prosaic ..

>> Monday, October 25, 2010

To grope like this, in a supersonic stream of apprehension, sustaining reverberations and appearances, hiding bruises and blisters on the surface, could not be called living. I had unbarred the spout of passion and through it.. invited a stream of voices, sermons and mockery ...

I do not blame anyone for reviving these sentiments in me. I had a refuge from this ruckus of the senses and I could muffle the inner voice which acerbates my life. I could hush my scrutinizing reason, which moves to and fro in the brain, concocting fresh researches, and like a double-edged dagger severing every frail branch of my happiness.

Should the commotion which exults necessarily have a name? I would not disgrace my feelings by conferring common nouns verbs or adjectives, repeatedly misused by the wobbly beings. Can anyone feel what I feel? Such an entity did not prevail before; so there can not be a name for my despair or doom.

When the whole shebang tumbles before me and behind me; when the prosaic past stretches at the drab horizon like towny of the dead; when the future extends into a zilch; when I see my whole being enclosed within the cramped circuit of present, who could blame me if I’d tried in vain to hold thrifty present in my arms like an inflamed lover I’d embrace for the final time? Oh, if only I’d cherished the present and loved it as such ..

Given a chance, we flurry about, and would not refrain even from knocking down the next person in our way, pining to steal driblets from the fountain of lust, but aren’t we all identically fated to depart thirsting? I was soaked in this fleeting victory coz I’d tasted the forbidden love while you’d lurked in the periphery to rejoice my dissolution. Show me your ‘one’ virtue’ and I’d cease to be a sinner.

Most of us have perceived ‘self’ in the amplified reflection of passions, contemplated the drapery which shields posterity and then turned away shuddering from their own doppelgangers. Poets and seers have painted their fancies on this drapery in vibrant or somber hues as per their whims. Some of us sinners have succumbed to this ecumenical curiosity, and through well crafted duplicity have been led astray by their very own animated imagination.

From my passion I portent more despair. In present circumstances it may have been the most potent course of withdrawing from reality into a metaphysical dream. It was bound to reach a crisis and like a virus injected through artificial means it has expunged the inborn affliction. I am only a face of yesterday which would soon turn unreal, almost phantasmal and the print on the soiled page no more significant than a newspaper you read once and throw away. This search ends here. You were kind. Peace.


Nilesh October 25, 2010 at 2:51 AM  

If its fiction its just awesome!! But if facts are involved all I can say is passion of any kind is to be lived only for that moment comparisons to past and expectations of the future will lead only to more agony.

All said... a literary masterpiece!!

V Rakesh October 25, 2010 at 7:12 PM  

The search never really ends and the purpose shall be to achieve excellence while retaining the peace!

How one does this and exacts it is a test of one's character and a lot lot more, considering that we all have a host of flaws that need to be understood and come to terms with!

aria October 25, 2010 at 9:48 PM  

Nilesh.. sometimes am not sure whether its fact or fiction :( all my fiction has shades of facts and vice-versa.. thank you for comment.

Rakesh.. thank you for your comment. Don't know what to say.. sigh ..

goatman October 29, 2010 at 11:13 AM  

I love "shebang".
You are the true wordsmith.

Kunjubi November 1, 2010 at 6:25 AM  

A thought provoking write... artfully executed touching the periphery of schizophrenia, at times hitting the curb of reality. Bravo...

aria November 1, 2010 at 7:54 AM  

Goatman.. nice to see you, hope you are doing well.. thank you.

Kunjubi.. loved your comment.. it sums up the whole thing. Thank you.

vichchoobhai November 10, 2010 at 5:32 AM  

Hi Aria, Cant you use simple words? They are so much easier to understand, precise and carry the same meaning as the unnecessarily ornate ones do, perhaps more.
Frequent references to the dictionary spoil the joy of reading.Pedantry has its own place.
This is my humble request to you, to be taken up or to be trampled upon.

aria November 10, 2010 at 5:57 AM  

simple words? I don't think any word is simple/not-simple. I don't use words.. they use me.
I don't choose words.. ornate or otherwise... they choose me.. and this is the only way I can write...
thanks for the comment though..

Varghese Varghese January 1, 2011 at 6:25 PM  


An ensnaring verbosity captivating the mind and imagination.. I envy you for the awesome style of your writing...

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