The Bear

There was a bear that I once saw

Who loved green tea and ate eggs raw

He was really a cuddly bear

In his mouth was a golden pear

But he had a thorn on his paw

So he carried his hand in a neat mansling

He had cool shades with amazing bling

In his other hand was a mug

From which he did always chug

He would sing, oh he did sing!

He walks with the mug held tight in hand

His hair was bleached to the colour of sand

He his little chug mug was green

He enjoyed Lebanese cuisine

He liked his bear-girls sun tanned

On days if you were to pass his cave

And if in the air you feel a shockwave

Do not worry, he's just having fun

It's his party music, it's not a gun

He loves to smoke weed and rave

So if you happen to walk by past

The home of the bear with the hand in the cast

Stop and ask for the little green mug

He'll let you have hearty chug

Of honey-laced strawberry blast

A/N: This one is for Oshi, Naveen, Anaz, Najitha, Gava, Chanuk, Chathu, Thanuri, Ramith, Olly and Gyles; the jokers who put the "fun" back in funeral ;) <3

Heaven Can Wait

You throw pebbles at my window in the middle of the night.

I squint out to the darkness and flick on my light

With the skill of a monkey you scale the apple tree

'Cause I know you're there to set me free

The sky is vast, does it mean we're lost?

If ice is pounded, do we call it frost?

You like the bed hair, the frumpled clothes; I smile

Before I sleep again, it will be a while

We sneak out in the dark and into your car

You whisper to me "Baby it isn't far"

I see that the knots on the rope have come undone

Tonight let's misbehave because we know that it is fun.

We sit on the hood of your car and it's dawn

I giggle and wink when you stifle your yawn

I stand up and when I start to sing our song

The sun comes up and it's hot and strong

What will be if we lie face down on the sand?

What the hell now, we've already been eternally damned!

Our mothers find out that we snuck out at night

They shock us as they smile at us without any fight

Then you grab me tightly and hold me by the waist

And say "Baby, you know, heaven can wait"

As we kiss we know that we're going to be late

We don't give a damn 'cause heaven can wait. 

Dance With Me

The breath I draw is now careworn.

The heart and beats are battered and torn.

Do you want it?

Maybe you had it.

It doesn't matter now, I am alone.

The eyes that once did shine so bright

Have no sense, no depth, no light.

Who took it away?

Nothing more to say

That battered heart cries of fright.

The empty hands that once held

The soft embrace that once witheld

Where has it gone?

Where is that song?

That once in time wind upheld?

No you cannot start that fire

Not when the heart is barbed in a wire

Detach it, you must

In time I will learn to trust

The surest start of wildfire.

So blaze your kisses down neck and throat

Sing to me the song you wrote

Make my hair fall down

Pleasure away this frown

Make me beg to stay afloat

A broken heart, in pieces and shards.

Do you want it?

No.

Would you take it?

No.

Win it.

I want you to win it.

It's the only way.

The beats are long, just sway.

Dance with me this night.

Dance to the pink dawn light.

It's the only way.

Suck Your Lollipops Slow

"Love hurts, but sometimes it's a good hurt,

and it feels like I'm alive"

- Incubus

We all know love hurts. It hurts like a bitch. It hurts before you fall in love, while you're falling in love, when you are in love and even after you have fallen out of love. It chases you, like a cheetah chasing a gazelle, rushing at you like a sperm after an elusive ovum. Does it make you feel like you're alive then? I suppose in a way, it does. See, after you've fallen out of love, you go through that period when you feel nothing but hurt right? I suppose in that context, the hurt of love makes you feel alive because you can actually feel the hurt while you can't feel any other emotions. It's like the only active emotion in a ring of dead emotions in your heart, and feeling that one emotion makes you go on with life. 

"Shot through the heart, and you're to blame.

darlin' you give love a bad name"

- Bon Jovi

We all know this. It starts with a glance, maybe a word, a casual conversation or even commenting on someone's status on Facebook. Time passes on and things move and you claim to have you heart stolen by that special someone and that Cupid's arrow went through the heart and all those nonsense allegories for love that modern culture have made up. Well if someone has the potential to steal your heart, look after if a little better. A heart stolen too many won't one day be worth a penny. Yeah, I just made that up. And you can't always blame the other person. You consented to a relationship, you consented to having him or her whisper sweet nothings in your ear. They sure as hell didn't force it on you. You can't blame them fully. One needs to take the blame half-way if you end up breaking up with someone. 

