Confessions: Lost chances( Short fiction)

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‘ Is it your fault.., or was it mine..? Whom do I blame for this sorrow..?’
– Translated from a tamil song

The basketball court grew translucently vacant after eleven in September… September made you feel different in the city.., as a watcher of people I pick up on a lot, all cities have the same traffic.., the same zone defense of public roads.., the same feisty cops pulling up bikers with helmets…, but God has different layers to each month.., the trees lose more leaves.., there are a lot more winds.., the waves of marina are are more lustful of the shore.., loneliness is much deeper in the underground caves.., and the antisocial appears every now and then when things grow still after the din grows low… A man who knew loneliness sat here often hoping to absorb the energy of sane souls, I knew him as well although he and I don’t really talk much.. I get the sense that the world that he occupies does not allow entry of people who talked.., he was a sad soul.., lost to a world that was indifferent to his plight.., unkind to his homelessness and harsh to his presence.., can’t really blame him.., but I wanted him to pour his soul into mine and feel my warming fire.., I was not exactly normal either.., I was a misfit myself.., a loner who preferred a ball and an empty court to people… Friends in my life were people whom I knew but who never knew me.., I was too deep to be understood, I was too distracted by the world to conform to their demands and expectations which seemed silly and childish in my eyes.., I was a man who knew things before they happened and who saw things before they were perceived.., I was whatever place I absorbed and I was whoever people wished me to be. The Park drew in folks.., the park did not catch your attention immediately, you would pass it by and it would not invoke any sensation.., it was bare, plain and possessed no juicy vibe.., like a plain woman you passed her by.., and then you encounter them and you begin to know them and you get the sense that you were guilty of perhaps discrimination but you’re safe since it happened in the secretive layers of your mind…. but this park was where I in all of Madras city found myself drawn to.. Perhaps this would be my own dream theater of performance.., where I can be the heroic motif that I pick in my day dreams.., where I create a legacy for my own knowledge but unseen and unrealized by those who frequent this same place as me.

There was always a buzz on the basketball court.., the eager to flaunt players held hostage by their domineering coach.., the visitors who sat on the stone galleries to ponder life’s mysteries.., the middle aged uncles who rested their vertebrae after a back breaking walk around the park to burn off calories.., shady cats whose eyes glinted with the spirit of marijuana and who scowled and mocked everybody that their eyes could see.., homeless drunks who argued loudly and later slept soundly in the top stair of the stone gallery.., local flower men who sold threaded jasmine buds to middle class city bred ‘Iyer’ ladies who slept on the hard stone floor.., Fatigued auto-rickshaw men resting after a tiring day…The court was my kingdom.., and I imagined myself to be the king of my court.., and it was my job to realize with the eyes of the heart the souls that walked through the court.. I would attempt stories from what I felt when my heart touched upon their souls.. I would also try to place each person with a song that I would spend hours searching for.., or perhaps crystallize them with a poem..By nature I am distant since I could care less about the formality of mere connectivity.. I could not understand why people had to spend so much time getting acquainted.., I know the bad ones.., they always try to make you love them and they always try to puff you up.., the rest are a mystery that requires patient chopping .., my mind is always afar since I alienate myself from the usual.., but there is a music to each soul that one can listen if one listens closely.., a hidden tale buried within each layer.., and I was determined to discern and navigate through the darkness of being.

He was one of those middle aged men who enjoyed mere banter. He had a charming and disarming way of engaging you.., He and I shared the same lonely space for quite a period of months, I wanted him to find it in himself to dare break the invisible walls that people erected around themselves.., He approached me with praise, a great conversation starter.., he wanted to understand why anybody would choose a public park to practice after 11.30.., a place well known for antisocial scum, insane marauding hooligans on bikes and bloodthirsty wanderers… I responded by saying that I could say the same about him to a certain extent.., A spark glowed in the darkness of that court which was a well-known magnet for unfinished tales.., broken hearts and restless souls… He would generally do his circular walks around the park with a distracted look, he found the practice difficult but he still kept at it.., he was from a small town deep in the south.., his language contained the soul of the town that he was from. The people there probably spoke from their heart.., lacked cunning and were delightful of people.., maybe they lacked the sophistication of deeper understanding.., for a brief while we clicked. Our souls are thirsty for as much of earth that we can find.., for in eternity our souls will suffer uncertain fates depending on our choices. I knew that a soul’s relation to the revelation of Jesus would decide one’s eternity.., but in the here and the now all souls starved and hungered for love and want.. They had a funny way of expressing it since immaterial realities kept pressing against their conscious shores…, but it was there and you had to learn to handle the bitter reality of people and their incapability of knowing their presence and their actions on another soul.

I am a chamber full of secrets.., many souls speak what besets their soul into my depths.., they share their hurts which are often painful realities that still torment their inmost minds..,I seem to inspire their openness.., and I seem to inspire them to enter into my inner stillness to phrase in fleeting lucidity their inmost torments which always found a way to confound their lingual capabilities.., for the moment they could find the perfect, most honest, most soulful and most heartfelt way of narrating their lives in his presence.., it would finally lift off and decrease in its intensity.

