Hidden…!

“It’s ok to not know
To be ignorant
To choose
to not to be at the
Bottom of the cup
The chasm beneath
Its better if undiscovered
It works for the taste of the tea
You don’t bother
Sip it slowly
Let it melt in your mouth
You must give time
To let the flavour
Unfold
While the chasm beneath grows
Beyond the contours
Of you and me
We couldn’t escape it
Knowing
There lies one
And yet, here we are

The day is rather warm
The sun is overflowing
You could barely raise your face
I am glad
Keeping my face buried
In the dark alleyways of
the bed sheets
It has its own hidden corners
you could play hide and seek
Despite being
Face to face
Could I hide too?

I often wonder
What is it that
Makes us wonder
Makes us question
We are supposed to be ignorant
We are not to ring the alarm
We are to witness
The unfolding
Of the day
Of the light, and darkness
Of you
And me
While the cup
Still there
Half-unfinished
Resting upon a stained tablecloth
Ashamed of its own
Exposure, submissions
Looking at us
Expecting
A response
Did we ever have one?
Alas…!”

Praveen Parasar
14/05/2023

Scribbling:Tragedy of Wanderer:

“There’s darkness in my mind
I can’t see beyond the night
My ears hear nothing
But silent cries
O, what could fill the void
But some more of it
Generous as it is
Nostalgic as it remains
Embraced in the bosom of chaos
You are welcome to feel at home
While drowning
In an abyss of what-ifs
There’s little to think of
When you are high on words
Unsaid, unheard
Cluttered and scattered
All mixed up
Serving a deadly cocktail
While you struggle to keep your eyes
Wide and awake
Drink up my friend
There’s nothing to be scared of
They kill without remorse
Ruthless as they are
Cold as a blade of steel
Let your blood fill the inkpot
Let the rapture
Burst open, remind you
Of the orgasmic euphoria
Beneath the weight of leftover
Confessions
Perhaps they wouldn’t betray
Like those tear drops
Who refuse to follow the trail
As if a jilted lover
Seeking revenge
Alas!…”

Praveen Parasar
26/11/2022

Tragedy of wanderer

Scribbling
Tragedy of wanderer:

“The sky doesn’t turn grey anymore
The day boasts of its light and noise
The night sulks beneath it’s void
The darkness hides in the alleyways
Of dried tears
A few screams here and there
Left along the way
Somewhere, there are words
Though leftover, still alive
Awaiting salvation
Awaiting a hand, but
Where am I?

I am guilty of poisoning the words
Declared an outcast
I plead guilty
Verdict was always the same
I seek no retrial
Once condemned
There’s no redemption
You must suffer
You must not struggle
Strength is a trap
Do not let yourself imprisoned
Submission without condition
Answers without questions
Sleepwalk, as if a master
Dazed upon the light
High upon the life
Let those blank sheets ridicule you
Let those droplets elude you
Let the empty glass fill you
Desolated, but together
Let the contours of fading shadow
Of a shallow evening
Give you shape
Give you a shade
To lie beneath
And offer no claim
Upon the broken pieces
Of the night and day
Of truth and false
Of right and wrong
The morality is trap
We allow our detention
While being imprisoned
Forever, in the
Web of consolations
Where do I belong to
The question is irrelevant

What matters is plain and simple
The monster feeds upon you
And you upon the monster
Hollowness demands
A piece of you
Again and again
And so do you
Crave being hollowed out
And again…

Alas…!”

Praveen Parasar
13/07/2022

Tragedy of wanderer

Scribbling:
Tragedy of wanderer:
“ The candle is about to fall silent, it has burnt itself to the core already. There’s no salvation of the candle, forget mercy. It was about time anyway. But remember, no one is banished out of night, it accepts everyone all the same. Everyone must be allowed to suffer without any discrimination. The night is long, the night is dark, the night is ruthless. The night exposes what the day hides. Though you must remember, the night neither asks nor answers. The night is desolated, the night is an abyss trapped within itself, as if cursed to witness it’s fall, drop by drop while the clock continues to play tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock. You must be ready for a long haul, he was reminded of the wise words. It doesn’t matter anymore who said it and why, all that matters is the relevance of it. Glass next to the candle is empty. Perhaps it’s waiting to be filled, or does it loathe being filled even. He wondered why being empty always imply a desire of fulfillment, after all voids could fill someone all the same. No?…”

Asleep…!

“Failing, falling
You dream of a starry night
Only if you knew
It’s more of a curse than a dream
Like a horizon
Littered with broken glass
It haunts you
Every reflection is a punishment
Your eyes carry the weight
Hollowed of their own tears
There’s no sorrow anymore
There’s nothing to complaint
The desolation is real
Every piece of glass concurs
Every drop left in the glass screams

Every wound whispers
But mute and deaf
You watch the drama unfold
While pretending to hold
Upon the broken pieces
The glittering sky suffocates you
But you stand still
The melancholia is ethereal
The night, devoid of its own darkness
Surrenders, asking for anything
But mercy
The void takes over
The abyss enthralls
While you
Slumber along, as if
In a trance
As sublime as it could be
After all, there’s little on offer
Being awake…”

