blue dusk

though i know 

you'd want to,
steal the colour of the skies;

i would still,
frankly so,
gladly keep my Indigo.

enamel timekeeper

Dipping amber trains 

crimson, over green;

Lends ephemeral shine. 

leaves murky brown

in place of, vivid 

erstwhile-chartreuse.  

blue butterflies sleep, 

while pink moths resist; 

the call of the late black. 

I, hue less wait, stoic as ever, in gray 

twilight. prenominal light of the dawn

Pronunciation: \ˈbō-ˌgärt\; Function: transitive verb

[Hey you know, maybe, i need to consciously realise that i know, you know?] 

  (mmm yes, that would help)    

[yeah, if im aware, if i could feel it, if i could sense it every minute
i probably would love myself more
hey you know, maybe, i need to really love myself, to live, you know] 

  (mmm yeah, you... should.) 

[really thats what you think? wow, im feeling so happy right now, happy without being, you know]  

  (mmm you should be) 

[hey you know, i wish i could really love myself
it shouldn't be so difficult
girl
i mean
look at you
wow
and your words
wow
i wish i could do that
love myself
and be comfortable
you love yourself and you love your self
you know] 

  (mmm yeah,
  it's all alright
  really) 

[can i watch when you roll this time?
you're so beautiful
i want to cry]

   (mmm yeah... sure 

 easy now,
 breathe deep
 pass left,
 give dammit!
 you bitch.)

life spectrum

a single strand of light
falls broken.
on my hand, a million pieces.
and yet,
when i walk away,
its whole again.


the warmth i can sense,
it skims
so gently on my skin;
and yet,
when i draw away,
its cold again.

around me,
everything i see,
is real. or is it;

if its the light,
that makes it so?
tell me...
don't you know?

You wait, patiently. But...

 

 " 

and when i finish,
sifting through moon dust;

maybe i will;

know that there is 
nothing more, 
to find.  

and then maybe;
we can hold hands 
under starry skies.  

But 
would you want to,
then?

if i said,
that it was too soon. 

for the stars,
are lonely company; 

and that i,
killed the moon. 

                                 " 

The End .break of Reality.

I've been having blogger trouble(or atleast thats what i hope!) because new updates of the story supposedly have'nt been showing up. This, is just a reminder. Hope you've enjoyed it so far! the story and the wait.

:)

<3

Meg

For the full story   . break of Reality .

. break of Reality .

Episode 1 . the overture .

The tiny vial seemed to rebel inside his clenched fist, throbbed like it had a heart beat.
“It needs to be done, I cannot and will not live like this anymore.”
He almost threw the bottle away, but instead the arm swept a smooth arc and it landed right side up on the counter, where it sat, still throbbing, as if feeding on the life-energy around it.
“two drops should do it”
 The first one fell even before he realized and the next one seemed freeze/just abowe/the#rioovktye#cup.
His vision misted.
*Those eyes* How he loved to seek them out amongst a hundred other familiar ones, how they’d widen, first with alarm, then annoyance and then soften with affectionate reproach before looking away.
There was always trust in them, trust and hope, but even those could not hide the streak of pride than ran behind.
and when they held hands for the first time, far away from the inquisitive looks, those tender fingers spoke of love, acceptance and longing.
It wasn’t soon before they built their cocoon and filled it with laughter, lattes , love and lazy afternoon conversations.
And it wasn’t too soon before it started.
It was low then, like the rumble before a engine fires up, but steadily it kicked into life and with it the disagreements, the fierce monologues and the scorching silences. It permeated every living second. The days disappeared under intense activity and the nights into forced resignation.
He saw it coming, he even asked to be left alone, repeatedly, so that they both could find some peace. But each time that defiant pride mowed him down.
And now it had to come to this.
“Raghav, I’m home. Are you in the kitchen? I smell lasagna”
Raghav wiped his hands with a fresh tissue and threw it into the dustbin where the empty bottle lay bleeding the last few drops of its vile blood into a old dishcloth.


continued...
Read the whole story here

. break of Reality .

Episode 2 . the chords.

...continued.

He let his hands fall to his sides; his eyes followed them down and stayed there, reluctant to look up. And as he waited, the rustles outside grew louder,

12...11...the click of the lock...10...9...8...7...the footsteps down the foyer

...6...5...the clink of the keys in the ‘key-urn’... and like with an audiotape that’s been played one too many times, he knew exactly what was coming next

...4...3... a deep breathe and the finishing touch to set the scene.

He jerked his head upright, almost as if physically extracting a smile from the coffers of pretense.

...2...breathe...

...1...smile

.

“Raghav! It IS lasagna!” how did you know! I’ve been having some serious cheese cravings ever since I wound up thefedder pitch today evening. You know how I hate their products, but this time they got, at least, the texture right... So we’re not completely faking the ad, thank god for that... ... ... ...”

