Camouflage-III

Back in those days, I lived under one such dark camouflage. Bright and sunny by the sunlight, like a many-hued everyday-happy story but a simmering grey under the moon-light, one which varied in intensity depending on the lunar cycle, depending on how closely you went to look at.

Those nights I felt like a sinner, one who had been marked for life, repentance or no repentance. I did live as if in penance, at least in my mind, but it wasn't helping my guilt. I looked around and wondered how nobody else could see it in my eyes and find out who I was. A killer, a murderer. Some nights I felt justified about my actions; my mind argued for hours the rationale, the defense. Some nights, the weight of my deeds crushed my soul and tears couldn't wash away the uncontrollable pain. Most of all there was the weight of what I had hoped and expected myself to be, and what I now thought I had become.

There were moments when I felt grateful to be free, uncaught, yet sometimes all I could wish for was to be able to confess to someone, for someone to find out and kill me. I had taken more than one life - I couldn't be the same person I used to be any longer. Emotionally, I was scarred.

And yet, I managed to survive the phase perfectly well under my camouflage. It seems remarkable how my old self became my camouflage that kept the world at bay, that kept the mornings boring till the phase - and the war inside me - ended. Back in those days...

Who am I kidding - fact is I still live under a camouflage. Probably always have. So much that I don't know if there is a real me at all after all these years hiding somewhere beneath the multiple layers.

[[To be continued]]

Camouflage-II

It is misleading, how they liken happiness to multiple bright colors. While we may be conditioned enough to always associate palates of bright colors like rainbows and spring gardens with joy, the fact is, all joys have the same hue. Every fear and every pain, however, has its own hue, a different shade, a unique intensity. Notwithstanding the ancient labelers of the human civilization, if you looked close enough you would see that there is only one VIBGYOR and many many blacks; that all happy stories sounded the same and each tragedy was unique.

Happiness and sorrow, much like us, live in this world in a camouflage.

[[To be continued]]

Camouflage-I

It rained often those days. Actually, that wasn't true. It never rained during the days - only in the nights, as if the nights really needed to be cleansed. As if some kind of a sin sneaked in under the cover of darkness every night that needed to be dissolved, or at least hidden, so the morning could be bright and sunny for the world to see. It rained every night so that one could sob in the pillow and not be heard over the din of the drops of water lashing at the window, screeching to be let in, to dissolve the dirtiness inside. But I never opened the window. If I had, I'd probably have jumped off it as well.
I wish I had.

In a blink

I blink
And I forget
The passage of time
The pungence of lime
The long nights
And tearful sights
The tortuous streak
Feeling weak
Pain. Insane.
I forget.

Till I look at the scars.
Till I talk to the stars.
Till I notice how light I feel
Till I watch the layers peel
And I remember.
The promise I made
And the farewell I bade
Not wiping a tear
Letting go of fear
Overcoming desire
Dousing some of the fire
Fighting, losing, living, dying
Waking, working, smiling, lying
I remember.

I smile and rub my eyes.
A phoenix never dies.
Slowly, steadily
I clear the dirt
Piece by piece
I heal the hurt.
I make friends
with the pain.
Then I blink.
And I forget.
And life is good again.