Praveen Parasar
19/11/2021

अनदेखे…

वो टूटी सड़के
वो तंग गलियां
वो भीड़ भाड़ से निकलने की
जद्दोजहद करते
वो चेहरे
उन पथराई सी नजरो में
कोई एहसास नहीं है
इंतजार नहीं है
जज्बात भी नहीं शायद
उनमे एक जिद है जैसे बस
वो चल रहे है
लड़ रहे है
धक्का मुक्की, खींच तान
एक रेलमपेल
आदमी, जानवर
गाड़ियों के शोर में
दफ़न
वो खामोशियाँ
वो सिसकियाँ,
वो चीखना चिल्लाना
वो रात के सन्नाटे में
खुद से खुद को छुपाने की
कोशिश करते
उनके बदन मानो उन्ही गलियों की सड़क हो
गड्ढे यहाँ भी, वहाँ भी
और उन उबड़ खाबड़ रास्तों में
कभी सस्ती शराब तो कभी कफ सिरप की
बोतलों में
खुद को ढूंढने की
असफल सी कोशिश करते
वो साँस ले रहे है
झगड़ रहे है
जिन्दा रहने को
या तिल तिल के मरने को
वो मर नहीं सकते शायद
तिलचट्टों की तरह
वो बच जाते है हर बार
वो गंदगी की ढेर में भी खोज लेते है
खाने को, सोने को
और फिर हर रोज़, हर सुबह
पसीने और आंसुओ से नहाए
वो खो जाते है
शहर की चकाचौंध में
जहाँ से गुजरते
ना हम उन्हें देख पाते हैं
ना वो हमें…

प्रवीण परासर
08/10/2021

Window-panes!

The rain has subsided

The sun still reluctant

The leftover clouds continue to hang around

Streets lie drenched and empty

A cat and a few dogs hop across the buildings

Looking for a place to hide themselves away

There’s a sense of unease

Even amidst the highlighted greens

And alleged liveliness

With the doors firmly shut

Once in a while a face appears

In a random window

Only to vanish back

In the underlying abyss

Standing by the window

I notice the glass panes have a few marks left

As if a reminder of the violent night

But they have nothing to complaint about

Those scars are beautiful

Or so they say

Left ajar, they stand still

They know the night, the rain

Cries and tears wouldn’t break them

They know the storms are easier to withstand

For it withers away

But they know

memories are lethal

Sooner or later

It would be a passer-by

With a stone

Who would shatter it’s existence

Without remorse

And leave no mark

There would be no scars then

No reminder

There will lie an emptiness

A void

For the days to fill

And Echoes of longing

To reverberate

Alas!

 

Praveen Parasar

30/09/2021

 

Tragedy of Wanderer…

Scribbling:

Tragedy of Wanderer:

“Carrying a monster which is too drunk to act, too high to react, I choose not to bother him, yet every once in a while he nods as if an acknowledgement of my presence. He surprises me sometimes, but says little, nothing more than some faint whispers, it’s hard to listen to him, almost frustrating even, to the point of annoyance. He does hum in the dead of the nights though as if singing himself lullaby. I wonder if he ever sleeps though, or does he dream. What about nightmares, do monsters get nightmares? He appears to be in a trance of his own, stuck in his shallow voids, sinking beneath the weight of his own bits and pieces, losing breaths but offering no struggle. The gobblet of melancholia is best served cold, along with a mouthful of indifferent words, unspoken, unheard, trampled. He relishes his share and lets it suffocate him. I wonder if I would ever get to know him. Alas!”

Tragedy of Wanderer…

Scribbling:
Tragedy of Wanderer

“it was inevitable perhaps. Before you realise you become elephant in the room, perceived of your presence but denied of your existence altogether. You start to doubt as well, perhaps there is indeed something wrong, and may be there is. But the trouble is not with the acceptance but indifference. Sometimes a pinch of indifference is all you look for. A lack of reaction, a possible opening to let one pass by.

You expect to escape the scrutiny? How naïve could it be? You must accept the consequences, and you bet it doesn’t come in bits and pieces. By agreeing to play the God, you allow yourself to be deprived of the solace. You must play the game by the rules. You either choose to set them yourself or you get that you didn’t ask for, there’s no breaking free.

He chose to insist, and he was marked high risk. He must be placed under secret observation. They chose to let him know, and he couldn’t refuse to thank them for their generosity. Being on the display in a dark room is a reward best kept secret. Alas…!

Meditation…

“I do not remember
What day it is
What date
What month
Or year even
Does it matter anyway?

Rolling down the alleyways
Of familiar unknown
I can feel
The rush of blood
Through the veins again
I can hear
The throbbing heartbeat
While I sit here
Behind veils of smoke
Still, silent
Like those trees
Post autumn

I do not remember
If I have any rights left
If I can still demand
For a piece of me
Thrown about, trampled upon
If I am still eligible
To keep the trails of droplets
Intact, upon parched flesh
I do not remember
If I can still fight
My way through
Those lump of words
Choking the pages
Scribbled upon

I do not remember
When did I start
Finding solace
In the chasm of void
The abyss of angst
The dark corners of
Solitude
Does it matter anyway?

I do not seek redemption
I do not ask for mercy
I am not looking for excuses
I must be punished
Salvation is for weak
I would like to keep
The delusion
Of being man enough
I must suffer…”

18/09/2020