Oh that again! Raghav phased out; He usually managed to keep a face of serious intent throughout the ramblings but today, well, today his mind was elsewhere.

... They were sitting on the old book shelf in the basement. It had rained for the first time in 5 whole months and hadn’t stopped for the last 3 days. Itwasn’t a cozy corner; far from it, it was the most uncomfortable piece of 'furniture' in the entire house, but they were both in love with it, in the weird basement with a weird window, just a long strip of plain glass ventilator that ran under the ceiling line and it opened out on to street level. From the 'vantage point' atop the old shelf you could see people walking outside, feet mostly, a few wheels every now and then, but the best part was that nobody could see in from the outside,

They both loved to watch the world go by, while they were inside, safe, enclosed, in the womb of the world they’d created, purist voyeurism, if such a term applied.

the room bore witness to their lives, to who they were...

Where make-believe became life and life became real.

...it all laid waiting for them to climb down those stairs. the walls, a collage of iridescent memories. Piece by piece, keepsakes, photographs, gifts, assorted knick-knacks; Little Notes of happiness, sorrow, anger, bliss, resentment, trust, hope and love tucked in between their myriad overtures of love to each other;

that picture taken in Philippines, the white beach, where blissfully naked they’d celebrated each other... the chords of the first song written for him, scattered poetry and ornate words, all overlaid with abstract scraps of art... as if the paint and the words had oozed out of the wall itself.

He flushed when he saw the broken jar on the abnormally wide skirting. How worthless it was when compared to what it saw that day! Trapped indoors for 4 days by incessant rains was as close to heaven as could be...

and with a start he realized he needed to take them away; before it all began to unfold, he had to take everything down from those walls. There was no time.

The thought filled him with sheer terror and uncharacteristically cutting into the monologue he said, “Why don’t you go get us some cake fudge and not the crumbly kind, I want the real deal... Please, would you?” His voice held a shade of desperation, which would have been caught immediately, if not for the irritation at having been cut short. Raghav pleaded again, “Go now, Ok, get some fudge and be back soon. I’ll lay the table by then.” That smile again; to smooth the wrinkles over.

His words received an affirmative nod, albeit a slightly crossed eyed one.

...receding steps, the familiar click of the lock...

He crept up to the door, turned the internal catch into place and rushed towards the stairs, but at the top of them, stopped again.

It wasn’t going to be easy; the move to dismantle their entire existence, to negate all proof, to remove every trace of what was, not much unlike an acid wash.

No, it wasn’t going to be easy. What would be easy however, would be giving in, to let the tears flow. At least then he wouldn’t feel so damn claustrophobic, like being inside an hourglass; the sands of sweet memories threatening to bury him, if he didn’t find the strength to stand up firm.

It wasn’t easy, not this, and neither what was to follow,

However, an acid wash doesn’t take too much time.

Before long he was back in the kitchen, this time, wiping the dinner plates to take out to the table.

...a few minutes, the screech of tires...

The familiar click-clink didn’t follow; instead he heard a muffled hammering on the door.It froze him with dread and dismay, and a dozen possibilities began to process but almost immediately he realized that he had locked the door from the inside.He hurried out, opened the door and broke into explanation before any questions could be asked. The excuses, however, were met with confusion and silence which soon gave way to amusement at Raghav’s disquiet. 

With a silent sigh of relief, and yet again the smile, he led the way to the table. 

continued...
Read the whole story here

. break of Reality .

Episode 3 . The Opus .



the plates were already laid, of course. Raghav took the chair right next to the kitchen door; after placing the fudge in the freezer and a quick kiss on Raghav upturned lips, the other chair was occupied too.

...they had never wanted a square table; or a rectangular one or a circular one. they had never wanted more than 2 chairs and they had never wanted them on opposite ends. What they had now was the perfect shape, a curved bean, it looked like a boomerang frozen mid flight thanks to the clever designing Raghav used.

the two seats, nestled in the crook like a pile of pillows, were just as comfortable; cozy, intimate and Quirky.
Holding hands across a cold wooden top sort of  paled in comparison to dinners in embraces; a constant they came back to every evening;  
Just like this one...

 

                Raghav looked up from the caressing fingers into the affectionate eyes; sensual and yet so peaceful. They truly made him believe that Ignorance was Bliss.

how ironic that the clichés of life should seem the most real right before a dramatic event. However, clichés are clichéd precisely because they are true; no one gives them much credit, sort of like the everyday town bus.

he couldn't undo the knowing; and if Knowledge was Power and with Power came Responsibility, then with some twisted logic, it was up to him to take the decision, to set everything right, to undo the harm; he couldn’t deny that, even if the process felt like he was gutting himself.

as for the affectionate eyes, well they'd always lived in utopia didn’t they, defying the established and denying reality, that was when the proud tint glowed strongest in them; but practicality was not in their midst;

 

it was only right then that it had to be him.

