The Fallen Angel

Dear you,

You are the fallen angel. The sinner who fell wounded on my paper. And thanks for not acting like you’re the embodiment of innocence.

I know hell would be better than this. By the way, Did you know your sin? Your sin was not being real. Being a shadow of sorts; Being silent; Never reaching people on time; Never being simple. You were too complicated for heaven. They threw you out from that height only because you had wings and you can survive. 

You’re not going to be chained to darkness because, you are the brightest light we’ve ever seen.You are going to be chained to my ink. Your scars will become art on my paper. Your blood will be the spectrum for million colours. I don’t want your blood to fill up oases. Oases mostly become mirages. I just want you to reflect.

I know your wings are heavy and I know that broken wings are the heaviest. Hold my hand and learn to walk. You need to go away very soon. But, find the ink stains you left behind and get back to me if you wish. Just telling..

A day will come when I will not be holding your hand. So pick thyself up soon. Stand with me in my worse. I mean Verse.

For I have a destiny created for you. You will be remembered as the Fallen Angel, the sinner, the art I created. You’ll never be human, you’ll never be one among them, because humans don’t do forevers. You’ll stay in the form you fell down. A word. Not a Satan, not a monster, not a comet, but a Word.

Just when you became mine, your sins have become mine. Don’t Worry! I’m used to those confinements. And we’ll be forever. Fuck the muse, she’s lazier than you. I am not writing to her, until she comes. Okayyy! Don’t give me that look, I’ll write to her only having you around. You’ll be my messenger.

But, if this be the day I celebrate you, should I tend your wounds and let you fly?

Will you take me to your world once and for all, if I let you fly? Because, I am cold and I could use Two Wings for a Blanket. I am crying, I could use the headwinds to wipe it off.

– just Barath©

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The Sunshine Blogger Award

I have been nominated for The Sunshine Blogger Award.

Thanks for the Nomination Padma Sandhya! I cannot ask for better questions than these.

So, my dear readers do visit her blog and I am sure you’ll fall in love with the way she pens it. Click on this link and go there right away. You can read my post later!

The Soulitary Reaper

First things first, I am breaking few rules of this award. I’ll get back to it in a different format soon.

The award-

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I asked myself so many questions when I was trying to get answers for these questions. Such good questions man! Note that these answers are coming out spontaneously. Because, if I try thinking a lot about this I would get lost and end up sleeping.

1. Do you have a favourite family memorabilia/heirloom? What is it?

I don’t think we have one. But, if I have to start saving such a thing. It is going to be my Mom’s watch. It’s silver in color and works by keying it. Yes! You don’t need a battery!

And I dont want my Dad’s watch because it’s gold in color.

I also wanted to save the big wooden box thing inside which we lock our Television. But, they took it away.

2. If you could go back in your own timeline, what would the ‘present you’ tell the ‘2008 you?’

In 2008 I was in 5th grade, in a Co-ed school which was STRICT. I had nothing in my life other than subject books. I would tell him this:

You can stop caring so much about school books, exams and shit. Befriend a girl, you need to learn to understand women, even your mom or sister. Befriend someone who will be that casual with you when teaching you this growing up together.

Take up the guitar and start reading books. Delve into my own fictional universe where Sherlock, Luna Lovegood are all there solving crimes.

I want to tell so much to my 2008 self, something that will go long as a blog. 

3. Which book character would you like to run away with?

Scout finch from ‘To kill a mockingbird’ will hold my left hand and Sam from ‘The perks of being a wallflower’ the right.

And, and I know Rahel from ‘The God of Small things’ will find me wherever I go!

Rahel! Are you listening?

4. Do you like your job? What’s your dream job?

Yes! I like my job! I am a Part-time Content Producer at a Media Company. It’s just putting myself to high thinking situations and living on music and espresso.

A dream job! I cannot define it with a term. But let me try. I want to travel, take photos, write, make music, direct films, and do Radio Jockeying.

Writing also includes writing my fictions.

5. Which country would you like to travel to?

The Top Country on my Bucketlist as of now is America, in particular the state which is in a LDR with America, Alaska. Well! Its just for the Northern lights. Once, I am done with that, it’s Sri Lanka. I love the sound of Sinhalese. 

And, the list goes on.

6. What do you look forward to when you wake up each day?

Try and finish my longstanding deadlines atleast on this day. I always have pending work.

I have 109 unfinished blog concepts, 1 short film in pre-production, 2 incomplete scripts and, lets not talk about this, I am becoming sad.

7. If you can meet The Creator, what would you tell him?

I’ll ask him, 

“Have we met before?” 

Trust me just this question can answer million questions.

8. What was your favourite show as a kid? (Why did Cartoon Network have to change…)

Tom and Jerry,Scooby doo, Popeye and there is no end to the cartoon series.

WWE too, I was addicted to it!

9. What is the big announcement about your life that you’d like to give right now?

Okay! I thought of not telling this for sometime.

But, This is one perfect answer to this question.

