I think I’ve seen the place where the clouds are made,
I think I’ve seen how the elves make the snow rain,
I think I’ve seen the place where the stars take their shape.

I’ve been nearby yet never fully made my escape and I’ve heard the faint whispers of those who’re working there for ages.

I’ve seen the swirling smoke rise high up into the night sky,
I’ve seen the moon get shrouded and the Earth preparing to stand by.
I’ve felt the lights fade away and the cascades of my imagination illuminate slowly,
I’ve always wondered if the world was just a minor gateway or is it possible that we’re all pantheistic?
My psychedelia seems to have taken over me and now I can say this surely..

Yes, I’ve seen the place where the clouds are made,
I’ve seen how the elves make the snow rain,
I’ve seen the place where the stars take their shape.

© theblackcurse

Artist ~ Sakshi Jajodia


Quote Unquote ~ Day 3

So this is the final day of the Quotes challenge for which I was nominated by @therendezvousclub. I thank you again for this.

I nominate @sanaa001

This is a Hindi quote written in English. Hopefully you’ll be able to relate to it and like it.

Here it goes..

The English translation would read something like this :-

Does that heart of yours beat in the same manner for him when your eyes meet? Do your lips quiver the same way when you take his name?

Will you destroy him in the same fashion as you once had ruined me? Will he be able to sacrifice himself for you like I had once done so easily?

Will he be able to become yours like I had once been?

Quote Unquote ~ Day 1

When I’m with you; I’m lost in your eyes.

When I’m not; I’m lost in your thoughts!

Hey everyone, I was nominated for the 3 Days Quotes Challenge by @therendevouzclub and I thank her for this opportunity to take part in this challenge.

The rules are simple:

  1. Thank the person who nominated you.

  2. Write one quote each day for 3 days.

  3. Nominate another blogger each day.

Today I nominate @nomadickahanis

Unposted Letters

Don’t cry for your love, cry tears of Joy.

We are never really alone. We are never really not alone. Are we? We are never really ourselves. We are never really comfortable being our true selves. We are always thinking what the world shall think when/if they see us in our real forms.
Have you ever felt a restlessness to express yourself to someone? Have you ever felt a sense of relief when you have seen someone? Have you ever stared at someone so hard that your eyes have read every intricate details on their face? That your mind has them etched inside the canvas of its palace? Have you seen someone in such a pious way that even Beelzebub himself with all His tricks couldn’t have made you believe that they were wrong? Have you loved anyone so much that you felt that you don’t need to love yourself anymore?
Have you ever hurt the people who did everything they could possibly do for you and yet break them down so bad that every time you saw their smile you felt how broken it was and all you could do was enter the bathroom and lock yourself and let your eyes bleed?

You have loved. You have lost. You have moved on. Made peace.
Is it necessary for everyone to be able to do that?
Is it possible for someone to forget that one person who did everything right and then undo all of them?
How do you recover from That?
You say to your stupid organ that beats that it is a farce. It is a mask to hide us from the cruelty within.
For the most civilised people would go to the depths of Hell to make sure they have their own brands of Heaven. The rant is about to get over or maybe begin again!

I’m restless. In my head. I’m not right. I’m a mess. I take pride in being so.

In a world full of sane murderers; I’m an insane angel with the devil’s horns over my head.

And then I hear her, a devil in her own right but the one with those angels’ eyes that Coldplay sang about. Her voice is so fragile that you almost hear her broken self through it. A broken soul masking it by a charade of false happiness sprinkled over by love. A love that’s so pious for her yet her eyes meet mine and in a brief moment I see us; in a place where she’s looking at me and only me.
The recess bell rings and she’s gone. I follow her. We meet. We speak. We smile. My smile is wider than ever.

“Why me?”, the age old question.

Honestly? It is because I can see you. The real you and instead of running I’d rather wait to see where we go. Where you take me. A place where I see you like no one else has ever seen you. And where you strip me of my ornaments to see the scars I wear.
Some visible; some still fresh. Some simply there only for me to feel.

The answer remains inside; forming yet another wound. I say nothing and Silence has always been my doom.

She came. She saw. She left.

She came back. She saw. She stayed. She left.

