deviantgene

If I should have a daughter…“Instead of “Mom”, she’s gonna call me “Point B.” Because that way, she knows that no matter what happens, at least she can always find her way to me. And I’m going to paint the solar system on the back of her hands so that she has to learn the entire universe before she can say “Oh, I know that like the back of my hand.”

She’s gonna learn that this life will hit you, hard, in the face, wait for you to get back up so it can kick you in the stomach. But getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air.There is hurt, here, that cannot be fixed by band-aids or poetry, so the first time she realizes that Wonder-woman isn’t coming, I’ll make sure she knows she doesn’t have to wear the cape all by herself. Because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers, your hands will always be too small to catch all the pain you want to heal. Believe me, I’ve tried.
And “Baby,” I’ll tell her “don’t keep your nose up in the air like that, I know that trick, you’re just smelling for smoke so you can follow the trail back to a burning house so you can find the boy who lost everything in the fire to see if you can save him. Or else, find the boy who lit the fire in the first place to see if you can change him.”
But I know that she will anyway, so instead I’ll always keep an extra supply of chocolate and rain boots nearby, ‘cause there is no heartbreak that chocolate can’t fix. Okay, there’s a few heartbreaks chocolate can’t fix. But that’s what the rain boots are for, because rain will wash away everything if you let it.
I want her to see the world through the underside of a glass bottom boat, to look through a magnifying glass at the galaxies that exist on the pin point of a human mind.Because that’s how my mom taught me. That there’ll be days like this,“There’ll be days like this my momma said” when you open your hands to catch and wind up with only blisters and bruises. When you step out of the phone booth and try to fly and the very people you wanna save are the ones standing on your cape. When your boots will fill with rain and you’ll be up to your knees in disappointment and those are the very days you have all the more reason to say “thank you,” ‘cause there is nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline no matter how many times it’s sent away.
You will put the “wind” in win some lose some, you will put the “star” in starting over and over, and no matter how many land mines erupt in a minute be sure your mind lands on the beauty of this funny place called life.
And yes, on a scale of one to over-trusting I am pretty fucking naive but I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily but don’t be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.
“Baby,” I’ll tell her “remember your mama is a worrier but your papa is a warrior and you are the girl with small hands and big eyes who never stops asking for more.”
Remember that good things come in threes and so do bad things and always apologize when you’ve done something wrong but don’t you ever apologize for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining.
Your voice is small but don’t ever stop singing and when they finally hand you heartbreak, slip hatred and war under your doorstep and hand you hand-outs on street corners of cynicism and defeat, you tell them that they really ought to meet your mother.

The refuge of the insane, or the utterly despondent, the written word. Tonight, I hope I shall write out all I feel on this kind, yet faceless computer screen. In between what I have been , and where I shall be, there lies the present. They say that the past is comfortable, the future, insecure, But the present is a bit of a Bastard.I see her sometimes, stil, coming at me from thacross the cast empty moonlit beach, with the seawaves caressing her feet in a strangely aqueising sort of way… Like the godess that she is. Her long floral skirt conceals much, and yet seems to augmen he contours of her body in a way that reminds one of Venus-De Milo. She waves at me, from across the shore…. and then suddenly, a mist draws upon us… Her silent shriek echoin throug the night. As I am left in the darkness, with only the lilting cadence of the intonations that the waves make as they splash against the water.
The mist clears, and there is no one… all feelings of devotion turn to uetter horror, as her mangled body lies on the shore. Like some broken branch of a now dead tree, I see her face turned towards me, its visage a mask of utter horror. What happned in that ist, I shall never know, for the strange quality of mists is that they conceal more than they reveal. Maybe she was never there in the first place,just a figment of my shattered imagination,The seashre withers away into a glass shell,
Ans I am left banging against the wall, my hands restricted by the straitjacket, screaming away into the dark recesses of m slitary confinement.

