My first try at poetry. titled "Beast inside me"

It inhabits my soul

Where it moves and prowls

Awaiting its stroll

In my body like king on roll

It lies in still

To feed on my ill will

So it could hold me still

And direct my will

It howls and growls

In drains and in fowls

It rips and shreds

Everything like breads

It leads the end

Leaving nothing to stand

 I keep it in chains

Made of spectral wines

Just to feel the bliss

Of minutes before chaos.

The first story i had ever written .. sadly couldn't title it till date

Beep beep!...Beep beep!... Beep!...

The sound of the alarm in my phone woke me up. I opened my eye unsure whether to get up or doze off again. Just next to my bed I see the bed lamp post where I keep my phone suddenly today I felt it to be emptier than usual. Still lying on the bed I reached for the phone to switch off the damn alarm which has been buzzing for quite a while. Not sure why but I m not able to sleep again. I usually love sleep, if I decide to I could sleep through the mosquito filled nights or people filled mornings of Railways Station. Or I could sleep while standing in the Jam packed Locals of our Mumbai. But not today “Why is that I wonder!?”I sat up on my bed trying to remember what is it, that has been going on in my life. It is always that one second of time you get before the head splitting Hangover comes to remind you of last night’s mistakes, and I thought “why does that date bother me?”. I saw date 11/07/2016 from the phone I have in my hand.

          My head started to feel as though I had head-butted the wall all night. Just when I thought yester night’s on the rocks whiskey was a bad idea the sensation in my mouth gave me that bad smelling n bad feeling tarry bitter taste of those cigarette residue which usually would have negated by the mint came. It reminded me further of the bad choices I had made yester night. “Hey wait hadn’t I quit smoking long ago then why did I smoke Last night??”, then it came to me at last, the reason why I can’t sleep today, or why I had those un countable no of glasses of whiskey the latter night, and why did I smoke again after so many months, and why 11/07/2016 looks so intimidating, it was that day the last day I could call her my girl, it was her wedding day.

          Even that splitting headache couldn’t do it, that which just her memories brought. My eye started to fog and I closed my eye and let my head role back and sat there with my hands behind supporting my falling off head and I took a sip from the fountain of memories. “Nisha nisha.. ..” the words rang through my head even in a teared up state those words brought a faint smile in my lips. Nisha she was an ex colleague of mine. Before this I used to work at a small firm called FutureTeck corp, I was a hot shot programmer there newly out of Engineering College where I was well known for my potential than my credential. It was maybe around 6 -7 months of me being a employee that I met Nisha, the girl who changed my life, the girl who gave me a direction in life, and now the girl who has tore away my heart. Nisha was a newly recruited non technical correspondent. To all technical employees the term “non-technical” was a letdown it just reminded the stupid nonsense talks about statistics and deadlines and more utter non sense talks about dedications and loyalties. But she was different. Every time I think of her my head displays that picture of hers Her soft silky long hairs which she always let it free just like how she was in spirit, and her beautiful clear eye which she always hid behind her glasses, and her lips which usually looked like Donald ducks which would very easily part to show her beautiful smile which is more often than the ticks of time. She always wore those elegant yet simple Salwar Kamez. She was different because everyone in that firm wore the latest trends, (oh yes I used to work at one of those firms which had no restriction on dressing).

I got up from my bed trying to remember if I had to go to work today or not then I remembered it was Saturday and I didn’t need to work. (my new job was 5 day week but the old one was 6 days).I tried to get to the attached rest room when my hands hit the towel stand which had 2 towels hanging one of which was her gift. She always hated my selection in towels and she loved shopping so she had made me wait half of day (in mall. which I hate to visit, I am an online shopping kind of guy) to gift that. I pulled the towel and laid it around my neck and turned to see my room, which looked too tidy to my taste. My eye fell on those drapes on the windows which she had selected, and then I remembered the towel stand was also her idea .I usually kept my room messy proud to be called “Bachelor’s room” and she was always against it.

As soon as I washed my face my hands felt the small stubble beard which I hate( I’m either a clean shaved guy or long rock star beard kind of guy. Since 2^nd option is ruled out thanks to my employers. My look usually was clean shaven). But I had stubble because Nisha, she always used to say she liked guys with beard and she never liked clean shaven. (Again in contrast to most girls who usually like clean shaven boy next door kind of guys). Then I decided not today and had a clean wet shave. Even after the clean shave with my favourite Mach 5 turbo I didn’t feel the smooth because my hands were expecting the smoothness of her skin.

