Nothing

I dream walk my way into reality
each moment I feel a silent drain
Being truthful to others and not myself
My life seems empty and lonely and beautiful
As I walk with this molten heart and cold breath
As I reach the small hills and plateaus
restricted on their own, and me present
Time sometimes fails to tell a tale
It is just there, passing but not felt
And everything around me varying, in vain
since my heart is not where it seems it is
I wish you to leave me oh desolate misery
I want to be in some distant land, in lofty spirits
But I want you as well, for with you I know
You keep me a man, and keep me real
And not infected in peoples judgment
and their sanity and their sharpness
Silent night, all I crave, let this journey
Not be a stretched one, if without her
So I can stay, admire, and then pass
slowly being nothing, into nothing.

Assurance

In a silent dream of lucidity
it remains calm and protected
distant senses bring quiet aridity
pacifying moonlight remains expected
Oh, I do undergo this reckless conveyance
due to the ocean which ruthlessly burned
carrying some still feelings of gone abeyance
and the sweet haunting my heart earned
Mother Nature plays its relentless tricks
but in these fixtures I am completely pleased
Oh, excuse my haughtiness to your fix
sentiments you cannot from within me seize
I wish to be the silent one in the day
like a pebble on a sea shore
It does only know one belonging; it just lays
it is smoothened in a long forgotten lore
But it is also a kind of an astonishing flower
which blooms under the moonlight of dearth
nothing else gives it such power
Each petal, on it a tear; its only assurance on earth

Read my mind...

If you want to live your dreams, you may have to first live through your nightmares.

Sometimes I do not understand whether I am the one who is writing the poem/story or is the poem/story writing Me?

The one major thing that is uncommon between me and the human race is the ‘race’ aspect.

The one thought that shall be constantly dominant, shall be the thought to think for oneself.

  

Bringing out the best or worst in you in any situation is more a choice than force.

For all writers: When you cannot write, burn up a torch and search for your muse. It is hiding somewhere. You chased it away by your thinking.

If we could really be and think as mature as we try to act for self gratification and reputation, we could turn our life quite some way we wanted to.

There is a usually a huge gap between what people think they will do when a situation will come, and adhering to it when the situation stares at them in the face.

It may take a lifetime to understand the difference between wisdom and intelligence.

Couplets:

I can never forget you, despite the distance, because our love is not a wound that will heal, but an everlasting flower only meant to grow.

Lost in a reminiscence of a touch, the moments tapped my senses such.

She left the scene when I said I am an out of sight out of mind person; not realizing I meant that when she is out of my sight, I am out of my mind. 
 

Thoughts in a sentence...

Maturity is less of ‘I know’ and more of ‘I wish to know’.

Out of all creatures of Mother Nature, humans are the most fortunate and unfortunate at the same time. Reason: We have logics and attitudes.

If two people who are in love can explain it logically, it is not love.

Humans shall always be with this beautiful curse; that as emotions walk in, logic walks out – and vice versa.

Strings

I wish I was the sunlight

To make your day sunny and bright

I wish I was the moonlight;

Just keep your windows open

I would come each night unawares

To cast my coolness on your beautiful face

And to just watch my sleeping beauty.

I wish I was the breeze around you

To run my fingers on your face, and soothe your skin,

And to wave your silky hair

like beautiful curtains of shyness

and you could feel me gently touching you

I wish I were the words you read each day

To be read and understood as I am

I wish I was all the moments that make you laugh

I wish I was your pillow,

So you could sleep and forget all worries

I wish I could be a more hundred things

But it seems I just can wish

I am tied down by some strings

But with you in my heart all the times,

I have a lot each day to cherish

My world

Rains come and go,
and the flowers lose their fragrance
But some feelings can never lose their meaning,
Also words, if they are said from within me
I am yours, I am your soul speaking
and you may not know you have to believe me
Clouds cover over you time and again,
You sought the rains from them yet again,
It’s me now who is breathing and I know
you are just pretending to survive while I rejoice
Because, I loved and I still do, and will forever
Awake within me are still dreams you try to forget
you smile but you do not believe,
You may be alone, but I am entwined to another me
Please don’t cry, but your tears make me pure
I cannot smile, but I do believe, and I am joyful
You may need fixing, but I do not
I can never be broken, maybe you are, I wonder why
Questions I have, but now I think I know
While your world consists of words and many things
My world consists of feelings, emotions and dreams

Lyrics of my first self composed song 

Scribbling my thoughts again...

• Believe in yourself. But to have a true self learn to believe when your loved ones point out your flaws. Respond. Dont react.
• Never deny feeling good and pure emotions because you think its troublesome in the present. They have a bad habit of boomeranging back when you least expect.
• Possessiveness knows no reason, no situation, no time and no season...
• The only thing which is greatest to only #take is #initiative for a good #deed.
• There is nothing like sunrise and sunset. Its the earth that moves...
• Do not have an addiction for prediction. It has the essence to steal your common sense.

