Digne de votre amour

To be continued from Digne Indigne

But it is about time I try to change myself and be worthy.

Worthy enough to call you my friend.
Worthy enough to hold your hands when the crowd is creating a mess.
Worthy enough to take your name through these cursed lips.
Worthy enough to wipe those unholy tears off of your rosy cheeks!
Worthy enough to make love to you in this summer heat.
Worthy enough to call you my best friend and be so indeed!
Worthy enough to make you my wife one day.
Worthy enough to father our child one day.
Worthy enough to grow old with you and die in your arms one day.

I am worthy of your love, mio amore. This is meant to be. There is no stopping this. No if’s, but’s or maybe’s. You and I will make it till the end and beyond.

I apologise for everything that I did. Wish I could change them back. But I cannot. What I can; I am.

P.S. the title is in French. Translate it.

©aritraMickeychakraborty

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Unposted Letters to her

I don’t know if I should start the letter by addressing you in a loving manner because of where we stand today. I never thought we’d fall down this far into the pit that getting out and starting afresh would become impossible. But then I believed we could and told you too!
And then the rant began when I questioned my disgusting self.

Why would you believe me? Have I ever given you any reason to? No! Quite the contrary. I’ve given you nothing but pain, tears, turmoils and struggles. How can I expect to heal you now?
I was so stupid to think that it would be easy. So idiotic to think I could do it. I’ve never been able to mend anything. How’s this any different? How can I fix you when all I can do is break people? Funny right? How a broken person can break so many more down? I suppose a shard of glass still cuts deep into the skin of the innocent as much as a knife does.

Did I really take the decision? To leave?
Was it so easy to believe that I’d leave? Yet again?
Was it so hard to trust me one more time, my friend?

Are the scars so deep that I could never even reach them?
Did I fill you up with so much negativity?
That you could see nothing instead?
Feel nothing apart from the fear of me leaving you stranded?
Was I not trying enough? To make things better again?
Was I not trying enough? To mend those bridges I had burnt down between us one day?

Did my eyes not show you the regret within my soul to see you like this? Or were you so blinded by the past that the present made no sense? Was it very difficult to imagine that we could make it till the end? Was it necessary for you to leave me alone during so many nights, my friend?
Did it feel weird when they called you my girlfriend because you’d stopped believing we’d ever reach that stage?
You know it is funny, this age.

Defining love is none of my business and trying to make you realise that this was real was probably a futile exercise. We’d been waging wars from quite a while but don’t you think off late our weapons used to hurt us quite a lot more than the previous times?
I know what I did was the reason for all this mess but baby I actually never even contemplated leaving you this time!
They say our past comes back to haunt us but I believed that our present would be so strong that it’d scare away our past and it’ll make sure we’re never in tears.

The voice notes actually were wrong. The words said were venomous like I am. The tone was hissing like a snake but I am not a snake; I’m not two faced. I expressed and look where it has brought us, dear. Look what I did to you after you took me back again. Look what I did.
I wish I could take it back but I can’t and now it is all too late for anything anyway.

That’s a sad story right there. Our ‘could have’ would definitely have been a dream come true! But then the ink is dry and your eyes are wet again; the Kohl around your eyes are not the ink I wanted to use to write down our story on these white papers.

Why am I so bad? Why is it so hard to be in love with me? Why did everyone around me who tried to love me, give up and go away? I used to think it was a two sided affair but now? After today?
I stand corrected, rectified and completely flabbergasted.
It is always going to be just me and my unmanageable regrets.
I never intended this to happen, you know? I actually wanted us to make it till the end…. but now I realise I’m designed to be alone.
No use trying to make something impossible and improbable into a mess. I’m already one; why make you into one too? I feel sorry for this. I feel guilty of doing this. I am disappointed that you couldn’t trust me the time I really deserved it. I am not supposed to be loved. I cannot be.

In a world full of people who live and love; I’m supposed to survive alone. That’s my destiny. That’s what I shall get. But not you. Not you.
Everyone cannot be lucky enough to find love but look at me? I found it and I lost it. So many times. This isn’t a way to make things fine; using words to melt you because honestly I have understood I can’t. This is not a letter but a declaration of defeat. I accept all that I did. I accept all that I never intended to do. I accept that I am unlovable. I accept that you are better hence you deserve better. Sorry but these words have come back because one cannot hide the truth with compensating lies. It just doesn’t work that way. I never thought I’d bring you down here and now I don’t know if I can ever make sure you get out of this pit of danger but you should. Escape it. You’re meant for better things. You’re meant to be loved in a much better way. By a much better human being who doesn’t have so many underlying issues. I’m sorry for being a mess and making you one too! I’m sorry for being this way. I’m sorry I didn’t die before I ever met you. I’m sorry that it is too late!

©theblackcurse

Digne • Indigne

Sorry for being the person you never wanted me to be.
Sorry for being the partner you never deemed normal and worthy.
Sorry for being the friend you never could flaunt proudly.
Sorry for being a disappointment for you and your family.
Sorry for being a ridiculous excuse of a man.
A hollow shell making sound but worth nothing.
Sorry for disgusting you with my cheap mentality.
Sorry for being so toxic to you and your soul.

