Those Eyes

This one that I am going to share with you now is something I wrote last year in February. I was in London on a business trip, it was my last night and I was miserably drunk. She was a regular reader of my other blog which I once had. She approached me on yahoo messenger that night and we had a long conversation. It was indeed a night of literary verbiage and shared soliloquies. I did not sleep the whole night that one and was up chatting with her. We shared our lives, our secrets and a lot more. While on my way back on my early morning flight I kept thinking of her, kept drinking and wrote this out. She is no longer in my life now, left about one and a half month ago. But then again que sera sera….

My life is brilliant.
My life is brilliant.
My love is pure.
I saw an angel.
Of that I'm sure.

She smiled at me on the subway.
She was with another man.
But I won't lose no sleep on that,
'Cause I've got a plan.

You're beautiful.
You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.

I saw your face in a crowded place,
And I don't know what to do,
'Cause I'll never be with you.

Yeah, she caught my eye,
As we walked on by.
She could see from my face that I was,
Fucking high,
And I don't think that I'll see her again,
But we shared a moment that will last till the end.

You're beautiful.
You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.
I saw your face in a crowded place,
And I don't know what to do,
'Cause I'll never be with you.

Song You’re beautiful by James Blunt

Sitting in a space which probably is just enough for a man to crouch in am living my life at a speed of 974 kilometers per hour at a height of 11142 meters above the sea level. I have slept 5.5 hours combined in the last two days and combined have already gulped down a full bottle of chardonnay, 11 pints of beer, 5 glasses of red wine a couple of brandies and have just asked these angels floating in these clouds with me to please now get me some cognac. My eyes are swollen, blood red and tired. I have watched two movies back to back, read 60 pages on philosophy, argued about the entire Asian eco-politico-social system with my fellow sufferer for 2 hour at length and though am confused am dodgy, am hallucinating and am feeling as if am dead with all these clouds around me still - I can not give up thinking about those eyes.

Been a couple of hours since I saw them for the first time and probably the last. Been a couple of hours since I tried to seduce them. Tried to make them look into mine and drown them. How often does it happen, that the hunter becomes the hunted? You are menacingly prowling the ripe grounds swarming with life looking for your next pray and as soon as you get a hint, a premonition, a hunch of your target you take an aim and fire your best shot and just at that precise moment your target turns around and she fixes you with a magnificent stare which sends a terrible bolt of realization shooting down your spine which enlightens you that what you were looking at was nothing but a mere reflection being cast in a wall of glass and that the projectile you just hurled has ricocheted and is running screaming towards you and no matter how much a part of your brain flashes the red warning light and sirens and instructs your entire muscular system to move, scram, begone, still the firm gaze hypnotizes you so bad that you just chose to ignore all such flashes of wisdom and stand completely vulnerable to the rushing bolt just so that you can see see some more of those magnificent, sparkling, pearly, deep, hypnotic, whispering eyes.

Just how often?

Not much I would assume for had it been a phenomenon that should occur like a beat in a symphony after every fixed interval of time or maybe that unexpected sound that comes in frequently when in the height of rhythmic ecstasy you smash the guitar on the drums, I shall content myself with the satisfaction of the thought that a hunter like myself would then prepare himself for the eventuality of the coming mirage and either chose not to hunt for a while or maybe and in more likelihood better prepare himself with certain more amount of exercise and caution. But what does a man got to do when it happens for the first time? When all it takes to render him helpless, hopeless and to a good extent even pathetically desperate is nothing more than a hypnotic look from two sapphires studded and shining in a milky white cloudy night!?
How does a man fight then!

How do you make your escape when the eyes not only look, seduce and hold you but also whisper in your ears from such a distance as if the very wind is their slave, calling you closer and closer just like the Sheila in the ocean who with their enchanting music cast a binding spell over innocent sailors, over their rationale, logic rendering them completely helpless and lulllabying them to their doom. When you yourself want to be lured and possessed. When all that matters to you in the world for that instant is a look of admiration reflecting back in those crystals. When you want to give in and not fight and lose and not win.

Do you have time to react? Yes! Yes you do! You get a whole heartbeat’s length of time! People tell me that much is not enough and I ask them, really? It takes a heartbeat to look and feel. It takes a heartbeat (or a skip of one) in which endless words are spoken and heard and felt without any effort to communicate being made. It takes a heartbeat for a chill to energize those neurons so badly that every pour on your body is standing up in attention. It takes a heartbeat's length of time to fight and surrender and give in. A heartbeat's length of time in which an eyelash flashes, hides and reveals those waters again and pulls you so rapidly towards them as if someone hooked you from the navel and gave a massive tug making your feet lose the ground beneath them finally drowning you. It takes a heartbeat to take a click of those flashing eyes and imprint it on your memory forever which no amount of time can erase and which probably you would still see when you shall lie down for the last time in your life.