Thoughts on...

Hypocrisy is the most obnoxious of all human vices.

Talking about and condemning corruption by reading newspapers is as good as a kid killing terrorists in a video game.

I have not considered anything more ridiculous than following cliché ways of societies forced forms of happiness.

Superstition has no place in the life of the brave.

Misunderstanding can cost you a lot; even rob you of your understanding for the future.

You cannot know the future, but you can determine how you want to be when it comes.

An update

Dear Readers,

My first novel is almost ready for a first revision (rewrite) and this should be done in 3 months. I am still thick of a name for it though. I think I need to get regular with my work now. Post I am done revising it, I will need a proofreader and my hunt for a global agent will be on. Writing a novel is truly difficult, but very rewarding to the soul. You go through all those pages and ask yourself, "I wrote that?"

Along with this, I am storyboarding on my second novel. Hope this one doesnt take too long though. Need your wishes. Keep reading and keep those emails and comments flowing - it is my lifeline.

Also, I have a twitter account now. If you wish to follow, just search for @marcushades. Although I must admit I am not very regular on it, I will be once I get more followers.

Godspeed

Marcus

Ego and Self Respect

To have your self-respect intact, you must know two things: One; who you really are. Two; you never know enough. To keep your ego intact, you must know neither. – Marcus Hades

What is ego and what is self respect?

I believe there that ego and self respect are two very different attributes in an individual. But then again, they can also have a very thin line of difference in understanding it within themselves. Ego itself is very complex and self respect is fairly simple. But like all high attributes, ego is more common and self respect, rare.

As for all definitions, I can write pages on this, but I choose to be simple for this one. E for Ego, S for Self Respect.

E: It is ‘thinking’ you are superior, S: It is to ‘know’ you are sensible enough

E: Sensitive to self only, S: Sensitive to self as well as others concerned

E: ‘I don’t make mistakes.’ S: ‘I know I made a mistake. But I am wise enough to admit and fix it.’

E:  Negative to self growth via experiences, S: Positive to self growth via self realization

E: No respect for others (respect only for self), S: Respect for everyone, including self.

E: I am the best, S: I am good, but can get better

E: I am mature and know everything, S: I know what life is all about, but its less and I still have a lot to learn

E: Not disciplined; S: Disciplined

E: Arrogance; S: Dignity

E: Harsh and judgmental, S: Calm and intuitive

I believe ego is within all of us but sometimes, we choose it to dominate and cloud our other senses of reasoning, because it seems ‘more important’ than the other emotions. We all have a sense of everything – how others are and how we are. The moment the sense of who we are becomes more important and interferes with the sense of who others are, it is a play of the ego within us. This happens due to giving over importance to self than required and less importance to others than necessary. Ego is an exaggerated high estimate of oneself. When our ego is attacked, it usually results in anger.

Self respect on the other hand is not within all of us, as it is tough to find out that line of difference between ego and self respect. But it is the quality of a very reasonable and actual realization of one’s abilities and qualities, vis-à-vis what others think of you. Self respect does not destroy the self and supports an individual during hard times, because it is always very reasonably self-controlled and calm and not instinctively temperamental. It knows the causes and the eventualities of its effects. It is never an exaggerated high estimate of the self, but a controlled form of a true insight. When our self-respect is hurt, it usually results in self-doubt followed by self-realisation.

When your ego is functioning, you will always see outwards. When the self respect is functioning, you will see more inwards and ask yourself important questions.

Education and Priorities

The only thing which education and society teach us is either to follow someone or something and appose someone or something. I see hardly any wisdom in this. Never do they teach one thing which is the most important: Thinking with your own mind and regarding your own situation. This is the most important because every positive person, situation and emotion is unique and nothing can be generalized as such. - Marcus Hades

If you want to see your future, simply pay attention to your priorities and whether they are in line with what you really want.  Your life will always take you where your priorities lie. – Marcus Hades

Poison

A stretched time ago once when I was hurt

I gathered myself and cleansed away the dirt

Now all time that came, came with care and comparison

And also unaware, born within me was an ounce of poison

I ran into someone and that someone was nice

But initially to believe in that someone, I was cold like ice

Fearful and doubtful I was all along, afraid to have melt;

But a happy existence I craved and love within me I felt

But the poison was within me, and it brewed well

No one could now hurt me, as I wreathed them to hell

But wicked the poison was and unaware it did grow

Now nothing more than the poison was for me to show

I collected it in a jar and placed it outside my home,

To make my foes drink from it, who suffered and moaned

One day that someone I loved came to my residence

Seeming welcoming drink; my poison, was swallowed in ignorance

Before I could prevent, and then to the Gods I let out a plea

Due to my poison, my lover I saw depart beneath a tree

The Stone

As I walked through some gardens bright and dense

And I wandered pondering senselessly

Lately, I was frightened at nights, didn’t make sense,

And felt the presence of a soul relentlessly.

