The Forbidden Fruit

"The forbidden fruit. I so forgot about it all this while. And I know what it means to me." Ah! He thought deep in his consciousness. But would he dare to pluck it himself. His throat was parched and his senses burned for the juices of the fruit that called out to him. His consciousness was lending a hand to his eyes, he could almost drink the juices of the fruit without having even held it between his fingers. Least of all pressed it to his lips.

"The forbidden fruit. I so see it in front of me. I see it every day. I know what it does." Ah! She thought. Yes, she thought hard and decided. For me a day would come when I would finally be me and accept what I want to be. Pretense is not my passion and certainly not my cup of tea.

"The forbidden fruit. It still calls out to me. My hand is now the snake and my hand calls out to me."
He was trying too hard to reserve his right. His right on himself. His right to hide. For fantasies are for the mere mortals. And he had yet to prove his stride. He was strong and dare not crave, he dare not want to touch; what the world says is not so right, what the world says is not just.

"The forbidden fruit. It has called out to me and still does. The serpent is now my guide but not yet my trust."
She wanders high and low through a graden of might. She wondered not what others thought was true or what was right. She knew what the moment meant to her and to her life. She left her heart pounding for she knew what it meant to feel. If today's wish flew like a whim she knew none ever would come true.

yellow light

a day with the calmest of waters. a ship sailed upstream. the wind was its only guide. the sail billowed. the day was warm. bright and sunny. the captain and his met sweat it out the entire day.
they knew of the storm that was foretold for the day to come. panting they pulled the strings and tried to reach ashore.
the afternoon grew into evening. having worked all day they decided to take a break. over beer and sandwiches they spoke and the joked. the ship sailing on at a steady rate. now they knew they were there. joking and singing they let time while away.
having rested well the captain returned to the stern. alas! they were off route. their compass spun like it had never before.
heart in their mouth they all got to their posts. but to no avail. down to the west they could see the tiny blink of a watchtower. the lighthouse hidden behind the low hung clouds. panic struck the ship. night had fallen. they had nothing to follow but a faint glow.
land was not near, they knew not what to do. they could just look at each other and raise their hands in prayer.
a sailor screamed "I see something"
it was an angel he said. he said he could see her clearly beckoning to them to follow her. he steered the ship after her. his comrades laughed. the puzzled captain knew not what to do. it was his duty to save his men.
they might be wading into literally dangerous waters.
"what rubbish" they heard him scream over the now roaring black tides.
the white angel shook her head in distress and disappeared. faith lost in her was their distress.
left seeking the now mist covered lighthouse they wandered away...

and I,
I heard their story from the gust of wind who but tried hard to help them...

to whose story would i be addicted. not to mine for sure. for i plead to break out of it every single day. i want to be let out and i want to be me. but then the me is my story too. it is my belief. a prose frankly is not exactly the me that i want to or tend to describe. for then that is always me. a me to be. a me i want to be. i me may be i shall never be.

i run after the sand in a storm. i rig the bills of a dinner i never ate. i sit aside in the warmth of the fire and yet i don't bake. the muffin i had just bitten. a letter i had just written. the words would rebound. the echo that had never lived. the echo who dies amid. i wish the surface was larger, the sound louder than the game. i wish i had prayed harder or at least bent the ground.

"i don't have tea!!!"

really???


"don't I???"

i have to ask this question to myself now. i am not very fond of it but i have it nonetheless. i choose it over coffee at times. just because someone is having it or because it is better at the galla. but i do. and it is not about that coffee anymore it is about sticking to the identity i had carved for myself or maybe people had carved for me.

i know i write after ages but i dare to write this. i don't care if people read it and frankly even if it is not. or do i??? why is it on a blog?? because as anand says its safer!!! or because it is out there??? i don't know, maybe i am too struck by the virus...! the one i have been probing into...thanx to milan kundera and his work..!

Ah! I love coffee. Why did Swathi have to choose this moment to make filter coffee!!!!!! the smell is addictive for me. now i know why i love it. i crave for it at times...and at this moment i cant but hold my breath as a whiff of it reaches me across my room...wow!!! i know why i love it i do...!!

but it is not the only thing i have...i have to be honest...in my own way...i have to may be heed to farzan's words...in my own way...maybe i will...is it so much about my own way again...?? may be not...but i have convinced myself...

can it be happening to me...can i be questioning my own thought to an extent that i am unsure of every belief i have had...have i actually had any belief... has it been just about an identity so far...has it been imitation to form a self or has it been a self which is nothing but replicated in various forms...!!!

can a book really make u think so much...!!! do words really have that power...???

and i a "book lover" as i presumed says this...!!!

i just looked on and on...!!!!

the hug was a story of the past.
it had washed away the fears i had lived in, there were things i had long forgotten. the love burst in a frenzy as the pixels knit themselves to a form. my heart bled with the colour of life.
i held death with awe as he had once conveyed to me.
the thought of a goodbye smaller than the thought of meeting again.
he believed in the word being truer than the self and my destiny was to use them to believe my own.
a day would not have passed with a happy smile, a day gone by with the thought of pain. up, up and away it went; flying like a kite all the way.
the strings attached were severed. i knew not whom to please. my eyes were sore from crying. i waited but in vain. a plant grew under my care. i nurtured it like my own flesh. i hurt it all the same.
as i would have my flesh. i shed blood. it poured out of my eyes. the colour seemed darkened by my thoughts.
he invited me over but my thoughts discarded his vigil. always wanting to look back and change my fate...! knowing not that my luck was beheld by those whom i had ignored.
four hearts met to fill the gap left by one. my life was a lucky cauldron, filled to the brim with memories of love. a pint of devotion dipped in the vial of happiness. solitude my hope and togetherness my desire. the lava of my spirit surging. the nucleons now met.
the hug was no more a story of the past.

a day in the RAIN

a day in the rain, I wet my hair.
a day in the rain, I lost a tear.
a day in the rain, I lost my way.
a day in the rain, my umbrella flew away.

a day in the rain, I wept alone.
a day in the rain, I missed home.
a day in the rain, I fell asleep.
a day in the rain, my stick withdrew.

a day in the rain, I walked away.
a day in the rain, my footsteps tumble.
a day in the rain, I was cold.
a day in the rain, the clouds part.