And they tell me it is not enough time?

I know those eyes would sweep through this page sooner or later. I know those eyelashes would flicker and batter and there would be a thought if this is really about them. Who knows probably they are here right now, on this very word? Probably there is a smile dancing on those lips now, probably those eyes have flashed for an instance onto messenger to check if I am online, probably now there is a urge and a hitch at the same time to leave an offline message for me, probably those eyes are a little mad now for the way I read through them and their inability to shut me off, and probably a certain mischief is now dancing in them toying with the idea on how it would be to give in just for once.....

Probably.

It was all about those eyes in whose temptation I allowed myself for a certain while to live the life of a hopeless, desperate romantic that I once was. Pardon me if I do not make much sense here given my current physical and mental state.

My plane just flew over Singapore and instinctively I arched my neck and looked down out of the window.

Probably......

You're beautiful.
You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.
I saw your face in a crowded place,
And I don't know what to do,
'Cause I'll never be with you.

My interview!

Yes this was long since pending and finally I got down to wrapping this up! These are my answers to the five questions which Bev asked me and now I am officially inducted in the interview a fello blogger sport! If you would like to be interviewed by me then

1. Leave me a comment saying "Interview me."
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the
questions.
3. You will update your blog with a post containing your answers to the
questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone
else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five
questions.

Now onto Bev's questions and my answers

1. Your lastest entry is titled "Angel" using both divine and horrific
imagery. Who or what exactly is symbolized by the "angel" in this
writing and why?

Well actually I do not plan my writings or the topics around which I would write. It seriously happens spontaneously at the spur of the moment. A fleeting image would flash in my brain and my fingers would start aching to start their tap dance on a keyboard. All I then do is sit back and let my fingers do the work. Most of my writings are completed within 15-20 minutes of my starting. Of course the feelings I portray or the images I paint come from my own experiences with this life. Yes they are mine but how and when do I chose to express them is something which gets decided by my fingers and my sub conscious brain. In this post Angel refers to a love lost sometime ago. I lost some more love recently but that would have to wait until I express it.

2. You mention quite often that your blog is a place to hide, but you've
also alluded to the fact that your writing allows glimpses into your
mind and soul. With that direction in mind, what do you hope to
accomplish for yourself through your writing?

I am not John. John is an alias, a mask behind which I hide but the life which this John lives is mine the feelings he feel come from my aching heart and the visions he shares he steals from my eyes. Yes this is place where I bare my soul but hide my mortal self. In real life or what we chose to call real life anyways I do not answer to the name of John, I do not look like John however yes I feel the pain John feels and I live each and every moment John lives. This is a place where I hide my mortal being and reveal my emotional self. My mortal self which I portray in my day to day life is at stark contrast with this. I am someone with a broad grin plastered on his face as if he ran into a solid brick wall and got this look plastered onto his face. My self which answers to the name I was given does not cry, he does not crib or cringe or ache or desire or distress or love or hate. That part I leave to John.

Whom would you rather know Bev, Kat?

3. If you could alter something in your life, large or small, what would
it be and why? (it's like your 5th year writing assignment again LOL)

Id alter the date my mom passed away. That was the day I stopped living my life and started living a life of responsibilities, taking decisions not for me but for my family. I so wish she were here, I so so so wish I could have completed my research, my higher ed. I so wish I could have taken that internship. Blessed with extraordinary IQ, intellect and logical analytical powers I was given the power to reach the sky and grab the sun but then the Lord piggy backed the world onto my shoulders and cut my flight short.

4. You describe some obnoxious woman as a "proton of positive charge".
How would you describe yourself in relation to the proton analogy?

Obnoxious! Lol!! She can be a pain at times but obnoxious, hell no!! Oopss I just swore, sorry Bev!

Whom do I describe here? John is quantum. He shifts, metamorphoses from proton to electron to neutron. He is flicker, ephemeral. One moment he would be on top of the world and proclaim himself as the king of the world ruling with his staff made of words the other he would be cringing to tell her how much he loves her and the next he would shut down his shell and cut himself off from any possible emotion. John feels every vibration this space time makes on his skin, he lives every orgasm he ever had with every passing second and he suffers all his heartbreaks with every beat of his heart.

Me….I am neutron. Shut down in my shell with lots of positivity and surrounded by negativity but impervious to any and to all. I do not care, I do not love, I do not demand, I don’t get sad and I grin like an idiot.

