Tragedy of Wanderer!

Scribbling:

Tragedy of Wanderer:

“While sitting and having his food, alone in that rather peaceful rooftop cafe, he saw an eagle sitting right in front atop that street-lamp post, watching over the crowded streets below. It fascinated him, it always did, for their powerful big feathers, sharp claws (that he often saw in pictures, carrying fearful little rabbits, snakes and lambs with all authority), its hooked beak; as if ready to tear one apart. He felt as if it was looking for its prey out of those so called fashionable people drifting amidst dirty masses of beggars, sellers and roadside walkways eclipsed with flies. And then suddenly he felt a cold shiver down his spines, to know that he too would be walking down the same street in couple of minutes as soon as his food would be over. His mouth slowed down in sudden distress, he wished to eat for ever there, and at-least till that eagle is sitting there. He felt too nervous to finish his meal and go down. It felt as if that eagle is now waiting for him only, to come down and walk through those streets. He would fly over and dive down to clutch him like a helpless lamb in his claws. He almost screamed out of that nasty thought."  

~ Praveen Parasar

Tragedy of Wanderer!

Scribbling:
Tragedy of wanderer:
“Waking up to sound of rain drops falling in the balcony, as he looked out of window and smell of damp soi,l fresh leafs filled his lungs. Somehow today it reminded him of his village house where he spent his childhood. An old style house made by his grandfather whose first floor had smaller windows and wooden flooring, and in every rain there was this damp smell of wet woods, surprisingly similar to what he felt today standing in the balcony (though these were coming from the designer gardens of neighbourhood) he remember spending key moments standing there, especially in rains, as fields around got soaked and flooded, he awaited for rain to stop to go out and watch those fishes come out and play, about whom his village friends told him with lot of authority, ‘they are fishes that stays inside ground and comes out when it floods here, sometime they even comes from sky.’ it used to fill him with a kind of excitement and he used to look above and down wondering if any of this were true or they were fooling him, but frankly what did he care, it was more fun to watch those fishes play.
Alas! Being away, having lost that house, a thought comes in mind, what prices we pay for growing up and what does it bring? Nothing, but memories.”

~ Praveen Parasar

Tragedy!

Tragedy!

Tragic as it could be, for a flower

To be plucked and placed beneath the pages

Of book that carried words of love

One that became its graveyard, buried, though

Neither dead, nor alive, but left

To suffocate, chock and cry

As pages ate its soft fleshes, inhaled drying smell

To get high, and held its bones as

Monuments of love, a fine treasure

To preserve, indeed! As ages passed by

And time lost trails, yet screams remained confined

Lost, drowned in own tears, as fire within

Scattered ashes, burnt forever

Being in love, and cursed!

By: Praveen Parasar

Date: 19/03/2014

Tragedy of Wanderer!

Scribbling:
Tragedy of wanderer:
“Travelling made him feel alive, he felt as if being on the top of a hill facing winds from the Himalayas, full of life and magic. And today again sitting inside that train compartment was making him feel similar. Though not for the first time; it has always been a favourite. yes! he was feeling his blood flowing again, especially after a night of panic-attack, Oh! He really needed to get out. Staying at the same place for too long made him feel like dead, like that smelly pond, stinking of itself suffocating, chocking of own smell. It was same for him, he wished to look outward sometime, to breath fresh air, to fuel a new sense, a new question as constantly looking in made him sick. Seeing his own self over-powering him, it was too much for him, though that’s what he wanted to do, his ultimate wish, but not in hurry, he wanted to feel it slowly and how? by travelling.
Sitting by the window of swiftly rolling train through those very still farms and fields, woods as if in a sense of contempt, lost, slowly entering into the darkness, knocking at the door of night by dusk. Those tiny bulbs flashing now and then at a distance gave him glimpse of darkness and he wondered to know, what else lies there. Darkness erases the difference between being and being not. Everything lies inside and yet nothing exists. As he wondered!”

~ Praveen Parasar

Ummeed - Hope!