This happened to me, and I would freeze

There was some evil around me I could tell

But now since days aplenty this feeling ceased

The evil distressed me no more; I wore a magician’s spell

Now in the noon of spring I wandered on more,

The magician said, ‘The evil spirit will be so sore…’

Pleasant were now the days, I was finally at peace
I would continue through my life at my own ease

As I walked further, silent, happy but alone,
A beautiful song kissed my ears, it was unknown.
I searched the source in the fragrant breeze

Stunned; the song I saw, was being sung by a stone.

A stone, I repeated to myself, singing such a beautiful song?

It’s filled with words of love for sure, but also pain

The stone stopped singing, after completing the song

When it saw me glance at it, it silenced; it hid its talent in vain

‘Hail you,’ I said ‘I wish to not call you a stone.

‘Such a beautiful song, how are you able to sing’, I asked

It remained silent for a while, but then it spoke
‘A soul moved from here’, it said, ‘singing this song.

‘She was a soul, was pure, her feelings were noble and strong.

‘Hearing her song, I awoke from nature’s permanent sleep,

‘Never have I heard a voice, a cry for love so very deep

‘She sought love of a human and followed him everyplace

‘But it seemed every chance of meeting him, forever got erased.

‘Still in love she was, crying out his name, without blame;

‘What I heard over and over; Nathan was his name.’

As I heard this, on my knees I fell, aghast at such love

When it made a stone sing, it has to be true.

Something then dawned on me from the heavens above,

That Nathan was my name, and she was the evil, who I bid adieu,

Since years I have thrown the spell out and looked for her,

But never have I found such love, which made a stone shed a tear.

The Stand

As I stand up each morning

From the tranquil of my unknown dreams

The world changes each day, alarming

Nothing was stable, it seemed

I wish to stand now forever

Until immortality kisses my soul

Somehow it is not realized ever

That little emotions form our whole

Beautiful shall even be the guise

Uprising shall be all motives and purpose

Truth shall be all, until demise

Life shall be music; a symphony composed

Why are we afraid then, to seek refuge

None are reasons for love to refuse

Though they seem many, but years are few

Until their last one should always remain true

No heavens above

Withstanding the cold contradictions of a heartless heart

There are some uncalled decisions which hurt like a dart

Not realizing sometimes that in love there is nothing to refrain,

But now shall be allowed to sleep on the bed of pain

Changing of attempts from a conscious core within

The weaknesses of another are also now seeping in

Adamant on another level but shy even to forget a trice

Giving up seems sane when too high seems even a negligible price

Wandering through an open space rarely the ground is found

Thoughts which are miserable at such stage, always seem profound

Further my love gets along with such a fierce boost unseen

Making love with my thoughts, my truth being made a figurine

Shallow may be the world in its trying to make the sense

Anytime there is a wish, thrown is the love and built a fence

It may seem like all is a waste what people call love

Dawned upon shall be the truth, that it’s here, there are no heavens above

Whose loss?

Whenever people communicate, I have always seen they follow a pattern of their own. This is a resultant of various things. Attitude, thought processes, respect, self respect, ego, notions, false notions, understanding, misunderstanding, judgement and mis-judgement.

Whenever we communicate, we do so to either in an expectation of a response (or sometimes a reaction) and sometimes to just imbibe our idea within the other. These responses from another or imbibing of an idea may not always be in our favour and there can be many reasons for that (including the others attitude, notions, etc).

But whenever we expect a person to hear what we say, and expect that person to understand and respond accordingly, what is to be focused on most importantly is our 'way' of communication. I truly believe that if I am unable to get a point across to anyone, and that person doesn't understand me; or the person reacts to it, maybe I need to change my 'way' of communication and do a self check on my methods.

Even if another is wrong (genuinely - or according to us), that person deserves your best 'way' of getting your idea across. I have already stated that baseless anger is futile; and so are baseless arguments. So, if I try to imbibe my idea and expect a positive response from another, by being angry, rude, sarcastic, etc., I lose the chance for the person to understand my view point, and moreover, maybe close doors of sensible communication with that person forever. It is my loss.

Hence, I have resolved and so should everyone understand that whenever you want a person to understand you, your ways of communication have to be smooth. Of course, this also has exceptions.

Though people would say that this a common sense principle (which didn't require me to write it), and it doesn't require any rocket science kind of analysis, I merely write this because people ignore this very 'common sense' principle with themselves.So the next time you feel you have a genuine point and are trying to communicate it to another, but the other just doesn't seem to understand you - or retaliates, it is wise to check within.

If you can't explain it simply, you don't understand it well enough. - Albert Einstein

I think and think for months and years. Ninety-nine times, the conclusion is false. The hundredth time I am right. - Albert Einstein

I am privileged

Staying in the past need not necessarily be only be about the bad memories. It may a recollection of blissful moments, which you would like to live on in your memory each day of your life - which makes your present and future a great journey, that those moments of bliss were once yours. Do all get to live those?

