B'(D-)day blues
It is that time of the year again.
And I am sick of being helpfully (and knowledgeably) communicated the virtues of being born on valentine’s ever since class 6th. It just isn’t funny anymore.
Alternating between a blazing flame and flickering cinders for success, I suddenly seem to be running out of clues again. And the same old helpless feeling returns. Sometimes.
Underneath the smiling, mocking face and the sharp stinging comments, lies a desert of supreme desolation and loneliness. Partly self created, partly imposed, it continues to hold sway. Any signs of life are quickly dismissed as mirage. Some linger long enough for me to get close and then figure it out. The dimples hide the desire to open one’s arms, open oneself and reach out. Or maybe, the phantasm which I had created to help me reach over and survive seems to have enslaved me, condemning never to reach out. Either way, there is only one loser.
Bhadra was the kind of place that chipped away at your sanity. Bollaram is the kind of place, which is taking a toll on my humanity. Of course, the once-a-while volcanic eruption of the desolate lava underneath an animated, assured surface does not exactly help, for it is but a stark reminder, laughing at your face as it shows but a glimpse of what lies beneath. Chilling thought.
(Sh)it happens, they say. Some people sure seem to have a balance conjured. Most don’t. Looks like I am the last of the lot.
Or maybe it is just that I m too drunk even as I type this. Yeah, THAT time of the year.
Sigh!
And I am sick of being helpfully (and knowledgeably) communicated the virtues of being born on valentine’s ever since class 6th. It just isn’t funny anymore.
Alternating between a blazing flame and flickering cinders for success, I suddenly seem to be running out of clues again. And the same old helpless feeling returns. Sometimes.
Underneath the smiling, mocking face and the sharp stinging comments, lies a desert of supreme desolation and loneliness. Partly self created, partly imposed, it continues to hold sway. Any signs of life are quickly dismissed as mirage. Some linger long enough for me to get close and then figure it out. The dimples hide the desire to open one’s arms, open oneself and reach out. Or maybe, the phantasm which I had created to help me reach over and survive seems to have enslaved me, condemning never to reach out. Either way, there is only one loser.
Bhadra was the kind of place that chipped away at your sanity. Bollaram is the kind of place, which is taking a toll on my humanity. Of course, the once-a-while volcanic eruption of the desolate lava underneath an animated, assured surface does not exactly help, for it is but a stark reminder, laughing at your face as it shows but a glimpse of what lies beneath. Chilling thought.
(Sh)it happens, they say. Some people sure seem to have a balance conjured. Most don’t. Looks like I am the last of the lot.
Or maybe it is just that I m too drunk even as I type this. Yeah, THAT time of the year.
Sigh!
posted by Anshuman at 11:03 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home