He remembered the first time he saw her.., he had known since he was 8…, it was not her eyes, her appearance or her behavior that he noticed…, he noticed instead how his heart fluttered when she walked past him oblivious to the nuclear damage that she was wreaking on his simple soul. Over a period of time the feelings became mutual…, he was 14 by then.., and she 13.., they held hands on the long mud paths surrounded by rice fields and sugar cane fields that led to their homes when nobody was watching.., he climbed trees to pluck mangoes for her and.., wrote her I love you hundred times… their love blossomed over the years.., he came from a conservative system.., multiple social walls stood in his way.., she was from another caste.., he belonged to another.., religion spoke about how he belonged higher.., but his heart could see no such reality.., his heart wanted her more intensely as the years progressed.., they promised each other multiple times that they would find each other no matter how far they got.., that the other would wait if something were to happen.., but as fate would have it education brought him to the chaotic city of Madras.., he would call her many times.., but there were no mobile phones back then.., the timing had to be perfect.., her Father owned a goods store and he would be out by 7 in the morning.., her mother was always at home.., but went at 2 pm to the temple for half an hour.., that would be their time.., even if her mother returned.., she would act as though the phone call was between her friends.., but one time her mother stayed back and long story short got wind of what was happening.., they beat her so bad that she swore to never contact him again.., but she was lying.., how can emotions such as love end in the face of adversity.., it is the very soil that it blooms and flourishes in.., he promised her that he would come back for her the moment he got a job.., but her parents got her married before he could make good on his promise.., marrying her off to some businessman…, heartbroken he wept, cried and wandered in sorrow and despair.., the years passed, he tried to forget her but to no avail.., how could someone forget someone who had inhabited his inmost being..? Who had loved him with a love all her own..? How could he overcome that which only made him linger.., stay and wander in a world of inner hurt..? He grieved like a man who knew not how to survive in a world devoid of his sweetheart.., he could not bear the thought of her in the arms of another man.., he could not bear another possessing her…, love was never meant to be shared by a third party.., Never.., His parents sensing his woe married him off to a proper Madras girl.., he hid his sorrow and began to live for his future.., family.., responsibility.., he had become so possessed by this intense hurt in his heart that he struggled to love his wife fully.., even though he had gotten over the deadly blow.., he could never forget his first love.., he shared this to me over a period of time and I listened as I always did like my life depended on it.., funny how strangers heal wounds that one’s own efforts seldom seem to. I know that the good Lord placed me on this planet to heal people, He did the healing.., I just had to reach out to the souls.., and I always could find them no matter how they hid their wounds.

I did my best to console him.., I spoke nothing .. there was nothing that I could say that would reach the inmost depths of him and pull him away from what he felt, I only listened and allowed my silence to do the healing.., I allowed my warmth to speak what I couldn’t.., what could I say..? I only felt myself grow sad.., there was a certain amount of sadness that this court seemed to attract…, I was a lost soul myself.., but I knew that Jesus healed.., you just had a sense for these things that was more than reason oriented.., I understood his moral reality.., He was married.., had kids in school and was a normal functioning member of society now.., but he would forever remember the lost chance.., and what could you do about it in this wild jungle..? Love more deeply..? Take more chances..? Marry for love..? I didn’t have a clue.., all I knew was that life moved on.., I had more souls to meet and more stories to glean. But what I encounter and see will always bleed within me.

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Day 2 of the Bangalore trip – Signs of growth

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The College felt closed in my spirit.., The buildings seem too near in my spirit although outwardly they present a refreshing sight..United Theological college, Miller’s road … I stare out of the window of the room that we are at the moment lodging in. We have rented out three rooms and everybody seems to be responding to the experience in their own unique way.., My father eager to indulge the ambiance, calm and serenity felt the comfy cushion of his bed..but his mind was plotting relaxing work that could offer meaning, connectivity and relational connect to his path, he was someone who wanted a deeper meaning, a fuller overview of meaningful life engagements and always wished to engage in his passion for work, meaningful rest and faith. I wondered if I would have any supernatural experience on this trip, I saw the outline of an Angel’s wings in a stuffy room at an inn in Yercaud.., I saw a demonic spirit approach me in an invisible manner on a trip to Coorg…, as though to verify my sightings that both excited and confused me in the same degree the Lord revealed details of disturbing things about the places that we stayed in both to my mother and father in dreams. I was a young believer then.., not yet a warrior for the Lord.., but quite discerning of the world of the spirit that I could never escape no matter how hard I tried, but could also not fathom, perceive or discern to a level of clarity that could possibly speak of a gift or a calling in that area.

My sister and my cousin sister excitedly conversed in humorous lingo, constantly reverting to funny stories that they had always wanted to explore in another person’s presence.., my younger cousin sister will no doubt enjoy the company of my sister, My sister will no doubt feel the measure of her own self worth and proceed to grow in leaps and bounds into the womanhood that awaits her with dire expectations.. My mother checks her purse, sets her bags to the side, cleans the room and counsels my aunt in the same breath..My Aunt, a teacher has called her students and is chatting away to them about the nature of the trip thus far reciting the funny portions, explaining her shopping to do list and her plans.. I hear her asking them if they need something, My other aunt, my mother’s sister was a mixture of relief, nerves and worry.. She seems to immediately descend into a deep place of understanding and listened to my mother speak about Faith..I worry a lot like this aunt even though I rarely share what I feel to anybody. My Grandfather, a live 90 year old human experience of aging was excitedly moving about in a slow stroll, ever the Reverend.., he had stepped past the comfort zone of occupying one’s rooms and maybe settling in, and had instead crossed the invisible barrier of language and surface level non verbals and was mildly engaging the disinterested errand workers of the Ecumenical resource centre in gentleness and meekness… The Driver meanwhile gruff, and irate at not being included stormed away into the city just outside the gate of the college, where he would no doubt find the puff of a cigarette comforting and the plight of other people like him helpful. I feel sad about his plight, I remind myself to perhaps talk to him and ask him about his life at some point, I would have to pray since I also wished to evangelize to him in some degree. I wanted to break the boundaries that existed between the people who lived here. I was as usual reminded of the spiritual atmosphere of the place, and given a glimpse of the Christ’s depth here.., so many times work seemed to outweigh Christ driven efforts.

