The World Is My Ashtray.

A few years back I wrote a poem on Love;

As the only thing in my mind was then to get some love,

The poem was entirely about love, love and love,

I loved to love, wanted to be loved, love, love and love.

I posted it on my picture, on my resume all the way above;

My cries, my demand, my insanity was heard all the way above,

‘Care, sympathy, and friendship’ fell upon me all the way from above;

I got all but wanted more, so I went to fight all the way to Above.

Then someday later I wrote a poem on Won And Lost;

As the only thing in my mind was then how I lost,

The poem was entirely about my failure and there also I lost;

How I had won a lot of things and a whimper to make me lost.

I posted it on my picture, on my resume all the cries of cost;

My cries, my demand, my insanity was still heard at my cost,

A lot, hope for ‘care, sympathy, and friendship’, did cost;

I knew I wouldn’t get but still wanted more and more at whatever cost.

Then I left writing poems and not because I had nothing to title;

But because the only thing to write I knew was the title,

And that was ‘something’ in pretentious persuasion of some title;

I didn’t want anything thereafter from myself and Above, but my fame title.

Love, Won And Lost on my picture, on my resume made me so little;

That my cries, my demand, my insanity to be heard had become little,

‘Care’, ‘sympathy’ and ‘friendship’ I got a lot from all around but was too little;

Like and Unlike November heat or June cold that term wasn’t little.

Then recently one night I wrote a poem on what can be best called Nothing;

As the only thing in my mind was then not random but nothing,

In a country of a billion my name, my fame, my fain and my pain were nothing;

I was caught in rain and lightning, I didn’t feel love but nothing.

I didn’t post it on my picture, on my resume still marked though that for me was everything;

My cries, my demands, my insanity weren’t there heard or unheard but rest of everything,

I didn’t want Care, sympathy and friendship and those weren’t anymore everything;

Not ‘lost little love title’s cost for who remained above wasn’t just nothing’ I learnt but everything.

I drank, doped, drugged and smoked and on those my heart is set;

The world is my ashtray and absence of my swayer is my cigarette.

Mercury Lamp

28 years later the mercury lamp again went off.

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My mother taught me about mercury lamps. Mercury lamps are cheap. That’s why they are destined to be street lights. After being switched on the temperature begins to rise and after it reaches a certain value it automatically turns off due to an open circuit. And when the temperature falls to a certain value it the circuit reestablishes. And again the world becomes a happy place. The time interval is at maximum one and half minutes. But the one that was in front of our house took some 10-11 minutes to recover. But then that street lamp had a good thing. It did so only for 3-4 times during the entire night except in rainy weather during which it hibernated. My mother also taught me how to put a light bulb in the electrical socket and also how to rotate and flirt with the starter of tube lights when they don’t get illuminated. And she used to teach me English from English news that was aired at 10.30 pm at night when I was 4. My mother also sang me many songs in my mother tongue and translated them to English words. That’s how I learnt my mother tongue and the imperialist tongue. My mother also told me about her life when she was in teens and how she used to flirt with guys and how they would follow her. She used to tell me about her adventures as a hunter with his father and some local guys who did not tire of all the impressing activity. In one of her stories there was a mercury lamp which went out right when one of the guys was about to shoot an antelope. How she and her father got into doing this is a big elephant meat and a deserted British fellow story. Anyways, she was around 14 years old then unknown of the fact that she would be married in a year. She always told me that those days when a girl is 13 they could behave like woman. There were 2-3 guys in their late teens and were constantly hitting on her and had gained the trust of her father as decent young men. As I was telling, the mercury lamp went out and one of my mother’s father’s decent young man pulled the trigger of the point 2 NOT 2. There were screaming of birds, the most anticipated antelope and the point 2 NOT 2. It might not be said enough by the Discovery people or better the imperialist’s BBC peoples but antelopes do attack and they kill to death. My mother enlightened me collected from her father. At that moment her father asked them not to move or run or talk or scream. They waited for sometime in hope of the mercury lamp. After around 5 minutes the mercury lamp showed them a remnant of the living antelope. When there was enough light two things were wretched. One of them was a rigid curly broken antelope horn and the other was a broken heart. What I didn’t mention was that during those 5 minutes the shooter grabbed my mother’s hand and in return got a punch right on the stomach. My mother’s father misunderstood and calmed the decent young shooter to try next time. My mother said she wouldn’t go with them for hunting the next time. And the broken heart was wretched.

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26 years later the mercury light went off again. She was sitting right besides me. She wasn’t 13. We weren’t in a jungle and there was no forest surveillance office near us. We were in a city well known everywhere and originated during the freedom fights against the imperialists. And it wasn’t 8 pm. It was past midnight. We weren’t there for hunting. I was there to plead and she was there to feel pity on me. A dog was barking in front of me and I was about to throw the stone at it to shove it away right when the mercury light went dark.

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My ego was all over me and for the recent few months I had been very cruel to her. She loved me. I wanted her. I used her. Shakespeare’s “Let me not to the marriage of true minds; admit impediments” was being recited in my head. I think I understood the situation when it was late and went to plead her. She still loved me. But at that point in a relationship it doesn’t matter because I even had started to realize that I was in love with her too. My commitment had been like mercury lamp. But she still loved me and ironically she had pride. She honored my effort of trying to settle things and the effort to care for another human being and in return pitied on me and roamed around with me till it was past midnight and we were sitting side by side under a mercury lamp at a lonely but safe place. By the way she used to tell me the only living creature she was afraid of was me. So I guess every place on earth was safe for her when I was with her especially when for pleading. Anyways, we talked a lot but not on the topic that we both wanted to talk desperately. Before we could start to wonder about anything the dog came and barked at me. She said that it was barking at us but I knew it was barking at me. I got irritated and felt bad for the honest rebuke of the dog and was about to hurl a stone at it when the mercury light went off.

I remembered the old story my mother once told in a flash. All those things kept rushing into my head at light speed and I lost control a little bit and couldn’t aim at the dog and also couldn’t throw at good speed. The rock fell 3-4 meters short of the dog but ironically the dog got afraid and ran away as I could hear its foot steps and fading panting. All in my mind was the story. I was in a dilemma. My heart and body felt romantic under the dark mercury lamp but my mind felt a broken horn and a punched stomach and next time. I started to feel sleepy, might be because of the sudden rush of the memories. I was confused with who I am. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. She moved a bit closer towards the only living thing she ever feared. I was feeling sleepy. The same living thing made me afraid of itself. I couldn’t remember my purpose of going to her.

My purpose was to plead, to propose, to confess my love with words that would most probably be binding under the mercury light which was still dark.

She: The dog is gone. (30 seconds passed.) Say something. (1 minute passed).

Me: Would you like to come with me to this place next time at this hour. (5 minutes passed)

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Is it really easy to run out of words? Even if so, is it really easy to run out of feelings? Even if so, is it really easy to run out of love? Is it really easy to listen to sound of silence? Is it really easy to listen to a thin whimper?

My knees start to shake

When you're in sight

My mind is filled with wonder

My heart with fright.

When will this feeling stop?

When did it start?

How can i listen to my mind,

Without breaking my heart.

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Me: (In the imperialist language) I want you here next time with me.

My eyes were closed apparently of some unknown forces. She turned towards me. I felt her breath on my face. I heard a thin whimper. Someone grabbed my hand.

The mercury lamps were illuminated again. When there was enough light there was one wretched thing – a broken ego.

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2 years later the mercury lamp went off again. I was alone. I felt a broken horn, a punched stomach and ironically next time.