 

I am moving out of Chennai in 2 months

For those who don’t know Chennai, it’s my hometown. The place I was born in and lived in for 2 decades now. I am Excited and nervous. Only few friends know about it and most of my other friends are not going to be reading the blog. So, no problemo.

10. Given a choice, which villain would you like to be?

Oh! I hate and love villains equally. I fall for them when they tell these indepth dialogues with layers and can do the facial expressions well. 

I would like to be The Joker. He is my ideal person kinda.

11. How was your day?

All these days have been a pain in the ass. As I told earlier, my deadlines are getting the better of me. And I don’t want it to control my life. It get’s to me man. This day was not an exception.

If not for good music, I would most definitely turn into a psycho. 
———-

Well, that’s a wrap to the questionnaire!

Thanks for being such a good interviewer and soooo cool Padma. Keep writing. Lots of love! 

And didn’t I tell you I am breaking some rules? I will come up with something different to interact for this question and nomination part.

So long,

just Barath.

ஒரு பனிப்படிந்த பைனாகுலர்

“ஒரு வருஷம் எப்படி போச்சுன்னே தெரில” என்று சொல்ல வாஞ்சை கொள்கிறது மனம். நிமிட முள்களுக்கு இடையில் இருக்கும் தொலைவை கடப்பதில் வியர்வை வழிய, மூச்சிரைக்க நின்று, நின்று நடந்தது இந்த சட்டைகளை ஈரத்தால் கனமாகி விடுகிறது. ஒவ்வொரு நிமிடமும் ஒரு வருடமாக தான் கடந்துகொண்டிருக்கிறது

 

அப்படி இந்த ஆண்டில் என்ன கிழித்துவிட்டோம் என்று சந்தோச தருணங்களையெல்லாம் எண்ணிப் பார்க்கையில் நான்கு விரல்கள் மீதம் வந்துவிட்டது. இந்த ஒட்டுமொத்த வெறுப்பிற்கும் ஒரு பெரிய வில்லன் தான் காரணம். அவன்/அவள் நான் பார்க்கும் சினிமா’க்களின் வில்லன் அல்ல. நான் பார்க்கும் சினிமாக்களில் பல வில்லன்கள் நான் விரும்பும் மனிதர்கள் என்ற பட்டியலில் அத்தியாவசியமாக விளங்குகின்றனர். என் வில்லனின் பெயரை நான் கூறிவிட்டால் நீங்கள் பர்சனல் கேள்விகள் கேட்க தொடங்கி விடுவீர்கள். நானும் practical-ஆக பதில் கூற வேண்டும் என்ற நிர்பந்தத்தில் பொய்கள் கூறும்படி ஆகிவிடலாம். நான் பொய்கள் கூறுவதில் இருந்து முற்றிலுமாக பின்வாங்க முயற்சித்து கொண்டு தான் இருக்கிறேன் என்றாலும், பொய்களை எழுதமாட்டேன்.

உண்மை நம்பர் ஒன்: உலகின் ஆதிப்பெரிய சோம்பேறி அடியேன் தான்.உண்மையாக எழுதப்படும் ஒவ்வொரு எழுத்தும் உலகின் உச்ச இலக்கியங்களை விட ஒரு படி மேல் என்று என் வில்லன் சில தருணங்களில் கூறி நான் கேட்டதுண்டு.

இரவுகளின் நீளம் விளங்க தொடங்கும்போது, தனிமை தான் முதல் புரிதல் ஆகிறது. தூக்கம் களைந்த நிலையிலும் எரிச்சலுடன் இருக்கும் கண்கள் எதையோ கேட்கிறது. சிரிக்க சில தருணங்கள், மறக்க சில தருணங்கள், பிய்த்தெடுத்த றெக்கைகளுடன் பறக்க சில தருணங்களை கொண்ட ஒரு திண்ணிய நாளை பொழுது! இதை நோக்கி தான் செல்கிறோமா? அர்த்தப்பட வேண்டியது தானே வாழ்க்கை? அது அடுத்த பாகம் என்ன நடக்கும் என்பதை பற்றி மட்டும் நினைக்கும் ஒரு பனிப்படிந்த பைனாகுலர் ஆனதில் ஒரு துளியும் களிப்பு இல்லை.

நிச்சயமாக மரபணு ரீதியாக வருவதில்லை எனது இளநரை என்பது புரிஞ்சாச்சு. மருத்துவர் ஸ்ட்ரெஸ் என்ற பொதுச்சொல்லை குறித்துவிட்டு என் 2017-ஐ மேலும் கனமாக்கிவிட்டார். 20 ஆண்டுகள் பழகிப்போன சென்னை தண்ணீரினால் இப்போது முடி கொட்டுவதும் தொடங்கிடுச்சு. அடி மீது அடி வாங்கி 2017-என்னும் அம்மியில் அரைக்கப்பட்ட, எந்த அளவுக்கு தனிமை விளங்கியதென்றால் நிம்மதியான உறக்கத்தில் இருந்து டாக்டர் சொன்ன ஸ்ட்ரெஸ்-ஐ விட்டு விலகி நிற்பதற்கு பதில் “சொன்ன சொல்லை தவற மாட்டான் இந்த கோட்டைசாமி என்று டயலாக் பேசிக்கொண்டு மேலும் சில காயங்களுடன் 2017-ஐ முடிக்க நினைக்கிறேன்.

