Sleep

I sleep, sleep and sleep
Until I sigh
Mourning the death
Of the time that I killed
As it quietly passed by
From under my nostrils

Water Wall

Slowly but surely I had started moving towards the tides. They were soaring high above the surface of the ocean - wild, gushing, frothing, white, salty tides. They looked like a child drowning in water and screaming for help. The water is determined to devour it while the poor being is jumping out every time against a liquid support defying the rules of gravity. (What could the fear of death bring out of a man?) His hands flutter in the air like a balloon being deflated. It seemed as if the waves are stuck by a gluey bond to sea level. Every time a wave would attempt to fly out of the sea's clutches and touch the sky, the glue would bring it down.

They were so many – hundreds, thousands, all attempting to flee from the clutches of the devil and embrace the sky. But the devil was stronger. He pulled them down, each one of them with a force stronger than theirs. He was much elder to them, much older too. Fretted and exasperated, tired and lonely, the waves would give up by the time they reached the shore. They would fall flat on their bellies and give in to the force of the sea who would strike them against the sands of the shore, or sometimes the rocks of the mountains.

I was watching it all with a tinge of bitterness inside me. I was feeling guilty - the kind I usually feel even when I step on someone's foot in a train or crush an ant. This time, I thought, there was bigger reason and I was bound to feel guiltier. And so I was.

I had just bid goodbye to her and hung up the phone. No, I didn’t do it stone-heartedly. I took all the care I could. Normally, when I take such care, I tend to go a bit overboard doing things which are not necessary. But then to save myself from the wrath of the consequential guilt, I gave to do those things which assure me of a guiltless future. That irritates her and I feel guiltier for doing so. This time however, I didn’t do any of it. Still, I felt the guilt.

She doesn’t like it when I try to patch things up dishonestly. Even I don’t like it - because she doesn’t like it. This trait is with me since my childhood. I think I have inherited it from my dad. I didn’t know I had this until she made me realise it. Her constant discontentment with me when I erred and tried to make up, brought before me another aspect of my personality. There are many other things about myself which she taught me. But let’s concentrate on one thing at a time.

I was putting forth a theory which was about to seperate us forever. But I was feeling ashamed. Even at such an important juncture, I couldn’t maintain my pride, my self-esteem and went on to justify my action. Of course I was doing the right thing by saying a bye to her. She deserved it. There was no need to justify it or give any explanation for it She wasn’t disloyal to me or any such. She loved me. But not as much as I loved her, love her.

For the past two years, I had lived my life in the shell of an illusion. She was that illusion – an illusion that was real, two thousand miles away from me. It was like a water wall against which I rested not realizing that one day I may drown in it. But I was ready for it. I was ready to do whatever it takes to make her mine. She also knew it. But she could not respect my desire. And so she did not. But I did not give up. I kept on coming up with different ways to rise into her a desire to make it happen. She never complied. She just knew it that it was not going to happen. And I kept on trying.

She had her own limitations. She loved me but she loved her folks more. I remember her saying so once. She had added, “I am asking you to sacrifice me. I could have asked my mother too. But it’s easier to demand from people closer to you.” I had not replied. I believed in what she said but the thought of being a martyr made me doubt her last line. I knew then that no matter what I do, she is going to succumb to her parental pressure. But she did so with elegance, with pride and without a sense of guilt. She knew she was hurting me and bringing down all that I put together to ground zero. She also knew that by that time I had already drowned in the water wall. I don’t think it did not matter to her. But she never showed it. She always behaved as if she was doing the right thing and that I will have to be the scapegoat of the entire situation. I wondered how she did not feel guilty. Or did she feel and not show it?

I couldn’t understand why was it so necessary for me to show my guilt and then be sorry for it. It never seemed necessary for her. And I have always envied her for this. She possesses this uncanny knack of carrying off anything under the cover of her elegance. I lacked it. I am a lousy creature who feels guilty even for the good things happening around him. But I had decided to get rid of it. And so I called her.

I said I didn’t want to talk to her anymore. I had tried all my options and was left with nothing to experiment. I said on her face that her non-readiness to comply with me has made me arrive on this decision. I made it sound as if somewhere, somehow she was responsible for all this. She knew it. And she accepted it – elegantly. Not a tinge of guilt was displayed. I reiterated, “I don’t want to be a martyr MonaLisa.” I hope she understood what I meant. But I am sure she didn’t. She quickly responded, “I would always want to talk to you. I don’t want you to go away from me. But if you are sure you want to do it, its entirely your decision.” I couldn’t stand the latter half. How can someone be so selfish? She was not ready to compromise her limitations with my, rather our expectations. I concluded I had to strike the hammer. I said coldly,” Well, in that case that is my decision.” I hoped for some divine emotional interference. I wished I had not said so – the guilt you see. And before she could say anything I went on to explain why it was necessary on my part to do it. I presented before her all the logical and emotional reasons. But I did that like a criminal brought for a trial, with that same old guilt inside me. Throughout my ten minute long speech, I wished she would empathise with me. My wish wasn’t granted. On the contrary, I heard a bold voice, “As you wish.” The ‘you’ was stressed more than ever. She had done it again. She never ceases to defeat me in my purpose. She seems to know what I want and deliberately keeps it to herself. But I had to win. I said, “Bye”. This time she complied. And we hung up.

If I had to lose this battle, I would have called her back and begged for mercy. I would have said sorry to her a million times. I would have also felt sorry for hurting her. But my own voice echoed in my mind, “I don’t want to be a martyr.” I felt like a winner, only for a while.

As I stepped on the sand and it crushed beneath my feet, something itched me in my heart. I knew this was going to happen. After taking all the measures to make her understand my plight and then presenting a logical, acceptable solution to her was still going to press me under the burden of my guilt of doing something against her favour – of hurting her, of leaving her. ‘I had already drowned in her water wall. Now I was being disloyal to it’, I felt.

I kept walking towards the tides. Remnants of some died waves washed my feet. I watched them recede into the sea, into its ‘water wall’. None of them ever showed their face to the open sky. The ones who were leaping now were the newborns. I suddenly seemed to know what was in store for them. They too were meant to strike the shore and dissolve into the water wall. None of them emerged again. No rebirths allowed. There is no way out of the water wall.

This sudden realization made me want to smile. I was relieved by the fact of knowing for once, what was in store for me. But I couldn’t smile. As I walked into the sea, my eyes stayed fixed onto the leaping tides. The sand beneath my feet was sloping steeply. Some half-died waves gushed past me – lost, angry. I managed to smile at their plight through the water entering my mouth as I opened it. I heard the hum of the ocean for a last time before my ears went under the water. All I could now hear was the silence. As I kept walking deeper and deeper I realised I had already become a martyr. My own voice was echoing in my mind, “There is no way out of the water wall.”

Bourgeois

I curse the naive, ugly currents
That fill the gullible veins
Of insecure minds

They penetrate my senses
With sharp lacklustre
Leaving charred patches
Of grey and black

Switching on and off
Jumping in and out
Scurrying to and fro
Fearless, I slander them
Fearful, I recoil

I still havent tasted
The honest, white sweat
Glimmering down my brow
Free of the salt
That savours my food.