Thursday, December 31, 2009

I'll sing you this song tonight

This song is mush overdose, so If you're not one for mush, don't read it, even If you're tagged in it, you'll just end up judging me. I know i'm not a very mushy guy either, but there are those times when it has to be said. Cheesecakes around the world, rejoice. I bring to you "I'll sing you this song tonight".
Note : Honest "Sincere" criticism appreciated, as always.


There's a song in my head, that won't go away,
and strangely enough, I want it to stay.
And I'll need that song, when I'm feeling blue,
For that is the song that reminds me of you.

This song that I sing, it's no simple tune.
And not all can follow the notes that I croon.
But then this song, and sadly, I know,
it makes me remember, how i let you go.

It seems such a pain, being here on my own,
In love with this song, that I sing alone.
I think of the times, when you'd sing along,
Back when we had both been in love with this song.

Unless I'm mistaken, you're singing it too,
and somewhere, you know that I'm thinking of you
You know that I miss you, I know you can tell,
I want you, and you know you want me as well

So save us the trouble, i'll take back what i said
I need you here with me, and I'll need you ahead.
And till you return, I know I'll survive
These notes and these rhymes will keep me alive

And all of these notes, and all of these rhymes,
are pieces of us, in a simpler time.
And now I know, what I had all along.
You and me were always part of this song.

Sunday, December 13, 2009

If you're happy and you know it

I have been having a bad couple of weeks, no secrets there. This morning, I decided to sit back and watch "The Dark Knight" again, that scene where the Joker makes the pencil 'disappear" always makes me laugh. In the middle of movie, I realised I had been drifting in and out of it. I kept going back to a certain time period in my past.

When I was about ten, Cartoon Network started a Cartoon Series, Batman- the series they called it. Me and my friends went bonkers every time it came on. I wasn't anything spectacular. just your regular batman, fighting it out with your regular Joker and your regular Penguin. Every time we heard the batman theme song play, however, we'd all drop everything else and sit our little perky asses in front of the TV.

We used to meet to play football, I remember, or soccer, whatever. Even though we played in a tiny soon-to-be-a-parking-lot, semi-grassy are, and even though we made goal posts by keeping two bricks at a certain distance from each other (we couldn't be bothered to go all the way to the community park and wait for our turn at the field), and even though i sucked at football, horribly, I don't remember feeling happier my entire life. I have played football since, on more than one occasion, but its never been the same. We used to start playing around 4 in the afternoon, and we kept on playing till the one kid who bothered to wear a watch screamed "Its Seven!". Boy, you should have seen us run. Batman was on, and come hell or high water we would be at my friend's house in time for us to be seated and listen to the whole theme song play.

Football and batman, ah, the joy those two things brought me. Its amazing, isn't it. Since then, I have been in and out of relationships, been a part of multiple musical ventures, been a part of one of the best undergraduate b-schools the country has to offer and had a milliion friends. Somehow, even though all these things made me happy beyond words, nothing I have ever experienced since Batman -The series, has ever come close in comparison.

It wasn't the show of course, the show is just how i remember that time. It was the freedom, the freedom to watch a TV show every single day without missing a single episode because you had to study, or because you had some or the other task to attend to. I could do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, and when I was doing it, I didn't have to think about ANYTHING else.

I miss those times, when I could actually enjoy every moment without worrying about the next, I miss the times when life was about living the now and not planning for the future, I miss batman and the football in the mud that came with it.

I miss me, eight years ago.

Til Death Do Us Part

I sat in the room beside her. I tried to remember; it was only a few years ago, this uncomfortable silence was absent. Instead, there were only the noises we made, doing what only came naturally. Fast forward five years into the future, and I didn’t want to look at her. The mother of my children, the keeper of my home. It was a home no more, though, it was merely a house. Whatever spirit of belonging had once existed in me, whatever attachment I had to this house, it was long gone.
I sat beside her, watching her flip through pages of a magazine I neither knew anything about nor cared for , something to do with Balcony Furnishings or Bathroom Fittings, it’s irrelevant. Dressed in a nightgown, her face plain as daylight, unkempt hair, she had become everything she despised five years ago.

