The Song of the Dead

Vultures.

I see them swooping down on carcasses left behind by men.

Merciless. Irreverent. Hungry.

Dogs fight for stray limbs of half-burnt humans.

Letting go a shrill cry of frenzied thirst

Not a sound.

Not a sound to be heard.

Hawks nibbling at lifeless eyes.

Empty sockets stay gaping blankly at the night.

Stars too afraid to shimmer.

The moon takes refuge somewhere safe

Clouds- a shade of sinister black.

Life weeps somewhere far.

Like a child too afraid to touch the dead

I wait behind the curtain of silence.

Not even a prayer

Not a prayer on my lips.

Not a hope on my mind.

A spectator.

Only a silent spectator.

Helpless.

Still.

Infirm.

Bones rattle out in the open again.

Sooty at being half burnt.

Bury them!

Bury them deep somewhere

I hate the smell of death.

No incense, please

No flowers.

Death is not glorious here.

Death is not a feast.

Children sing at a far off place

I can hear their song.

Or is it some hymn of death.

Are all the dead awake

To see the living fare

A flux of life snuffs out the cold

from the womb of the night

Like that unborn child

in silent despair

It grudges life to death

Somewhere.

Again, I hear whispers.

Soft, soothing like death.

They are here.

Or am I just hearing things.

Oh! I forgot to breathe for a while.

Awe in awe of fear.

Sighs.

That rend the air

Ricochet twice from end to end

In mourning of a great demise.

No lip will ever arc in a smile.

No flutter flap inside my heart.

I died a painless death that time

When I kissed your lips.

When you drew my blood.

In an endless trickle

With greed in your eyes

I saw death in them.

Let the dust-storm lull.

Let it all begin for once.

Let the rot run riot in your veins too.

Let my ghost die in some peace today.

And float somewhere far away.

To a place where I may avenge this day.

Someplace- I may meet you half-way.

photo: gettyimages.com

Kanha- III

The adda session slowly drowning in intermittent cries of hunger, we decided it was time for dinner. The door of the dormitory was being locked when something of a spectacle struck us down cold.

Darkness!
Believe me, if you haven't been to a forest before, take it from me, "There are few things as supremely intimidating as a walk inside a forest in the night". It was literally 'pitch black' outside. The six of us were left looking askance at each other. Alu had suddenly become oblivious of any sensation known hitherto to mankind as 'hunger'. Dudu looked visibly shaken. With a resolve that ravenous men have when danger separates them from their food we moved forward in a battle formation that would make a retreat look more honorable. Small torches made their best attempt at lighting up the road for us but, what they really did was magnify the sheer completeness of the darkness. And that at all didn't serve the purpose!
We inched to the canteen where promptly the tables were set. The good food ( albeit completely vegetarian) assuaged to some extent the rigors of our recent 'adventure' and at the same time galvanizing strength and courage for a rerun on our way back to the hostel. Post-dinner I called out everybody to look up at the sky which was littered with countless constellations we knew no name of. The clarity of the sky coupled with the sheer presence of the dark forest, waiting almost in an endless anticipation made me feel dizzy by its sheer import. The stars were so real yet so distant. One feels too very lonely at times like these. The endless extent of Creation belittles you and you feel insignificant and small. Yet, there is an empowering satisfaction, a sense of absolute liberation in accepting that smallness, that insignificance. I don't know if it's normal or not but, at times like this I feel like dying. It makes me feel it would be the most wonderful moment to leave this world, when I am at complete peace with everything around me.


Digressions! Digressions!

So, after our rendezvous with the stars was left incomplete, we headed for the hostel with measured steps. We would be making an early start tomorrow. "Have to get up at 5. Get ready by 5:45. Gypsy arrives at 6"- made a mental note. The morning trip would be to a place called 'Bahmni Dadar' ( entirely Baekaa's idea considering he was the pro amongst us).
The chill was setting into the air and I suspected it was something around 5 or 6 degree Celsius. Thank God we had no way of being certain of the temperature!! That was one way of keeping warm. Ignorance.




to be continued.........................................

Death of a Bastard in a lonely Hospital cabin

He cries in a noiseless din.

Silence in his grief.

Cornered by a thousand hands

Out to strangle him.

His eyes a screen of hazy words

Face pockmarked with quiz.

A pin-drop could be heard in haste

In these hollow corridors

Pain and panic fornicate

Head swims in a dreamy blur.

Sickly fumes that augur ill

And ward-boys at their chores.

A desiccated soul asleep

Behind glazed glasses

Every labored rippled breath

Whispering a horrid threat

In silent vigil of a death

His father slowly passes.

His name a shame from before birth.

A society’s discard.

Now his hands in hands so cold

As life unfastened its own hold

His mind could mock at fate unfold

No longer ‘A Bastard’.

This was named something else by me. One of my blogger friends suggested a more direct nomenclature. I owe him this.

Photo: gettyimages.com

NECROPOLIS

Guarded by unyielding walls
Entrance through the Gothic gate.
“Rest In Peace”, the vulture calls
In this ‘Haven of the Late’.

Four ‘n half yards underfoot
Breathes a seething thirst to quench.
Swerving up the air as soot
Rises up a rancid stench.

Restless in the black casket
Sleeps a fire, raging red.
Where with hell the evil mate
Emerges the living dead.

Labored sobs and screaming pain
In mournful, heavy air.
Trickles down a slow disdain
Loses path a prayer.

Tomb and moonlight kept apart,
The unborn cries hoarse.
Dagger sprouting off its heart
A sublime hatred grows.

Burning vengeance, rotting flesh
The fading crescent dwarfs.
Dried blood in deep caress
With desecrated corpse.

Hooting owls ‘n hanging bats
Wait drooling for a feast.
In defiance, the gnawing rats
Defaces the deceased.

En masse nocturnals celebrate
The daylight kingdom sleeps.
Dawn in waiting hesitate
The Necropolis lives.

THE DEVIL'S REVENGE

A sharp pain sprinted across his nerves.
He awoke from his nightmare
Where he only ran.
And ran.
From nowhere.
To nowhere.
A faint light
Like a lure wrapped his vision,
Teased him
And urged him on.
To where he never knew.
It looked like an unending dungeon.
Deep like the womb of some hideous witch,
Dark as the caverns of the lair of death.
And like avarice incarnate in search of gold
He trudged along.
Dug at places where humans slept
And cadavers mocked in shadowy grins.
All along his eyes.
They were his only light.
As in darkness they burnt
With a primitive glow
Giving him strength, shutting his senses
To more sinister predators of night.
The Devil waited.

As in love and hatred
As in life and death
As in pleasure and pain.
He ran wild and blind.
The thorns of the bushes slashing his flesh
In careless cuts and brutal bruises.
He replied the paining numbness with a divine smile
Hanging off his lips.
Lips as red as a crimson gale
He was no human.
He was no ghost.
A tear drop welled somewhere.
An agony swelled
In Hell.
And a rose blossomed.
A star cracked
A child cried.
He ran.
A reckless black-curse of lunacy.
With hair askew
Feet bloodied
And like a fear unleashed.
The Devil waited.

Time coughed blood in spurts.
Doors opened.
Doom beckoned.
And in a thin stream of flesh and blood
Life escaped to its last refuge.
Like a heathen crawling
Like an insane craze
Like a winding road.
An endless nightmare.
Sweat poured from within
And his heart raced.
He opened the portal of his fate
Where bent on his knees
He kissed the lifeless hand.
And disrobed the dead
To lay a wreath
On his lifeless child.
The Devil grinned.