17 Aug 2009


Posted by Oblivion in Fiction | 6:51pm

"Br.o.k/en", Sid writes in the diary and closes it. Distraught, he stares at the guest who has been pretending to be, or indeed, unaware that he is feeling down. The guest enjoys another sip of wine and speaks for the first time. "Why you feeling low, son?"

Sid: "As if you don't know! Come on, you are God! You know how much I love her".

God has an easy smile. He tastes another sip before saying in a measured tone, "Love is not enough. You need luck. Too".

A pause. Sid stares intently at God. God acknowledges his awaiting stare. "Actually, you need loads of it. And you... YOU... you have none of it, son".

Sid is agitated and surprised. "Why!? Why me?"

"That's a wrong question, I'm afraid. I don't choose. I just throw dice. Whoever gets it, gets it. Whoever doesn't, does not. Random event".

"Ah! But you can control, undo and change anything. Randomness cannot be beyond your powers".

"Omnipotence is, I must remind, an attribute that YOU have ascribed to me".

"Have we been wrong, then?"

"Wrong/right, good/bad... Sorry, I am incapable of understanding duality. How does it matter, son? An ant believes you humans are omnipotent. But, are you?" God asks with a mocking smile.

"Don't trick me with dialectic. I want answers".

"Dialectic is your domain, son. I am a simple chap. Famous as God. Thanks to you".

Sid is in no mood to appreciate humour. "Fair enough. Later. Importantly, here I am. In love. But utterly shattered. Everything seems to be going against me. Despite my best efforts not to, I end up hurting her and inflicting more trouble. Worse, every word I speak and everything I do is implying the contrary. I feel helpless".

God is listening, with an air of indifference. He looks at the empty glass and it gets filled with wine in a moment. Sid is on the brink of a breakdown. "Life is unfair, son. Being at the right place matters. And you are not. Luck, as I said. That's how it is".

"That she is not beside me is already killing. Can I not have at least her trust and love?" Sid asks, his eyes wet in tears. "I am a wreck. I cannot recover from this".

"What do I care?" God says. Shaken, Sid feels. Pitiless. As life. A cold stare. Cold enough to freeze Sid's tears.

"Some delicious drink this is, indeed! Want some, son?" 


Such is the intrusion of the tragic, when one becomes aware of the turning wheels of life
- Self, Yann Martel 

17 Aug 2009


Posted by Oblivion in Poetry | 4:21pm

Solitary wanderer am I
On an aimless stroll
In the lonely woods
Dark as night
Shimmering in the light
Of my precious love

Hapless soul
Rendered helpless
By an infallible stroke
Of the sword of life
Unfailing precision
Precise my failure

Merciless look
Staid face of fate
I wonder. I ponder
Would I be

A surfeit of feelings
Wary of words
A deluge of questions
With answers none
Sink my soul
And wring my heart

Who has heard
The wailings
Of a pining heart?
The wailings
Of a pining heart
Who has heard?

Alone my soul is not, though
For, she walks along
She. My soul-mate
My life, my love
And yet,
Yet I seek her

Ironical it is
The mind says
The thinking mind
Beyond irony it is
The heart says
The feeling heart

Unrest becomes me
Moonless, the night
Joyless, the tread
And I remain
Restless. Listless
Aimless. Lifeless

O, who has heard
The wailings
Of a pining heart?
The pining heart
And its wailings