Addictions

People warn you against addictions. You hear your well-meaning friends say, ‘Oh you can have everything in moderation. Just make sure you don’t get addicted to it.’ Parents are on the lookout for saving their children from any kind of addiction. Alcohol, smoking, drugs – the dangerous words.  Precisely, because these things suck life out of you, gradually making you dependent on them. 

But there is something even more dangerous than these addictions.  Addiction of people. Why do we never get warned about 'addiction' of some such people in our lives? The ones who matter to you, the ones who fall in love with you, the ones you have 3 a.m. conversations with, the ones you sin with, the ones who warm up your hearts, the ones who don’t judge you for drinking vodka straight from the bottle in December, the ones who become your muses and much more. These are the ones you start getting dependent on. For your emotional needs. The needs of your soul. Something that your body doesn’t even notice. But the soul? The soul does.

The soul craves for these addictions when they leave you. Or when you leave them after realizing that you are addicted to them. Because you know these people aren’t good for you. Because you know they have the power over you. Because you can’t have them forever in your life. Because they aren’t for yours to keep. Because you can love them but never be loved in return. Because they are a part of your journey but not a part of your destination.   

Just like the physical symptoms of materialistic addictions, there are symptoms of ‘people’ addictions. The cravings. The cravings that leaves you empty, anxious, bruised. The cravings that sometimes make you cold. Towards everything. Mute the noise. Around you. Though the same cannot be said about the noise inside.

Your soul wants them back. Those addictions. You almost reach out. Again. Stopping yourself just in time. Realization. That though they give you a high by making you delve deeper in yourself, you know they are exhausting you. Though they build your imagination, you know they are wrecking you. Though they bring in heightened sense of emotions, you know they are making you numb somewhere.

Isn’t it is much better to get addicted to those materialistic addictions. Those materialistic addictions merely spoil your body. But the addiction of 'people'? The addiction of people damages your soul. The kind of damage that is worse than an ailing body. Because the body can heal. But the soul? The soul does not. 

Last day of the month

I really like the last day of the month. Apart from the obvious fact that the next day gives the much needed oxygen to my dying bank account, I also like this day because every month, we witness emotions. In their rawest form. Let me tell you how.

 

Every last day of the month, a function is held by my organization for the retiring employees without fail. Entire organization gathers in the auditorium without fail to bid farewell to the retiring employee, irrespective of the class or cadre they belong to. It is a formal function where details such as credentials of the employee, his service time with the organization, what places he was posted and in which departments he worked etc. are read out while handing out the customary mementos to them.

But what makes this day special to me is the reaction of the retiring employee. Being a government organization, these people have worked with the organization for atleast a couple of decades to say the least. Decades. In the same organization. With the same people.

While they are on service, some are sincere, others frivolous, some boring, others chatty, strict or lenient, some brood in quietude, others whine in open.

But on their last day, they are nothing but emotional. Some cry openly, others hide their tears in their silence. Those few minutes on stage tear down all the facades they have been holding all through their service life. And what you witness is emotions in their rawest form. The way most of them break down when an auditorium full of employees from every cadre applauds their years of service. Most of them, unable to speak anything, being too full of emotions, with lumps in throats when asked to describe their journey.  

Decades. In the same organization. With the same people. Colleagues who turned into friends and formed strong bonds like family. Arguments with some, jokes around others. Experiences. Good, bad and others. Moments – embarrassing and proud ones. I think all these would be flashing in front of their eyes. And I guess those small moments flow down from their eyes. Without hesitation. With gratitude.

That moment. To witness that moment from this side of the stage is anything but a humbling experience. 

The Beauty of Friendship

You hadn’t messaged

I hadn’t too

Because I always called

Never did you

I was supposed to be angry

Behave all haughty

And tell you I am busy

But today when I heard you

Amidst all the noise

It was as if I had no choice

Stories and instances found themselves a voice

Now I am angry with myself

For not showing it to you

And wonder why my anger

Around you takes a dip

But then I guess

That’s what they call

The beauty of friendship

Shadows - The Oddquain

how

and why do

shadows of past ghosts

follow though we have dissolved

ages

ago in murky waters

of flaring egos

our ashes

rot

Written for B&P Shadorma and Beyond –The Oddquain

Oddquain Butterfly – a nine-line stanza with 1-3-5-7-1-7-5-3-1 syllables

Goodbye - Haiku

as my insides break

awaiting moment apt, to

bid final goodbye

Written for Carpe Diem -  On The Trail With Basho Encore #14 "falling willowleaves"

In the Boardroom

Excitement high

Gathering of the bigwigs

Discussion papers hang

With Blackberrys in their hands

Tension in the air palpable

Everybody in their nerves

Decisions are awaited

On issues that are long going to be served

Discussions begin

Gazes stern

Reasons demanded

Explanations provided turn by turn

Tea mugs poured in

Spreadsheets in discussion

Myriad proposals on the table

Pros and cons presented in every possible fusion

Papers ruffled with clammy palms

Some rejects but acceptances are high

With each passing agenda

The employees breathe a relieved sigh

Instructions doled out for the upcoming meet

Pens and diaries, how fiercely each other they greet

And then as the ends are drawn

Relief on faces finally starts to dawn

Jade - Haiku

paper looks jaded

words fail when I want to write

my feelings for you

Written for Carpe Diem Time Machine # 15 - Jade

Imperfection Is Beautiful

The slant of my eyes

Freckled skin with a tan

This lopsided smile

Messed up hair

Tied under a worn-out band

Collar bones that don’t show

Layers around my waist

Oh, they hardly go

Those chipped nails

Ah, they never really grow

The curve of my hips

Stretch marks on my skin

Wound that got healed

But the scar?

