The Journey

As he lay, his body torn,

Wounds filled with shrapnel

heart turned to stone.

The chaos around him, had ceased to last

after seconds before a call had come to pass.

A call he made to his mother of 18 years.

He knew not why, she was moved to tears.

The same mother who once threw him out,

the day that she and her father had found out.

"Such hypocrites they are", thought the man.

"The lessons they taught me were lines in the sand,

washed away by the tide in which I was cleansed.

What I then saw of the world...." his thoughts stopped, tensed.

He looked around, saw a girl in the train.

The same one from the day before, his face strained.

She looked at him now, her face a sad story.

"How many meals would she be denied?" No honour, no glory.

Every one around had a different face,

Some happy or sad, some filled with grace.

"Everyone has their story to tell,

who am I to blow them to hell?"

With twenty seconds left, he knew there was no time

He had a decision to make, before his clock would chime.

"God would not create so many stories,

had he not wanted to finish them all.

The decision is not mine, nor the Mullah Omar's.

He has misheard the word of God, or misled,

I wish I realized sooner, then I would not have bled.

I would still be with my family back home,

not throw out, living the life of the proverbial dog looking for his bone.

I will do one thing hopefully to set things right!"

He flew off the train, jumped with all his might.

The second he hit the ground, the bomb went off

He thought he had done good, saved a lot of lives,

But it seems the poor fool did not realize.

On a platform he jumped at Dadar West,

230 people had met their Deaths.......

Disclaimer:- This was written in 10 minutes completely out of my imagination. Yes, it's fictitious and I don't really think a suicide bomber would get a change of heart in the last 20 seconds but when you have someone lecturing during a training session in office, a lot of really really messed up shit enters your head. Might as well make the most out of it and write a poem eh?

A swirling vortex......

Sleep is optional. Lack of it is a hallucinogen. Something else that works as well though, is a fully loaded mind. Ever had one of those experiences where you just stare off in space, blank as a sheet of A4 paper before it enters the printer? And at the end of it, that's just what's happening, you're blank. In your head is this swirling maze of issues, none of which are getting resolved or even close to getting resolved, and you can't fucking figure out which one you're thinking about at that second, or which one you were thinking of 10 seconds before. The worst part of it is, it just appears in flashes, long enough to keep you staring at space for a long long time..

So I sit down, open my laptop screen, stare blankly for 2 minutes wondering what the fuck I want to do? Which issue I want to think about? What I want to write about? Whether I should get to work on that project, that assignment, that article, wonder about what I should have done when, what went wrong where? And it starts again, Stare off into space, start listening to Pink Floyd, that soother of our oft childlike and confused souls. Start remembering the last time I got high, laugh about that, but then it's a flash again before the next thought replaces it in the vortex..

They say that when you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes. IF that is the case, someone give me immortality. It's too confusing to sit and sift through all this shit without understanding where and what to think of at one time!

That's been me, for the past 1 and a half hours, I get like this sometimes, gets triggered by anything, but more particularly by a sudden spurt of activity in an otherwise dull monotonous life. Some people might even care to call it trauma. Too strong a word perhaps, probably might settle down any time between the next 5 minutes to the next 5 months.

But till whenever it does settle, I need my anaesthesia, bring on the Music...