Things change after 2 out of 3 falls right? The right and the wrong are submerged. The feelings are iterated and reiterated to a point where we are clueless about what happened. You don’t know what happened inside. Not sure whether it was a wicked game or just a foolish mistake.
And yet you stand.
And she’s back again.
And this time I see her again. I see those eyes again. Regret filled and upset. I see the words weaving out of those lips; apologising and justifying her course of action. I see that black dot on the upper lip.

“Why me?”, she asks again.

‘Because you see me in all my glory and gore. You make sense of this war waging within. You see me but you never judge me for who I am. You see me just the way I see you.
And I feel like this seeing makes sense.’

You were my beacon of salvation and I was your Starlight.

~ the black curse via seeing you see me

Existential crisis

Am I a word? Am I a feeling?
Am I a sunset dipped into vermillion?
Am I the wind? Am I the light?
Am I the one you can never fight?
Am I a sinner? Am I a saint?
Am I just a big nobody taking up quite a lot of space?

Am I a bird? Or am I the mighty sky?
Or am I an intricate droplet forming a magnanimous cloud somewhere quite high?
Am I the prodigal Son? Or am I just another Child?
Am I the Creator of this multiverse and all of humankind?

Am I gravity? Or am I the fabled high?
Am I a Hindu, Muslim, Sikh?
Or am I just another name?
Am I the upholder of religion? The cause of worldwide disdain?

Am I the howl of a lone wolf? Or the harrowing branches of a dilapidated house in the woods?
Am I the notes of the ballads from the countryside tunes?
Or am I the symphonic chirping of the birds during a sultry afternoon?
Am I the dead of a quiet night? Or am I a Monday morning shining bright?

Do I believe that I’m Nothing when actually I’m Everything instead?
Am I only these Questions? Or will I find the Answers somewhere ahead?

Am I the mighty Human or just another vessel of Nature instead?

~ the black curse via my identity

Someday I’ll Fly

Life in the city is quite intriguing; days spent working and creating a livelihood whilst the nights caress the wounds that we suffer along the way. There are sunlit afternoons awaiting the mushy evenings and forlorn nights awaiting the break of a new dawn. A sense of purpose in every soul present here. A sense of utmost regret forming an outer layer.

Life goes about at its own pace here. Not abiding by wants and wishes but by needs and ambitions. A race to see who wins but the finish line stretches further everytime someone is about to cross it!

I hope you visit this place someday and get to this exact point on the edge of this mountain from where you can hear the Teesta flow and see the sun grow bigger and bigger before finally bidding adieu.’

A simple and poignant expression yet so heartbreakingly beautiful. A soul that is trapped in this metallic jungle is being lured to think of that holy day when he can break free from the shackles of this daily meaninglessness.

A soul that is standing beyond the mountains and experiencing the sun going down in all of it’s undying glory. She calls out to the one within me, the one she can see. The one she knows exists inside the bodily armour. The one she knows he hides from this everyday torture.

She knows that one day, the one within will surely find his way out of this mess. She knows that one day; someday he’ll fly out there beyond the point of humanly interactions and meet her there once again. She knows that he shall see the hues on the sky and the fleeting clouds that surround the mighty mountains. She knows the poem shall make sense for the last stanza is yet to be written. She knows that the heartfelt emotions with unlit passion will light up the embers of the forgotten past and she knows that this time it shall all last.

She knows that someday the wings will reappear and he shall be free from nothingness forevermore.

the black curse via escaping nothingness

Fate and Destiny – Agents of Chance and Disdain

Living our meandering existences everyday,

Hustling and hassling through the problems and the promises.

Oh! so many thoughts floating inside our head,

Not one visible chain of thought which might provide some kind of solace.

Living everyday like it is just another day,

Tired of just breathing through an infinite loop of an illusion called Time somewhere in space.

And then one day you meet the One, the one about whom you’ve faintly dreamt.

In crowded buses and air conditioned metros,

They flash by like the red and yellow traffic signals.

Amidst classes and while walking on the roads along with the masses,

They brush against us in plain sight and we walk by like nothing has happened.

Words flowing like caramel and a demeanour like that of a nightingale,

The sweetness and kindness makes you feel fine after a numbing day.

