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DRASTIC DEATH OF A MISERABLE MORON (IIT-JEE N ITS AFTERMATH-II)

The Sunday dusk has its usual gloomy feel as the hostel rooms emanate sounds of laughter n music.Its fun,yet the mirth misses from the faces.Who did I refer to?Well,its US-poor kids who are suddenly ass-kicked,so that we may actually grow up!!We are the unfortunate people who are supposed to have a bright future.We are,the sophisticated morons.
(One of my friends objectd the use of the word "moron",coz this mite make people pity us.However,I insist on using it,coz this is what we have chosen for ourselves.And we only have our own greedy souls to blame.Ths article refers to the people who are unable to cope up in the fast lane,but wanna be there for strange and varied reasons.Like unavailability of another career....coz its the "in" thing.....coz our parents are droning us to become this all the while.....coz this brings famish with it.....whatever!!)
Life's realy tough when your mess bills are messing u up,u doubt ur girl is cheating on you and the end semester exams are coming up.What makes things worse?Well,the Sunday evening does.Its like a trauma when you know at the back of your mind that you have to get up early the next morning to rush to college and face the music for the entire next week,till you finally get two days to breathe.
Time and tide never waited for any measly man,and the greats never needed it to wait for them.So,the Sunday evening gets murky as the weekend fun heads for a climax.here are umpteen reasons that make you feel you jus wanna break down n cry.But somehow,you control the urge with unassuming ease,and surge forth to face the tormenting Monday morning.Maybe thts what growingup means-doing what u gotta do.Maybe,thats how all miserable morons grow up.Someday.

IIT-JEE and its aftermath-I

After sleepless nights and countless mugs of coffee,finally you are said to have attained salvation in the form of a rank in IIT-JEE.Its like a seal that at 1st decides ur college n stream.....n then,with passage of time,ur fate.It is like an unwanted(my personal opinion)luggage u have to carry all your life.

However,the moment of salvation is cherished with its due grandeur and emotions express themselves on their own.Sometimes it is a punch in the air,or a middle finger to all our detractors.Its your moment to act like a hero.U r considered one of the elite 2%!!!And it obviously is a surprise,coz u hardly ever knew u were so intelligent!!!The aftermath of this triumphant success-teary moms & aunts & of course bragging uncles whose manly pats on your back leave u numb 4 some time s of course irritated.The irritation reaches its peak when relatives & neighbors swear that they always knew u were a genius.What makes things worse is that u have to smile through all of this.Deep down inside,anger breeds like venom,coz u are the only witness of those ghastly nights,those moments wen u were on the edge,u felt u would not make it and the stakes were so high that they scared the shit out of u.I do not say that all of them are hypocrites,but when you are forcing that winning smile on your face and posing for another photograph,you know for sure that this battle changed you,once and forever.You are noth the same person you were 2-3 years ago.This may just have been the first crack which can lead into a crumble.However,you dint get time to think much.Coz waiting 4 you is counseling,another pain in the ass.

A LAZY EVENING.........AND SOME MEMORIES.....

The morning's mist hardly forecasts the day's gloom,which is lost in some mystical maze of memories;too shy to confess,yet too coward to confiscate speculative thoughts.As the mobile phone vibrates in humiliation,seeking some attention,life melancholates at losing chastity and significance all at once.Passing by the highway of restless mind,anger fantasizes shredding the pebbles that hindered pace.Though plausible and ridden with paucity,the raped consciousness still wills to fight out all the childish fears,that had somehow overshadowed pauper childhood and stretched to adolescence in the dawn that projected Sun as just a fire-ball.

Still,the shadow replicates the body and claims existence even in the dark.Still windmills run on the whim of the breeze and life,on the whim of universal disdain.And the soul wanders along in jaded jauntiness,boasting of the smoke when the flame is gone.

song of the dusk

Waves in the sea have gone and come along
The shrinking autumn leaves have lost their song
The skeleton of the hour-glass rests
Time has lost the place to belong.