"When you're dreaming with a broken heart,

waking up is the hardest part" 

- John Mayer

I couldn't agree more. Because when you're dreaming, you don't have to think. The worse that could happen is that you'll have a nightmare about falling into a lake full of hungry mouthed crocodiles. You don't have to force yourself to be distracted so as to avoid all conscious thought. When you're asleep, you're asleep, and that's that. 

"It's almost always never you,

never you"

- Lissie

You wait for the calls, the text messages. Maybe, she had some work. Maybe, he must be out of the house tonight. You stare at the screen of your mobile so often every minute, it's like you have a twitch. Everytime the damn phone rings, you jump at it like a starved lion on an innocent deer. You're riding a wavelength of which the peaks are made of hope and the troughs are made of disappointment. Up and down on it, you go, convincing yourself that it's going to be okay. Guess what? Until you stop doing what you're doing, it'll never be okay. 

"Time was all we had,

until the day we said goodbye"

- Richard Marx

Somewhere during the "I'm So Over that Jerk" and "She was a Bitch Anyway, I've Moved On" stages of a post-relationship life, you have the moments of bittersweets. Moments of confusion and regret. "Did I do the right thing, letting him/her go?" you ask yourself. To be honest, there really is no point in regretting something that you thought over and made a decision about. It's during this period that your skies are the colour of a TV on static. The exact shades of gray. Never blue, pink nor red. Never. It seems to you like that things would never change. 

"It's a long way down,

when all the knots we've tied have come undone"

- Gin Blossoms

You have moved on, and now your interest is elsewhere. Some else is in your eyes and yet this time, you're more  relaxed. As terrible as it sounds, you're taking things less seriously and to your surprise, you find this other person is the same. You get on like the egg and the oil in mayonnaise. Impossible to mix at first, but with a little whirring of the egg in the correct ways coupled with the right doses of oil.. et voíla! We have the yummiest mayonnaise. You find your grip on reality to be strong and steadfast while you lose yourself with this new person. Maybe because you learned something from your past experience. The growth of feelings now, is slower and more cautious. And yet, it's still cherished. There are loose ends, walls shattering and bonds breaking, but at a slower pace. A more relaxed pace.

"I came to dance dance dance dance.."

- Taio Cruz

Dance. Do it. Life is worthwhile, and despite the crappy quality of love, there are moments worth living for. Recognise these moments. It could be moments with your friends, a day you spent bowling. It could be a a beautiful blue sky on a sunny morning or it could be how you felt when you watched the November rain fall down and how it felt when it washed your face. It could be making parippu curry with your mum for lunch or even having your dog giving you whiskery kisses when you pet him. Life is worth those little things. God, or The Force, or whatever you call it, he's playing music for you. He's DJing so you better get your rear end on the floor and groove under the million sparkles of the disco lights. Dance your way through the days, even during the lowest of times. 

"Sucking too hard on your lollipop,

and love's gonna get you down"

- Mika

Love slowly. Live with your chin up and your boobs out. 

Suck your lollipops slow.

There is no rush.

No rush at all. 

Blue.

The sky was a brilliant blue. Bluer than blue, if that was possible. He loved the sky like this. He always has. It was her favourite color. He was spread out on the sand, his Hawaiian print trunks blending in well with the beautiful shades of the peaceful beach. There was a small sprinkling of cirrus clouds at the horizon and the water spread out over them in an ever changing, un-tameable expanse of cerulean. Beautiful azure, the deep richness of lazuli.. it was haunting mixture of blues. He sighed, crossing his hands under his head. The sun beat down upon him, burning and soothing. The coconut palms shook their green leaves gracefully at the caress of the wind. The sand was glinting gold, each grain of sand glowing brilliantly. 