I did get to live those - and I am living them each day. Prisha, I miss you a ton. Wish you could understand what I truly am. Love you. Forever. Though I have nothing; but within me, I have everything.

Your Wanderer

Something is sleeping within me; something yet wide awake

When the leaves are evergreen, they should seldom be raked

Floating are some sweet orchids in the skies flying above me

My amour has now dripped in me, and within me filled a sea

Wandering through the desert, and sometimes the land

The heart cannot fathom the distance stretched beyond

My soul cries always outstretching its imaginary hand

To go to her, blissful absence; my solitude is made of sand

The pearls of my tears which flow by missing you,

Your Gods are envious too, as they are so very true

The stars which shine each night, some night clouds

Tough they are far away, yet within me they never shroud

And as I walk, and see the souls stray in their oblivion searching

I ask them to go where they belong, or rest in their graves

And when they leave, this irony within me always is nurturing

I am your wanderer; you are my land, and your amour, my waves

You are the One

I thought you are a part of me, but you aren’t. How can you be? A part can be severed or separated. But you are in me. In fact, now I am not me anymore, but you and I together, are me. When I say “I” it is more of you and less of me. How comfortably you came and took a permanent residence within me. So comfortably, that  so much of me left me. I am now nothing, but more of you. Yes, you Prisha. You are the One.

I walk a while each night, and as I do, you speak to me. You speak to me every time. While I am reading or while I am working. While I am eating and while I am drinking. You advise me when I am in trouble. You never leave me even when someone is talking to me, as I listen to you more clearly than any sound this earth can provide. I hear you in music, but you are clearer than the music. Your voice is the music, when my surroundings are silent. You comfort me when I miss your presence in the human form. You comfort me and say to me that I don’t need to worry anymore, for you are always awake in me - even as I sleep. In the night as silent fills around me, you whisper to me candy flossed words which lull me to sleep. You wake me up and tell me to feel the day and face whatever comes of it. I can even see you many a times. I walk with you, holding your hand.

But most, I can hear you and see you at the same time when I write. Yes, Prisha I can. These words are not flowing out of me, because you are within me more. Oh, there are so many things you tell me. If I would have the resources to write on the blank page everything you say to me, I would need to take unaccounted number of births. For writers, the muse is an imaginary voice, but for me – there is nothing like that. I have no voice, but a soul within me. That soul is you, Prisha; and I carry you everyplace.

I am blissful just listening to you. You make me laugh, you make me cry. You make me dream, you make me wonder why. You make me ponder; you make my heart grow fonder. Such beauty within, something’s so very nice; I wonder if any mortal gets this to rejoice; and to Mother Nature, I think I cannot repay her debts forever. She gave me you. I have everything I need to live soulfully and live so true.

Tell me more Prisha, for your words are more beautiful than any sonnet, and as I type, I feel like a musician playing the Piano. So, what on earth do you want to talk about Prisha? Which story do you want to tell? Which poetry do you want to recite? Which words of yours become couplets? Speak to me. I am all ears; all my life.  

The silence is no longer screaming, because the soul has started believing. So farthest it can go from eyes unseen, to a place of love, mortals seldom have been. – Marcus Hades

A Privilege...

If you judge people, you have no time to love them. - Mother Teresa
If you truly love someone, you will find no time to judge them. - Marcus Hades


It is said that when a person is about to die, he doesn’t lie and his dying declaration is considered as an evidence in any court of law. Why? Isn’t it obvious (unless a person is absolutely wicked), he will speak the truth at that trice? A person spoke shortly to the one he loves and whom he would never ever meet again or talk to again; time was short and words were superfluous, but yet, words were there. On that juncture, don’t words become equivalent to evidence of the feelings or things? Anyways, maybe more on that sometime by next week, because for now, I actually drifted from what I really wanted to say to you all.

There are so many people who want to love, but cannot. They are too occupied in just surviving, like a beggar, a construction worker… oh countless examples of people who are just trying to get one meal a day; and sometimes even that one meal is not square. They suffer from this world and nature. They suffer from us. From disease. The cold, rains, heat and God knows what not makes them suffer each day; and even kills them. Their life is a living nightmare. Is love important for them? Yes. Do they realize that it is important for them. NO. Because their life is consumed by misery and suffering. They don’t have the space to even think about it most of the time, I guess. Do they have ego and understand how it may come in between a love story? I guess not. But we definitely do. Right?

