Survive some more [short poem]

Beneath the smile,

Lays a wounded soul,

Scars many, a lasting pain,

One more blow, I couldn’t care

Survived so far, will survive some more!

~Sam

P.S: This is my first attempt at a progressive poem- 3 words to 7 words. 

The third kind

How often do we debate about Love marriage vs Arranged marriage? We discuss the pros and cons and I am amazed by people who take a side and defend it. Let me introduce you to the third kind. I belong to this clan.

The third kind:

We are a breed who snickers at people juggling relationships in search of true love. We are the kind who cannot wrap our minds to the concept of arranged marriage/love marriage.  So yes, we are the little lost kids of destiny who have no inclination to take the either of the path in front of us and have no idea what so ever, how to find  our mates.  Our attitude and behaviour is infectious and we can hurl ghastly blows to 'in love' and 'arranged to be married' couples or the mixture of both.

How to identify us:

• 1. If you tell us you love us- we will probably laugh and roll on the floor which might cause you to change your mind.
• 2.  We are usually, perpetually single. We are not mushy and lovesick, nor do we have any dream hero/ dream girl description to tally matrimonial profiles with.  We don’t know you see!
• 3. We are far away from the worldly description of “a suitable bride/groom” and “an ideal girlfriend/boyfriend”. We don’t know how we will be as companions.  Our mind says it will depend on who we finally get tagged with.

Why we don’t get into relationships:

• 1. We hate the whole cycle of – infatuation, dating, in relationship, fights, breakup – poof! We are anyway distressed souls so we leave the drama for the rest of the crowd.
• 2.  Even if it ends on a happy note- we don’t have the patience to reach the stage till you figure out you can live your life in our company.
• 3.  We can be romantic ( psst. read the love poetry I write) enough to confuse you that we are inclined to love. The reality is- we like the idea.. we don’t like the process. And don’t assume we are the sorry heartbroken people. We probably talk about it to ensure ourselves there is an organ that beats in our ribcage.

What we don’t like about arranged marriages:

• 1. Brainless educated jackasses in search of a “disciplined”, fair, slim girl. :d in short an impressive looking doormat :P or a Phoren settled well off chap, a ticket to USA! ;)
• 2. Your FB page and blogs telling us your parent(s) has no clue about the son/daughter you are and that the profile that they have created was keeping in mind what you were like a million light years ago.
• 3. Uploading/Sending pics that look like mug shots taken in rented clothes! The idea of you probably judging us, “Oh can I sleep with that?” – It is sickening!

 But we are a human form and yes we look out for company. I am particularly interested in the penguin style of finding a mate by singing- the song of heart? But,because I am no singing sensation beyond the walls of my home and my happy feet don’t tap. I guess that is not an option.  So, ending on a happy note with song of the heart courtesy: Happy Feet :D

Concealing Images [Short Fiction]

He sat in isolation looking at people around him. The sounds seemed to resonate in the air. He felt a tingling sensation on his back when music flooded through the speakers. His thoughts seemed interrupted as he touched the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt soften the pinch of unfamiliar glasses.  Sipping the drink with caution he regained his focus. Every person who entered the bar was caught in his gaze. He looked at them with stark observation and shifted his eyes back to the next person who walked through the door. An unconscious disappointment emerged between slightly pressed lips every time he looked back at the entrance. As if, he tallied each person against a mental description of someone he seemed too eager to meet.

While he observed these people he seemed to know more about them than he wanted to know. Good people trying to be bad. People caught in the company of the bad. Peer pressure, social obligations all became visible to his eyes. He saw women, trading off their dignity to appear little fashionable and broadminded while their inner souls cringed with disgust. Men gulping down more drinks than they can handle to reinforce their gender as if someone questioned them about it. Little scum bags killing time till they found someone who wouldn’t be able to figure out a few missing notes from their heavy wallets. Bartenders entertaining guests they didn’t care about. Everyone masked by concealing identities.

The tiny chips of mirrors on few of the walls transported him back to his school days when he was made to hold two mirrors in front of each other. He remembered the reflections, his astonishment when he looked in to the mirrors -Infinite images. His life seemed to be trapped in the illusion of these infinite images. A sadness wrapped around his heart when he recollected his ten year old self. He couldn’t identify with himself anymore and yet he could connect to everybody around him. He had been through everything these people were facing and, a lot more. He felt his hands against his face as if to register how his visage looked like. He caught his image of in one of the reflections- a harmless young man dressed like it was his first visit to the place. The image disturbed him. He shut his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck in an attempt to let go of the emotions that seem to suffocate him.  The metallic object tucked at his waist touched his skin and his lips pressed again- disappointment. But this time his eyes didn’t have a shade of regret as if this disappointment was embedded to him and had become a part of his life.

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Written for Captured Writings