streets of area four,
I look at the corner three-story house
that looks like coroner, and condenses a cloud
of memories and rains it all out.
I see my brother bowling the eighty bucks red cherry
and I swivel my bat it hits the ball and the window cracks
and my neighbor screams- that’s out just before mom comes out
and we run for our lives and we laugh as we hide.
I reminiscent the launch, the tenth, and the ninth
who do friends change lovers, and love is out of life
I glance at my wrist- gotta run- it’s ten past the class time

And I wonder if he also smiles seeing all this too
as sits back seven thousand miles tryna fit in the shoes
of a man, these times demand of him to be.
In a life, he barely got time to breathe
out a sigh, let go of to laugh or to cry.
But I guess, no matter our different grounds
we both smile cause we’ve got the same blue sky.

And now, I got to keep my quill down
’cause though I don’t really get it
but the benzene ring’s freaking me out.

Quill, Write Ups

Happy Birthday Cheenku

I really don’t get it why do I just fail to write good letters for those who really matter, but yeah here it is.

Friend eh?

A lot of times when I tell people, “I don’t have friends”; they confuse me with some sad lonely knob head. And maybe they are correct in doing so, for what they lack is complete knowledge behind this trademark phrase of mine. Now, I won’t go on sharing the knowledge, but I’ll tell you of someone who somehow manages to break all the bars I’ve set comfortably, and sit as my only undisputed friend.

And honestly I don’t really get it, how does he do that. You see he isn’t one of those famous brats of the school, yet somehow everyone seems to know him. He hardly does anything that would make someone like him, yet somehow everyone loves him. He looks far from fit to play, yet somehow his pull shot is one hell of a thing to witness. He’s more like a paradox and that is why I thought he and me we both were alike.

Well somehow he proved me wrong in that assumption too. We’re far from similar. And as I try to write this too, I just cant explain what is it that makes him so special. Is it that he was there with me from the beginning? Is it that he has seen me laugh and cry and rise and fall? Is it the way he just repeats the motivational quotes, I once wrote on the board, when I feel low? Or is it the weird business ideas that we discuss that makes our bond so special? Is it the way he bought that book as a gift for me at the airport? Is it those tears that he quickly sucked in when he talked of me leaving? Is it… actually the list wont end… Is it, it all? Or is it the fact that I never bothered to try and figure his mind out because I’m too busy living the little moments I get with him?

Actually, it’s maybe the only thing that I don’t even wish to understand for, he and me… we’re like those legends we hear and see…

Jai and Viru, Saadiq and Raees, Kamli and Sanju, Circuit and Munna bhai, Raju and Rancho… or rather the sum of them all

Cheenku and Manan

Quill, Write Ups

Quieter

Stop.
Just stop, okay.
Stop counting the days since he last messaged you. No, stop thinking about how he hasn’t talked to you since 5 days. Stop staring at the blackboard and start listening to the professor, your melancholy isn’t going to help you with your grades.
Don’t sigh.
Take a deep breath,
in…out…in…out.
He has draped your love with feigned ignorance, stop checking his last seen. He’s not going to reply to your messages.
No, the sunset is not gloomy today, or the night is not quieter. It’s just the smell of cigarettes, not his. Don’t be a wreck.
Don’t hallucinate.
Take a deep breath,
in…out…in…out.

Quill

Thoughts…

Sometimes being stiff, rigid and relentless doesn’t make you strong rather love, tears and hardships do. Sometimes the person you love , hurts you. Sometimes, an unexpected thing just happens and turns your life upside down. Sometimes, you can feel so full that you might be overflowing with joy and happiness. Sometimes you can feel so empty , it’s like you are caught up in a world of perplexities , loneliness and darkness. And sometimes no matter how hard you try to push away a thought, it kind of just stays in the air. Sometimes you know everything and still know nothing. You could be standing in the front of truth , a truth that can hurt you deeply , & is capable of shattering your heart into a million pieces and still not know what to do. Sometimes you just want someone to hold your hand and say,”stay!”. But you see, that’s how life is. Life isn’t a garden with roses, bougainvillea’s , daisies or orchids rather it’s a battlefield. Life breaks you, it makes you suffer, it punches you in the face, it makes you breathless, it gives you pain. Life isn’t one word , rather it carries with it an infinite sea of words and phrases. Life is a lot of things. Life is pain. Life is ecstasy. Life is misery. Life is contentment. Life is heartbreaks. Life is darkness. Life is suffering. Life is a million things but most importantly ,maybe, life is just a delusion.