Ah, so we have a traveller at our inn again… it has been a long time! How are things in your part of the world…wayfarer…May the happiness in your life be as plenteous as the stars oin a chilly hillside evening….May the angels of joy gallivant ahead of you strewing little pieces of happiness all around… A big storm rages outside…come in.. And shut the door behind you…
A good stiff drink then…for you! You may remove your coat and place it on the stand by the door…And I shall make sure that you get a comfortable room for the night..
What is it you said.. A story… do you want to hear a story from us..?? Well.. Make your self comfortable then for the night has just begun..and the storm may rage for a while longer..
Hear then this, the story of the blind fortune teller and the dancing Girl of Semptokha
This happened a long time ago…at which time, men had not yet becomes as cunning and beguiling as they are today, and much good still prevailed in the world..
The animals too, had not yet lost their power of speech. That did not happen till. Let me see.. the hundred year war was it?? Ah! But I digress, that is part of another story, and one you may hear tonight, if you are lucky !
So, much peace prevailed over the world, and in a now long lost kingdom, nestled deep in the mountains, lived an old monk.
What the monk was named is not important, and neither is the name of the hill where he stayed. He stayed in a monastery not long removed from the capital of the kingdom, but the hillside was dotted with many such monasteries, such that his, like all the others, has now passed into oblivion. There was nothing special about the hill, the monastery, or the monk, each being alike to their multitudinous brethren strewn around the country.
So every evening, this monk would go and light a butter lamp at the shrine of his deity, and then close the door behind him to retire for the night’s meditation. And every morning he would come out again, extinguish the butter lamp , and retreat back inside to tend to his small garden- From where the monk derived most of his sustenance.
One day, as the monk came out of his hut for lighting the butter lamp, from atop another hill, there sat watching him and fox and a badger. Now, if you do not know this already, let me tell you, the fox and the badger were the most cunning animals who ever existed. And the squabble between them has lasted eternally, ever since the first fox and the first badger came into existence. Why it is so, nobody knows, for not even they now remember the reason behind this quarrel.
So there, on the hilltop, sat the fox and the badger, and they eyed the monk with more than a passing interest. For soon, a wager was made between the two. Whoever managed to drive the monk out of his monastery, for more than 3 days, would have won.
When the monk rose the next day and went out to extinguish the lamp, there came upon him the sound of thundering hooves. And he saw, from afar, three horses atop whom sat the king’s soldiers. One of them was wearing the rank insignia of a captain. The horses stopped in front of his door, and from close, the monk could see that they were the special breed of dragon horses that the king’s magicians had bred into existence. The horses could breathe fire.. and were wild enough tp strike fear in the heart of the hardest of men.
Ah!, but look, dinner is ready. Ale and cake and meat await us. Come, weary traveller, let us eat, and I shall continue with my story.

How much diagonally can one lie on a single bed? Depression, self-loathing shortly ensues. ImissyouImissyouImissyou. You don’t mind that my hair sprouts from the center of my head, and thus ends up everywhere. You don’t mind my debauched vocabulary or my inexcuse for experiencing carnal pleasure. Who are you anyway? So far off, imaginary daydream of mine. Whatever it is, just know that I have memorized your scent by heart. Know that I am tired of daily successes (like finishing that fucking book already) and daily failures (the inability to get out of bed). I emailed them, after I finally forced myself to figure out what the problem was (because it’s never me, you know), and apparently they don’t make superhero garb in my size. How fucking fantastic, right? At least now I have a legitimate excuse for being a downright cunt.
‘Excuse me, are you on the job today?’
‘No, you fucker. Every day is off day for me. I win’

Note: this is attributed to
http://chocomallow.blogspot.com/2011/05/jd-salinger-sine-qua-non.html

They all reacted differently to my grandmother’s death… I can remember my father’s face…stoic..as he heard the news ..The woman he had looked up to, been in awe of, respected feared and loved for the last 40 years was now nothing more than a clump of bone and flesh… I could hear mother sobbing in the kitchen… I was considered too small.. of course, to be told the news straight away…

It was broken to me , as always, in the form of a story..on the ride to the village , where we were all gathering to pay our last respects. On most occasions, I hated going back to the village,. The lack of cable and early morning show cartoons being the chief reason for my disgust (“What god forsaken place does not have cable these days Papa?” but I knew that this time, all my cousins would be assembling …extended families from all over the globe..