சினிமாவை போல, எழுத்துக்களும் என்னை காக்க ஏதாவது முயற்சி எடுக்குமோ என்று அறிந்து கொள்வதில் ஒரு நப்பாசை.
என் எழுத்துக்கள் அர்த்தப்பட தொடங்கும்வரை எழுதிக்கொண்டே இருக்க விருப்பம். முடிவென முற்றுப்புள்ளி இடமால், இந்த தொடரை முடிக்க நான் இடும் அரைப்புள்ளியினால் அந்த பிழையை திருத்தவாவது மீண்டும் எழுத வருவேன் ,

TUESDAY, 26 DECEMBER 2017 அன்னிக்கு நைட் எழுதுனது.

A white paper needed ink

 

My words shall be dark
Dark enough to brave shadows.

 

Let the soul that reads find light,
Let the soul of the works light up lives.

For the pen of the writer
Saw nothing but a white paper that needed
a darkness that exudes deeper than black ink.
For the pen of the writer
was filled with tears and not ink.

Let his tears not be seen.
Let his papers never have a word.

For his words could tell the truth about love.
The truth that was little too real.

Let him cry in solitude.
Let him die in between the first few lines.
Let his poetry be the moon on a moonless night
Let it never shine.
Let him be.

For he is walking back his path,
He is looking at traces of his own shoe marks,
For he is cursed with memory for the worst of all things.
For the muses of many greats,
 All Cry, Chant, Sing, Plead, Command,
Beg for him to write a happy word.

But he the man felt absurd.
For he could not write lies.

Sometimes,
The muses of the darkest days prayed,
For him to be blessed with death.

He could write,
but a sad word.
He could confess his love for love.
He could teach some lessons to the writers.
The writers of happy verses,
“Thy words should never stop.
Thy lies runneth the world.
Thy lies keep the sand inside the clocks.
Thy lies in the name of gravity refuse to give man wings.
Thy lies ask a man to believe in Hope.
Thy lies are blessed.
Thy lies keep a person alive.
Thy lies are God?”

He had some other lessons,
He could tell to no one but himself.
Some things.

For he feared death.
Death that would stop a dark soul from writing the truth.
Here, the words,
“My words kill belief,
My words cause dearth,
My words be safest companions to loneliness,
My words maketh immortals and change world order,
My words which are due to the muse
be heard by too many, but understood only by few
Few from the early winter’s dew
My words be me in spite of the cups of tears filled”
He should be dead, Right?

Let the failed heart find some more tears to write.
Let the hope stabbed by him find heaven’s sweetest spot,
Let the writer in him search for more love.
Let his love be mere mortals in the next times.
Not a winged charm.
Let the love he finds not be an impostor of
Persephone, Diana or Aphrodite herself.
And let him find love, after love, after love.

The order of the world needs his love more than he needs it.
And his words need love in some tense.
The balance of the world for him was on Art’s lyre
and flowers that were born to decorate her crown

Let him find water of Styx around every corner,
but let his thirst never quench.

Let truth win.
Let him lie everywhere other than his paper.
Let him lie to escape from reality.
Let him lie as he is a human and then a poet.
Let love let a man live.
Let him have lesser pains in touching wounds.
Let him forgive every second.
Let him listen to the music that keeps secrets.
Let him dwell on every word and world.
Let the world feel sorry for his luck.
Let the world not laugh at his poetry of failed love.
Let the world love cliches.

Oh! Reasons that maketh pieces into puzzles!
Oh! Seasons that change for him!
Let him write one beautiful, smitten elegy
for every day that dies to get him closer to death.

-just Barath

To Maple

We felt fountains of darkness flow on our bodies.
A state of challenging coldness,
Not the brain, but the mind got hypothermic.
It was a moment when love was the Only Light,
Every other second, love was that first apple.

Immortality at grasp, words became pawns.
Infinity for few seconds, all our remaining years were compensated.
Intuition was all lucy’fied.

To cafune.
To caress.
To lock.
To still.
To get out.
To live.. we decided.

It was outside the unity of time.
An A minor and an F.
An Alleregretto was overlooked and stayed away from.

It never marched to the unity of place.
This bed could have been the other side, I promised to meet her, last time.

It did not heed to the unity of action
We don’t believe in anything completely, ever.
All lasted, until the second, her hand hovered over my shoulder.
I believed in the ambiguity she was.

Electric impulses started trotting,
It was by the usual route
But, slower.

And what followed was the world’s most beautiful cliche..

This abyss
stripped us of our doubts.
What I couldn’t tell in light,
I stammered through all night.

We were lying.
We weren’t lying.

The curtains and spreads still hold on to that dark night.
They still howl it to us through the winnowing winds.

just barath

To follow the other poems of the series:
To Miss.Autumn
To my fall
To my St.Martins Summer