Quill, Write Ups

And So I Conclude To You

There is a humongous possibility that you may criticize me, to the point of where we shall rather call it, crucify me for what I am about to utter. But I plead you to try and understand what I say before the rant is launched.

“I have seen all the works that are done under the sun. And, behold, all is vanity and vexation of spirit. I communed with mine own heart, saying: “Lo, I am come to great estate”. And I gave my heart to know wisdom, and to know madness and folly. I perceived that this also is vexation of spirit. For in such wisdom is much grief, and he that increases knowledge, increases sorrow.”

With contemplation, we non arguably agree, wisdom is but the prime virtue. And in accordance with Ecbert, such wisdom brings much grief. This brings in the fact that this is rather a loop of grief and wisdom. Where attaining wisdom gives rise to grief but wisdom itself, on the first hand, stems of grief. Creating the eternal loop with no bars on increase in knowledge or pain.

But what I bring to you is a different tale. Where grief is spoken as pain and wisdom, after all, is the sum of emotional and intelligence quotient of a man.

As to what it appears, pain is in a symbiotic relationship with both the intelligence and emotional quotient of a human being. A relation where more is the pain fed, more does the value of quotients rises. But, what makes this relation agathokakological is that pain feeds but only on the human spirit. And by eating the spirit gradually it strengthens the emotional and intelligence quotient of the very body the same spirit resides in. Hitherto creating a scenario where your spirit is consumed by the pain you carry which in turn increases your ability to reason as well as to understand your emotions more efficiently.

To link it to the more common examples in our world, we are well aware of the many stories of how the greatest of men who walked upon the surface of this planet, from inventors, to artists, to investors, to athletes had one thing in common in all their stories- ceaseless suffering. But unlike the eternal loop we talked of, this truth fits into our reality as well for there is a bar up to which a man can live.

This creates a limit upon both the wisdom and grief of a man. This limit is what we call spirit. The day we cease is the day when our spirit runs out, when pain runs out of food to consume. This day our ability to develop our quotients ceases. Our wisdom, our knowledge stands stagnant at a point, out of pain to consume to grow further. And hence, when the heart and mind get stagnant and the spirit runs out it is then that the body stops to function any longer.

And so I conclude to you, suffering is imperative for great intelligence and emotion as well.

Brevity, Quill

WHISPER

It started with a whisper, a crackling whisper of resistance. It spread across regions, infecting the oppressed. It became the sound of the voiceless to fight for their rights. It moved people to stand up, it compelled them to raise their arms in solidarity, it burned in their hearts, it fired up their minds. It had slept soundly for centuries, showing up now and then. But this time, this day, it gained strength. It gave hope, embers of persistence. It made us speak, something we chose to ignore. But now, it resides in our resolve. It made us realize the world of inequality and injustice that we live in. It made us aware of the crumbling pillars of democracy. It opened our eyes to face the emaciated poverty-stricken strata, labouring on barren fields. It made us hear the wails of malnourished children, the victim of diseases. It made us feel the agony of traders and small businessmen. It made us smell the burning stubble.

It made us alive, ready to fight back. We, the people of India, stand tall, one for all and all for one.

This change started with a whisper, the crackling whisper of dissent.


    
Quill, Write Ups

HEARTBEAT

In a heartbeat I was thrown to the ground, beaten with iron rods on my head, my blood splattered on the pavement adorned with paan, red all around, saffron to be precise. In a heartbeat, the land I was standing on sunk into the ocean, taking my little hut on the mangrove with it, as the water level increased to a frightening height.

In a heartbeat, the internet shut off, rendering me incapable of communicating with my family, telling them that I was singled out and abused for being an alien in my country, unable to go back to my land and wander in my own Switzerland. In a heartbeat, the fish I loved to observe was there no more, dead in some forsaken corner of the Yangtze River.

In a heartbeat, my words started to reek of my religion, people around me looked at my clothes to ostracize me. In a heartbeat, I was going to die, the air in Delhi was not conducive for pranayaam.

In a heartbeat, I was devoured by beasts in the garb of teenagers, too shaken to protect what was left of me. In a heartbeat, I was slapped by my father, for going out into the streets to protest.

In a heartbeat, the drug I had taken made me forget my worries till death. In a heartbeat, my house was burned in front of my eyes and my father was taken by his long hair, stabbed multiple times.

In a heartbeat, so small yet profound, I ceased to dream, sleep, laugh and live. In this heartbeat, the world that was mine ceased to be.