We do not have to suffer ANY of that (I presume you don’t have to, each day of your life, if you are able to read this online on your computers right now). We can think about so many things besides just surviving, can’t we? We can think about intellectualization, materialism, spiritual growth, self gratification by so many means and modes and what not. And the best part is, we can even achieve it. And one thing which we also seek is love – maybe consciously, sometimes subconsciously. Because we have all the means to even fulfill it. But do we even bother to see that getting to love someone and spending even one day thinking about that person is a privilege? A privilege which is so easily taken for granted that we make hasty decisions, break relations and sometimes keep our ego on the forefront. Miscalculations and misjudgments; bigotedness and selfishness has surrounded us. Love deserves to be given a chance, but we don’t give it a chance. We all think we deserve a chance, but another doesn’t. Love needs to pure, but we soil it with infidelity – in thought or action. We all want lifelong love, but we give up when we have to work on the relation; and what it would require is just a little communication, a little time, a little understanding and little emphasis on what is truly important. So, the next time, you see an orphan, a person who is handicapped, blind; a person who is working hard just to survive – think. Think – are you really loving someone? Do you really 'know' and understand that you are privileged?

Some more couplets

• From my eyes, sometimes a stream, sometimes a river or a fountain; but now when fate gives me a hill, I tread to conquer the mountain.
  
• Walls can never keep you out of me, as you always reside in my heart. Distances to cover it does not see; bodies may be, but my soul from yours is never apart. 
• So I start another journey, alone but never lonely; it shall not now end soon I wish, for this bliss of missing you I dare not abolish

Recent thoughts...

Sometimes in life, you will realize that the thing you hated doing most becomes your prime purpose, talent and priority in life. It becomes the reason what you were born to do.

Misjudgment is more often sprung out of habit than by the acts of others.

The ability to move on in any juncture of life is a hard-hitting determinant of the strongest, and sometimes, the weakest characteristics of your persona.

The intellect can for a trice silence, but never perceive, the magnitude of an emotion which the heart feels.

Practical Psychology 101 - The Super Ego

Most people who claim that extra continuous pride in their character and persona is not wrong all the time. But constantly along with blaming another, thinking of them as being a hypocrite, etc. etc… realize at some trice in their life that what they saw lacking in another, is what they actually lack in themselves. When people continue their life, they go through a series of changing attitudes – and that is common amongst all. Situations and times alter attitudes slightly, and that is considered normal - and sometimes is. Those changes are slightly fluctuating within a happy medium even for the recipients. But sometimes, drastic changes in attitude occur in people with a weak value and belief system - which actually change their belief and value systems. It is just that once such a person’s attitude changes, and then their character; they also find all possible ways and means to justify that change – within them, and then find it comfortable to mix well with people who belong to that similar changed attitude. It is like a super ego justifying the main ego which is dependent on a system, which first provides a mental gratification to fill up the gaps in ones life - however large or small those gaps maybe. Some people are consciously aware of these mental gaps and some are not. When the gaps are not filled mentally, or when the peak of this condition is reached, a person will go out of the way and also do things which they once considered as outrageous or incapable of doing because of their belief and value systems prevailing at a point. They will then justify that what they are doing is right, according to them. And some of them are so hopelessly dependant on that super ego system that they fight to protect it - and all people belonging to that same system. They also are the first to lose that so-called character and persona, in the hours of desperation, which they once successfully held for years. But then again, it depends to what extent they can go. According to me, the capacity is limitless.

I have noticed that it is an easy temptation to condemn others who do not fit into your value systems at that point in life and an equally difficult task to reflect on this; that what we sometimes see lacking in others is merely a reflection of our own lack of values or character. But the conscious mind being very strong, always resists looking at your own circumstances and actions from a witness perspective.

I love you

The start of my second novel - which is still in storyboarding process.

I love you and for me it will never be over. Infact, this is just the beginning of my story, and you are in it, no matter what you do or think. That is because you are always in my heart and shall always reside there – in a place which does not consist of anything else but you. Though missing you hurts like a million thorns and I do not think they will ever stop hurting me, I know that despite your absence, I have found the meaning of myself – that I can love you without any rules and conditions, without any borders or boundaries, and without any restrictions or control. I love you in an inexplicable way, which you will never be able to fathom. And that is because subconsciously you choose to look at only what you choose to look at, and you feel what you choose to feel. I will be your past when tomorrow comes for you; but for me, you shall never leave me. I stroke your hair, take your face in my hand and kiss you while you talk - and shall always find you with me, in my heart. I hold you in all the moments, but do feel your absence as well. I feel emptiness inside me and in my life – but yet, I am full. I am full of your thoughts and despite them being one way – I love you. I plead mother nature for another existence in a new life - where there is only you and only me, together, and everything on our side.

Mortals know love as attaining the loving companionship of the one you love and living together in a definition defined by their hearts and predecessors; and acted upon as the magna carta, and think of it maybe as the only form of it. But I know that I shall be the definition and its example of love’s form which maybe unknown to millions – but through words, which do not reach you, and may never reach you – will reach those millions – someday, sometime - maybe long after I have left this existence.

They will know that someone on the face of this planet loved fiercely; someone loved – no matter what. And if then, they choose to call me insane - then I say right now, that I am guilty - and will be.