The thought broke him loose from any vestigial misgivings he had about his decision. It was obvious, he would not have it turn out any other way, so there was no point in debating it. It had to happen just like this. Period.

abruptly, the fingers entwined around his, loosened; as if the energy from his thoughts had flown through his hand and into the neighbouring consciousness. 
the world paused, and replayed with supernatural speed.
Like simultaneous scenes with bad editing, a chair got pushed over, the fork clanged to the floor and the body slumped to the floor with near romantic lethargy, seemingly all at once. in a few seconds, it was all over; 
and even as the warm fingers kissed empty air, the tears started.

[“I know the pieces fit cause I watched them fall away
Mildewed and smoldering, fundamental differing,
Pure intention juxtaposed will set two lovers souls in motion
Disintegrating as it goes testing our communication
The light that fueled our fire then has burned a hole between us so
We cannot see to reach an end... ... ... –Schism, Tool] 
(author's note: for song see left sidebar)

                Love in its basest form becomes a constant of heightened emotion; it is not dependant on the nature of the emotion. whether happy, angry, blissful, sad or content. And again, with some twisted logic, One can never truly, fully appreciate jealousy, betrayal, and acceptance or sacrifice if they have not met these at the door of the one they love.

To love is to feel. A  complete, uninhibited and exponential experience.

If so, when love turns to loss should one feel Numb with the loss of feeling or heightened Misery?

Raghav was an automaton wallowing in this no man's land; even as his tears flowed unceasingly, his hands prepared for the next step. he needed ropes, something to tie... scanning the room he picked up a bedspread and began cutting it into pieces, soft strips of cloth, really soft... and with them began binding the legs. Next, the hands; so much more familiar than his own, and he would hold them for the last time. They would never wipe the paint from his forehead or slide down his arms ever again, they would not seek his fingers beneath the bedclothes in the morning.
By Morning they would be gone, taking his all with them and leaving him bereaved .
By Morning...

but he couldn't afford to think of that now... he still had a lot to finish before his plan could be anywhere near over.
slowly peeling the razor blade open Raghav resumed his task.

His tears, unlike his hands, had never stopped, and as he gathered the still warm, soft, yielding body into his arms, they only increased. With an effort he started towards the door, the reverse of the 12 seconds he counted each evening, felt like 21 lifetimes lived all over again. Time, on the other hand, was running short and ahead of itself. Getting into the car, he turned away from the house, their home.

 

the receding car lights seemed to suck out the very soul of the house, as they moved on, into darkness.

 

... Steadily the cityscape turned stretches of wild green with a suggestion of civilization every few kilometers, which soon grew far apart and slowly disappeared.

4 hours and Night had arrived.

the car turned into a hesitant path cut in the dark and followed it for long; there was no marker and no sign but just as clouds began to disappear into inky blackness Raghav spotted his destination. 

It had long lost resemblance to its material of build. low, old and reclusive it lay as if waiting for a magical note to bring it to life. He got out of the car, carried the body out and laid it on the ledge upfront just as a lantern fired up in the depths of the house; a face with ageless, all-knowing eyes appeared in its wake.  

A glance at the ledge and a short nod of acknowledgement later, she approached Raghav. Drawing close, she placed one hand on his arm and whispered into his ear. Raghav's gaze shot up, filled with apprehension, but the old eyes remained steady.

he sunk down to the earth as relief shrouded him. the tears were a deluge now; he sat there on his knees letting them devour and absolve him of everything that had been and was to come.

After a aeon passed he stood up; and taking one last look at all that he had ever cared about, he stepped into the darkness.

...
Stars fell on the dashboard of the car.

4 hours and they were interspersed with Streetlights, muddling the recognition of day and dark, surreal, like the line between life and death.


                Raghav got out of the car. He did not scream; there was torment exploding inside his head. he did not falter; he walked on like a man with a purpose, while ironically, he had lost exactly that. 

He would have walked home a "normal, regular person", a "Child Of god" created "in his Image" who "loved well and loved rightly under his watchful eye" et cetera; the norms on the counter-propaganda followed to the T, if only, the tears would stop and if only he'd look less like a man damned to the eternal wrath of hell.

. break  of Reality .

Episode 1

Episode 2

Episode 4

. break of Reality .

NOTE: contains offensive language.

... continued

Episode 4 . the Bridge .

  Twilight noxiously crept down the window to fall on the bed Raghav lay on. His eyes were wide open and he was wearing the same clothes he had worn for the past 26 hours only he didn’t realise it.
Time had slipped away in masquerade and non-recognition had enveloped the entirety of his existence. He did not stir but he knew it would happen any moment soon; he felt it, and as on cue, the door burst open.

