Oblivion

We run around hither and thither,
Unaware and unabashed.

We walk around the corners,
Not knowing what’s waiting for us there.

The darkness is somehow eerie.
The mornings dreadful to our very existence.

Why do we fear? When we don’t have anything to lose?
After all, who’s gonna leave this world with what they choose?

There’s nothing to dread, dear child except fearing Oblivion.

© the black curse

Picture courtesy ~ Debasmita Chakrabarty

The flower within

I once touched a picture,
It spoke to me in a thousand different ways.

I saw the incredible paint and the delicate brushes,
Take over my senses and giving me adrenaline rushes.

I stood there placidly,
Noticing the work vividly,
I tried to understand what it conveyed.
Whether the painter wanted to express a lot of happiness like the sunshine during winter season,
Or was it a metaphor for the darkness within mankind itself?

They say flowers are a way of telling everyone how beautiful life can be,
They say even blind people like me can touch the petals and try to see.

They say the aroma of the sunflower is one of a kind,
And those are the times I wish I could see what was there Infront of my eyes.

But then again, aren’t most of us blind? Even after having what I don’t have?

© the black curse

Artwork by NILAKSHI SARKAR

Masquerades

You came in like a butterfly, fluttering around the dark side of my life.
You woke me up with a smile, the smile that can make everything feel just fine.
You made me realise that it was not my fault, that I too could be loved even after being so drastically flawed.
You made my insides crawl, with that look in your eyes and the earnestness in your soul.

You gave me courage to look at myself in a new light; not dreading the shadows and the past mistakes of my life.
You turned all the knobs of my insides and set them right; suddenly I was in tune and singing amidst the moonlight.
I looked at the mirror and there I was; the old me; rearranged and remoulded into someone absolutely new.
And then you did what I could never associate with you;
You left me and didn’t bother seeing me descent into the abyss of my past and the turmoil of breaking down; negating my growth in plain sight!

Tonight I am decked out for the whole world to see me,
They love the mask that is masking my insanity.
The cracks and crevices can be felt if someone looks a bit more closely but no one’s allowed anymore; after what you did to me.My frailties have slowly crept inside and morphed into my reality,My tears have dried up; just like your decaying humanity.

I arrange and rearrange the pieces of my mask every morning,
Only to break it again during the wee hours of my unceremonious mourning.
My hands often bleed because the shards are far too sharp for my skin,
But then again I make myself remember who I am and what I carry within my soul masked by my smile and my body:

A broken mask of beauty masking the marks left on me for loving someone ever so deeply. An emblem to prove that love heals a lot less than it ruptures and damages.

©the black curse

Picture courtesy – Sakshi Jajodia

Unposted Letters #3

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

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