I hear the echo of familiar emotion in conversations in my mother tongue that seems to originate in rooms that are adjacent to mine from partially closed doors, but I find no comfort in them.. I can only feel a struggle to certain aesthetic sensations that are based more on dislike than anything else.., I seem to react to the thin paint of the walls that seem too light on the walls in the second floor, to the depressing tile colors of the floor in my room, to the newness of people who seem many echelons above me in personal style, intellect, ambition, power, assertiveness and cultural heritage.. I worried about the nasty condescension that the occupants of this city would throw my way when they would find out who I was.., I disliked weaknesses, vulnerability, helplessness etc… But it feels like Christ does His best work in such mock worthy human disappointments…But I find myself avoiding all such sensations, I am taking in too many things at once.., absorbing too many feels at the same time… I remember the low effort reception lady whose language seemed curt, disinterested and condescending even though she had a welcoming smile on her face.. Added to the fact that she was a Kannada lady poured more confusion to the raging inner fire.. I find myself feeling the contrast of the hip urban foody places where young people seemed to be assertive at and the appearance of the railway stations that felt inwardly ugly, filthy and putrid .., I try to focus on the American architecture, outer appearance that seems to soothe.., to the symbol of the Cross on transparent glass sliders that reaches deep into places in my human flesh that my mind can never ever comprehend.. To the presence of a Chapel and its silent call and cry.. to the gentle waving trees always friendly, welcoming and shy, to the still emptiness of a conference room where the wind seems to blow into.., to the sight of an eagle swooping in and picking up a twisted twig.., to the sound of my voice, to the wise acceptance of my father.., to his inner strength that knew the wrestle with the known, the unknown, the unpleasant, the unseen and the deliberately wicked. I needed to connect with the word of God soon, I was slowly and quite clearly losing my way both within me and outwardly in the outer world.

But as spiritually connected as I am..I wanted to test the waters, I refused to encounter a place with tools of non engagement.. I was not going to lose myself into my family who were with me, talk energetically with them and perhaps feed of their contentment.., I certainly was not going to command and exert my presence and escape the feeling of sinking tragedy of feeling like an alien.., I was not going to befriend people with charm and etiquette and escape the depressing sense of feeling incapable of making social adjustments.., I was going to test what a place could do to me if I encountered it as it was and not how people took it to be. I knew that part of the reason that I was feeling this way was because the spiritual man is never at peace with the wicked world and its glamorous banality. But I wish I had a proper schema to encounter places, a clear cognitive framework full of psychological insights, explanations and interpretations.., A sort of assertive energy that takes control of one’s inner emotions as it feels a new destination but sadly I don’t.., it takes time for a place to acquaint itself into my heart, my eyes, my mind, my soul, my spirit and my inner world.. I am only conscious of my powerful emotions in the beginning and strive in desperation to see past the conflict.. I must tell you that travel for the sake of it does me no good, I am not a fan of shopping, tourism and eternal drives in a claustrophobia inducing van that bumps, derails and makes one feel deeply deeply uncomfortable, but I do seem to enjoy the experience these days thanks fully to the wondrous touch of my Savior.., there were times in the past when I would turn rather nasty and bitter since my folks could not perceive or understand why I was so rattled, irate and cranky in new places.

For someone who has seldom acquainted himself to the memories of places in Bangalore, each place feels like a disjointed vein leading to a place that appears like the memory of a man suffering from schizophrenia, for a brief second clarity beckons but the madness rushes forth like a torrid tide and he is consumed once more by his delusions, his insanity and his gravity.. I feel like the ground beneath me is spinning, and I am thrown into a daze. There is a railway station close by to the college, there is an overhead bridge and a tunnel below.., two roads run the distance into meters and meters of high priced apartments, shops, departmental stores, fancy high gated houses of the rich, the affluent and the powerful, the complexion of the people here is one of those unfamiliar things even though in my part of the world there are fair skinned people.., but the body language changes here.., the behavior here is not raw, gravity oriented and engaging.., it is composed, detached, expressive and oblivious of other people.. It is a dramatic thing to encounter and slightly triggers my fear of comprehending the nature of the individuals here.. Fair skinned individuals occupy the roads, the stores and the eat outs.. I feel embarrassed in their stare, I feel like an unwelcome visitor.. I remember the hundreds of encounters with people from other states in my own town, and I remember being rude, dismissive and often times too voyeuristic of their awkwardness in my turf.., I remember the fellas poking fun at it, I don’t laugh at other people’s pain.., but I remember not doing anything about it either which in my eyes made me guilty as a man of God.., I am a sensitive person and care deeply about people being treated better than I was treated.. but I remember the inner impulses towards the culturally displaced and visiting, and I have often times not been mindful of the situation and have shown my impatience and frustration.., I start a process of deep repentance immediately, I vowed to never take any opportunity for granted again, and vow to myself to extend beyond my own capabilities.. Reflecting Christ’s love, kindness, warmth and friendship to a deeply confused world was being reinforced through these encounters. I find myself sensing the amount of effort necessary to treat everybody like you treated yourself.., it was mind boggling, overwhelming and frankly speaking frightening.., where would I get the energy..? What if I was in a bad mood..? What if I could not undo certain missed opportunities..? This was the real world, and I wanted to really engage the cultures of the world and befriend souls for Jesus.., I had to really start going out more and perhaps reading up on the subject.. but the most important thing was that I needed to spend loads and loads of time with my Savior if such a thing were even remotely possible for someone who is as mellow, observant and quite non assertive as me. I knew that part of my inability to connect with people from other cultures was because they would often times be really unfriendly and I took that rather personally in the past.., I had to make an effort.., changes don’t come from wishful thinking.

