Better Best Forgotten

I remember looking at those eyes then, 

and some how that moment was so complete, 

so infinite, 

it was a memory in itself.  

There was something in those eyes then,

that stopped me dead,

that made me forget the surroundings,

that created an entire different world for me to live in.

There was some thing to hold on to, 

some thing too difficult to let go off, 

some thing that I did not need to memorize, 

some thing that just froze right out of the night, 

and made itself a memory. 

And it is that memory,

that I clung on to,

in times of despair,

in times of uncertainty,

times when I felt alone.

Yet, the memory gives me pain,

its existence the premise of a false hope,

making me dream again of what might have been,

waking me up into the contrast that the reality is.

Everything it stood for ceases to exist,

the world it created has been destroyed,

the life it gave me has been snuffed out,

the memory still lingers on.

The inexplicable feeling...

There are times in your life,

when you want to be free,

you've existed for long enough,

you want to live for once.

For too long a time,

you've been waiting,

for a moment to set you free,

for a light that makes you shine.

You have been always surrounded,

there have been people all around,

some friends, some others,

yet, there has always been a haunting loneliness.

There has never been peace,

although all has been quiet,

no screaming, no shouting,

yet, only chaos.

Then there comes along someone,

who makes you feel calm,

makes you feel wanted,

makes you live.

Yet, you don't know what it is,

you try to give it meaning,

the words fall short,

the dictionary loses out.

You try to let it go,

it sticks on to you,

you try to move on,

you're stuck on to it.

You don't need to hold on to it,

it is there with you,

you can't decide what it was to you,

yet, it makes you want to live on.

One day...

One day when you look back,

and you see only empty shadows where i used to be,

don't be sad,

just know that i've gotten used to the oblivion.

One day when you have only memories to look back on,

and you think about me,

don't be sad,

just know that there are plenty of good ones to remember me by.

One day when you get tired of running,

and you do not find my shoulder to rest your head on,

don't be sad,

just know that i'd be supporting someone who needs it more.

One day when you realize what i meant to you,

and you want to tell me that,

don't be sad,

just know that i always knew that.

One day when you feel lonely,

and you look around for me in the shadows,

don't be sad,

just know that i've found my place in the oblivion.

Tum jaa rahe ho...

Tum jaa rahe ho, yun lagta hai k zindagi ja rhi hai, humari khushi, humara pyaar, humara sansaar ja raha hai... 

Tum thhe to hum thhe, khushi thi, gham thhe, jeene ke do pal thhe.. 

Tum thhe to lamhe thhe, kuch khone ke, kuch paane ke, ummeed bhare zamaane thhe.. 

Tum ja rahe ho, zindagi ja rahi hai, pal do pal ki hi thi jo, wo khushi ja rahi hai, jeene ko majbur karti thi jo, wo ummeed ja rahi hai..

The Sound of Silence

Then there was no sound, 

No voice.

There were people around,

they were speaking something,

I could make out the moving lips,

yet, I could not hear a word.

I tried to speak to them myself,

tell them I wanted to hear what they were saying,

I wanted to be a part of their conversation,

yet, their ears were immune to my voice.

I kept on listening, 

straining my ears so that I may hear the faintest of sounds,

Finally my ears did hear something,

yet, it was only the sound of silence.

Lost in Translation...

I was waiting there by the roadside,
Looking at the people passing me by,
The lady with the shrilly voice,
The small kid selling balloons.
And then i saw her,
Fixated by the beauty,
The gaze turned to a stare,
The masterpiece that God painted.
The eyes held my stare,
Mesmerizing me,
Taking me into the ethereal,
A world that could only exist there.
The face so bright,
The moon faded into the darkness,
The stars lost their gleam,
The world yet shined in my eyes.
The smile was a drug,
Killed the sad and the pain,
It filled me with happiness,
Filled the world with joy.
There was something about this girl,
That could make life so simple,
That could make the problems disappear,
That could make you dream when awake.
I tried to tell her how i felt,
Yet there were no words,
There was no sound,
The heart and mind were still in awe.
I tried to hug her,
Yet i could not move,
Afraid of waking up from a dream,
Betrayal of my own heart.
And then she walked away,
The dream ceased to exist,
The world lost its beauty,
The heart lost its purpose.
The people started moving again,
The stars and moon shone,
The shrilly voice was heard again,
The balloon was still being sold.

Once in a blue moon

Once in a blue moon,
You come across somebody in your life,
Someone who makes you laugh,
Someone who makes you cry.
Someone who talks to you,
Someone who hears you out.
Someone who will care for you,
Someone who will shed a tear for you.
Someone who holds your hand,
Someone who sets you free.
Someone who likes you for your imperfections,
Someone who doesnt change you on the pretext of perfection.
Someone with whom you can be yourself,
Someone who will make you love yourself.
And then you have to make that blue moon last forever,
Cause that someone is someone who makes you who you are,
That someone completes you,
That someone makes life beautiful,
That someone makes you believe that love does exist.