Over the grey walls of gloom
the last birds of the evening
Fly away to their homes
Happy times are gone.

Down the end of the road
The horse-cart waits in silence
Only time laughs likea silent clown
Gone are the kings,leaving behind rusted crowns.

The sunset is still crimson
Chains of ages gone weak
Only the sun-dried autumn leaves
Move with the wind,floating along.

Story Of A Dead Prostitute

sacred books have lost their meanings,
almanacs mistake the right 4 wrong.
life treads a path less trodden,
favourite lines dont make up the song.

the river flows by the slums of misery,
one such slum where u were born,
one such drop of deep blue blood,
flowing thru the lonely veins of ur body.
scorned.& tortured evry nite,
it thus loses the pain of sorrow.
the sorrow of pain-u're used 2 it.
shreiks of ur soul,
as the almanac hides in dust
of time,sorrow,shame n anger....
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
the clock is still ticking along,
the shadows on the wall sing enchanting songs.
the river still flows by miserable slums
the life,still hazy wid cigarette smoke.
__________________________________________

Your Fever

The summer was cumbersome
Never noticed when rain clouds
Covered up my distant sky,
Masking the blue greedy eyes of stars-
Twinkling demons.

The first drop felt good,
As rain wetted my body-
Thirsty & aching for more.

The night has gone darker,
And the stars out again.
The rain has left behind
My favourite pain-
Your fever.

LIBRARY

The silence of the ages depict mistakes.
The clamour of history,passive still.
The murmur of knowledge & intellect,
Laid to rest.

The awakening of human soul
And age -old wisdom,encompassed
Are spawned in papyrus,
Mummified and dumb.

The rustling of December wind
Thru the shivering dry leaves of time.
The silence of the grave of a saint
Singing looney tunes all along.

Like some naughty prodigal son,
Waiting for a vent to explode,
There you wait in the night's silence
Waiting to unravel a revolution.

There you rest,library.
The pioneer of eternal knowledge.
For someone to find you,and
Search in you the console of soul,
And unite with eternity
That laughs away silently at the ignorant universe.
-ARGHA SEN

SHE

She's stopped dreaming nowadays,
Coz she 's tasted her salty tears.
She's stopped laughing as well,
For nothing awakens her soul,
Or stirs the bottom of her heart-
Where serious thoughts have made a place.

Some letters are kept in her cupboard,
Some that have the same address....
Lost somewhere in her sub-conscious mind.
Some,her own letters;
Undelivered as yet.

Coz the link of thoughts
That filled up her walls,
Is lost in some dark night....
The letters her wings,

The girl wanted to fly.
But time,ruthless time....
Has changed her so
As to become a lady-
Another face in a mass
Of faces,burnt with acid:
Her specs dont serve
To hide her tears.

The clock is ticking,
The life so dead-
With pace-makers;
Forcing her to live.
But the girl in her
Still wishes to fly
When she looks at dusks,
Out of her concrete window.
A window that shows
The heart of a man,
The man in her life-
So dead by now.
-ARGHA SEN

INQUISITIONS

How far do we need to walk,
Before we be called a traveller?

How long do we need to wait,
Before we can say the wait is over?

How much bloodshed shall be made,
Before life finally becomes a cake-walk?

How much do we need to weep,
Before the altar declares us purified?

How long do we need to live,
Before life finally says we can die?

-Argha Sen

A WALK BY A VOLCANO

Remember how we stood by the volcano,
And made promises to us.
Remember how we held our hands,
And wept silently , muted by eruptions
All around us , and over us too,
Engulfing our bodies;we felt the heat;
It burnt our skins, scarecrows aching with the desire-
To die once more , hand in hand;
To weep once more , and feel the heat;
To love once more , before we perished;
To return once more , before we could
Rest forever , and feel the peace,
Of heated splinters , piercing our soul.