Letter to God: Burn me in hell!

Dear God,

I believe you exist. I know very well that your sense of reality is immeasurable and that you are beyond time, space and matter. Heaven and hell are not mere theories but hold a practical value to me. Consider this as a prayer, but please burn me in hell. I don't want to come to heaven, because if I did you would find a fierce opponent who believes only in love and would shatter all your statutes bereft of civility and respect towards those who are not 'your people' - with abject vehemence. I am not Satan, I wouldn't war with you for a piece of expensive furniture called throne, because thrones are mere objects of assumed power and authority. My throne is where I lay my tent, in the crannies of the bark and sleeping alongside smelly bugs and venomous spiders and all that you labelled unclean. That is where I find my happiness, at the comfort of brokenness and wails of dejection and suppression. I am blind enough to find my light in darkness.

My defiant attitude is the outcome of not just one thing. I could list a million things, but I don't owe you any explanation. I am what I am. Don't wait for the judgement day, because if you did - I'd probably mock you on your face, so kill me soon and throw me into the lava of sulfur. If you ever thought hell could douse my spirit, you are verily wrong. I challenge you that I would build a kingdom of love as my soul fries inside the burning chambers, because assholes and whoremongers make for better saints than the ones in robes and singing vibrant hallelujahs, you just need to touch the right chords. You would see me win in places you lost, but I would still not call myself god or ask people to worship me and no one else, for I detest jealousy. You could write me off for good, make me completely extinct, no heaven no hell, detest me some more, regret it and call it a sin to have let the womb survive in my mother's belly, blow me away, out of your fucking mind, take me out of all the drama you started in Eden and fart me out of your divine fucking design. I think you already are considering the option, because no good criminal leaves behind his proofs.

You might wonder why I write such abominable things, but I don't really care. You already know the whys and the hows and the wheres and the whens. The more I experienced life and its complex non-linearity, the more I grew into a practical sense of disillusionment that hit me like how crystal meth would hit an amateur shooter. I don't blame you for the sins of humanity, which would also mean I don't credit you with any good that happens on this beautiful planet either. With or without you, love could and would still exist. May be one day you would grow up to realize love is more supreme than who you claim yourself to be through your prophets.

Yours,

Zac

Once a servant

Now a fitting nemesis

P.S. The God I'm writing to is the God fed to us from the books!

The Kill

Riots run amok deep within my heart triggered by your words that slayed my peace forever. I see flowers smelling of horror and some sort of queasy stench gently mixes with the pleasant evening breeze in all the wrong proportions that when the air caresses my skin through the window sill next to my bed, it bleeds from my nose. My pillow is full of blood, the cuts from the scars have ripped themselves open again, and the gory pieces of my skin and bones burn in anguish.

The barbs from those syllables of something else - fired like gunshots from misguided cannons nailed me upside down to the wretched cross I never imagined I would ever hang from, my veins breaking from within my head after repeated bombs of hemorrhage splatter my brain, and every letter from those words spraying vitriol on my face disfiguring me for good. I have been trying my luck at recouping, but I have lost parts of me that would never wake up again to see the light of day.

Right when I was about to conclude that the damage was irreversible, I found my heal. The balm for deep wounds lies hidden in the happiness you could create in others. I started to take my bag and travel alone, went to places, stepped into zones considered taboo and unsafe, started talking to strangers, men and women who have been impaired with deep hurt, gave away everything I had, with the only intent to bring out all the best smiles I possibly could, from those souls dimmed by smoky infernos of life - till I was sure they were really happy. The answer to most of your life's questions lies in you being the answer to the prayers of others. Happiness truly is real only when shared.

The Cosmic Harmony

As I playfully sprinkle those mesmerizing drops of kisses into your magnetic eyes, you stand there smiling. You slowly move forward, those little steps take you too dangerously close to me that you fail to notice that your bosom grazes my chest, and you smile again. I inhale your sweet breath and the fragrance in your hair, the blend smites me. I am not really sure if I should lay hands on your hips and take you inside my heart - because what goes inside the heart doesn't come out without tearing me apart and leaving me to bleed, bleed to death. But I am sure I am able to hear the flute play clearly and my soul dances like how little children do.

You are the physician that has peppered my sleep with repeated fevers that I have strangely started liking them. You slap me with your smiles - give me more of them, slay me - because every time your soft palm touches my cheek, I feel a tremor that builds back my broken edifices. I can feel my best senses and sensibilities lying numb, curled inside the storm that is you. You defeat me and I still win.

When I hold you in my arms one day, I would do it like you are the most precious magical vapours found in the best places of heaven. The more you sail through the gorges of my mind, the more saner I become and the waves become still and serene. The more I give, the more I receive. Until I am drenched in your never-failing, unending monsoons. Take away the umbrellas I carry with me, throw them away, blacken your clouds, blow your winds over me, rain down.

P.S. It is 4:30 in the morning and daybreak is fast approaching, but I still see the stars smiling at me with their twinkles - as my pen inks the paper. It is real - love truly is cosmic harmony.

Break The Fences

During the shrill of the night, they came crawling from everywhere - setting fire to the inner self that was cowering in terror. I was under siege. There were blockades around, everywhere, I couldn't jump and run away. My adrenalines failed me, so I sat there, shivered, pissed on my pants and gnashed my teeth to powder. I fought my best inhibitions to not wanting to open my eyes, but I was defeated. When I looked around, all that I could find on the contrary was peace.

I saw bats flapping their wings, it rhymed as music to me. Cricket sounds added flavour to the eerie silence. There were no men or women on the streets. But plenty of dogs, stray ones, some howling and some wagging their tails in love and freedom. I knew in my heart that this was heaven. The world taught me to hate darkness, but I started finding light in it. It appeared much more real without the allures of the day. I looked at the skies, the moon was shining bright and those stars, they were winking sweetly at my otherwise ridiculed form.