The last meeting

And she left him there,
with nothing but loneliness to accompany him,
the tears in his eyes reflecting what he had lost,
the mind too numb to comprehend the situation,
the face a pale shadow of what it used to be,
the legs refusing to move,
the arms stiff from top to bottom,
the soul battered beyond repair,
yet there stood the silhouette,
looking at his life passing him by...

Tour de Dope

Sport has always been, and will always be a hugely emotional experience, for all those involved with it, whether playing or following it.
While all sport churns out champions, it also creates role models, people who determine how the general public perceives the sport, responds to it, and makes it a part of their daily lives.
These people, these champions, they are the people who carry on their shoulders the responsibility of marketing their sport, carrying it forward, and also protecting the sport.
The first time I heard about Lance Armstrong, he had already won the coveted title of the Tour de France a couple of times.
I happened to be in a store with a friend of mine, looking at a yellow-colored wristband that had the title 'LIVESTRONG' written on it. As I picked up the band to look at it up close, my friend told me the story of how this guy who was a professional cyclist, had battled cancer, months of
extensive chemotherapy, to come back stronger and even more determined than ever before, to win back to back titles at the Tour de France, which he ensured me was the Holy Grail of the Cycling world.
Every year after that I used to tune into the Tour de France, just to pledge my support to this God-like figure, who had fought Death face to face, and yet lived, to fight it out another day.
If this was the case of a person who hardly knew at that time what Professional Cycling was all about, it really was not surprising how he had become the beacon of hope in an otherwise hopeless world, the epitome of strength and courage, the toast of the cycling world, the champion of life, the one person the world would look upto when it needed heart.
Lance Armstrong, the name, the brand, the legend, kept on growing year after year, adding titles, breeding new fans and followers, making believers out of people who thought hope was a lost cause in their lives.
Such was the legend, the fan-following, the belief, that when the first time a speculation of him using performance-enhancing drugs was made, it was almost dismissed collectively by the whole world.
Sadly though, it was this world that was to be let down when 6 years after that first allegation, he admitted to the usage of the drugs during his reign as champion.
I have been a huge fan of Lance Armstrong for the most part of my life, and though he still remains an inspiration for fighting it out with death, yet he does not remain the role model I once considered him to be.
Had he admitted to doping in the first place, maybe he would have been forgiven, and remained a hero, although a little marred, yet still a hero, who fought his way back into life, and maybe in his will to fight back, had gone a little overboard, but, no he did not.
The world stood by him, and then as details of the scandal came out slowly, the world shattered all around him, the beacon of hope was suddenly a bundle of lies, who had fought death no doubt, but in order to become great, had cheated on his world, his profession, his people, just like he had cheated on death.
It turned out to be a scripted movie that had been running and re-running year after year to entice the world into a notion of hope, into the creation of a legend that would become greater than the life it lead.
The sad part is that it is the sport that is suffering the most as an aftermath. The people lost an inspiration, but the sport lost a legend, and along with that, its credibility.
The person who had breathed life into the sport was sadly the one who puffed the life out of it too.
The coveted title of Tour de France has lost its sheen, and cyclists the world over are now being looked at with suspicion. What wrong did they do?
The Tour de France probably made Lance Armstrong the brand it became, that was its only mistake.
It made a legend, but got a career full of lies and deceit in return.
Lance Armstrong was the one involved in doping, yet it is Professional Cycling that has taken the hit and would be now paying for the damage done.

  

Help

There he was, standing by the traffic lights, trying to catch a lift to the hospital.
He had been waiting for quite some time now, asking people here and there, to drop him to the hospital, but every single time, he got the same reply.
Nobody seemed to be going toward the hospital, or so they made him believe.
He was a stranger, to the town, to the people, to their ways. Never before had he seen such unhelpful people in his life, which he was sure had been long enough to see plenty, and more.
In his own small village, no one would think twice, before helping any man in distress, let alone an old man like he was.
For the umpteenth time, he tried asking another young man, who had just halted on the signal, to drop him to the hospital, and yet again the reply was "I'm not going in that direction".
Then, came an auto rickshaw, and halted right next to where he was standing. He checked his pockets, turned them inside out, and snap, there went the rickshaw.
He was dejected, and disappointed at the helpless attitude of the people, and more than that, at his own helplessness.
Sadly, he just sat back under the shade of the tree, the only solace the hot afternoon had to offer, waiting for someone else to come by.

He had to get to the hospital, and quickly, for what reason he could not quite remember.
His old mind had started playing games with him, and although he knew there was someone gravely ill, he could not remember who it was.
He got up all of a sudden, as he saw an auto-rickshaw coming to a halt. Frantically, he checked his pockets, and unable to find anything he could offer to the driver, he started cursing his God, the hysteria of his bad luck echoing through the silent air.
His eyes red with sadness, his throat coarse with cough, his legs trembling with panic, the old man looked on in disbelief at the world passing him by, apathetic and unmoved.
The old man turned around, and went back to the empathizing shade of the tree.