Degrees of Attainment

And that was it.
Her eccentrity was untouched, not by him.
Her liquidity swam past his soul.
He was all hers. She was the only one.
Among a herd of many with a heart of stone.
But did she belong? to him he didn't know.
"Meh. How could you compare?
My spirit mustn't be captured by your
rigid atomy." she told Quartz.

He was no one to take no
for an answer
Quartz never gave her the choice;
She'd not surrender her lustrous will.
Eighty Days, and no luck
Quarts arranged for Vermillion.
"Convince your daughter,
or she'd be the last of your generations."
Vermillion complied...

Anders and Daniel, two of his
Most loyal men,
Summoned the pope.
Mercury dressed up in White.
She had no plans to escape,
No plans to melt.
Stern and brave as her father was,
She flashed a smile.

He had her, he knew it
As did the grin on his face:wide.
The ceremonial glee terminated
And he proceeded to touch her.
He died.

A strand of light, a strand of colour

In her laboratory she tries to figure-
Psychology of the inanimate;
Objectifying the movements of life.
In the film of portrayal of her life-
She acts like herself; plays self,
dressed in the drapes of red curtains;
As they fall when the show begins.
In her chocolate factory she counts-
Wrappers of the chocolates consumed;
Wrappers of chocolates, yet to be used.
In the school of producing knowledge-
Says good morning to one;
Good night to another.

Acknowledgment (for the book yet to be written)

This is my first book. It is not, however, for the first time that I'm writing this sentence. Ever since I was learning the alphabets of the English language, I saw the multiple universes that they held within them. My knowledge of permutations and combinations is not sufficient to calculate the diversity and possibility of each one of them. But I do sincerely believe that each language and its building blocks contain a multiverse of emotions, experiences and times.

It has compelled me to write and lose myself in the territory of thoughts, some of which I've visited more often than the rest. I have my personal favorites too, such as the idea of creating a small house and decorating it with interesting interior inspired by the wit of graffiti artists. It often finds itself fighting with the thought of never settling, for my attention, but is good friends with the thought of me creating a wall-hanging. Ah, petty thoughts! They don't understand that I can't ink all of them, and hence keep popping up in my mind. The leader of their clan is the thought of me writing a book. They all collectively admire it and wish all success in the world for it.
This is one of the reasons why I always knew that I'd have to write "this is my first book" somewhere, sometime. Every alternate year I used to attempt writing an acknowledgment page. My family has constantly inhabited it, even if a long period of quarrels surrounded us, since I knew it will definitely disappear (reappear and disappear)^n by the time it got published. As you must have observed, foresight is one of my characteristics. Friends too, have been sitting like kings and queens on it. I've never been able to conclude it though. Of course, having not written the book might be one of the reasons.

(To be continued...)

Devolution

Take a picture of your dream,
And frame it tonight as you sleep.
I'll come by and hang it on the wall.
You wouldn't even notice, I know.

There are so many stories
In just one frame,
Which one do I throw the light on?
it's always difficult to exclude.

What is my mind but
A collection of words I don't waste.
Pick one randomly and
The odds are high; it'll be your name.

I don't deny the possibility;
Of you having nothing to do with this.
I might have just created it all,
With the words that linger in my head.

Happy Diwali y’all.

Everyone's Diwali

Today I worry not of the horny cars which shout on top of their digital voices, or of the birds that will die tonight (owing to their sensitivity which cannot live through the sound of crackers), or of people with doors kept open for Lakshmi’s blessings. Today I’m worried about all that chocolate that I won’t be able to eat.

I’m 19.5638 years old, blessed (not really) with a 23.0638 year old brother.

We still fight for chocolates. We are a result of early exposure to the commodity of chocolates. They made it impossible to inculcate the habit of sharing. Today as I sit here typing this post, cultivating the virus responsible for cold and cough inside my poor body, I am worried. My system does not recognise a festival without provisions of eating chocolates. And that is exactly what is forced upon me due to untimely illness. Well, I’m sure my brother will have a Happy Diwali. As they say it, it’s the times that are harder, which make us realise how much we love our family. Ah. Surprise. They were right.

My Diwali

King Of Diamonds

The pack of cards you play has an extra queen today,
But the Jack isn’t giving up tonight,
He is in no mood for chess.
Play the usual jazz, or all that you know;
No one's dancing to your tunes tonight.
And until you saw the mirror,
Did you know who you were?

Raise a glass in the melancholy of your victory,
For you shall always be the king
Of times never seen.
Dilly dialling couldn't save you,
From your own bronze, copper and ferriage.
Tick Tock, the clock's savage slap.
Flying, the birds are,
Neighs the cosmic horse.

The spades are no more rivals.
They'd conquer the hearts & clubs with your help.
Now that you've seen the mirror,
Do you see what I saw all this while?

Mirage

This raindrop is special
As it reflects the sun
As it blackmails her
As much as it predicts its own fall
As and when it suits him
As if it were unaffected
As per the laws of the universe
As for this time and space.

The epiphany of his golden locks
is unafraid of being extinguished.
The diamonds of her veil,
are still terrified of sparkling.
Queer this camouflage is,
Which they seek in each other.