I can still feel

The fickle odd world

And its standards of beauty

Matching them

Is neither a necessity

Nor a priority

Not much to flaunt

Not much to drool

Because they say

Imperfection

Is beautiful

Sharing this with Poetry Pantry # 262

Doused Fire

Flow of darkness

Like ashes in my veins

Black is what I see

Death of something 
I foresee

Doused fire within

Now lies in its icy state

There was a wait

For

A hand to hold

Someone to hear

Silent cries

Of this soul

And I realize

Only me

Has the power to pull myself

Out of any abyss

Image Source : Google 

Written for Words Count with Mama Zen over at toads where we had to pick a few words from the “ultraconserved words” list as stated below and write a poem of 60 words or less.

Thou, I, Not, that, we, to give, who, this, what, man / male, ye, old, mother, to, hear, hand, fire, to pull, black, to flow, bark, ashes, to spit, worm

Chemistry

The smiles, the smoke

The flowing talks

When judgement wasn’t being served

And silence too meant a lot

Boundaries were being bent

Frustrations found a vent

Where love wasn’t on the cards

But the chemistry to go unnoticed

It seemed hard

When the need to name

And the urge to confine

What they shared as a relation

Seemed vain and futile

 Written for Magpie Tales # 275

Do You? Ever?

Do you ever think of me when you are just about to close your eyes for the day? Do you sometimes wake up and smile for no reason because you have dreamt of me? dreamt of us? Do I ever cross your mind when you feel that your insides would burst because something burdens it so much that it no longer has the strength to pump life one more time? Does your happiness ever taste bland because you can no longer share it with me?

Do your fingers ever linger at my name in your phone book when you are searching for somebody whose name starts with my initials? Do you sometimes, on an impulse, open the folder containing my pictures in your old laptop and never realize how minutes turn into hours?

Does my absence ever bother when you go on trips alone that were on ‘our’ wishlist? Does your heart ever skip a beat at the prospect of meeting me one more time, even if it is just from far away, even if we would be in a room full of people and we may not even share a single word?

Do you ever try and replay my voice in your head, the way I pronounced your name, the way I called you when I was angry and when I was happy or when I was passionately falling for you? Do you ever recall the way I looked into your eyes while we made love and you kept on asking why did I keep on staring in them? I never told you. All I answered was 'just'. Well, let me tell you today, I searched myself in them.

Do my thoughts ever hauntingly follow you while you are neck deep in most mundane works? Do you ever feel so lonely without me that you wouldn’t mind if you lost your breath right that moment because you just can’t see a point in continuing a life where I am not a part of it?

Do you, atleast in your mind, speak my name, when somebody mentions the word ‘love’? Tell me, do you? Ever? 

Written for Three Word Wednesday Week No. 426

Z - Zap out

She:	Speak
He:	Nothing
She:	You know I never let you go away without saying. I know something is on your mind. So speak now
He:	Hah.. As if I speak everytime
She:	I know, Mr. Silent Crusader. How many times have I told you not to bottle things up inside you. And if you don’t tell me, who are you going to share it with?
He:	Nothing. It’s just… nothing
She:	It's not nothing. There is something on your mind
He:	You really have to hear it in words, isn’t it?
She:	I am a writer. I am in love with words. So yes I need to hear it in words
He:	I don’t want..
She:	Alright. If you don’t want to tell me, then I think I should make a move. As such I have always overestimated my value in your life
He:	Don’t go
She:	People are waiting at home. I need to go
He:	Not this. Don’t go to your new home
She:	What?
He:	Yes. Why do you have to shift? Couldn’t you just find a place nearby? And why so far away?
She:	I am within the city itself. Don’t worry I am not leaving the planet yet ;)
He:	You can't walk in one fine day, become a great friend and just zap out of my life just like that
She:	I am not zapping out of your life. And by the way, even when I was here, we never met everyday.  In fact, we hardly met once a week. We were mostly connected through facebook and phone calls. So, we can do that even when I will be at the new house, right?
He:	I know that. But it was still comforting to know that you were around This post is written as a part of April A to Z Challenge - 2015

Y - Yours, Just Yours

He:	You know I am angry with you, right?
She:	Yup, I know. I am just unsure of the reason this time
He:	Why can't you be mine, just mine? I don’t really like it when you talk about your other 'guy' friends
She:	Isn't this hypocrisy coming from you who goes around with a new woman every other month?
He:	I know. But you do know that I can be yours, just yours
She:	Just mine?
He:	Just yours. Do you want me to be?
She:	Nope
He:	No??
She:	No. I don’t want you to be just mine. Because you overwhelm me and exhaust me at the same time. You fill me up and empty me - together. I do not want to own you and I want to own you, both at the same time. Because you are to me what poetry is to poets! We poets are obsessed about our poetry. We love it and hate it at the same time. We marvel at it sometimes, and cringe too. We want others to love our poetry, but we also fear thinking we won't be the only one who shall love it. We want to showcase it to the world, flaunt it, make people jealous of it, but we also want to keep it shut inside the corners of our heart not letting people know what we possess. Poetry... you are my poetry This post is written as a part of April A to Z Challenge - 2015