My 100th post

Being my 100th post, I thought I should share something which I feel I have learnt until this stage in my life... they are more, but I thought I can share this to all of you for now

Until now, in my lifetime, I have learnt that…

• Loving someone doesn't always depend on reciprocation

• The best way of finding help is self-help

• When you fall, the only person that can pick you up the best is yourself

• During your darkest times, the only shoulder to cry on will be your own

• People will leave you when you feel that you need them the most

• Suffering through your toughest times will change you… but it’s entirely your decision what it changes you into

• If you are mentally strong, you are expected to be strong at all junctures in your life…

• Love is lasting for a few; hatred dissolves for a few

• On Health: The ones, who live like a saint, suffer the most

• When you reach the highest altitude of an emotion, the subject of the emotion alters

• On Karma: The ones meant to die always outlive the ones that are meant to live

• However bad your situation; someone, somewhere is suffering more than you

• You will always take for granted something until it is lost

• Ignorance can cost you much more than it appears

• Though it seems like a sea, there is never enough of time

• The ones whom you care about the least, may understand you the most

• However empathetic you are, you can never understand completely what another is feeling

• We have one life, yet we live with past effects, act carelessly in our present, and blame our destiny when our future becomes our present

The Atheist

It was going to be fun. Maybe. But it was also going to be boring henceforth. Routine life back at home, away from the University hostel seemed like a new life now, never anticipated; and the thought of getting back home – a new definition of freedom. The examinations were just done a week back. It was going to be her last day at the university. Also, it was going to be the last night with her roommates. They would return after the farewell function; some drunk and dimwitted and indecent. However, Megan was also happy for two reasons. One reason was that she was going to get home to her mom and dad. She was going to get back her room, her childhood friends and homemade apple pie. Second, she would get rid of all the boring lectures and lecturers, and was now eager to get into the world. A world which she was about to carve for herself. The world of architecture; which she was always interested in. After all, she had put in the years and her dad had put in the money. Anticipation of a pleasant future always made the patience in the present possible.

Megan and Sarah were childhood pals and Megan was the shy one. Sarah was always the one who strained Megan into drinking; and even smoking; also smoking pot sometimes. Megan was shy. Having no affairs and aged twenty two, she felt she was an alien; but she was unsure if she was happy or not. The prince charming watery fundamentals were still fixed in her mind, and she was happy just hoping for it. She somehow didn’t face reality the way it was. Hence she wasn’t sure, if her happiness – or dismay – was real.

The girls had bought dresses from the town a week back for the night. Sarah got herself the most neckline revealing dress which Megan had only seen in movies on actresses who always were in the news for their promiscuity. Megan hadn’t bought herself anything special. She just bought some artificial jewels to complement her frock, with some frills. Sarah, being what she was, thought it was too uninteresting, but she knew Megan wouldn’t budge on her idea about dressing sense. Anyways, all that was important was the night out. The girls and the guys night out – together.

The farewell was prearranged at a place known as THE WAY INN. The University being a standalone facility in the countryside of Rusthall; the only place for recreation – pool, beer and some music – for the locals, and the students of the University of the Third Age. Between the University and the Way Inn, was a stretch of road sided by trees and open land area and the distance between them was roughly a kilometer. The University would pick them up and drop them as and when a batch of ten students was ready.

The girls started dressing around at 6 PM and finished by 8 PM. No – 8:30 PM. Megan spent an hour and a half reading a book (the no-make-up-girl she was), until all the girls were done and then they boarded the bus together. Somehow Megan wasn’t so comfortable going, but since Sarah was with her, and so were the other girls, she felt alright. Jenny was the nerdy girl in the roommate group, who would laugh the next day if she heard a joke today. Megan somehow liked her, but always refrained from talking to her at length. This was because, according to the other girls, she was weird. Well, today was different and Megan sat beside her in the bus and they exchanged numbers in the brief journey. She didn’t care what the other girls thought – as they wouldn’t be there to nag the hell out of her tomorrow anyway. They reached the Inn at 8:55 PM and the sound and slight thumping of the music from the loud jukebox was resonant till the exit. Somehow this music was a little uncomfortable to Jenny and Megan, but they kept on that smile – to fit in. It was a full moon night - and the boys and girls felt like wolves, it seemed.

The girls reached there; and the boys were already waiting. There were couples, stags and some silly guys who hoped that they would get lucky. Megan stayed with Sarah, and included Jenny in the gang. Sarah headed straight to the bar and dragged the girls along; ordered a tequila. Megan and Jenny ordered for an orange juice each. Jenny looked ravishing for a change today; and the girls hummed to the music. ‘Summer of ’69’. Clichéd, but good to listen to once in a while. The guys were eager to make themselves visible to the girls now, and the party was getting started.