I have not connected my inner spirit with God.., so predictably I stutter and stumble like a sailor on a rocking ship assailed by mighty hungry waves in a dark fathomless night…. The inner ocean is more terrifying since you drown in the power of painful emotions of fear, anguish and hopelessness unless it dips itself into the infinite ocean of God with all its wonderful depth and healing… I feel an increase in anger.., an increase in lust.., an increase in boredom.., an increase in doubt.. an increase in fear.. an increase in reactions to my environment, surroundings, places… a deeper inability to perceive people in patience, peace and compassion.. and an overall increase in a form of stimulation that blocks one’s connectivity to the Holy Spirit who seems more and more like an impossibility at the moment… How strange is faith..? Yet how easy it becomes for a believer of Christ when he kneels in utter humility and brokenness and seeks to honestly speak out his utter neglect of the Lord and also to agonize of how utterly hopeless life as a whole feels without Christ.

I must confess an increase in feelings that made me believe that I can exist without prayer and careful Bible meditations.., I must confess a certain amount of spiritual pride that had been developing over the fact that I was called and had managed to withstand the trials, pitfalls and discouragements that people who were called by the Lord often encountered.. I must confess pride over a lot of things in my life.., pride over becoming blessed, favored, being more spiritually aware, being able to work with my gifts.., not reaching out to a friend who I believed was too focused on his problems.., I have been harboring a lot of pride as of late.., and I knew that it was wrong, useless, meaningless and not worth my time.., I needed to really spend time with the Lord and work that out.., I knew who I was before I met Christ.., someone who struggled to live, exist and breathe.., I was someone who messed up people’s lives with impulsive decisions.., I was disobedient to my parents.., I was not worth their financial investments in terms of my early education.., I made dumb mistakes.., I hurt people purposefully.., I was blunt about other people’s mistakes.., I was a shy, introverted, restless person who suffered panic attacks and had numerous bouts with mighty fears.., I could go on and on…, I don’t forget what Christ saved me from.., if He had not intervened as I pondered my suicide, I would not be alive today.., I don’t forget the deep remorse that I always carried around me as a kid, I felt that the weight of my parents was on me and I struggled to conform to the systems, organizations and the responsible attachments that everybody seemed to handle with relative ease.. I felt different, odd, rejected, inferior often, lonely, alienated.., like I said.., I can’t forget what Christ saved me from.., I have learned to see myself for who He has made me become.., but I remember my past, my bouts with depression that often lasted for months on end.., my messes.., I was saved.., redeemed, forgiven of sins that people never forgot and cleaned most importantly. I live as a new man today.., I live as someone who has escaped the devil and Hell within inches.., I live as someone who is completely dependent on Christ for everything.., and I mean everything.

After becoming a believer and follower of Christ I have tangibly felt a decrease in my imagination and its activities, it no longer turns itself on at will, it feels more and more like something invisible now. Perhaps I am closer to my dreams that I really don’t need them anymore.. I remember when I was young.., my imagination could create stories that I would live in.., I had an intense imagination and always day dreamt about fame, about reaching my dreams of becoming an elite basketball talent, of becoming a world class cricket closer.., of love and the girl that I could never forget, of becoming an actor with an Oscar.., of becoming a rap star who would go on to make platinum albums that sold millions and whose lyrics was deep, soulful, poetic and complex.., of becoming a director who created movies that changed people’s lives.., of becoming an artist who painted art that defined a generation.., of becoming a writer who exceeded his own proteges, personal heroes and muses.., my imagination made uninterested infatuation worthy females into girlfriends that I had to save heroically from crazy exes, psychopaths and villains.., my imagination helped me live the dreams that I could never achieve.., my imagination helped me become sane in a world that was too real, too uncomfortable and too blunt about its unkindness. I still write the occasional story or three, or ten or twenty depending upon the time of the day.., I am too engaged now.., I have so many responsibilities now.., I have to spend time with my Lord.., with my dog.., with the gym.., with ministry mates.., with possible recruits and possible converts.., with numerous unopened books that I am just itching to read and ideas aplenty.., with strategies that I hope to turn into reality in my next step.., with my camera for my personal channel.., with the camera for the ministry that I help and the show that airs all across Vellore and its 20 lakh people.., I spend time with a small bunch that I am trying to gather together so that we can fellowship well and worship our Maker.., I write a lot these days.., but if I am honest I want to be known as a writer and not as someone who is a weekend warrior.., I want to write about my experiences.., about my trials, about the life incidents that have shaped me to become the person that I am today.., I want to write and explore other things as well.. Novels, characters.., I am just bursting with the energy that becomes sentences in pages.., God has been too good to me.., I can go on and on about how He has held on to me even as I struggled to hold on to Him.., my journey with Him has not always been pleasant.., I’ve had my fair share of screwups, messes and stupid, stupid mistakes.., but I repent, and start all over again.., I am reminded of my calling.., to serve.., and I don’t mind being a weak, messed up vessel that has been cleansed by an Almighty Savior. What is that they say.., when the going gets tough.., the tough get going. I have miles to go and loads of people to reach.., God speed ahead.

My beautiful, sweet mess – Short Poem

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How strange this desire to want, need, thirst for and crave someone…?
Tell me where can I take shelter from this obsessive pressure..?
I want to run away from this crazy heart that I possess,
Run like Joseph did from Potiphar’s wife.
Do you wanna know why..?

There is a reason I am pouring out my heart to you listener with a seeking heart,
because I am afraid for what it has done unto me in the past,
it has left marks and scars where formerly dreams used to hide.
My eyes, they don’t see colors anymore,
I am a man who now shuns his eyes.

I am afraid to desire her,
I know that I want her,
but you see, that is the problem.
I had convinced myself that I needn’t care.
I have come past ghouls and horrors that once tortured my soul.
Dreamer that I am, I suffered reality’s cruel strikes,
Demons played and wrecked a tremendous destruction upon my soul.
Dragging me even unto the gates of death.
But my curse seems to pull me into complicated situations that are full of
wreckage and mindless abandonment.