Quill

Echos Of A War Cry

I echo your echoes,
And your cries,
You echo the echoes,
From a million stars,
And I shape my mind,
With burning eyes,
For echoes of echoes,
Are all I see,
And the echoes speak,
Of all misery,
For bad times,
Birth strong men,
Yet weak men,
Birth bad times,
What times are these?,
I ask myself,
Sewn mouths,
And lidded eyes,
Yet “peacefully”,
I shall hold myself,
For peace is struggle,
In disguise,
Peace is patient,
Muffled cries,
I hear the echoes,
Of times of war,
That births from these,
Mundane, peaceful times,
I choose my war,
Over this peace of yours,
For my war has fire,
That purifies,
Burn your rotten,
Selfish peace,
Or my war shall see,
Your sacrifice,
In times like these,
My gods have bled,
And in times like these,
Have tyrants died,
In times like these,
Are echoes spread,
The times like these,
Are your demise.

Quill

Happy New Year

We owe a big thanks to 2019 for being one hell of a year. From finding new talents and creating wonderful works. Thanks for being a part of this beautiful journey. We are grateful.

Cheers to 2020

Quill, Write Ups

Check List

Send in the check list

and let’s start to tick

the people who might get offended

even those you didn’t diss

while you pen these raps

sitting on the cliff

they’re in their in groups cussing you

you little prick

he makes us so sick

guess, his throat has to be slit

and flow his brains out with a brick

but the skull is so damn thick

put it in the micro, cook us an aspic

and pull his guts out with a stick

it’s what they say is his shtick

maybe that’ll end this shit

that’s the only option cause he says wouldn’t quit

the raps wont cease to spit

even when he’s ninety half dead with a drip

wont loose even a bit of grip

he’ll continue to make people flip

who the f*** requires bondages?

my words are enough to strip

Then these people boycott me

one of your verses dude, that strike us blue

The f*** am I even supposed to reply

cause bitch that wasn’t even meant for you

But yeah, I get it, you can’t undo the shit you spoke

can’t take back those endless jokes

from my accent to my being a broke

my mix of meth and coke

me lighting up that bloke

and how I killed her little hope

do me a favour, get me a f****** rope

that’s the only option after what I spoke

But guess, another controversy would be better

I’m just loving it holy smokes!!!

They sit across in the room and tell me I don’t listen to nobody

And how should I feel after hearing it from a person who meant life to me

I’ve just realized I can’t change the way the people think

And yes, it hurts just as much as your eyes getting pinched

As if it’s been a million minutes and you haven’t blinked

While your nose is still stuck in the door hinge

And your entire existence turns out to be sinned

But the worst of it still remains inexpressible

Cause what I say is a hundred percent cerebral

Because the major part in it was played by a b****

Who’s just an overrated Jesus, actually isn’t worth shit

The thigs are getting heavy now

and we don’t understand what to reply he dissed us so bad, let’s just drag in di

Cause you know then I wouldn’t intercede, just accept whatever she’ll speak

And while you drench all this humanity out of her, you call her biased, you freak

But that’s what your love is, bleak and weak, what did you do for her in all these years? Traduce-y

Then what the f*** makes you wonder wiping off your tears is her God damn duty

Then go downstairs and tell the world you’ll confront me face to face, call the police

Cause the entire episode is just a giant heist, I robbed you off your mental peace

Then warned how I’ll skin you all like a flock of geese

And mark my words, even when the anger’s gone the intensity wouldn’t decrease

Cause it was you the one who drew the line

And forced the world to choose the sides

Whether you like it or not you got to agree

Then you played your card

I’m just an innocent millennial, save me please

I’m a hundred percent clean

He’s the one whose always so keen

To blow off on us

And he would just start to cuss

He made it all a fuss

Then he would just vent out

And put it up on the website

Without even feeling the need to discuss

It just leaves us all in disgust

Tell us yourself isn’t boycotting a must?

And the next thing to do, yeah that’s right

Call my mom up and tell her about the shit I write

Jesus Christ, I’ll get slapped twice or thrice

Still wouldn’t give a damn, just continue to write

Stand right beside and give a bright smile

Confused? Yeah that’s fine

Cause I mail her a copy myself of everything I write

Is that alright, I don’t think so no

But at least I ain’t got nothing to hide

Cause now I know that I’m riding on right

And it doesn’t matter if no one’s standing beside

It’s the entire world versus me in this fight

But don’t you worry, they call me modern day Zeus

I’m f****** God like.