He closed his eyes and for several minutes, he could here the gentle crashing of the waves and the rustle of palm fronds and he thought of her. The beach always reminded him of her. When he opened his eyes, she was there, right next to him. He smiled, knowing he'd always find her when he needed. She was dressed in a white cover-up, a yellow bikini tied at her neck. Her thick black hair gracefully fell past her shoulders and it shone in the sunlight. On her lips was a familar smile. 

"I have missed you" he said, his hand reaching out to hers. She held it, and slid close to him. 

"And I have missed you" she replied, running a finger up and down his arm. He sat in an upright position, cross legged, and they faced each other. He took her face in his hands and stared at it, long and hard, like he couldn't stare enough. He studied her deep brown eyes, her soft nose, her lips and he looked at the scar on her cheek. He stroked it gently with his thumb and kissed it. She closed her eyes. He held her to him and breathed in her familiar scent. 

Together, they lay back on the sand and watched the blue sky. Nestling comfortably on the hollow of her throat was a pendant of a blue butterfly, made of opal. His gift to her. He touched this and stroked her neck softly, finally leaning over to kiss her. Her body was small and delicate in his large arms and he held her to him, kissing her and recalling memories. Time passed on. 

The sky was now a shade of light gold and pink. 

"It's time" she said. His heart sank.

"When will you be back?" he asked her. They stood up. 

"I won't be back" she said sadly. His heart stopped. 

"No.....No! NO!" he shouted. He grabbed her and held her, and suddenly, it was who was she was holding him, supporting him. 

"It really is time love. I have no say in this" she explained. He felt tears welling up. He sobbed and he couldn't hold it back. She was holding him as he cried in her arms.

"Stay" he said.

"You'll learn to love again" she said.

"But you taught me! You taught me what is was. How can I learn again?" he protested, raising his head. Tears were pouring down his face and he noticed tears on her own cheeks. 

"I love you" she said.

"Don't go" he pleaded. 

"I love you. I loved you with every single beat of my heart. Those beats were numbered. But I loved you to the very last of them" she said softly. 

"No..Please.. Stay. I love you." he cried.

"This heart will always be yours" she said.

"Stay" he said. 

"You'll find someone who loves you for who you are. Someone who'll be around longer. When that happens, think of me. Think of me and know that I'm watching you and I am happy for you"

"No" he said. He held onto her and they held each other for an eternity and yet it could not be enough. The sun sank lower and lower in the sky until it was disappearing below the horizon. 

"I love you" she whispered.

"I love you" he said. He held her... and suddenly his arms were wrapped around thin air. She was gone. His knees gave away... and he fell. She was no more. 

Another afternoon.

He watched the blue sky. It was her favourite colour. His missed her. His heart was still hers. He never really got it back. 

Suddenly, a little butterfly with brilliant blue wings settles on his knee. He holds his breath. A breeze blows through the palm fronds and he hears her voice in the wind. He and the butterfly watch the sky and a tear rolls down his face.

She loves me. 

http://www.flickr.com/photos/greenmeangirl/

Pink Skies

Cold, dreary morning. 

The sky is a strange shade of gray and blue. Not the sad gray of a typical rainy morning and nor the beautiful blue of a July day. I drag myself out of bed to the smells of my mother's cooking going on in the kitchen which hits me even stronger as soon as I am of conscious thought. I don't feel hungry and this worries me. Usually my mother's cooking makes me drool and specially after starving the night it should be worse.. and yet no. I am stumbling around in my Pooh night-shirt, running my tongue over my newly brushed teeth and wondering what clothes to wear.

The sky is a lighter shade of gray now.

I get frustrated as I run out of choices for clothes. Finally I put on my oldest, most comfortable black top, favourite gray skinny jeans, a mismatched lime green mardi gras necklace and a red Alice band in hopes of brightening up my gloomy demeanor and slap my hair back into a pony tail. With the grace of a whale, I stumble around the house and finally get into the car with my mother. 

It's raining slightly. My gaze is the general vicinity of my knees. My thoughts revolve around college, friends, certain people, work and so on. It comes to a halt at my sister and I realise I miss her. I sigh and stick my freezing hands under my thighs and sigh in relief. The day is bleak and overcast, the clouds hang in the sky like pregnant women all the way to college. 