This was not the woman I had fallen in love with during my days at the old job. This was not the smart, conversant and deliciously sensual woman that I could not stop thinking about every living second. That woman was going places, this one was just going shopping.

She had always been beautiful, gorgeous, in fact. She was one of those women who were supposed to stay beautiful till the day they dropped dead on the floor, with a thousand lovers to mourn her death at that. Lately, however, I had become a little more aware of her ageing, She looked older, the sparkle in her eyes I saw every time we met at the cafe on the south side had disappeared, leaving her eyes hollow, sucking in all the light from the room, sucking in my very soul.

It was nauseating. The prospect of growing old in this house was horrifying.

I looked at the wall, and saw the marks we made over the years on the edge, a happy little audience, watching our sons grow taller and stronger every day. Maybe it was worth it, after all. “It’s all about the kids”, I kept telling myself, “It’s not about you or her, it’s the kids.”

Yes, that was it. The kids. The one thing in my life that kept me sane in this monotonous, dry, repetitive hellhole of a life. The umbilical cord that kept me attached to this house. All of a sudden, I knew why I hadn’t up and left all these years. My children, the seeds I had sown so long ago, the very reason for my being. All of a sudden, it was obvious why I had put up with years of dissatisfaction and dullness and not ventured into new horizons alone. All of a sudden, I knew what had kept me here, and not let me out into the world, exploring new boundaries, the likes of which I hadn’t seen in years.

All of a sudden, I knew what I had to do.


I sat next to her in the kitchen. She was still beautiful. Her eyes, hollow as they may have been, were still the purest shade of brown I did ever come across. Her lips were still the rosiest shade of red. I watched her sitting on the chair, staring at me right in the face, not making a sound.

Not making a sound.

I watched the blood trickle down her throat, I watched her lifeless eyes lie still, motionless. I watched the white of her nightgown slowly turn a bloody shade of red, her lifeless hand still holding on to the knife-handle sticking out the back of her neck.

I could still hear my oldest shaking violently in the upstairs bedroom, trying to break free from the ropes that tied him to his bed. He would be asleep soon, too. The blood would soon run out. It would only be so long, the blood would definitely not last much longer. Not much longer, for sure.

The baby was sound asleep when I found it, It didn’t wake up when I carried it from it’s room all the way to the upper floor. The bucket was full and ready. I saw my baby smile as I put him inside his watery grave, and for a moment wondered what he might have been dreaming about, then decided not to spend time on needless ponderings. He might have been screaming the whole time he was in that bucket. He might have been crying. I don’t know. I think that was when the magnitude of my actions sunk in, because everything blacked out.

My oldest no longer made any noises, that was a good thing. He was at peace. The poor boy probably had it worst out of the lot. The pain he went through, it was unfair, but all that suffering probably shortened his sentence in purgatory. I looked into the bathroom and saw the bucket containing my wife’s favourite child, though I never condoned having favourites among children. Still, it wasn’t as if the stupid harlot considered my opinion about anything anymore.

As I walked towards the door, preparing for my final exit, I looked at my wife, staring lifelessly at me from the kitchen, and the gravity of the situation hit me like a fist to the face. My wife, was sitting in the kitchen with a knife through her throat, my oldest son was in his bedroom with incisions all over his person, and my baby, my four month old bundle of joy, was packed face down in a bucket full of water in the upstairs bathroom.

My family, the people I loved, the people that loved me back, the mouths I worked day and night to feed. They were gone. They were all gone.

And I was free.

As I walked out of the door, I whistled to myself, and waved to the friendly lady next door. She was so nice, and the food she made was marvellous. As a matter of fact, I think I fancied her all these years. She’d make a jolly good wife, I’d say.....