5. You've posted some wonderful writing on your blog and you've gotten a
lot of positive feedback and discussion. Do you feel your blog is a
success or quickly becoming one and, if not, what would you do
differently to achieve that goal?

I would beg Bev to please please please help me take this to a success. I have a reason, a motive behind this. No I do not want material comforts of money or publicity for myself. Yes I want to be famous, want to have my face plastered onto every tabloid, newspaper, tv channel all over the globe but I have reasons for this, reasons beyond your imagination or understanding and this heightens the divide between John and Me, we both want to be recognized and famous and rich but for Oh so radically different reasons.

Angel

image adopted from http://theurbanangel.net/home.html

I'm alone
Yeah, I don't know if I can face the night
I'm in tears and the cryin' that I do is for you
I want your love - Let's break the walls between us
Don't make it tough - I'll put away my pride
Enough's enough I've suffered and I've seen the light


Baby
You're my angel
Come and save me tonight
You're my angel
Come and make it all right

Song “Angel” by band Aerosmith

Lured by the melody of the whisper your feet move. You know naught where they lead you, you care naught where you are headed. All you need, you care, you bother about is the fading sound of those syllables which you chase despite your will, which call your name and take you away and you move.

You enter the chamber and the music goes strong. A whiff of her perfume allures you and eludes you. Eyes closed, curtains drawn, senses dimmed you keep moving and groping your way around to reach her, to find her, to hold her, to kiss her. You open your eyes and it still is same. The darkness, the whisper, the calling, the scent. Hands outstretched you tremble with anticipation yet you never stop moving.

A voice booms “Let there be light” and you are blinded by the piercing flash of light that suddenly fills the space around you. Big bang and your universe begins. Your eyes flicker madly trying to adjust your iris to this sudden revelation. Your hands that were aching to touch her skin suddenly and invariably are drawn to your face trying to shield your eyes.

The sound begins. It is not a whisper anymore but a rumble. Something else is moving in the space around you. The hmmm goes stronger and so does your eyes. You finally make a small window from your cupped palms and sneak a peak. It’s the walls! Damn it’s the walls!

You are in a 10X12 space. The walls are moving, coming closer like a lover to hug you and caress you. And then they are not just walls are they! Spikes are embedded into them. Long, strong, deep metallic spears projecting out, pointing towards you and as many as the pores on your skin. You see them approaching slowly, firmly drawing near with your each breath. You try to stop breathing, maybe that shall slow them down.

And it does! Yes they have stopped.

And you can hold your breath, this should not be a problem for you now my love, should it be? No it would not had it not been the scent of her skin. You still want to inhale her, feel her filling you from within, floating within you dimming your senses as if a shot of heroine. You want to breath damn it. Yes you want to and yet you can for every breath that you take somehow pulls those spikes those spears a tad bit closer. It’s a bargain, what do you chose my friend, where do you put your stake?

You breathe.

Yes you do. You breathe and you breathe. Inhaling deeper and harder, pulling those horrendous devils close and that elusive temptress closer. Every breath is a curse and a blessing. You can see them coming. You can sense her coming. If only you could draw her close before your soul is punctured by these tools of devil you shall not have any regrets. If..

If..

They come closer. They start elongating. Like a lover’s tongue trying to reach you, to lick you, to taste you before she bites you on your lips. They stretch out, reach out to you, trying to touch your skin before she can, while your conscience still is virgin, while you still are pure. Its her versus them and the only thing my dear friend that you can do is breathe.

You breathe harder and faster. They accelerate. Just when you thought, the battle is over, that they are almost here and you look up towards heaven mumbling your final prayers you see her. Agile, petite she floats rapidly down towards you from the space up above. Dressed in white, her hair flowing all around her she looks like an angel. And your heart knows no bound! You are elated, overjoyed! She is here, you are saved. It is all going to be over. She would be with you in an instant and you would hold her and touch her and kiss her and somehow you know that these approaching bearers of doom shall be stopped dead in their tracks.

She comes further towards you. Your arms are outstretched. You want to catch her before her feet touches this doomed ground. She is almost there.

And she stops.

Floating just above you with the smile of a white moonlit night she stands there and watches over you. You call her name. “What’s wrong my love, come down. Am here am waiting!” She smiles further. The spears edge closer. She opens her rose petal lips and calls out a name. No its not yours.

And you see him. He steps magically from the wall right in front of you The spears simply pass through him. He bends his knees jumps up and in an instant is standing right beside her. His arm reaches out around her. She rests her head on his shoulder. They both stand there, just outside your reach smiling down over you.