She has another,
Everything that I feel for her,
this intensity, this deep desire of my soul to possess her soul,
She feels for somebody else,
You know that I can’t bear a truth such as that,
How did I get myself into this mess..?
I am not going to psycho analyze every contact with her with my heart’s
detective lens, I know when somebody wants somebody else..,
I really really do.. It hurts like every ache in the universe
has decided to cry.

Why am I staying here, waiting in painful uncertain obliviousness..?
Why do I enjoy this stinging pain of yet another disaster..?
I believe that I enjoy being the martyr..,
I believe that I enjoy the chase, the challenge,
the thrill, and the exhilaration.
I know that I see myself as a hero in hiding, who will pounce upon whoever he believes in his heart is his princess..,
I wonder if I truly do need her..?

The Drifter and his unfinished love- Part One ( Short Story)

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“Moon river, wider than a mile
I’m crossin’ you in style some day
Old dream maker, you heartbreaker
Wherever you’re goin’, I’m goin’ your way
Two drifters, off to see the world
There’s such a lot of world to see
We’re after the same rainbow’s end, waitin’ ’round the bend
My huckleberry friend, Moon River, and me”
– Breakfast at Tiffany’s

They were meant to meet.., they really were. He was supposed to meet her at a railway station as he was about to give up his hopes of ever making it as a novelist of life as it expresses itself in a humid city by the sweaty sea that he had spent 8 years in, she was supposed to bump into him at the end of a bittersweet college love affair that had rapidly gone sour.

They were meant to be in each other’s way, their hearts were meant to impact, their eyes were to meet and defenses were to slide and blur, they had already met…, years before in another grand design of divine will…, She had been a young blogger, spunky, dreamy and creative who spent her time blogging about gardening and independent music bands… He was the artist slowly learning to expose his soul to an audience through disoriented prose and emotional poetry. She did not know what she wanted out of her life, it felt too confusing… India was full of uncertainty, bureaucracy and political maneuvering.., Her heart would need to be compressed into a social conformist label that would make her accessible to workplaces, colleges and friendships, where her soul could find a relatable way of appealing to other people and their interests…, She felt that he was just another boy that had appeared on her radar. He would leave and somebody else would turn up, she had enough time, Her Prince charming would be a whole lot more fun, attractive and dreamier than Dreamer boy.. Her candidate was going to take her all over the world…, He was going to be perfect in her Instagram pictures … and He was going to treat her like a princess… Sheesh she had time.., she was only 22 after all.

She saw the buzzing industrial brain of her college, she saw the hyper-emotional young adults blooming around, she saw the freedom, the life and assumed that real life had to contain all such emotions…, but she had a troubled heart deep inside too, something that nobody ever seemed to understand.., Growing up, she had been thrust into a foreign state, her native tongue which came from the southern parts of India brought interest from human sharks and bullies interested in the pain of others… They teased her and opened the door of inner insecurity. But she was a happy person, it came from her Father.. He had had a sunny disposition, a trait that he had passed on to his daughter… she overcame the lowly punks, and other academia oriented obstacles and shined as bright as a star atop a Christmas tree. She excelled in everything that she came across, her parents had taught her to love God and she clung to Him as He powered her through strife and turmoil.

She had been dismissive of him instantly. She had come across a few of his confessions, a few of his short stories.. They were combustible, spontaneous material written with a lot of soul, heart and power, they energized her and made her see him as someone that she could get along with. If she was honest to herself, she found his charm quite attractive. But she did not want to lose her control, she felt connected to herself by purposeful work , But she was used to making plans, and then allowing her plans to consume her which proceeded to bury her inside some rock solid shell, impervious of the outer world whose insides was full of intense work and purpose…. He on the other hand did not know what he was going to do with his gift.

She allowed defensive assumptions to offer herself clarity, these type of romeos were a dime a dozen, they were shady, cunning charming savants interested in the attainment of one thing, and one thing only. Sex!!

Her parents had raised her a lot better than that, she was not going to fall for his tricks, he could be Fyodor Dostoevsky with his thoughts, but she had the last word on everything.

But time and time again, he surprised her. He seemed very willing to be tremendously honest with her. He spoke to her about his own failed relationship, a nightmarish experience that had had him in a relationship with someone who was engaged to somebody else. She could not ever imagine herself doing something as stupid as that, but she appreciated his effort at remaining completely honest with her.., She got the feeling that he would be honest with just about every soul on this planet.., Good, greedy, cunning and wicked… She liked that about him, even though she dismissed everything else.

The person had been his friend, and had fallen for him, she had confessed it to him one night as he was telling her stories by watching the stars.., But immediately after doing so she wept bitterly as she spoke to him of her reality. Seeing her tears, his compassionate heart had moved him to tell her that she did not need to worry, He was in love with her too. Thus began a turmoil and strife filled affair where she took all his love, but remained steadfast in her decision to marry her fiance, which only broke the young dreamer’s heart of happy endings and problem solving. People chose gritty, dark solutions since they were all selfish for their wants, but rarely to the needs of others.

He also told her about how God had saved him from taking his own life at the guilt, shame and pain of it all. He was using this blog to share comforting words it seemed. He always spoke to her about his love for Jesus, His passion for sharing his testimony, His compassionate heart wanted to help the poor, the sick and the suffering. He was different, he was not interested in attracting her, he would rather not have her than do something completely dishonest and cunning in obtaining her… but she could see that he liked her. They were both from different worlds, he was born with his heart on the outside, her heart meanwhile was so far within that she had to search for it in colors, in the strangely exhilarating sequences of movie frames overlooking room windows, and in accidents.

Destiny was drawing them both closer and closer.., but strangely they were being pulled apart by their own indecisive minds, full of directions that were not meant for their destiny. She wanted the comfort and the sophistication of Europe, America and France which is technically in Europe. He wanted to make everybody happy, he enjoyed making people smile, he enjoyed bringing joy to broken hearts and lost souls.., He was a Healer.., a rare commodity in a world as dense and artificial as this.

