Hue Ensemble

.....I wonder why did I name my blog so.........no no, the reason is known to me; it's a part of me, now that it haunts so ardently. Mopish right?!! Then what do I wonder, what do I while away my time and energy on?- Probably it is the trigger to the reasons, the reasons being the clairvoyance of tidal surges of a little understanding. And the rest is explained in a trail. I tried to mollify the imbroglio, and this is what I was gifted with-

Mirth casts its spell o'er the eastern sky,

The sun is bright.

Bright and Blithe.

An awe brightens up in my eyes;

The forage to substantiate the myth persists...

Ahoy! the Master of Miracles,

Ahoy! the Magical Angel,

Drop Thy cloak and

Make me yours today.

Let there be a sunny sky

Just for me this day!

The clouds drift apart like magnanimous confetti,

Shining festoons fail to hold them back.

Fail to add the last stroke,

To the Incomplete Whole.

I yell out and say,

Let there be a sunny sky

Just for me this day!

The bed to my back hangs in suspension,

Among things weird, blasphemous, dreamy-

My mind hovers from life, to luck, to love,

And then again to Life.

My Dead Life.

I try to squeeze out a smile

satisfactorily reflecting joy in the glass,

And may be I misconstrue that thin pair as a silent brook

effortlessly oozing sublime drops.

"I" the very letter is the cacophony of my existence

In symphony with my lonely presence.

Ahoy! My Saviour,

Ahoy! My Wizard,

Let there be Sun

Let there be Light

Let there be Life

And just You for me this day!

......Schooldays, Folklore and me.

The few people, who visit my blog quite regularly, and a fewer number among them who know me in person, often complain that my write-ups flaunt my nepotism for estranging consummate pathos. Well, if it is so: It is so. I am not a sad person. But I am suspicious. Highly suspicious. I am probably not at ease with that "overwhelming happiness"; and on turning the coin what I find is far more different and difficult to comprehend than the prior Face Value. I pen it down in haste. It is hard to be borne at heart. Your opinion is genuine my friends; in defence I would say, every individual an alien and so are the patter of instances that embolden or cripple them- make them-!!!

This time it is schooldays; Olden times.

Another New Year and how co-incidental, rather calculative, of the deepest, most covetous of relationships to domineer and establish their novel perspectives. I am appalled at this miasma of the very doubted 'Providence'. Not that I was naive enough, not to have known the 'could be' probability of the 'Worst', but somehow travesty eclipsed that lil' bit of gumption. Considering myself as one among His' choicest- the hysterical sardonicism in "His' blessed" prohibits me to use the phrase- I expected conventions to go haywire. Silly me! Espionage dear, let me learn to put it in practice as I have understood it.

To my classmates; our pygmalion classes meant so much more. I grasp better now as a third person. How strange is that! I see, while being bent upon revealing pygmalion's most clandestine epidermis, we were into peeling off our own garbs. Unknowingly, as unperturbed as time, we continued to play roles, exchange them, add to their claim over human reactions, making the drama immortal as ever. I envy Shakespeare, I do. Had those lines ' All the World's a Stage' been under my quill and not his'. Given a chance, and a hint of 'lights on' I would have been obliged to put on the mask of the parlor maid. The stoicism of the character is unbelievable. Given another chance and yet another hint of 'cameras rolling' I could have played the Blackguard very well- A Moralist in Disguise. Do I place myself on a pedestal? Now that is well-nigh impossible. This long an essay wouldn't have been scribbled then! As I would Grow and not just move ahead in life, I realise, the contribution of schooldays in making 'me', would brighten and bellitle hollow dreams( even the ones instilled, planted, and tried to be reared up by them) that bother me still. These are words I could string while looking for my Saviour in the glimpses of the day.

Unfettered Levity

My hunger to live lies thin,
Wearing with every damp day, I wake up to-
With every tick of those hands,
I keenly observe; faintly detest.
What perishes isn't a puppet at thou hands,
What remains: IS!
Words I gulp down do not weigh.
Strangled in a knot,
They stud the pendant of Black Humour.
My sublime hunger learns to laugh,
to grin in pain.
Winking at my mime fate,
Drowsily, I proceed:
Proceed in lieu of enlivening the Master.
The Puppet, as I say, Reigns.
Reigns Now, Reigns Hither.

Grim Times

I am ditched conveniently when I am in utmost need.
It is not the ghastly winds that make me shiver.
It is the absence of an embracing silhouette to shiver against.
I look for a touch of Life-
if it is at all of the essence I infer!
I am unmanifest without what I desire,
or technically, what I need.
I live in a mist.
I am the mist.
Mortals, I sermonize this
for the sake of humanity- a formal camaraderie.
If you dread the signs of existence of a world
obnoxious and mystique,
Be away from me.
I am but just another sign of the same.
As you would all love to listen,
I am tamed to toxicity.
I am not you...
You reside in me,
I put you to bed.
I am not you.