Desires ...

On the desk of desires, I rest or rather I restrict myself between those similar faces. I stay here, I sleep here, I, a virgin piece of paper. And I am about to begin my biography, but believe me, no one ever inked it.

I don't know who all are they, but I am glad they don't recognize me, and even they can't listen the voice of my desires. Since, we all, whatever colour we carry, are made of the same raw material and by the same Creator. He, who made us, He, who made the ink, He who will give the reason for union.

I woke up in midnight, when someone opened the door, the door which was locked since I am here. The only thing I recognize of that time when I was brought here is those few words, “You are here, ink is here, but nothing could happen till someone switch on the light". My friends, the pile of pages between whom I stay (or I rest or I restrict myself or I sleep), call the person behind those words as "He". The cacophonous sound of the door made us conscious. I could smell the unsullied air, but soon I felt it’s the same that tried touching me since years, months and days. Someone (or maybe He), switched on the light, and I felt delighted and at the same time I panicked. He may recognize me. Dust, all over the desk. I thought there's only a single desk in the room, but there were many, all sheltered with dust, all victim of darkness. I tried finding the other end of the room, but I failed. The lamps on other desks were yet off. Someone else may be assigned to their desk, someone, who may be "He" but with another name.

Soon, without uttering a single word, He picked the foremost page from the pile to which I belong. It was white, the obvious choice of purity. But I don't know why "He" is spending so much time on cleaning to dust over this page. Might be because he is He, or might be someone who follows Him. With time, I could feel the swell in intensity of glow over me. Someone is surely picking up pages. Now, they no more remain virgin. But I was curious to know, what after that? What after I lose my virginity? I was waiting for years to be filled, but when I am about to be filled, I am thinking about: what next. 'He' might know the reason that why we always desire for better tomorrow rather than a present yet he never respond us. Better to say He never give us a direct answer. What’s in my destiny, what will make me absolute tonight?

A quote of joy and happiness,
or a rhyme on fire and ice,
Few words on curiosity,
or an account of love and desire?


Every passing hour intensified the light, intensified my excitement, but what if the ink get over while it’s my turn. Do they have another one? The one that I want: crimson red. If, but, how, why always conquered my juvenile psyche. Someone touched me; I can't see anything else now, just the intense glow over me. From where does this lamp borrow so many glows? And without expectations, it is sharing its warmth with me. I forget about getting filled when the elegance of the warmth felt. I realized what will happen when I ll be filled. When I am empty I could feel the utmost light.
The realization changed the aura, I felt like moving away from the light, yet close to it. Yes, I was right. The moment ink could touch me; I was far away from it. Blown with the wind, now I was in the air. Flying without any restriction, above the world so pleasing, like a bird I flied, cuddling with the air, kissing the light, I felt what I desired.
I knew it won’t last forever, but now I desired to be in the air forever. It’s not what I desire but what’s in my destiny. Soon I will land up, and don’t know who will fill me? Now will I ever be completed, but I don’t care about that, since I enjoyed my present. I yet retain my virginity, and yet I experienced love.
The rains witnessed my pleasure, or my pleasure witnessed the rains. The sprinkling droplets over me made me realize I am going to hit the earth soon. Earth? I never heard this word earlier, but it came out of me? I am wet, ready to dissolve, a crimson red drop of blood over one of my corner. Blood? I never heard this word earlier, but it came out of me? Prepared to sleep again, I was forced to lay down, no more cuddling, no more kissing. I, completely soaked with a stain. Incomplete, yet feeling complete …


And since you will never know why it happened to me, I am about to tell you the dark secret of my life. Dark: not because I regretted it, dark because you were not ready to switch on the light. Dark: because their always remained layers of dust around us. Dark, because so is the nature of ink. Dark: because everyone desire for the ink. But that does not trouble me anymore, and I can freely share that I had been a virgin Pink page once. Pink, not just the colour for the queer but the best. And to be the best, enlightenment is what you should desire. I am pink, I am enlightened, yet the dilemma is: Am I still virgin?

( Now a part of Gaylaxy )

Compromise!!~~

All it flows like the unconfined river,
And I am one of the pebbles,
Drifting along the times,
Sometimes sluggish, sometimes swiftly,
Losing my contour and the skin I got.


All it grows like the stretching tree,
And I am one of the leaves that shed last night,
I am unaware where this dark night will lead,
But losing my dry soul this autumn,
Will enhance its charm for sure.


All it soothes like this embellishing room,
And I am one of the curtains so elegant,
That’s dancing with this strong wind.
The dust sometimes hits me hard,
Still I am showing the image behind the veiled cards.


All it tastes like any other cappuccino,
And I am the coffee beams, one of its ingredients.
Mixed and blended to give it a savor,
I was appreciated for giving this recipe a name,
But still never accepted the way I was.


In the dim light of moon,
Shines that charismatic river,
The wind touching my chest,
Comes after plucking those leaves.


The pebbles unnoticed,
Or it may be the separated leaves.
I am pleased for the love they express,
But this very moment
I see their different shade,
Compromise under the name of love.


I stand still, facing out the window,
With the cappuccino set for appreciation,
The breeze knocks for space,
Hitting those cuddling curtains.


The juvenile curtains,
Or it be the luscious coffee,
I am pleased for the altruism they express,
But this very moment
I hear their silent voice,
Compromise under the noise of life.


I feel like being a mirror,
Never cleaned for years,
Still how can I show you, my boy,
The same old image.


I tried reflecting back what I got,
But failed this time too,
Since under the name of a relation,
I am compromising too.

( Now a part of Gaylaxy )