Now the Dreamer… He was a drifter…, a lost soul.., a dreamer stuck in the real world.. A mermaid who belonged in the underwater world of creativity, dreams, sighs, fancies, visions and intuition… His family were real good to him. They really were, but they never could see into his deep deep heart, he seemed to belong in another world,His inner world was too beautiful for the world to see much less comprehend… He was a rare flower, blooming far away from human eyes. His ways despite knowing the weight of this world’s smears seemed pure and innocent.., His eyes watched the skies finding soulful power from taking in Royal Eagles circling invisible atmospheric turfs miles away from the ground…, His heart absorbed each sight of the world with intense emotion and despair… he always saw with aching eyes and a deeply hurt soul… He desired to see new things but he was weighed heavily with the burden of what was never going to change…He knew things that others could not see.., He understood what pain, poverty, sin and emptiness meant…, He felt the deep lifeless void arouse unbearable questions that arose like ghoulish specters He sensed hurt below endless rows of lifeless homes.. He sensed the overwhelming complexity beneath each human life just buzzing with energy streaming within endless channels of thought, emotion and action… He had too big a heart for a world as cold as this… For a world so insensitive to sight, touch and feel…. But for all his gifts that he so severely despised as empty smoke, he longed for a heart that was fierce yet kind in that intoxicating drop of femininity that only his dreamer heart could concoct and desire. He longed each day since his heart was made to express God’s love in it’s purest form, he longed more and more each day for someone who would end his romantic drought once and for all.

He did not know where he was going or know what he was going to be, he only knew that he wished to serve his God… to him life was a mystery… he rarely ever saw himself, his soul was constructed in such a manner as to build complex mansions and realms based on the purely depleting sights of utter, carnal, earthly, gravity bound banality … His heart belonged to the outer world, to the world that his heart bled as it entered bit by bit, inch by inch, mile by mile, street by street into inner worlds of woods that were mystic symbols lost in time, into dense forests that were metaphors and soulful signs and into night skies full of shivering, diamond stars that were each nightly dreams. The more the outer world invaded his rich, inner world.., The more he suffered… The more intense was his pain. He longed more and more each day for Heaven.. But he saw his flesh struggling with sinful traps that he had allowed out of errors controlling him more and more. He did not know how long he could survive this world and it’s inability to connect to him and his lonesome heart.

His heart felt more and more pained as he neared the end of his single life. He was 27 years old, pressures were turning up by the dozen.. Families took on an interest when the drifter drifted about in-between divine service and evangelism… He had lost all hope. He had met his dream girl through his words, but it had not been enough…she was a butterfly who flitted about oblivious to his fiery inner heart.., she had her own fierce heart and will. He had to accept the inevitable and appreciate the turbulence that heartbreak often bought, he prayed often about it wondering if she was his to desire… He had not gained certainty through all the years of his life, all he had gained was loss, pain and hopelessness. But the more he saw his life, the more it felt like he was being separated from something that was meant to come towards him. His meeting had been brief, but had left an indelible mark… a mark that had become dreams.. fanciful longings and wishful thinking. He could not think of anybody else.. But he feared offending His Lord and God.., Was he doing the right thing..?

She was a rock solid lighthouse on the other hand. But she was tired of putting up a brave front on the outside whilst her doubts were growing more and more tense each day, why did she feel compelled to visit Madras over and over …? Why did her life with all its happiness still feel empty…? Incomplete..? Dissatisfying…?

Love ( My broken pieces are longing for yours)- A poem

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Not everything is about beauty son,
Beauty is a powerful drug that blinds,
the deeper things lie far from it’s intoxicating surface,
Love is far away from an outer, immediate reachable thing,
perhaps it is far more than mere attraction,
far deeper than emotions and feelings,
perhaps that is why I fall for things that I can never
have, perhaps that is why I am fooled into things that
are not meant to be.

I did the strangest odd imaginative activities when I was young,
I dreamt about girls that I fell in love with.
I lived through intense feelings that created, beautiful, restless,
unfulfilled dreams of them in my heart.
I also imagined myself people dancing to my favorite beats,
I was grooving along with them too.

But I just stumbled across the strangest realization yesterday,
Hear me out now.
For years I have been ruled by attraction,
I thought about the electricity igniting smiles of my overpowering infatuations,
I have thought about the way I felt when I saw her for the first time,
about the feel of lips, I drowned in the longing to feel her closer to me.
Thoughts of her were my oxygen,
but for the first time yesterday I thought about my future soul’s half without any physical longing, without the confusing emotion of romance longing merely for what inspires it’s dreams.
I wonder if I am really falling in love, or merely loving what my eyes and heart finds
overwhelming and deep.
I do love, loving is what I have been longing for … Longing past the swelling tides of the long harsh years of utter loneliness, Loving is what I want.., but I wonder if love is more than making myself feel better, I wonder if love is more than what I feel would unite my soul with her’s together and tether me to a pole so that I will not separate myself from the entire universe of alienating powers and tendencies,
I choose so very badly.., I choose people with fear, with insecurity and with a deep pain and hidden emotional obliviousness.
I want to wake myself now.., Reality is far better than dreams,
I am a dreamer.., yes the world is full of unimaginable horrors which torment and oppress my sensitive soul every second of every day…,
but I am no longer giving myself up to meaningless yearnings, longings and eternal pining away for blissfully happy damsels deeply in love with themselves and their perfect little boy toys,
I am a man, a dreamer, a poet, a rebel, a writer, a healer and an artist,
I long and call for a love to stay,
to nourish my desperate loneliness,
to help me worship my Maker with a heart so flawed yet so filling and willing to unite, and yet connect as one.
I long for reality’s princess…, the one with a headstrong rebelliousness,
the one with the independent spirit,
the one who would cry to lose me even if she is the strongest woman in the world..,
I’d like more of that, and less of drama creating daddy’s princesses,
I’m sick of you all, please leave my world alone,
I wish to be alive and love my rightful queen.