You wish to have met, long before rushing through this game of charades.

But alas; Fate and Destiny are but no one’s slave.

Chanced encounters and dubious conversations,

Unafraid qualms and nervous annotations,

Quivering hands typing a steady flow of emotions,

All the possible outcomes keep rotating around the axis of my imagination.

”Your words are like poetry” she said.

Now I’m a bad poet but I felt like some sort of a King instead.

Sometimes people come only to show us that they aren’t meant to stay,

Sometimes you may find a small infinity enclosed inside a random comment box somewhere.

Life is funny, life is strange,

It gives us hope and then there’s nothing lying ahead.

A silly soul typing out his stupid thought processes,

Hoping that the mystery of the enigmatic woman shall finally end someday.

~ the black curse via chanced encounters and forgotten conversations

Cotton showers

Sunshines and sunsets
Give rise to poets.
The wilderness ahead,
Chosen by a few instead.

A lonely road awaits
A group of good old mates.
Daydreaming of fairies and ghosts,
I feel like I could say loads.

Winds of change gushing away
The leaves scatter and so do the hay.
The voices hush, a moment’s rush
For eternal beauty rolls down the way.

Country roads and city plates,
Muddy boots and broken gates.
Tiptoeing alongside the footsteps
Urging us to look down and see nature play.

White balls of peace floating through space,
Trampled cruelly by humans running the rat race.
Mountains and plateaus
Echoing honest virtues.
The sky feels blue;
Beauty needs an eye that is always true.

Sunshines and sunsets
A glass of exotic champagne,
Goodbyes drenched in familiar hues and words that were left unsaid.

© the black curse

12 Years

If you ever find an animal that wants your Love; give it! And you’ll be amazed by how much you get back.

So, the story ends today? Such a vicious and violent ending to a life of twelve years. Such an ending to begin a day with. You are gone now. Gone with the wind. Gone like the car that did this to you. You’ve been taken away from us, just like your sister was, exactly this same time last year.

It hurts to see you lying there, not moving. It hurts to see your blood spilled all around the road. It hurts to see that I belong to this species and not yours. It hurts to see the woman who took care of you for the last twelve years, cry and shout out to almost anybody who cared to listen. It hurts that out of all the people in the lane that you guarded day in and day out; only as many as three came down to say farewell.

“Such a peculiar name!” they used to say. Ghushan. A name that is synonymous to our household. A name that everyone around us knows by heart. A name that I shall never forget. Is it always the same? After twelve long years; is this necessary? A life lived receiving and giving so much love. Ever heard a dog follow her master into a crowded bank? Ever heard a dog follow her master’s son up to his tuition teacher’s terrace? Just to make sure that they’re fine? Most probably; No!

I grew up with you Sister. I grew up different than most other children. I grew up with two street dogs. No exquisite breed. No friends. No one but these two ‘animals’ who made me understand what Life and Love is. My very childhood stubbed out in two years during the month of my birth. I remember how much you loved me Ghushan, I knew it everytime I saw those two beautiful eyes of yours. I remember those long, sultry afternoons of us sitting on the front stairs and seeing Time pass us by. How we used to play and during one such evening how I tripped over you and fell on your torso and everyone around feared that the “street dog” would bite and all you did was look back at me with astonished eyes and wagged your tail as always. I longed to see you after a day’s wait in school. I loved to see that glazing red fur and a wagging tail running up and down every car that tried to pass in a hurry through our small forgotten lane. And in the end; such a car took you away from us! Fair right?

I know you cannot hear me. I know you cannot see these words. I know you cannot come back to me as Ghushan but I do know that someday, somehow, somewhere we’ll meet again my beloved sister. May your Soul find peace in contrast to the way you met your end. It is going to be a long wait till I see you again; but when we meet, come running towards me like the dog that taught me how to love dogs. The dog that helped me grow up as a human. The dog who saw me change throughout the twelve years but never for once did you complain or stop loving me. Keep barking! Keep wagging your tail! To the most aristocrat street dog that ever lived! Thank you!

I hope you find Saadhu. Forgive me, for it is a shame to exist as a human. Forgive me, for I couldn’t save you. Forgive me, Sister. Adieu, friend. Rest in peace.