People know me to be who I am not.
I am the worst possible man in love with the best possible woman.
I am loved by her even after I have destroyed her in every manner possible.
Her patience is paramount and my paranoia is all she ever gets back!
Anxiety, possessiveness, anger issues and so much more
She suffered it all with a smile on her face and silence wrapped around her lips.
I left her countless times and yet she was there to recover me everytime I came back.

The world should know that you are an angel.
And I am worse than the Devil himself.

I can never be who you wished for me to be.
No matter how many times you buy me expensive ties and shirts; how can a man like me be good from within?

I’m a sinner. I am your sinner. Always was and always will be.

You’re my salvation and I’m your damnation baby.

©theblackcurse

To be continued.

The Mosquito

I’m trapped inside the bathroom,
The lights are off and there’s a foul smell around here somewhere.
Oh how I wish the window was open but it is bolted from the outside
And I don’t know what to do now.

The Sunday is leisurely passing me by,
Everyone is quite happy and content with their lives.
The lunch has been served at the big, brown dinner table,
And the family has gathered around to have a sumptuous meal.

I cough up some blood; everyone stops and stares for a while.
I excuse myself and go into the bathroom to wash my face,
I stand there thinking about someone who used to stay nearby
but now she stays away; we’re miles apart.

I can here the buzzing sound,
It is still here somewhere,
I open the bathroom door and windows,
And then I return infront of the mirror to see my face replaced with a long black pipe of some kind.

I can’t speak. I can’t call out to anyone outside. I’m hapless right now.
All that I hear is a buzz and then I realize I’m the one making that annoying sound.
I lock myself inside the bathroom, I know there’s no way out.
And then I see it flying out the window;
I cannot grasp it in the palm of my hands.

The mosquito flies out. Smiling at the irony left behind.

©theblackcurse

Inspired by Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka.

|LOUD PLACES || QUIET SOULS|

Smiling faces greeting us at the door,

Laser light beams swirling all across the floor,

Urbanized ethereal décor depicting famous folk lores.

The smell of sizzlers, fries and booze,

Flooding the nostrils of everyone in the room,

Waiters rushing to and fro taking orders

And making sure that St. Valentine’s day is celebrated with a blast! Young couples on the dance floor, grooving to the upbeat music and keeping each other’s tempo.

.

.

– “Hi Sir! A table for two?”
– “No, just for me. Thank you”

Perplexed and maybe even a tad bit shocked,
He points towards one of the corners of the room.
I wade through the sea of intoxicated lovers,
While hearing the loud music eat up most of the silent proposals.

I order my usual, a scotch whiskey on the rocks,
And the DJ puts on one of those romantic tracks.
The disco ball goes off and the dim lights come on,
I look around to see if I’m the only odd one out!

And there she was, sitting at the other corner of the room,
Sipping her Cosmopolitan and looking at the couples’ dance; with what seemed like forlorn eyes.

She seemed familiar; as if I’d seen her somewhere,
Her brown hair seemed like a cascade, beautifully complimenting her smile which seemed sad on the inside.
I felt an urge to not look away, which was uncommon for a guy like me; I’m sure you have deciphered that already by yourselves.

I had read about broken smiles plastered on happily masked faces but I had never experienced it before and it pierced right through my heart which had already been shattered into a million pieces. And then our eyes met for a few seconds..

“You can say what you want but I’m giving it a chance”

©theblackcurse

Song ~ Revelator eyes by The Paper Kites

Every end has a Beginning..

We are blinded by the notion that time heals..

Time is never the healer, the soul is..

We are all wounded by people, society, the traditions and whatsoever we give importance to..

It is not the right time that heals those wounds but the right people we bump into..

We all are looking for a soul to connect to. However, we fall prey to the pre-conceived notions that surround us..

“You can never unlove”

However the intensity diminishes with healing power of the soul..

Too much of anything is toxic, and toxicity is hazardous both for the mind and the soul..

How far have we come?

We almost reached the end..

But there is something ahead of this, right?

What?

Beginning of some other end..

But we end here, okay? No more..

You still are going to start, this time someone else will walk with you.. No one stops..

We were never meant to walk together, so for me this isn’t an end neither a beginning.. I have been walking all by myself towards somewhere I am not sure of..

We are going to meet again.. Someday when you’re lost, I’ll be there to guide you home..

Okay.. Let’s not extend this any further.. Try not to come in my way EVER AGAIN..

I’ll be in touch..

I won’t give you that chance.. Be sure of that..

I don’t need you to be in touch.. I have taken care of it..

Rubbish.. I am so not interested to take this any further...

I’ll carry all of it for both you and me..

How will you? I won’t let you..

How will you end the journey you never started…

Our lives are stories and each journey is a chapter. Few gives us joy and few sorrow but with every end, there is a beginning….

Have you reached the end?

Or

Are you heading for a beginning?

Sad Old Year

What has changed apart from the number at the end of the date and the calendar page?
A new year has started with senseless joy and meaningless banters.
The world seems to have found a renewed passion and adulterous enchanters.