For the Love of Poetry – A Poem

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I think that the greatest quality of poetry
is in the way that it is calming and quite reassuring.
You don’t have to understand what it speaks,
it needs not your intellect or
, only your participation and meditative en-trance.
It is a deep cavern of humanity’s deepest emotions,
a silent Native american flute of our Universal spirit’s intuition,
The language despite it’s symmetry is fluid and flows like a stream
robed in the midday sun’s golden mysticism,
Poetry reminds us that we are eternal mysteries trapped
between the impermanent,
Poetry reminds us that we are spiritual wanderers struggling
with our fallen, fractured flesh,
Poetry is a glimpse into the heart of a God whose nature is
best expressed in the words’ His ways are higher than our ways’.
Poetry helps me know and inform my passion for something more than
mere fables and imaginative creation,
Poetry helps put words for my eternal passion, zeal and heart for
my Lord… I melt into emotions like waves, I become the wind and
cascade past lost souls trapped in a daze, I cry out with flaming
light and light hopeless hearts with love’s fierce force,
Poetry helps me search the eternal mystery of Heaven, I plunge
into the vast shores of God’s presence..,
What is infinity..?
What is love offered from a being with no blemishes..? No faults and zero limitations..?
My language seems feeble and indigenous to my brain’s familiar themes,
So I struggle to comprehend such a Savior,
I can’t express the greatness of a God whose love is offered to me in
drops and touches.., in peace and gentleness, in the incredible redeeming
healing offered by His grace..,
I can’t understand Perfection enjoying imperfection,
but I can understand who I am in His matchless infinitesimal presence.
I think that He is writing Poems using the emptiness of my soul,
Oh Great love, how I need You in everything, for You complete me in my helplessness,
In my most difficult trials you satisfy even when I feel that you can’t,
You have no measure to which men can claim an understanding of you even when You open yourself up for all.
Oh great Poet and Father of Lights, Oh Great Presence fill our parched human hearts abused by our own hands and hearts, Teach us to enter into You so that we may be made and crafted into something whole and full.

Attraction – Short Story

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” I just find myself wildly attracted to you…, I just keep thinking about you all the time.., like all day all day.. Kanyeezy style.” I typed even as I felt the familiar rush … She was quite potent.

“What…? C’mon man… are you serious…? I knew that this would happen.” She typed like she was standing right before me but was not listening to me even as I poured out my soul.

” I don’t even know you man.., How can you say something like that to a complete stranger…?” She wrote like she was writing a Toni Morrison novel filled with symbolic, cultural drama.

I felt stung…, hurt…, has it ever occurred to you that my pain is better expressed as quotes, letters and stories…? ( Monologue to myself)

‘ Look, I am just being real.. I don’t know how to say what I am about to say without making it sound like one tremendous cliche’. I know that what I feel is totally normal and quite common, but my heart feels something whenever it rebelliously escapes my struggling restraint and self control and just wanders into you… And believe me there is no greater heartbreak dealer than myself, i’m quite the expert at bearing the intense broken pieces of my heart just longing for you with torturous attempts even as it struggles to confront the larger reality…, I am not expecting anything from you.., as a matter of fact I want to kill this within myself…, because I know that your heart is elsewhere.., and believe me I don’t want to be caught up in one of those awkward one sided infatuations that will just keep killing you day by day.., I know that you are way over my league…and I know that I am not what you dreamt about when you were dreaming for your prince charming… I am the complete opposite of what you actually want… I am a dreamer.., I am shy.. awkward…alienating and a lover of solitude… I am a loner.., I am not exactly relationship material…, I know that you won’t care to know about all of my personal feelings…, I probably sound like a creep.. But I am just being real… You’re just a chance that I take to keep on dreaming baby…It aint’ you.. it’s all me..so keep doing your thing.. living your life.. being that irresistible ray of bouncing sunshine that I desperately want but can’t ever have…’I wrote to her.

‘ Look man…, I hate to state the obvious but i’m just not comfortable with what you’re saying.’ She replied back as though I had not just bared my soul and removed all of my defenses and was now standing naked and vulnerable before her awaiting her stern, indifferent voice.

‘ Mhmm, I get it…, ha ha ha … Listen, like you don’t need to cut me off or anything okay…I get it.., you have to act rude and dispose me off like I am someone who has become an obstruction.. I am probably taking on the form of people who have incited irritation and reckless annoyance in you in the past.. Some lousy desk job clerk who made you feel like you were once again back in school against the more popular kids who seemed worlds apart and never for once acknowledged you or even made you feel special about yourself…, or it might have been some local perv who kept staring at you when you were on the metro train… Making you feel weird, fearful and horrible inside… In all honesty you will probably be more angry with me than with all these other varieties of scum…, because you know that I am not what you want.., and you will feel nothing while I will feel everything that you don’t feel. I will view your inability to feel nothing towards me with the greatest regret, it will keep killing me because I won’t be able to handle the fact that I am not able to give you what you need…, a year from now.. I would still be consumed by the fact that you were nothing apart from an infatuation…, you won’t see things about me that I would definitely want you to see…, I have this tendency to fall hard for things, for people that I can never have…, So I guess this is not even about you.. but all about me…, just longing eternally for dreams that in reality are wasting the best parts of me… But I am a bird.., I see too much to believe in.., You can’t fault me.., I am a dreamer, I will only reach for the stars and for what I see can fill me.’