There is a sharp pain. A burning sting that arises from somewhere deep within. You look towards the walls. There is still some distance left.
Your arms droop, your gaze drops down to the floor. You lift your face once more to look in front of you. One of the serpents has reached. It flicks out its tongue and touches your skin drawing out the first drop.

You are breached.

You look up once more and they are gliding back up, swiftly, softly. Another serpent has come, time for yet another prick, another drop. And they come now, in dozens, as a flock of hungry ravines touching you, breaching you, piercing you. More blood, more slime, more drivel….more pricks.

And you stand there; breathing till the last one comes and stabs you right across the heart. There is a sharp scream. Sound of a heart being broken and they stop for a moment in their flight, look over their shoulders…..and fly away.

Baby
You're my angel
Come and save me tonight
You're my angel
Come and make it all right

Song Angel by band Aerosmith

Life's exit button

I wish life came with an Exit button. A big rotund gross hard top push down switch painted bright read enclosed in a glass case with a warning stamped all across in big block letters – “BREAK GLASS IN CASE OF EMERGENCY! EXIT! DO NOT USE. PENALITY ON IMPROPER USAGE. YOU CAN BE FINED UPTO 3 MORE HUMAN LIVES ON THIS FUCKED UP PLANET”.

I would have pressed that gladly.

So what do I do now? I don’t want to live anymore. Nehh its not about being sad or something. It is purely about not wanting to do it anymore. You know the kind of feeling you have when you have watched a lot of tele or played for hours on your XBox at a stretch? You don’t hate it but you just don’t want to do it for a while. You switch it off, get up and go do something else. Wonder if I could do this with life? Stop when I want to and start again if I feel like it or maybe sell it on ebay or something. Do they have an online marketplace for this thing? Can I talk to God there? Maybe reach his customer services and yell – “Hey you guys! Sorry but I am not satisfied with this product. Ummm no reasons but what is your take back policy please? Yeah I have decided I don’t want it anymore. Throw the safety harness I gotta get back up there!”

Don’t think so there is any such service. And come to think of it, it is very weird on the part of God. I mean I get no say in my life whatsoever since the beginning? Mom and dad decide to get naughty and here I am, a by product of their love. No one asked me if I wanted to come into this world now, did they? And then I had no choice in my upbringing too. Grew up the way they wanted to, attended school, university etc. etc. No one asked me if I wanted to go through this or if I ever wanted to be born in the first place! I bet that idea of an Exit button doesn’t sound too weird now does it? I mean okay God decided to send you down here but then he should have given you the option to pull out of this whole mumbo jumbo called the world if you wanted to, shouldn’t he? How very inconsiderate. Tsk tsk, bad God, very bad God.

And now that I think more on it, I wouldn’t have any choice in my death too. I mean assuming that I live life by its normal course, one day I shall simply die. What if I don’t want to die then eh? What if I am too used to staying in this world (fat chance really) but then say what if I decided that no am a bit comfy here and would like to stay for a couple more years please? That ain’t gonna happen now would it? The angel of death would come knocking one day and tell me something like “Dude get up get up. Time to go big man!” and I would have no option but to follow him or else he would take me away anyways. How ultra cool is this now? Fantabulous! So if I were God I would have to be thinking something like this before coming up with this grand idea of the way the world would be – “Hmmm! Bored again. What do I do now? Idea! Bingo! I will create a world, put a bunch of different kinda guys on it and see how they work it out. And maybe I would give them things like booze and sex and cigar to keep them interested. Let us see how the clowns behave. BOOM! Let there be light!”

So whose life am I living then and why? If I didn’t have any choice on being born and if I shall not have any choice when I die then what the heck am I here for? Another marionette that Almighty put on this earth to pull strings and bemuse himself? I know I know what are you thinking. If I am a marionette really then where are the strings eh? Clever reader, really clever. You surprise me. Well then my clever friend here is your answer. The strings are my relations. People who care for me and whom I probably care for. People who are attached to me, who would be truly hurt if something were to happen to me. These strings are called relations my friend, relations! They are what keep me bound and stuck in my place. And I can not cut them now, can I? Clever God, created me, bound me with the strings and left the strings with other of his creations to pull and manoeuvre.

I wish to God (yeah I noticed the irony too) that he gets real bored by me soon. Maybe if I go dead inside and do not react to stimuli he would get fed up and pull my strings soon enough. What is your take on it? Would this work? If I simply were to shut myself in some deep dungeon or cave and refuse to play the game anymore would he pull me back out? Leave a comment and let me know.