Depressed diaries

If you can’t figure what I think,

Then leave me alone and let me sink,

Sink peacefully in the depths of uncertainty,

Far from the clouds of confusion and flowers of vanity.

I have seen roses pinching with their thorns.

I have seen those rare but gloomy dawns.

My reasoning failed me

And so I now to seek comfort in my conscience.

If so obvious is not this world then may be mystique is the answer.

Answers to the questions that trace the outline of my present.

Words seem to finish at a point where I am left alone in resent.

Subrat Mohanty

Resurrection of my dreams

I stand among the ruins, ruins of my present tumbling all over.

Each moment I pass in despair with mind lost and eyes sober.

My fears took the shape of dragons of my destruction,

Spitting fire on my dreams.

Thanks to it for what I once saw- now is an illusion it seems.   

Not a shoulder to lay down my confused head,

Not a hand to rub off my tears,

Not a voice to allay my fears,

And now it seems no one just cares.

 

Phew! Wait a minute…

 

I have lost many, but not all.

A shadow still stands behind me.

A heart still races within me

In hope of a resurrection.

Chastened by the scars that times inflicted upon me.

The ruins lie around yet the bricks still remain.

Darkness prevails around yet the stars and the moon will still remain

Up above to show the way through the forest of life.

 

A castle of my dreams now slowly takes shape in my eyes,

Rising from these ruins like a phoenix from the ashes.

Subrat Mohanty

Couplets of my mind#7

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Why do you believe all that which appears?

Even the fragrance of the flowers exist invisible.

There is a ‘you’ buried within you.

Not all can see but just you.

Give it a chance to live its life.

Give it a chance to blossom amidst this strife.

Subrat Mohanty

 

Dream?

Confused

“Son, the time has come to think about it-

What do you want to be? In what profession do you fit?

Your fun days are about to over. Now get little serious!

Listen to me for what I say now is very precious!

What do you dream to be in future?

Have you ever thought about it?

 

Licking the ice-cream, he said

“Dream? Not really, dad.

I am no artist. My imagination is so bad.” (giggles)

Just joking but yes I will think about it.

Let the ice cream get finished and then we can sit

And talk about it at length

 

“You can have the ice cream later.

By having it now, will it taste any sweeter?

Is career more important or this petty ice cream?

How many times shall I tell you this matter is not so trivial as it may seem!”

 

“Will my career be made here right now, in a minute?

Oh, my dad, just chill!

Who gives you so many worries to feel!

Okay, okay… Let us talk as I have my ice cream…”

 

“What is your plan for future?

Engineer or a doctor?”

 

“Hmm…the one that pays me well is my future.

Dad, do you know how many dreams have I always nurtured ?

A cool bike, a racing car

A long holiday trip with friends to places afar

A palatial house with a big swimming pool

Once I get all these, dad won’t it be so cool!”

 

“But son, what do you want to do in life?

All these things you said just now, shall come to you when they ought to

But right from here where do you head to?

What is that which makes you happy when you do it each time?

Playing with the machines or fighting with diseases

Fighting cases in the court or looking after businesses

What is your passion? What is your dream?

 

“Dream?

Dad, that is little difficult to tell.

Give me some more time. I will think about it.

With my friends, I will talk about it.

Which path shall be more profitable for me

And then I shall tell you about it.

 

Oh, my ice cream just got finished. I wish I could get another! ”

Subrat Mohanty

Vanity

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He walked gleefully on the straight road and he thought to himself,

“I wish I could hold my good times forever,

I wish they could always be my saviour,

So, that I never see the ugly face of misfortune.

Fortune served on the platters of gold,

With the wine of my dreams, hued dark and bold,

 With the world standing behind me like a waiter in the bar,

With no idea what my next move would be. From their thoughts, my dreams lie too far.

Oh, how happy would I be when success would adorn my head like a crown!

Chuckling to myself, on finding them jealously frown!”