‘ Listen Joe.., don’t do this…, you are making me feel all bad now…, first of , we are miles apart…, I prefer him okay.., I love him completely…, He completes me…, I can’t stay a day without thinking about him…, He is constantly on my mind… He wants to introduce me to his parents the next time they are here , The thing that I love the most about him is his heart…, He texts me throughout the day and we talk about everything and anything.., I can see my future with him.. my life makes more sense with him..,

‘ Mhmm.. I can understand… whatever I feel for you.. You feel for him..except in your case it’s mutual…, and don’t for a minute think that I can’t sense how organized and calculated you were when you bagged him. I mean for real…? Is that love …? A series of calculations..? Requirements…? Are your feelings just turning up a little bit too much…? What’s God to a non-believer… who don’t believe in anything..? That’s you right there honey bun..!

‘ Now there you go quoting Kanye again…, and I am not calculated by the way…, just because I don’t feel something for you does not in any way make what I feel fake.., stop calling me babe and honey.., stop it please…, it’s a little too much.’

” Oh yeah, and just how did you fall for this guy…? I asked bitterly, ‘ I was the one who saw you first, I just didn’t say it out loud because I knew that you were way too good for me, I knew that you were way over my league and I also knew that I wouldn’t even be acknowledged and experienced by you…!, and then some punk who you just felt for a second becomes your Mister forever and the perfect Christian hunkalicious beau just perfect for the Post Wedding album just because he asked you out…? Is this for the fulfillment of your day dreams…? And for a great start in life….? Just what is this love…? Huh…? Falling for perfect, unbroken people with no darkness and scars…? Are you even sure that he even needs love..? This romantic love seems selfish doesn’t it..? Designed too much for one’s own self esteem and not for someone who truly desperately needs and wants it right…? I don’t know if he needs you in the same way that I do.., He seems way too perfect…, Too good to sound true.., I want you for more than your looks okay..? I love your heart… your soul… I will always make you feel loved…, I may not have much and believe me that will definitely turn you away from me…, but I am more than my circumstances.., and just when is love supposed to be about material prosperity and success…? Isn’t it supposed to transcend and overcome all such impermanent things..?”

‘ You know how I know that I really really feel something for you… ?’ I typed to her.

” Please enlighten me Mister Philosopher” she quipped with a caustic text just ripe with indignance. She was probably fuming by now, She was cute when she became indignant.., My sweet perfect muse, my sweet addiction… my paramore.., my light, my hold and hand that lifts me up from the dark. My dream that gives life to my heart and my soul… the day dream that will fizzle, the infatuation whose existence is taking it’s final few breaths…, the last dream before the maiden from realityville

” This pain.., This intense pain in which is the essence of my human misery… this pain of being stupidly, impulsively wrong… of wasting my love on the wrong person…, or rather expressing it’s intensity, it’s purity and it’s innocence to someone uncapable feeling it’s beauty and not open to feel …. you know the last person who told me that she loved me left me with blood stains on the floor.., even as I lay bleeding…, all that she wanted to do was do what was right for her… Funny how the rules keep changing when we want something eh…? We are more than willing to ease up if we can get a package deal right..? Like great family background.., great looks.., Oh you love him for his faith…? Right…, I’m sure that your attraction has little do with his faith right..? I’m sure He will automatically become the angel that fell from heaven.., or the only one in a billion who just saw you when the rest didn’t right..? Baby I ball so hard that I ain’t even supposed to be here..tick tock”

” What’s with the tick tock dude…?” She asked in what seemed like the crunching of cereals even as the radio demonstrated a never fading voice of static and ill electric snickers.

” You are now watching the throne, Don’t let me get into my zone,
The stars are in the building.., their hands are into the ceiling, I know that I am going to kill it,
Don’t let me into my zone…?” …..Kanye West feat Jay- Z’s Ni** in Paris…?” I asked her in mock horror.” Plus my time with you is limited right…?” I typed

” Tell me, Tell me… Is it his youthful exuberance..? Shall I induct him into the hall of fame as the only star that stirred up all your feminine flames…? He must be an asteroid about to impact your galaxy’s blueprint..? I don’t care what metaphoric role that you have created for this krypton of my soul.., I don’t care.., I really really don’t… But like I said.., I am an invisible man … My honesty is really brutal…, I am a doodler of unresolved, unsymmetrical poems.., an artist of epic emotional short stories…, What do I gotta do to get through to you..? I am an elevator between your soul and mine. Please understand your discrimination.., You are discriminating against me by not making your mind about me.., I know that you all spend enough time thinking and analyzing every tiny little detail. But uh oh.., have I forgotten my place and become an assassin and an indecent, hulking piece of rock..? He is probably in your dreams.. in the songs that you listen to or pick… or in the movies that remind you of yourself. Pardon me I am really just being ironic.” I typed without thought.

” Joe…, I really like you .. okay…? I do.., I just owe it to myself to see where this leads.., I am not one to give up on something that I started alright..? And it’s not like we are perfect.., we are still trying to figure stuff out…” She typed even as her carefully guarded secrets spilled out into the open.

” I am not afraid…, I am not alone…, I can get through whatever ruin you bring with your rejection…, I don’t give a damn about what you think.. I am doing this for me.., I am tearing down all your denials and creating a road past you.., staring today.., I am breaking out of my cage and facing my demons.. I am so fed up of just being addicted to you when you don’t even care about what happens to me.., but I get it.., it’s rude to ask all of this from someone who feels nothing for me.. Nothing… get it.. NOTHING.. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING…! I am with myself for better or worse, You deserve a chance at happiness I guess…, Everybody has got a price…, I am leaving you because you know only to treat me with indifference and a lack of emotion, when all I want from you are kisses, endless conversations and endless hours. So Goodbye dear soul whom I loved as my own. Until our paths collide.” I typed as I prepared my heart for the plunge into the nightmarish world of pain and insomnia.

” Don’t do this…, I need you too.., Why can’t we be friends…? ” She typed to a dead space of online paper.