Mark – the University hunk eyed Sarah in a very naughty and flirtatious way. Sarah – now three shots down, was just getting warmed up by his looks. She headed to the dance floor, where Mark was now standing his ground – slightly moving his steps to the music. They started jiving together and started to dance rhythmically. Megan and Jenny just watched now as they finished their juice. The other guys were eyeing them, and they felt uncomfortable now.

“I am not feeling good,” said Jenny.
“Yeah, Jen – I understand. Ditto here.” Megan replied.
“No – I am feeling something in my head.” Jenny said in a tone which was as if she was lulling to sleep.
Megan understood once, that someone had mixed something in her drink – Sarah, the naughty one. She had claimed she would make Jenny drink once, and this was probably her prank. But Megan felt sober – no symptoms of anything unusual with her head. She was glad, but got worried for Jenny.

Jenny got up from her seat and went to the washroom. She threw up there, and Megan helped her. Megan went up to Sarah – who was now throwing herself all over Mark – and asked if she could help.
“Some lemon. Just give her some lemon. That shoul take da kic oud.” Sarah said in a tone that she didn’t want to be interrupted. She winked at Megan. Megan gave her a bad stare.
Megan didn’t know what to do. Jenny felt a little better after puking her guts out in the washroom – but she wasn’t feeling great.
“I think I will go back and hit the bed,” Jenny said, as she picked herself up from the chair on which Megan had assisted her to sit on.
“I will come with you.” Megan insisted.
“No. I am fine. Thanks Megan. It’s just a short walk. I think perhaps the fresh air and walk will make me feel better. Please stay. I will see you in the room.” Jenny said aloud so as to make each word heard; amidst the booming sounds which rang in her head. She then left.

Megan felt awful after a few minutes. She felt suffocated in the smoky atmosphere of the Inn. She felt it is better that she should go and catch up behind Jenny and accompany her to the hostel. The girl didn’t look that good, she thought. Sarah wasn’t even bothered as Megan informed her that she was leaving. In a couple of minutes, Megan was on the road, looking for Jenny. The cool zephyr made her cuddle herself as she walked.

She now saw Jenny around a hundred steps ahead. She wished to call out to her, but Jenny wasn’t that near. Megan started brisk walking now to get close to her. As Megan was catching up along the side of the road, Megan saw four shadows catch up behind Jenny. What would happen next was quickly running in her mind and every second now was much slower than a million heartbeats contained in her chest. She couldn’t help, and let out a shriek. ‘No.’

They grabbed Jenny and took her on the side of road amidst the trees like a mannequin being carried by those store boys in garment stores. Megan couldn’t see anything now, but hid behind a tree. She could hear that Jenny was silenced – she didn’t know just how, but could hear her moaning with pain. She was being raped, Megan guessed. She waited. If she went back, the guys would see her and chase her. She went blank. Soon, the voices and sounds of the struggle in the dry bushes stopped. Jenny was unconscious – and for all Megan thought she knew – dead.

Two among those men who heard Megan started to tread backwards from the fields. Megan saw them and didn’t know where to run. They were fast and agile. She regretted her decision of helping Jenny out. Mindlessly she started running towards the hostel, praying that some vehicle, somebody, anybody could just pass from there. She was afraid to look behind, but did. She saw those men chasing her; running now. Though petrified, she could now see their faces clearly illuminated from the moonlight. She ran faster, but somehow was sure they would catch up and kill her too, for she had now seen them in the act.

All of a sudden, she saw two men behind her and two in the front. She stopped, giving in to her fate. But they stopped right there and in fact hid behind the trees after a few seconds. She continued walking; confused. Why they aren’t getting me too, she thought. Silly thought. No time to think about this. Run!

She did run. And when she looked back, the men were still behind the trees. She ran until the air in her lungs burned. And then she ran some more. She reached the hostel.

Blurting the headmaster about the incident, the headmaster sent out his troop in his car – and called the cops simultaneously. The janitors, the librarian and all went to search for Jenny. They found Jenny half naked, lying on the side of some bushes. They got her and admitted her to the NHS hospital. The worst experience in life. The headmaster forced Megan to come with him to the police, since she said she had recognized the faces of two of those men. Even in this part of the modern village, the police were effective. They arrested the suspects and called Megan for an Identification Parade. They were out of State criminals who had taken place in the motel nearby. She confirmed their identity, and they were booked. All this continued until 4 AM in the morning. They headed back to the hospital, and Megan was now a little hopeful that the cops would catch the other culprits as well…

At 10 AM, the inspector who did the arrest called in Megan for detailing down the whole incident on paper. She was a witness after all – and a close escape. Her testimony would very much be held in court. She closed her emotions momentarily and went to the station with the cop. When she narrated the whole incident, the cop kept repeating the last part of the incident, where she said that they stopped chasing her and she ran away. She was sure this happened. She requested the officer to see the men once as she wanted to ask them some questions.