"STAND ASIDE! THIS IS THE POLICE!" ...the racket, the guns, the stomping feet, the cold barking orders were terrific enough to fill yellow in the most stoic of hearts. but Raghav merely looked on, a jaded spectator in the story of his own writing...

"Are you Raghav Bhaskar!?"

"Yes, I Am."
 
...Hands dragged him from bed and hurled him on the floor. The feet stomped down on him, kicking him in the stomach, rifles butting him in the solar plexus, feet crashing down hard on his testicles, rifles jabbing his eyes...

"Where is your partner!"
...Silence. the rifles spoke...
"i don’t know... i don’t know"
...the feet came down on him again...

" SEARCH THE HOUSE!"
"Yes SIR!"
...rifles smacked every part of his body...
"Sir! the house is empty Sir!"


"Did you search the basements, these... anomalies, have a thing for basements, they must find it... kinky" 

...Sick, gray eyes, dead, like that of hung meat, leered at him with unveiled disgust...
"Sir yes SIR. It is empty SIR "
"Ah we've got a clever one here now, haven't we"
...Hands pushed him to a wall and he was made to sit up...


"Where is Deep Matthew?!"
"I don’t know"
...Sick, gray eyes, dead, like that of hung meat...

"you are under arrest for  actively encouraging and participating in homosexual intercourse; for voluntarily having had carnal intercourse against the order of nature; The Government of the People condemns homosexuality as a perverse, social deviancy and declares it to be a criminal offence punishable by immediate isolation and
dEATH."
"Do you understand! Do you FOLLOW?!"
"yes"

the savages pounced on him but Raghav could not feel them anymore. the blood just pounded through his body, pouring out from myriad gashes.

"Where is Deep Matthew?"
the dead eyes drew level with his.
"WHERE.IS.DEEP.MATTHEW"

" he... he lived here before... long before... a few days back... he just disappeared... i don’t know anything since"
The leer returned, "Now, now, lover boy, Why did he run away? Were you not good enough for him? Did you not pleasure him as he pleased? what was it... did he give you up for another twisted, sick bastard? ran to his sugar daddy?" "Isn’t that what you do, you scum of humanity!" he grabbed a clump of Raghav's hair and spat on his face.

The rifle butt grazed up his leg.

"you're enjoying this aren't you, you GODLESS HOMOSEXUAL FILTH!"
"GUARDS! tie him up! pleasure him the right way and the whereabouts of his filthy partner will come spewing out!"

"wait! DONT! You... you’re right... he... he cheated on me. he betrayed me... i loved him so... i couldn’t live with it... it drove me mad
and so... i killed him. he is dead.
HE IS DEAD!
I.KILLED.HIM! "

...silence...
The rifle butt smashed into his face.

 

 

                 “...hear you Smriti, but please calm down! where are you? I’ll come and get you, then you can tell me everything. Just calm down!” her voice was barely a whisper,  but in spite of that,  he could hear the dread in her voice “...No Raghav. Its too late! I saw the... the week’s list! They’ve.Got.You.Raghav, they’re coming.” The dread crept into his being. “Do something Raghav, hide, run away, escape, kill yourself! anything! but don’t get caught! I heard...I heard them talking about the new rehabilitation centre... Oh! Raghav its horrible! What are you going to do?! You and Deep! what are...”  click. beep.beep.beep.beep...

 ...It was only right that it was him.  Deep would have never agreed to go into hiding. He would have wanted to stay, and fight, defend their right to live. But... it would have been no good! There was NO possibility of rebellion, not in this society .Not where the choices you had was compromise or persecution. not where Free thought and expression were locked in a iron girdle of ‘righteousness’ and ‘morality’.  Escape... there was no escape. the ‘divine force’ was all permeating. like the stench of something vile, and putrefied, it got into the tiniest crack of civilization... where would they hide? where could you hide when you’re trapped in vacuum, unable to breathe, unable to live, unable to... DIE. and then, there was torture. they made sure it was the only thing you had, The Government of the People... ...

...

the rifle struck again. and again. and again. He slowly collapsed to the floor, the old woman's whispered words in his head, "My son, you have done the right thing! Go with God! your... ... ..." and then,

Silence
.

Epilougue . the coda .

... ... ...
far away in a low, old, reclusive home a young man opens his eyes. An old wrinkled hand strokes his forehead, and in a somber voice, recites the story that was, and in the same, comforts him while he cries like an infant, in the memory of his love. 

"... right thing! Go with God! your sacrifice will not be in vain! He will be safe and your love will keep him alive."

For the full story   . break of Reality .