What they ask you to do misleads you. What takes you away from structure and the generally agreed rightful ways, takes you to your paradise. For in chaos lies beauty spectacular. Your wandering soul finds its rest in the fields carpeted with scrubby tufts of grass and weed, not in the coziness of your bed. The weather is lovely, monsoon is here, break the fences, run, run so hard away, for there are monsters within, you don't belong here, let it thunder and rain, and the floods flow wild.

Pleading The Case Of The Destitute

To punch for a social revolution in India is not as tough as one might think in an age where the earning breed of youngsters is more interested in spending their weekends drinking and dancing in pubs and dancebars. All that it takes to get there is to have a little bit of compassion in your heart to be different and good. However nebulous the dimensions of poverty might appear in the land, the condition of destitution is not unidentifiable. To put it straight, the poorest of the poor are the destitutes. People who have nothing at all to eat, no shelter, no access to clothes that aren't torn, unkempt, remnants of a collapsed household, most of them psychologically scarred, maggots feeding on their bodies, no strength to even stand up and beg for alms.

The absolute disregard the society imposes on the poor is completely shattering. Nobody cares for them because everyone is busy living their own lives, one is interested only in upgrading the lifestyle of his own, even the charity organisations that work in the nation are more inclined towards converting black money into white and taking a cut home for themselves, and the destitute continue to revel in the murk of social expulsion. 

The duties of the State to provide the basic necessities to the poverty stricken people - is observed in the breach. The beggary prevention acts we have are more interested in portraying vagrancy as crime, just because it branches out into sex work, drug peddling and human trafficking. Our policy framework must aim at hitting the root of the issue - which is poverty. Not stopping there, we need to move from being poverty-alleviation centric to making poverty completely defunct - though it might appear as an un-achievable distant dream. Deprivation of citizenship for these poor ones that accounts for a serious condition of invisibility before the State would only aggravate the wound that pusses into decay every passing day. The nation awaits a vital revival from the ministerial chairs as much as we do from the hearts of people. 

As a society, the mantle and mandate is on everyone living in the land to involve themselves in some way or the other to voice out for causes such as these; or change wouldn't come. We need to stop - sanctioning selective violations of rights, social expulsion and practising notions of justice involving stigma which permits oppressive treatment outside the law. The more we join hands to advocate social restitution and empowerment leading to the re-inclusion of the disentitled people into the pool of claimants from the state, the more blessed and happy our nation would become.

You, woman, are a wonder!

You, woman, are a wonder; the world just has to open its blind eyes to see it. You are sculpted to perfection - inch by inch, cell by cell; you are poetry in pendulous motion. A simple smile from your soft lips can set ablaze cold hearts that are as stubborn as dead rock. The gentleness you carry and the kindness that flows out of your soul can beat the exoticism of all the best things the world has ever known. You define beauty in the most unique ways from every angle of perception. Even the best logarithmic expressions would fail miserably to capture the upright decisiveness of your exponential clarity. You are a theorem that doesn't end, and a law that doesn't need proofs.

You are small and slender, but equally fierce, and stormy enough to raze the best edifices of men. Thunders come down along with your tears, there is not a place that escapes a dent when hit by your thoughts. You are strong and powerful, a small fist that could break mountains, and a breeze that brings out the worst volcanoes. You are both an angel and a devil, the nightmare that men crawl into - to understand but find no answer. Prosperity flows out of the diligence of your hands, the same hands that could also crush cruel dictators into powder and ash.

I see you, your inside, the scars you try to hide and smile at you. You should simply bare it all, be who you really are, there isn't a need to be pretentious, spoil not the wizardry within you like an amateur magician. You are real, not somebody's assumption or vague imagination. You are the candle that doesn't need to melt to bring out the light, you are the light. Fall on me, let me see my shadows form behind - so I know I am a mortal treading his way to his glorious end.

Crazily Forever

I was beaten and taken down to a cellar full of coal, dust and darkness. There, I found you. Like a shining diamond that would fill my cold cup with gladness and make me warm. You came running from your hide out and jumped on me, wrapping your legs around me while your bum sat on my hip, and you softly placed your lips onto mine. Then you rubbed your lips against mine for some time - smiling and whispering your 'I love you's and then started kissing me deep, you hands kneading my back. I fell down into a blue ocean, we swimming together and you asking me to become a dolphin. I bite your ears instead and tell you that I am a tiger that goes after his slender deer. You push me away and swim. Swim to an island so exotic that when I saw you there, I felt this was heaven.

You wanted us to roll on the beach mud and laugh till it was sunset; and we ended up making love there - with waves grazing our skin as your sound and motion finished us off in style and we falling into each other's arms together, content. When we woke up, we were in a ball room filled with cute couples dancing, the overwhelming romance in the air forced me to pinch your midriff. That's all that I did and you forcibly led me to the floor and I danced the dance I would never forget even when I sleep, shut inside my grave. Because you knew the jazz that played in the background so well that you planted pecks that turned into kisses that intensified into smooches whenever the music hit those loverly notes. I sincerely haven't heard or known a better song and music, but you.

Then we rushed for home because our kids were waiting for us to come back. As we stepped inside the house, it was all dark. You were holding my wrinkled hand because you cannot see properly now even with your glasses on. Ah there you go, the lights came on with a lot of loud shouts, party poppers exploding and our little grand children swarming around us and everyone gathered singing the best anniversary songs - with a big cake kept for us and photographs from the past hung every where. There, there, in front of every one you wanted to kiss me so badly and you did it - embarrassing me right before all our children. For this, my dear crazy lady, I love you. Forever and ever.