The panoramic lounge gives a perfect view of the sky. It starts to pour buckets and I sit with Mariam, Mandy and Mutaz; freezing and sipping Bru hot coffee from the canteen. The tip of my nose is cold and I wish I could stick my nose into it. After a breakfast, Jevon walks in, wisely wearing a hoodie and he and I talk random crap for a while, like we always do. I decide to have lunch with him and walk off to a boring Bio lecture. 

Two hours later, I miss my sister again. It's a dull ache. I walk back into the lounge. The sky is the lightest of lazulines with a strange sprinkle of the dullest aquamarine. It's almost like the sky is hopeful but not hopeful enough to have faith to be completely cerulean like the skies you get during the months of July. The perfect shades of periwinkle that fade into purple, brilliant orange, violent vermilion and spun gold. No. Today's sky is likely to fade into a depressing shade of sick beige. I try to optimistic as I sit down with Jevon for lunch. We have two helpings of rice amidst talking about Drunk Stories and vaginas. I don't feel so alone. Normally I would sit at the lounge and it would be full of people that I know and yet I'd feel so alone, so disconnected from everyone there. I know for a fact that I am not the only person who feels this way but it still feels crappy.

The rest of the day passes on with small talk and remotely interesting conversations with people. The sky steadily grows bleaker and grayer as my spirits and self-esteem plummet lower and lower in circling spirals in a beautiful sky-dive after seeing certain parties. Maybe I need to stop giving a shit about certain parties. I was happier before I started caring.  

I am heading home and my thoughts stray back to my sister again. I look up at the sky while driving down Galle Road. 

It's a beautiful shade of Conch-shell pink. It's also mixed with the pink of a perfectly poached salmon and I see mauve dusting the edges. There are streaks of gooey gold across the expanse of pink and the edges of these gold shards are a brilliant orange, shading even deeper into crimson. Fiery, fiesty colours, just like my sister. I watch the sky, mesmerised, not knowing what to think. It's like a brilliant canvas of an artist who lived in the sun. It's beautiful and I choke up. Everything is pink and it's beautiful. The car moves along the road and I can see the ocean, the beautiful Indian waters stretching out. I look up from my tears just in time to see the sun dip down into the horizon to wrap up another day, and for the briefest moment, the world turns red. I think of my sister, miles away, and I pray for her to have sunsets like these I pray for everyone to witness the amazing depth of nature around us, even in something as simple as a sunset. I pray for anyone who is dying to see such a sunset before they leave this world. 

The day is done, and even though I have no one to go home to, I'm okay. I have myself.

And I have hope.

Hope for another pink sky. 

To Unmask

It's 1430 hours. In more earthy terms, half past two in the afternoon. I am at the ANC lounge and Jevon is sitting in front of me, commenting on my status. He's like half a foot away. Yeah seriously Jevon. My new vent buddy.

To be honest, I never had a vent buddy.

To be honest again, I never write in such a personal manner. I always cloud things up with metaphors. Fancy-fi them. My own feelings, emotions, thoughts, I put them into poetry and words with a comparison, a similarity, an analogy of a sort. Always a façade.

It's time for me to remove this mask. If I don't, it might end up growing onto my face and changing me. Time for the raw facts now. 

I was speaking with Jevon and he and I both agreed: I live in Dramaville, USA. The funny thing was that when I was spilling my guts, I was laughing hysterically because I was watching my life crumble before my own eyes. But I was venting to someone who was listening to me, so I suppose it was something. I guess I was looking at my life as a person who isn't in my life. An outsider. And I saw how stupid, petty and silly it was. In most case scenarios, this was the case. Jevon picks at my half eaten food and we discuss various theories about my nutcase tendencies. It's a release. I tell him about my situation, the complete and utter mess my life is at the moment. I am sitting by and doing nothing and I am somewhat tired of it now. He tells me to change it. I wish I knew how.

I walk into the cool a/c-ed lounge and I am greeted by a "Savitchi" by Chanuk and Chathu. Their new name for me. How sweet <3. I greet them with a "Sup bitchface?". I feel good. 

