Losing my sangfroid

A meek voice is drowning
Amidst a deafening silence
Slowly and silently
Withering away secretly...

A new sun ascend
The night sky during the
Last hours of darkness,
Tearing apart the shadow
Of grotesque sanity and
Holding out a promise
Of wiping away
The reigning gloom.
But the deceitful golden rays
Dissolve in the twilight sky
Leaving behind a
Lingering essence of a
Dying hope...
Every dusk.

Burying the sangfroid
With an impish smile.
How devilish a silence!
Drinking the last drops
Of my hopeless optimism
Oh! How devilish a silence!



Hope and I are parting
And the 'me' in me is dead
You made me dance to the rhythm
Of an ephemeral joy all day
And now as the sun
Bids farewell to the orange sky,
I drag myself of out the trance
I had dwelled in.

This maddening stillness
Numbs my soul, its frozen now
Give me my cup of sanity
Don't depart...
Don't depart...

My voice has drowned
Amidst your deafening silence
Slowly and silently
It's withers away secretly...

The silent visitor.

In the dead of the night someone knocked at my door. The howling gusts of wind muffled this sound and I threw myself back on the couch trying to embrace slumber once again, in the dimly lit sitting room. It wasn’t my insensate indifference, but my fatigue that had got the better of me. Probably after three-quarters of a minute, the clock down the corridor struck 1 o’clock and a series of loud knocks followed. This time, perplexity got the better of me and I dragged myself to the door. With great caution, I opened it, just enough to peep and see who it was.
Not a soul! Were my own eyes deceiving me? All this couldn’t be a fleeting dream. Holding my sangfroid, I stepped out of the lonesome mansion, and walked into the garden. The ivory moon shone bright; however anxiety had crept into my whole being and nothing could set right my disturbed sanity. A malicious silence reined… not this couldn’t be! There was someone around, certainly there was.
A queer sort of terror ran down my spine. I dashed into the mansion, raced up the flight of steps and in a moment was in my room. My fear had cast a numbness on my mind. I knew not what to do. Didn’t mom warn me of weird mentally unsound people loitering about the neighborhood? What about those hair-raising ghosts and spirits in the book I was reading this afternoon? All I could do was hope for things to be all right, at least till mom returned. I pushed the cupboard to the door and bolted it tight.
The clock kept ticking – 2:30am… 3am… 4am… 4:30am.
Terror had driven slumber away and not for a quarter o an hour did I get the privilege of a sound sleep. As soon as the clock down the corridor struck 5, I sprang up from the bed and rushed to the maid’s room.
“Jenny! Somebody had knocked at the door last night,” I cried.
“When? Who on earth was it?” she asked with a great degree of surprise.
“Yeah! Who was it?” A child-like high pitched voice repeated after her much to my astonishment.
“Ronald! Go to sleep and stop harassing the lady,” jenny ordered with annoyance.
“Ronald?”
“My nephew- the one you met last year. He popped into my room last night. When I asked him how he got here, he giggled and crept into the other bed,” Jenny explained.
“Were you the dumb lady who never bothered to look down last night, after opening the door? You didn’t noticed me, so I had no other option but creep into the house, while you marched out into the garden like a terrifying ghost. How frightened I was!” he mocked with a grin.
“Me – a ghost!”
“Yes! And trust me, I was scared to death!”
“Till the last moment, I thought I was the one scared to death, under the misconception that you were the ghost!”
“Both better check their imagination,” Jenny muttered, while we gazed on.

Spring confessions...

I

Unstirred, unchanged trod on the dusts of
Abandoned breaths in the corridor of time.
Lost and vain, restless and unwanted forever
Wandering the nomadic eyes of stone, of mine.

To perish the hollowness of a betrayed heart
Was not the bare intention of my undying quest.
But a tranquil eternal sleep of this longing –
The lust for being wanted, I yearned to put at rest.

Long had been those poignant years when I did
Weep and pin away for the timeless loss I bore.
Danced to the tunes of a cold anguished winter,
Inexorably till the tears of blood made wounds sore.