I got into shower; I always liked the sensation of boiling hot water on my skin. Even in shower my mind drifted off towards those moments which I spent getting drenched in rain. Against all the arguments from my friends I hated getting drenched it always used to mess up my hair, and made my clothes cling to my body like blood sucking leaches. But that day from my memory was different; it was the only rainy day I liked because co incidentally it was also the first time we kissed. Nisha always used to love rain and she had pulled me under heavy rain and kissed me. I opened my eyes try to fight off those flooding memories and quickly finished my shower (opposed to my usual long showers). I got to my cupboard and yanked it open that is when I saw a picture frame of Nisha which usually occupied the space on my bed lamp post. I liked to look at her picture before sleeping and after waking up. Just below it my eye fell on the large brightly coloured envelope with too many glitters and mirrors. It was tightly hugged by a yellow thread which when opened supported the whole card. I opened it again just to see the two pictures at both end one being a guy (I felt like punching apparently for no reason), and on the other end was the girl whom I’m loosing today Nisha.I felt an involuntary urge to throw that card which I very easily succumbed to. The card landed at a corner of the room still spreading the glitter powder it contained. The card was exactly like my idea which I had told Nisha, even in the end while leaving me she stole my idea.

          I got dressed up in my usual biking attire the black leather jacket over a t-shirt of my pet band Iron Maiden, above my favourite thick denim jeans. Today my custom made Jacket felt not so comfortable may be because I remembered that she hated leather and any animal products, she loved all the animals and used to say she trusted all animals over any human “Animals are always loyal” she used to quote. And then I went to my first love my Royal Enfield Thunderbird 350cc.But today even she felt heavy and not so comfortable. I rode off as usual with no direction, but still Nisha on my mind. I rode all day throughout to reach that place by night it our favourite hill station and also her hometown. She lived in a Manson at the peak. I suddenly stopped my bike at the side of the road a place very familiar place it was the place where I used to wait for Nisha when she would sneak out with me it was a very good location it right next to the hill and the beginning of the ghat curve so naturally anyone coming down will miss but yet a well lit place so that if looking for will properly show he face of person standing there. I leaned against the parked bike and stood there when a highly decorated car came down the ghat and at the back end of the car was a face I very well recognised. It so happened as though the time suddenly slowed down, and both our gazes met suddenly her cheery face saddened and a tear broke through the thick make up. We both kept on staring at each other when car looked as though it was stopping..........

Oh by the way I’m all those people who have a broken heart, I’m all who have lost their love, I’m you....

The ending is left to you with a message saying you can always change your story and ending is yours to be written, not fate or situations.  

First ever piece of my own writing titled "The void"

That night I was on my way back home at some time before the obsidian, when I just passed a rather

large gathering for such an hour. Not until I got almost next to them did I realized they were all lamenting and

then it hit me that someone was  no more. “let that person find peace” I said under my breath . And  it was then

that my head started a train of thoughts “Y is it that every time v hear the word death there is that stark in our heart

regard less of whether I know the person or not , it brings a tear in my eye . Y do I feel that its me whose lost that some one,

y cant I just read the death of my favorite character as just another set of lines.”

Is death really that bad? But elders say they are crossing over, going to a better place , finding eternal peace,

becoming a star and watching over us from above, becoming part of god; but still mourning from the inside.

Y should v feel low all those things they said are good, still I cant convince my inner self to not feel bad. Y should

Death scare me. No it shouldn't. I love riding at 120kmph, wandering in unpopulated highways with all valuables on me,

Jumping in water not knowing how to swim, trying bungee jumping… I crave for the thrill all these give but still y does

Just news of someone’s demise immobilize me .

Then I just remembered these lines from megadeth song “A Tout le monde”

If my heart was still alive

I know it would surely break

And my memories left with you

There's nothing more to say

Moving on is a simple thing

What it leaves behind is hard

You know the sleeping feel no more pain

And the living all are scarred

So as you read this know my friends

I'd love to stay with you all

Please smile, smile when you think about me

My body's gone that's all

Its not death that scares its what the people leave behind. Its then I realized I’m not afraid of death but it’s the feeling of being

Forgotten. As the Japanese say you don’t die when poisoned stabbed or shot , nor by a deadly disease; you die when u are

Remembered no more or ignored. Being dead is not peace but being lonely; so its not death but staying alone is scary.

It is this void I feel in my heart……