chimes of a forgotten melody

Between you and me spreads this sea of irreversible void, I swim through it, I run whenever I can, but I pant, I faint, I lose hope eventually. Will you remember me? How I was, how I sounded, How my dreams were purposeful, And my arms rigid? Will you remember me and the depth in my love when I said so? I am replaced, I lose my sustenance, Filled with vacuum, Within, around, everywhere, I am now meagre, I am now meaningless, I am now nothing.

Let me go, For I've stood here long enough, Decaying, Leaking out all that is left, To show you your way back home. Let me go, Into my morbid universe, Diminishing, Holding onto the heaviness inside, I will walk with you for a while. Let me go, Let me fall into myself for a while, Disintegrating, But tell me you will come someday, And maybe together we'll evaporate into space. Till then I will wait.

It burns, My skin, my temples, These violent tempests within, Love always takes a celestial suffering, But then you churn my insides, My golden arms stretch, Your skin, your temples, Clothing them, It glows!

I feel our bed teleport-ing, Wormholes and next, Stars burning out and bursting away into clouds of velvet, purple and blue, We move on through, Pulsating lights around, lighthouses in space, And our hearts beating wild, Our bed, our dreams, our thoughts, Your laughs echoing through the infinite, And my words failing to grasp the universe in your smile, We move on through, Onto our moon..

"Is there anything that shocked you at that time?" asked the interviewer. I was bemused at how insignificantly she raised that question, it was as passive as the fan on top of us which moaned stress-fully, on and on and on. The heat of the day was forcing my armpits to overflow and my muddy cotton shirt to stick onto them, this greatly exaggerated the unpleasant stature of my existence at that time. I thought about insignificance again, how my story mattered the least to her day-to-day affairs. How it eventually meant nothing but a secure dinner maybe, with her middle-class husband perhaps, who can't wait to hear her torrid tales of routine. "I don't know" I said "Looking down, I felt my legs never belonged to me." "Why is that so?" she persisted. It seemed as though the fan was moaning after every word she spoke with even less a vigor. "Perhaps it was only then I really began looking down." "What does that sig...

Dear all, It has to be said that it was a tough few months for me and it seems like things will go downhill for sometime now. I am taking this time to thank you all for the support you have given me throughout my time blogging. It was an amazing experience here, I became a much better writer compared to who I was when I began this journey. It is hard for me to say goodbyes, always have been.. For now, I believe this is it. I hope to come back someday soon. Till then, take care and enjoy life! Anand. . . . . Edit (2nd October, 2017) Fuck it, I'll continue blogging!

Of all the women in all the different universes including ours, Nandita was the most beautiful, at least according to me. "If you are writing my fable, it should begin with my beauty" said she when she accustomed herself to me during my dreams. It has to be stressed right from the start that whatever I know of her, I discovered through those dreams - Nandita; her body like wild fire consuming anything within its vicinity, her eyes like deep wells of poison intoxicating your body once you fall in, choking you with passion, her touch like hot blood dripping over your skin with its ironish smell and dark-reddish texture, and she - complete, perfect! The way she told her story was by itself enchanting. She would lie beside me in my sleep, play her hands around my ears, caressing my face, feeling my lips and gently whispering in my ears. A strong current of lust would then fill my body as I would pull her close to me, our bodies uniting with shared melancholy, with every inch...

*** Dedicated to Chester Bennington, for making us beat the darkness! * ** When I first saw Samir, I couldn't see anything remarkable in him. He looked rather old, more than what his records show. He didn't greet me, and never really made an attempt to do so. It should be said that I had extreme apprehensions about him due to the nature of his case which demanded nothing but contempt. When I asked him if he was involved as said, he never denied it, and maybe never truly accepted it all the same. I remember those conversations as much as the man. "Hi. You're Samir, right? I'm Anand. I'm your advocate for this case." He said nothing. He never even cared to lift his face up and have eye contact. "You see Samir, this is not that complicated a case if you can give me apt details. So you should open up, otherwise it will be difficult." There was a deep well of darkness within his eyes, the extend of which I could not deciph...