Umeed! (Hindi version)

Kuch lamhe tute se

Kuch ashk chhalke se

Yado ke bikhre moti

Ya pedo ke sukhe bikhre patte

Jhumte se

Girte hue

Jaise nachte ho

Jhokon pe hawao ke

Dilati ehsas ho

Yun kuch tuta sa

Kuch bandha sa

Aaj bhi

Hai, aur ek ummeed

Sametne ko inhe

Banane ko ek gharaunda

Agli barsat me

Murjhaye ped ki chhaw tale. 

~ Praveen Parasar

Hope! (English version)

Smiling broken moments, or

Tears in eyes, reverberating

Shattered pearls of memories

Leftover dried leafs

Falling slowly

Or dancing with breeze

Evoking emotions

On a barren ground

Of unknown, unsaid

Moments

That never dries, but

Awaits rain

For it will make
a castle, again

Out of those scattered leafs

Below that tree, dying slowly.

~ Praveen Parasar

Tragedy of Wanderer!

Scribbling:

Tragedy of Wanderer-

“He was drowning in the sea, yet he felt thirsty. At first he could not believe it, it felt like a nightmare, all he saw was water till that distant horizon where lands meets the sky and the sun gets born out of their kiss, he felt amazed and scared at the same time. He felt weight of his own body pulling him down, his mouth was full of water, but he could not take it in, too much of salt. It reminded him of those tears he saw once and felt guilty, and he felt confused again for sea of water, sea of emotions? He wanted to spill it then, he wished to spill it now, but how, he did not know then, he did not know now. Few drops of blood rolled through his eyes, down the cheek and he took his tongue out, for may be now only his own blood could quench his unbearable thirst, he thought so while licking it with all his attention.”

~ Praveen Parasar

Wish!

Wish!

He waited, and awaited long

Before dusk finally entered and soothed

His scars, for dawn being cruel, light made him sick

Darkness brought him peace, bared himself he did not shy

For a thousand lies he would not cry, but just a wish

To kiss the bearer of moments; the moon, white poison

And let it dilute his blood, get high before descends the sun, ever again.

~ Praveen Parasar

Tragedy of Wanderer!

Scribbling:

Tragedy of Wanderer:

“Almost out of his breathes, he slowly closed his eyes. He felt too tired to resist anymore, he felt just to go with the flow though he never preferred it that way, for he had always been one of those who did it all on their terms, kept their head high, looked right into eyes and pulled the trigger whenever one tried to call his bluff, never afraid. But, now he knew it was getting over, anymore resistance will only make things worse, especially to those moments placed just in a corner of his heart wrapped in the sheets of time and space, if not for him. He could not bear to endanger them. He could listen to his heartbeat slowing, lub-dub, l..ub-d..ub, l..u..b-d..u..b, losing it to the sound of tick-tock of wall-clock in the room. A race he was losing or he chose to, Only he knew that.  

~ Praveen Parasar

Tragedy of Wanderer!

Tragedy of Wanderer:

And suddenly he felt them coming all at once, for which he wasn't ready and it was not that he did not want it, he dreamt of it but now at its real sight, it scared him more than anything. He found words all over his body, burying him below, suffocating his breath, blocking his nerves, sucking his blood out of tensed veins. He felt the air getting heavier around, he was losing sight of everything. He took out his glasses, wiped it couple of times, placed it back upon his eyes but alas! It was all getting blurred so fast, damn not because he could not see them, but because they were too many to see anything through them. His eyes started feeling the pain hard, he got to do something fast, but what, he could not think of. Drink! Drink! A voice came, but who was it, never-mind, he opened the bottle gulped down mouthful of that bitter fluid. Boom! He had been kind of bulldozed off his body and thrown in a dark corner of his own shadow, where he saw nothing but darkness beneath his Skeleton being licked by source of millions of ant like words, poisonous and thirsty. He offered them his bottle; they laughed and filled their glass with his blood, Smell of his own blood started making him high. He started losing grip off his glass slowly, Being cursed! 

~ Praveen Parasar