To be honest I am a pathetic excuse of a human. I am depressed, unhappy with how I look and currently failing at writing because of the emotions that are stagnant in me. See, there was a certain person. We shall call him X. We all know him. He was the constant source of my inspiration for fourteen solid months. Now that he's gone... What do I do? I don't remember how I was before the last fourteen months. I don't remember how I went on with life before he stepped in because I had grown to accustomed to him, to having him around me like a constant shadow.

Well, I was the one who ended it. I am firm about it. I had had enough. But then I have moments, sad, terrifying moments when I am alone and un-distracted, I think to myself: Did I do the right thing? Is any good going to happen to me? I have doubts and I am constantly riddled with them. It's odious. I am maintaining a cool nonchalant facade and I force myself not to think. Busy busy busy is my motto. When you don't think, you feel less and your hurt less. I am benumbing myself on purpose. Thinking about my problems is like a dreadful jump off a cliff; you let yourself go and the sea and rocks below rush up to meet you but you pull back because you are scared that the resulting pain after hitting those rocks would be much greater. You don't think that after that crippling pain, you're going to be swimming with mermaids and watching sunsets faxed down from heaven itself. No. It's always the impending, oncoming onslaught of pain. It's the dread that kills you. 

I sit next to Lidush and Karthick and listen to their silly talk. I laugh and I joke with them. It's so easy to be around them both, they are such easy going people. I am glad they are around. I tell Lidush some painful things and I hold back tears. He listens patiently. I feel vulnerable as my mask slips away and I struggle to force it back on. As I watch Lidush talk about someone's female assets with Karthick, I am not really listening. My mind is elsewhere. I am feeling sad. I have been reduced to a person who has no faith. Am I really that bad? Am I? I don't know. I hate my appearance and I hate the fact that I have not penned a proper thought in ages. I feel like crying because of this. Writing is my forte, my release... and when I can't do that... it kills me. I want to put everything back together and go back to being me. 

But who am I? What is me?

I need to figure that out first. I have been defined as "me" with another person in the equation. Time to find my own definition. 

I want to change things. I don't want to feel like this anymore. I miss my friends, I miss being with them. I want to go dancing. I want a certain person (we call that person Y) to accept me in ways that I want. I need to find myself. I need to let loose and let go and lose myself in something and discover what it is like to be me again. But I don't know where to start. I don't have any direction. Life is a mess, messier than spare ribs in onion sauce. I want this over with. I have to make it work. 

I had to go home. I hug Karthick and I hug Lidush. He hugs me a little longer, putting unsaid things from the previous vulnerable conversation into the hug. I hold on because I am glad for that. Grateful even. 

As I get into the car, I notice the brilliant shade of pink the sky is, and it reminds me of my sister. It reminds me of my cousin and all the good things in life. I have been gray and black far too long. It's time I turned a lurid shade of pink. I still have no faith, but I have lost a little of disbelief. That's a good thing right?

I realise I know where to start. How to begin my painful healing process. 

It starts with taking off my mask.

The Treble of a Breaking Heart.

The night is long my dear,

it’s long.

The moon is alone in the sky

The slow soft breeze doth sigh

The song is sung,

it’s sung.

The sun is sinking my dear,

it’s sinking.

Look at the birds flying home

O’er the palm tree standing alone

The day is done

it’s done.

The primrose lonely my dear,

on the hill

Ere the fragrance soft and sweetest

Doth the light seem its bleakest

The joy is gone,

it’s gone.

The little young lad my dear

is crying

Crying out with his soul

A burgeoning loss of whole

He smiles no more,

no more.

The daffodils yellow my dear,

 in the field

Nod not their bright heads

The tulip doth not glow red

They smiles are gone,

are gone.

The lonely wolf my dear,

is cursed for he

Hath no comfort of Morpheus’s arms

Nor the gentle song and calm

The wolf is cursed,

is cursed.

The night is long my dear,

it’s long.

The heart will slow its beat

As to sleep go aching feet

Lying on the bed so alone,

so alone.

And o’er all this you will hear my dear – a new more foreign sound

A sound unlike any other. A haunting melody of sorts.

The treble of a breaking heart.