We reached there by the afternoon and in the evening my father took me out for one of our customary evening walks..I rather looked forward to them.. they were our chance to bond as a father and son.. we who were otherwise too wrapped up in our own worlds..him with his office and me with school…worlds with problems far too important than the mere death of a person

I remember that talk clearly.. most clearly ot of all the ones that we have had.. and I will always remember it as the day that my father finally broke down

I will digress here and give a thought to the fact that my grandfathers(from both side of families) , could not outlast my grandmothers by more than two months.. I suppose it says something about the men of our family..

When it came down to it really, the dynamics were simple.

They would all go, and the body would be cremated where the last 3 generations of the family had been cremated(ever since the family ..(or thos who had survived).. had come over from Pakistan.

Buit such matters were not seen fit to tell little boys in those days. Matters of the gravest concern, especially, were discussed in the living room of the house owned by Uncle. The eldest son, almost 12 years elder to my father. This was done after all the children had been put to sleep.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul: Pablo neruda

‘I don’t want to be human! I want to see gamma rays, I want to hear x-rays, and I…I wanna smell dark matter. Do you see the absurdity of what I am? I can’t even express these things properly because I have to…I have to conceptualize complex ideas in this stupid, limiting, spoken language!’

Did I not tell you, that words are such imperfect instruments to express all the multitudinous hues and shades of human experience

Like.. what is the word when you feel you almost remember a thing but never quite remember it

Or a love which is not quite love

I need to write soon.. or I will die

But you know you’re strong. You won’t fall before the wind –
even though it’s strong – and you won’t bow or twist either.

You know that you don’t really give damn. You know that if they
scream in your face for years, you will do what you particularly
want. You know that they’re all full of mistakes and their
disadvantages and weaknesses are incountable.

You aren’t a little boy anymore. You can live on your own and you
can control your little world, even though you can’t control your
own soul.

They hate you, So what? Screw them. And even if they like you,
Fuck them!

Does this sound Paranoid? Yea. So be it..

And you will live for a long time and you will grow up. And you
will succeed and you will fail and you will learn a lot of things
and gain a lot of experience.

You aren’t a little boy anymore and you know it. They can’t annoy
you, and you know it..
So why….? Why do you now walk alone by the sea? Why do you
stare in the darkness? Why do you imagine things? Why do you
sigh?

Don’t speak to me of the ones who don’t hate you still, don’t
speak to me of how pretty the world is..Tell me why do you follow
the birds with your eyes?

Tell me what’s wrong and tell me why do you cry….

She sat on the edge of her chair, in her dark apartment. Her hair tumbled down her face, cascading black velvet on a sea of smooth fair skin. What was it that ran down her cheek then.. a tear.. was it ?

It has been a while..has it not old friend.
Trust things are better now. I have no soothing words to offer you
right now, no generic platitudes on life which will tide you over
difficult times. You know what you have to do, and are strong enough
to do it. I will feel honored if you think of me when you get
overwhelmed again .

Our loves, our lives, our directions are different. Hell, we even see
different stars now do we not ! But know this,that on every one of
those stars, I pray for you.
Know that not a day goes by when I do not think of you. For fleeting
moments yes, mostly for a second, sometimes, rarely, for a minute.

I do not know what to say to you right now, and you know you have to
fight this battle alone. But know that through these words I send you
hope, strength, prayers and perseverance. Sorry I could not do more.
Sorry I could not be there with you through these times. Hope you will allow
me this one moment of guilt and will not think me a bad person for not
doing all that I have said earlier.

You know, you have doubted god in your writings. You should. But know
this, that if there is a god, if there is some overpowering being who
guides all our actions and arranges all our co-incidences to happen,
like pawns on a chess board, then he definitely has a plan for you.
And I believe that part of that plan is for you to go through all this
to come closer as a family. Again, I know these are empty words to
someone who is going through the pain. But it is all I can do , short
of living your life for you. There is much to be said on this subject,
but I shall let it rest here.

I like how your body
Feels next to
My body

Our flesh entwined together
In this dance of decaying ecstasy

I like how it feels that a million
Fire flies erupt into little
Fragments
that rise up
When we touch

It is a game we play, love
And here, I will let you win