“Missy. Are you sure? Meaning – why do you want to talk to them?” said the cop.
“I need to know something.” Megan said, emotionlessly but still in a state of enigma.

She went towards the lock-up, her legs shaky, remembering the incident now as a close flashback, picture by picture. The men looked at her, and seemed surprised. She stood there just for a moment and then asked them, “When you could easily catch up on me and you knew I saw you; I could indentify you – you knew that. Why did you ever let me escape? I was alone. Scared. Why did you stop chasing me?”

The men were silent. They looked at each other and then laughed mildly in a grotesque way. The black man among them, looked at her, but somehow seemed to shy away from looking at her at the same time.

“I am not sure of what that was. Perhaps we drank a lot,” he said. He looked at his partner, whose eyes were now widespread with some kind of horror.

Megan was silent and in oblivion.

“Yeh, maybe we were too drunk,” said the other man, his body language suggested he had a chill down as spine as he spoke.

The cop though was not interested earlier to know, now was. He beat his baton on the bars of the lockup, as if forcing them to answer the girl.

The black man looked at the cop, and then at Megan. “When we started chasing you, you seemed alone.” He said, as he rubbed his eyes. “When you stopped, you weren’t alone. We saw almost five to seven men walking with you. And when you ran, they stood in our way. We just stood there, and then those men disappeared before our eyes – and you were out of our sight.”

Megan swore to never visit that road again. Who were they? Angels? Or maybe what she had only heard about – Ghosts. Why they didn’t save Jenny was another question which lingered her mind for years. Jenny wasn’t an atheist either. But Megan was. She still is.

More Couplets

Sunlight never touched its wings, yet it flew with all its might. From the rains, heaviness it brings; success always sought in its flight.

A few moments to mesmerize, but a fewer came to me. The trees need the rains to realize, their purpose and true destiny.

The soul parades high and mighty flew its distance in its sky; the heart shall be the almighty, to decide the years it ponders why.

Present shall never decide a future of love so encouraging; come into the woods and walk by my side, to engage in a dream so engaging.

Couplets

Hence took away this moment asking for realization of my desire, forsaken is the previous minute for this trice to acquire.

All alive can’t be absolute joy, flowers though have to be chosen. In concert shall love arise, or all the bliss is frozen.

It flew in the dark, but in the bright it waited still. Heavens knew this difference, but it had to be from his will.

Just a scribble...

Facing a writer’s block for some time and my medium just won’t allow me to enter freely. Something is stopping him. Well, I shall wait. In the meantime I thought I should address something.

My few readers ask me various questions. The questions are pretty much standard I hear every time. The question is why do I write stories based on horror, paranormal or write the ‘weird’ type of stories? Why are my poems so dark and deep? Firstly, I haven’t even started on my journey into the world of writing – I am still quite amateur – a boy; compared to many legends. I have lots and lots of distance to cover. I have only written a few short stories and almost done with just the first draft of my novel. When I read prolific authors, I get jealous reading the way they write and able to express themselves. So, I haven’t written much yet, or found what genre I actually write in. I may write horror, mystery or a beautiful love story in my journey. It can be anything. To be honest, I still haven’t been able to catch the drift of my own imagination. As for poetry, well, I believe I do not write poetry at all. They just get written. And by the way, if you look at it, there is quite some happy and light stuff in all I have written as well.

Secondly, I think I do not have any standard answer to this question, because usually my answer is ‘I truly don’t know.’ Why does anyone need to assume that I ‘choose’ specifically to write in a particular genre or type? I simply write, as the stories or the poems form in my mind. I think I do not have a choice there. I simply just write it. I am not (and never have been) an avid reader yet (but I am getting there) and I do not write getting motivated or influenced by anything around me or inside me. My life is much less or as normal than most of you folks out there. I am not mentally imbalanced (well, the people around me have never wanted me to visit a psychiatrist or a mental asylum – so I guess you must ask them – and I believe I am pretty sane person with an unbiased conscience). I just write the stories as they form from the seed of an idea, and most of them get written by themselves. In fact, I believe strongly that I am at only a fraction of my capability to expressing myself till date. I just want to get better and better - and then a little more better.

I love language and the rhythm various words can give to the blank page. It gives me the satisfaction of creation. It gives me an insight into my own self (whether I am creative or not). I look back at the things I wrote when I started writing and I sometimes think ‘gosh, how did I think that?’ Or ‘well, I still think like that.’ Fiction is fiction. I suggest readers all across don’t try and judge a writer’s personality by his stories. If they do, well, it is at their own discretion. To me, stories are stories and are meant to entertain and make the reader feel something. It may be good, beautiful, scary, bad or ugly. But whatever I try to say must be (from me) complete without any curtains – due to my constant affiliation with being truthful to others and more to myself in my writings. I write to be my first reader and to write things which I would like to read as a reader – but maybe haven’t come across yet. I know one thing for sure, I write what I write and if people like it, I am lucky.

That’s all there is, really.