The Angel

I think of you, I think of her. Will you leave in November? I think I miss you now more than ever. I see visions of you in your hospital gown, we’re getting closer by the minute now. Summer is ending, and come winter, you’ll be gone. I’m not strong enough to lose you, are…

Brother- Kodaline

“Brother” is an evocative piece of work by the Irish band, Kodaline, comprising four members- Stephen Joseph Garrigan, Vincent Thomas May, Mark Daniel Prendergast, and Jason Matthew Boland. Songwriters Alexander James Davies, Corey James Sanders, and Jonathan Michael Maguire co-wrote the song with Kodaline. The teaser of the song was first shared on twitter a…

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

A couple of years ago I came across one of my favourite poems- ‘Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night’, by Dylan Thomas. The poem goes- Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise…

Lest We Forget

Fear so many deaths that we forget, to live our only life. Hold our breath for so long that we forget, it is our turn to breathe. Blinded by the comfort of the bed that we forget, about the monster underneath. Hate too much that we forget, it’s love we need! Wanna be a wordmate?…

Love…or Is it?

“Let us all remember- We are dust, and unto dust, we shall return!” With that the priest concluded the funeral service and the body was laid to rest, never to be heard from again. The cause of death- major blows to the head, leading to a broken cranium and intense bleeding. Gina had met the…

Moriturism

The insomnia-borne jolt of awareness that you will die, that these passing years aren’t just scenes from a dress rehearsal, rounds of an ongoing game or chapters in a story you’ll be telling later, but are footprints being lapped by the steadily gathering tide of an unfathomable abyss, which still wouldn’t wash out the aftertaste…

Life is too Short

That life – whatever else it is – is short. That fate is cruel but maybe not random. That Nature (meaning Death) always wins but that doesn’t mean we have to bow and grovel to it. That maybe even if we’re not always so glad to be here, it’s our task to immerse ourselves anyway:…

Thoughts of a Wanderer

Just as the title “Thoughts of a Wanderer” suggests, this book is an encapsulation of thoughts the writer as a wanderer- going through life, is offering to share. And I think most of us will be able to relate to these thoughts because we are all going through varied experiences and thought processes as we…

Death is Nothing at All

Death is nothing at all. It does not count. I have only slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened. Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were to each other, that we…

The Tide of Grief

You said that I enjoyed being in pain, that maybe, nothing you did would make me happier than the shame of my long sleeves; scars buried underneath the soft fabric, lies to be revealed in due course. Of course, you forgot that you were my favorite form of suffering. We never fall for the ones…

The Predicament

“If you don’t get what you want, you suffer; if you get what you don’t want, you suffer; even when you get exactly what you want, you still suffer because you can’t hold on to it forever. Your mind is your predicament. It wants to be free of change. Free of pain, free of the…

The Order of the Day

Within a system which denies the existence of basic human rights, fear tends to be the order of the day. Fear of imprisonment, fear of torture, fear of death, fear of losing friends, family, property or means of livelihood, fear of poverty, fear of isolation, fear of failure. A most insidious form of fear is…

The Book of Disquiet

Fernando Pessoa was many writers in one. He attributed his prolific writings to a wide range of alternate selves, each of which had a distinct biography, ideology, and horoscope. When he died in 1935, Pessoa left behind a trunk filled with unfinished and unpublished writings, among which were the remarkable pages that make up his…

ഓർമ്മകൾ

നിന്നിലേക്കുള്ള പാതകളാണ് ഓരോ ഓർമ്മയും. അതിൽ പലതിനും കണ്ണുനീർ നനവുണ്ട്. ചില നനവുകൾ നിന്നെ അകാലത്തിൽ നഷ്ടപെട്ടതിനെയോർത്ത്. മറ്റു ചിലത് ആ നഷ്ടത്തിലൂടെ ഉയർന്ന വലിയൊരു ശൂന്യതയോർത്ത്. മറക്കുവാൻ ശ്രമിക്കുന്തോറും പല ഓർമ്മകളും പൂർവാധികം ശക്തിയോടെ തിരിച്ചുവരും. അവ മനസ്സിനെ വീണ്ടും വീണ്ടും അലട്ടികൊണ്ടേയിരിക്കും. വേർപാടിൻ്റെയും ഒറ്റപ്പെടലിൻ്റെയും കൈകൾ ആ ഓർമ്മകളുടെ കൂടെ വന്ന് എന്നെ നിത്യേന ചുറ്റിവരിയാറുണ്ട്. ഓർക്കാൻ സുഖമുള്ളവയാകട്ടെ പതിയെ മറവിയുടെ ആഴങ്ങളിലേക്ക് അകന്ന് തുടങ്ങിയിരിക്കുന്നുവെന്ന് തോന്നുന്നു. ഈ ഓർമ്മകളെല്ലാം എവിടെ പോയി ഒളിക്കാനാണ്?…