The melodious songs of the yesteryears have given way to the new beats of decadence.
Phantom threads of the sartorial minds nurturing thoughts of business and brand new trends.
Morality and ethics are lost at sea
Like Lemuria and Atlantis were once.

A new day awakening the sleeping world,
A broken canvas and colours spilled all around.
Families and friends, gathered together like before,
Absinthe and cigarettes have numbed us all.

The countdown begins and everyone’s back on,
‘Hurry! Hurry! We’re nearing the count of one!’
Merriment and wishes all around,
Unknown souls greeting each other with familiar sounds.

The eyes at the corner watches all this with a scowl,
What’s the noise and celebration for?
Aren’t we all nearing the end of our time?
The planet won’t die but it’s inhabitants shall,
The man made Gods’ won’t help you
Even if you read the Bible or do the Namaz.

What will save you then, comrades?
Religion, politics or commerce?
You’ll all turn around and see what you have done
And the planet will rejoice as the the plastic cups are buried under the blooming flowers.

©theblackcurse

M A N H O O D

They say a Man is different than a Boy.
They say that the eyes differ; one showcases imagination and the other hides the pangs of maturity.
They say that the face differs; one gleaming with innocent youth and misplaced pride and the other filled with the innumerable scars of life.
They say that the beard differs; one barely coming to life and the other hiding a whole world inside of it somehow.

A world sought after by everyone from the beginning of times; new continents and countries alike.
A world where the stars shine brightly in the night sky and the air feels like it is absolutely sublime.
A world fought for and protected with force.
A world found only through sacrifices and endless office tours.

The discoverer of unknown lands, unknown foes and unencumbered folklore.
The keeper of innumerable secrets and the guardian against merciless gore.
The protector of the weak and the upholder of truth.
The one who always feels everyone is equal in every sense of the word.

A forgotten king who’s kingdom has since been usurped,
A pious soldier who’s dying for the wrong cause,
An honest father who’s making ends meet even after selling his very own soul,
A nomad lurking about on the roads searching for the world he’d long lost his way back to.

I see him through my car window and as our eyes meet, the traffic lights turn green,
He smiles and through his beard I see the doorway into the long lost world.

The world where Boys turned into Men,
MEN who showcased true manhood.

©theblackcurse

Artist – Sakshi Jajodia

Shubho Bijoya, Dadu

Isn’t it a paradox; how an empty room is so full?
It is strange how one human being alters the perception of a room in our minds.
Everything stays the same but their absence makes all the difference.

The aroma of the chrysanthemums lingering around,
A flashback of him sitting on his favourite chair flashes by,
‘Ei jaega ta amar khub priyo jano toh dadubhai’; the voice looms around, as if coming from behind the smiling photo hanging on the wall.
The sunlight floods the mezzanine floor,
The table tops and the furniture seem to glow. There is a lot of dust accumulated on the bookshelves and the framed photos; a sudden gush of wind and the fading ‘dhak’ beats remind me of his holy presence in the room.

The door remains closed now,
The family seems to have learnt how to forget about him somehow.
I roam around like I used to; while he used to listen to Manna Dey and Kishor Kumar; it helped him reminisce about ‘Dida’ I suppose.
We used to hum together, the yesteryear tunes,
A lozenge used to be my reward, if I was any good.

I see the open window ledge overseeing the neighborhood. I see how lonely he felt when no one but pigeons were there for him to talk to.
I feel guilt or some kind of a morbid remorse;
‘Ektu bosh na Dadubhai, kotha boli ektu?’

The pigeons still remain, they miss their old friend too,
I guess I made a mistake; should have spent more time with my Dadu.
I stand near the window ledge while the procession is afoot;
I close my eyes whilst She goes away,
Silently bidding her adieu.

‘Abar esho Maa, opekkhae roilam Ami,
Aar bhalo rekho shobai ke,
Pouchey diyo tar kache ei kotha ti,
Shubho Bijoya, Dadu.’

©theblackcurse via the room

Picture courtesy – Rupsa Sreemani and Soham Chatterjee

Unposted Letters #2

When in the morning I wake up late,
And you fly into a rage,
I quickly sit up on the bed,
For I understand what’s there in my fate.

When I don’t reply to your never-ending texts,
Your blood pressure at once jumps and the usual serenading voice of yours,
Often compared to an Angel’s by me,
Changes into a scorned and angry one,
Demanding an answer to the reason of my late reply.

I oblige with an answer as I know that you’ll not take much time to return to your lovely and graceful self.
They say ‘when all else fails, there’s family’; well, for me it’s You!
I know everyone else may feel bad, may feel left out but what do I do?
It is not always that I can tell them that.. I love her,
It is not always that I can tell you that.. I love you.

When you feel that I’m unromantic and that I don’t express my love through the preferred phrase of “I Love You’s”
I know how you feel but what to do?
And as they say, ‘true love is felt!’

Don’t worry about things I say in anger,
I’m a kid so my anger provokes these,
But somewhere down the line I’m sure you know
That though it is not always that I can tell you,
But know this my love… I do love you!

©theblackcurse via the first letter for her

Featured Picture – Rupsa Sreemani.