 

Just as he looked up in pride,

He missed a step or two on the stairs of life and down he went on a bumpy ride,

Rolling and rolling down,

He tried holding onto few of his dreams.

But alas! It was the only the edges of reality that his head hit. The dreams were hollow perhaps, it seems.

Some time later , the crowd heard his groan and gathered around him, picking up his bruised self.

They asked, “Who are you and how did you end up being like this?”

He whispered faintly,” Vanity is my name. None but I am to be blamed for this.”

Subrat Mohanty

The Unsuitable Boyfriend

Lonely

Looking at the mirror, wondering whether he looked any fairer,

He stared at himself with a touch of narcissism,

As a he smiled at himself with a hint of optimism

And thought to himself,

“She shall fall into my arms, one day I know

One day for sure! When I don’t know”

His empty house seemed to smile at his lonely dreams.

 

He wandered in the world with work at hand and hope in the heart,

Looking up to the world with a silent hope.

Fairies came only in his dreams,

Otherwise there were nothing more than few mirth filled smiles for him.

He watched them blush.

He watched them smile.

Not with him but with someone else.

“What does she find in him that she finds not in me?

Give even me a chance, as well. I am as lovable as he can be”

The world seemed to exist in pairs.

Except for him, for whom there was only solitary despair.

 

Only his empty house could give him some solace.

Banging it’s door shut, he chose to sink into his space.

He stared at the mirror that showed him hope this morning.

But now even that seemed to close its eyes,

Against the setting sun outside, he was left tracing his silhouette lines.

Subrat Mohanty

Flower Thief

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His eyes stayed fixed on the flowers that overlook the boundary wall.

His mind knows the risk yet his hopes, like his plucking stick, stand tall.

As the first rays of the sun kiss the crimson petals of the pretty hibiscus,

And the people around barely up and beginning to discuss.

He knows he has to strike early for his prize cannot wait for long.

Just when his stick touches the stem of the flower,

There comes a scream from veranda above, bold and louder,

 

“Thief, thief! How dare you even look at my beloved flower!

That too, you pluck it shamelessly. I see – no less is your power!

Stop doing that and get lost from here!

Stay away and don’t even try coming any near !”

  “Oh ma, I pluck no more than a couple of these flowers !

    Please, I need few for worshipping my god….”

“Even I do need the same, you fool!

Do you think this is the garden of your kingdom where you rule?

If you plunder my trees

Every day like this,

What will I worship my beloved god with?”

Saying that she stared angrily biting her teeth.

The poor guy drags his stick back and walks away slowly

Staring softly at her and he mumbled to himself,

 “Greedy woman, why do you need so many flowers?

 What tragedy shall you face if I steal a couple of flowers ?

  Flowers on your trees shall anyways please the lord.

 Be it in my rag shackles or be it in your spacious house.

 What more will you ask anyways to god? You already have what you want

 People like me need more of his blessings for what we want to have, we can’t

 I leave you flowers today in the custody of your greed.

 May these fall down or be stolen and may you never get it when you need!”

 

He walks away silently, staring at the flowers for one last time.

Hoping god to listen to his verbose prayers sans flowers today, for one more time.   

Subrat Mohanty

 

 

 

Life,Wind and a Weed


All my answers perhaps lie in its hush.

I can feel as it kisses my cheeks.
I close my eyes and think….
Hours of futile arguments have robbed me of my mind.

I wonder who can ever help me find

My life that I was once used to.

Life where the sky caught my imagination and the flowers seemed beautiful. 

Life where I was free to paint my dreams with no borders drawn around.

I don’t know where I have left that life behind.
But, I am living a life, nevertheless

Like a weed that grows unheard, unseen and untouched.

It moves only when the wind passes by it,

Caressing it and lulling it again to sleep.

The mystery of my life grows,

Like the force of the wind that blows.

Still, few questions remain whose answer no one knows.

Subrat Mohanty