"Those, who've never lost, cannot enjoy victory as much."

Who's the drummer?

A song was being played in the background. Two typical beats per second. The process was continuous. They all enjoyed and swayed to the song until an aberration was heard. It was an extra beat. "Where did it come from?" They all wondered in unison.
"How did that happen?" Most of them asked. "Was the sound unprecedented?" asked the others expressing panic.

She was unmoved and serene. She hardly bothered. "I have a different question," she announced,
"I wonder who the drummer was."

Lunacy

Like a stranded star,
glowing alone,
his shadow walked down the road,
sun-rays outgrown.
and, the progressive ambiguities,
overriding it's colour and shape,
fear invading the road,
continually swapping itself with the reality.
and, he sang the songs that prevailed,
in the air, through which, light escapes,
travels straight, into a land that changed,
life to death and death to life,
eternal wishes that are never sufficed.
and, the shape went ahead,
travelling to the north
where the music was played,
the howls of life and the melody of the dead.
then it went to a place that shone,
empty as the outer space,
and with a stranger,
duplicable as a clone.
and it glowed like a stranded star,
being made permeable to the eternal dark.

Have a Cigar

The brilliant guitar leads by David Gilmour is the best feature of this legendry Pink Floyd song. Gilmour's hands seemingly dance on his guitar. Not to forget, Roger Waters' vocals - intense, sublime.

Well, it's after quite a while that I'm listening to this song, and my urge to type something in spite of a paucity of news ideas, has brought me here. Have a Cigar is one of my all time favourites. I know what a cigar can do, hence I, perhaps, relate to the song better. Some smokes are heavenly. Some of them are located so aptly on the time graph that they become an integral part of your memories. For instance, at 1 o'clock in the night, you stand at Juhu beach with your best friend. It's predominantly a moon-lit night, though some of the yellow street lights are reflected by the sand. The sea is a light shade of black, bound by you at one end and infinity at the other. And now, you light up a cigarette. Majestic is the word to describe the feeling.

Today, I ask myself a question, "Do you need to have a cigar to enjoy the above scene?"
I really don't know the answer. Logically, it's a 'No'. I wonder if the aura of the above situation would be mitigated without it. But in spite of knowing it, I would surely be very tempted to light up another one if I find myself in the same situation again.

Now, I have almost quit smoking. Soon will I quit it completely. Though, I don't look at cigarettes and cigars derogatorily. My prolific smoking days and smoked up nights are a memory; a memory that will stay with me for long, pretty long.

Paroxysm

The sun was sinking into the sea, progressively getting closer to the horizon. The water was adulterated, though the vague reflections of the lights originating at various buildings on Marine Drive were collectively making it resplendent. The horizon was wide and spread out, pretty clear too. Between the attractive skyscrapers and the ravishing sea lay an embankment where I was relaxing in one of my most ecstatic moods.

That day, I wasn't alone. Washed in the whitest of the whites, she looked stunning, irresistible. I was enthralled to see the splendor. There was something special about her beauty. It was not spontaneous. It was not momentary. It had gradually grown big on me. Every moment that we had spent together had brought us closer. Those emotions had unknowingly gathered in my mind. I wasn't sure of what I was feeling, I was simply letting time do its job. And that day, a paroxysm of her took place. She exploded in my mind. The beauty of the moment was such that I anyway knew what was to come. Taken away by the moment, I looked into her eyes, and within a moment, my feelings were reciprocated. Neither of us spoke anything, we just felt. It was the most beautiful tacit conversation I have had with anyone.

The day is gone now, frozen as a memory. Today, we are together. Much closer to each other than what we were then. With her, it's a different world. With her, it's just the two of us. She has the power to take me out of myself. She can do magic with my emotions. It's been a spectacular journey right through. I hope, I continue to fathom the truest of the smiles with her along. It has, indeed, been quite a walk, 'The Walk of Life'.

Blue Grass

you wake up,
and smell the world,
thinking of your new girl.

you go out,
and walk around,
analyse life, lying alone on the ground.

you think,
and intoxicate as you frown,
befriending the alcohol that's just gulped down.

in the evening,
filled with emptiness, as the sun sets,
futile attempts of cleaning up the mess.

visit the night,
smoking and drinking,
in a corner, nostalgia shrinking.

and,
you smoke the day's last cigarette,
inhaling the scarcity of smiles, to show
exhaling the prosperity of your perennial woe.


- Not a poem; an attempted song!
(The rhyme might seem forced)