stranger in me

Sometimes I feel even my desires are a stranger to me. Lost in the pleasures of the expectations of pleasure, my desires lead my soul to mirrors that reflect everything but me. I am that all which I am not. And the one I meet there seems not to know me either yet looks at me while looking through me from every direction in endless depths of the mirrors.

The Gaze of the other, Sartre's gaze or even Lacan's  is not restricted to the visual presence of that other but even a mere suggestion of the presence (Sartre sites the example of footsteps in a garden in which he thought till that point he was alone).

What do we do with this other, my constant non-companion that dwells in me who's gaze would not allow me to celebrate the freedom that is me.

march 2012

smiles and strangers

Strangers

He flashed his lovely smile which seemed to lighten up his otherwise dark brooding countenance. An angelic smile, a  genuine smile, which was no longer genuine after he had realized its worth and had learned the charming effect it had on others. He had learned to use it, and use it effectively. But in this case the smile had come quite naturally. He knew that man would remember him now if he would go to him again, not that he would in all likelihood. A strange city, a strange road, and a strange turn and at a corner this strange yet so familiar,  small shop with its almost old owner. Exchanges. Both of goods and a smile. In the silent exchange of money that so coldly characterizes each transaction, a relationship had been struck that still anchored in the silence of all noise, was brightened with a tiny little bit of warmth that emanated from that smile. An acknowledgement.

We were strangers once. We still are. We acknowledge we are strangers now. That is all we can ever know.  That is all we can ever be.


3/31/2012, 6:21 AM

the stranger - trilogy

posted on  http://www.voicesnet.org/displayonepoem.aspx?poemid=54462  a very long time ago and forgotten about it till my good friend Fayyaz sent me the link.

the stranger

( i )

the silent whispers of the ghosts that do not exist
stir me from my sleep
how is it that the gentle caress of slumber
kisseth not these dreams away

words. they befoul my soul

i have vowed not to speak to you anymore
you can not converse in two languages
pardon me if i have forgotten yours
what is there in names anyway

i can call you my murderer too

so mesmerised by the division
i forgot what it divided
the line grew larger with each step 
and finally engulfed me

there was no darkness before there was light

a shadow creeps slowly to the door
the room is empty as it peeks in
there is someone following it
it turns to see its master right behind

only slaves cry for freedom and sometimes
philosophers 

i looked hard at the reflected face
and recognized the stranger
the dim light was not enough
though it wasn't the first time

there was no way that i could have greeted him

the stranger - ii

(ii)

have i known you before
have i seen you
what is it that you carry
is not that my memories

how did you get it
my stolen crutches
rotting with the stench of desire
my maladies are mine alone

she cut it into pieces and neatly disposed it into an ash tray

no one could ever shed light 
into the matter of darkness
and this was the grey area
where she chose to dwell

i reached out gropin with my hand
and lost myself in the folds and crevices
the darkness was confounding
i slipped and fell in the abyss

the stranger - iii

(iii)

everyone knows the end in the beginning but none wills to believe

he walked slow and carried a staff
i had known he would come 
still i couldn't help feeling surprised
i dared not look at him 

i knew it was the stranger
we looked through each other 
and acknowledging our estrangement 
we passed by in silence

sometrhing stirred in me
i sighed and got up 
i started walking right behind him
without a word he led me on

the sun was about to set beckoning us as we walked in its direction 

Two faces and a crescent moon

Two faces and a crescent moon

passing by I'd once heard a soft tune,
and looked back to see
that forlorn melancholy figure of doom,
that had till recently been my shadow...
melted in the darkness, shattered and broken down
i gathered the pieces meticulously,
reconstructing my remains
and buried them in the sands
till time could peg me to its chessboard once again.