The earth that bore me turned a haunting blood red,
Desolate wasn’t it from the mocking world beyond;
More keenly was the bare wound’s throbbing felt
Stolen, broken at last was a deceptive young bound!

Chill of winter grinned and pierced my reminisces,
Calling them closer, kept them etched to memory,
Yet abused them and struggled to keep them aside.
Ruled by insanity agitations whispered me unworthy.


II


Devoured by winter, the break of a healing spring,
Could by no means reconcile my hostile spirits
I could by no means to alter my aching serenity
And acceptance of the reign of resentment, permit.

Yet how very steadfast was this unwanted gay guest!
A pleasant shade, the brightness taking in my pain,
The bowling winds carrying away my curses and wails.
All that soft solace she bestowed with a dignified mien.

Day after day and night after night, threw herself by me
Nursed my wounds, singing low the tales of life’s truth
And kindling memories of long-forgotten crumbs of joy.
All that she could to waken in me the fiery spirits of youth.

Low but melodious a charming tune she blissfully played,
Letting a caravan of musical notes gracefully dance beside.
Unlocking a chest of astonishing fantasies of fable beauty,
That rested serenely in those dark pensive eyes, deep inside.

A whole new world of boundless joys and soaring dreams
She gradually opened the door to, as time did hastily fly.
Danced with me in the woodlands of both tears and smiles,
Understanding my silence, my eyes, their oceans and seas


III


Bitter questions on her altruistic care arose and lingered
In the mind that never be acquainted with the depth of it.
Trapped in this vain triangle of me, mine and just myself
I never accepted the sight of a candle of love being lit.

Silence and solitude my comrades in a life of obscurity.
Eyes had shed an ocean; witnessed nothing but frowns.
Strangled for long in a gray black portrait, faded colors.
Refusal to love forever; ‘Queen of darkness’ I was crowned.

But implausibly spring at last melted this cold stone heart
Allowed the golden beams of acceptance to slowly pierce;
Crushed those mountains of seclusion and sheer acrimony,
Just by someone lending a supportive hand after long years.

Seasons fade away soon, making way for another to reign,
Dusts of time cautiously bury them under the earth forever,
But some leave behind an impression, to be ever denied
Last forever, unchanged and treasured… an endless river!

Bringing shimmering smiles till the fading sunset of a life
Lightening the nights and brightening all the days through.
Blooming in hearts and not withering away till the very last
Oh! I confess today my dear spring, it’s none other that you!

Traditions.. let not they fade

A couple of days ago, I heard a noisy mislead youngster say, “I least understand why a number of people still stick to their old traditions and rituals; in the era of science and technology, traditions are no more than pests gnawing at our existence.” This wasn't surprising, but undoubtedly imprudently baseless.
With the dawn of modernization every nation, state and individual has strived to reach the pinnacle before others pour into the rat race. However it seems that in our quest for progress and development, we have tried to wash our hands off our traditions. May be most people are still under the misconception that Traditions are an obstacle in the path of progress. In reality, it isn't traditions but the tradition-less that hinder a society's progress.
A society stands firm on its long established ideas, practices and traditions. We can't expect to built new floors on a long standing tower by disturbing the ground floor; the tower as a whole is certain to collapse. It may strike a few minds that traditions bind us to our own little states and regions and prevent us from treading confidently on the high-tech international path of progress. If that was so, the French, Japanese and the German, all who cling on tight to their customs and traditions would have failed to be one of the most prosperous and developed nationalities. Though they are all super-powers of the twenty-first century world, with their own technologies which are far beyond the standards of many others, their traditions are embedded in their society as it was centuries ago. The more you be yourself and not let go your traditions, the more does the world admire and accept you. So traditions don't hinder, they enhance your progress.
Traditions can't be termed old-fashioned; they are meant to introduce one to his self. Progress can only be complete if it goes hand in hand with traditions, for keeping to one's traditions mean retaining one’s individuality. The law of nature doesn't favor those who manipulate their individuality; it allows only those who know who they are to tread uphill until the reach the pinnacle of success...