31st April, 2040

A few days, since yesterday, the pain has settled. If not settled, my mind has forgotten how to address it to the trees around me. I am happy to be alone, I asked my sister to take away Flake. No dog should ever witness the death of his owner. Unlike my family, he won’t understand my philosophy to smile away the last few seconds of my life.

I was ready, and the tumour was only a tool to ride the ladder. I don’t know if I was hungry. I was comfortable on my chair, looking at the door, accumulating all my spiritual energy to feel the light that never falls out of my universe.

Anytime now, God shall open that door to the void of existence. I will be one with the cosmos, it was time.I knew it all, a swift of the stars and then I can fly.

I heard the knock on the door, this could be anyone. Not my family, they respect my space, not my students, we already made peace with my death last month, not anyone I would not want to talk to on my last day.

“Come inside, if you are death. If not then there is a life out there for you. This old man cannot possibly help with life. Read some books, there are some resting near the broken car. Come inside, if you are death.”

“I have no intentions to make you feel. I come here on a selfish account.”

“It has been 7 years, Erika. I still remember your voice at the back of my head. The only woman I love, why have you come here. Leave. Don’t make this beautiful moment delay.”

“I feel you need some answers.”

“I don’t. I know it all, or maybe I don’t know anything. Never knew anything. I decided I will wait for you. Well, I cannot anymore. I am sure you still have reasons. I hope you have a great life. Now, leave.”

The door opened and then I saw the last thing any man would want to see in life. There she was, her long hair reaching out to perfectly curve waist, she was wearing one of those long dresses, a blue one, of course. Erika did not change. But, I never truly knew her. I just love her. She took a few steps and I could not move, Not because my body was cramped in every way, but that’s how it always used to be, her sight made me forget everything.

She held a violin to my heart,
Played along the strings
Till I fell asleep.



If I ask you to die, tonight.
Will you, speak out the entire lie.
I will run down your spine,
To tell you, that it’s alright.

If I ask you to dance the night.
Will you, spill colours of the dying light.
To wake up within, without me.

If I ask you about our love,
Will you, stay the entire time, saying nothing but singing away my life,
For in love, we dream no need.

I have asked a million things,
I have only one answer, I do.
I will never ask you if you do,

If you don’t.


Blind Blood

You remember that day when you placed the sword on my neck, just forcing my skin to sense intimacy, I told you I was alright. Maybe, I was not.

I liked the way you looked at me. Blind in love, pulling roses out of the red blood that left my body to feel blue. You looked at me smiling and I smiled back, as my knees met the ground.

You never knew love, neither did I. I felt something, pain. You must have felt something, must have sensed something. As I leave you forever, and my blood hides in the sand, you must have felt something.

I lived my life hoping you felt something and that’s how I died, hopefully.


To Finities and Funny Things

Dear Death,

Right now, it is 2:03 AM and I just felt like telling you a few things. I mean, I wonder if people ever tell you things about life. People live a little fast, sleep too much, dream a little less of you and well, life is more about ignorance and happiness. You see, happiness sustains in the senses till they are not aware of how trees actually cannot speak the language of our lies. We grow up to rediscover only our fallacies.

Some star that I used to call Sparky gets named B-8779 according to this thing called NASA, or maybe they call it something else now.  Sparky told me stories about how he had hopes for me to be an amazing writer, but this world only tells me that it only burns to give off light. I mean, how does that make sense. I was reading The Little Prince today, somehow, my cognition felt down to its origin to feel better. I was also not satisfied with my day, as I could not get a response from the people I look forward to talking too, at that moment I realised that even though Sparky was not there in the sky anymore like my best friend, maybe because of the dusk in Delhi or some other scientific reason, I was alone only because I was taught what is alone. Sparky died with my acceptance of the subjects. Loneliness was born out of knowing that my father is never happy with my mother when she is not able to help him sort his issues.

You see, dear death, it almost seems to me, that we grow into your need. By default, isn’t it? We are born as a pure stack of beautiful thoughts and then we do make-believe things like chemistry and psychology and sociology and even this language that I am writing in for that matter.

I was born in a way that I admired females in a different way, then I grew older and developed sexual urges. Last week I kissed a girl and now when I am not able to have regular conversations with the girl, my mind acts a little strange. We grow into the need of death. I wish I could simply admire the girl I kissed in the manner I can without hampering my head. But that’s human, developing ideas that only hunts the life within them.

Throw a nuclear bomb at me and I will meet you, but I wonder if I will ever be able to tell you why I lived. The point is, I don’t need to know and that’s what life is, we don’t know. Philosophers like me think day and night, but we never realise that even time is just a cute tool of the mind. How much can I really know till my own mind ages into an oblivion? Why do I even need to do things? I can only have fun with sparky, every night.

I don’t know, death, I just cannot tell you about life. It’s funny. Better not to know that right now my psychology is actually suicidal. How funny is that? They call me an escapist. Even funnier!

Ah, it is humorous to find these grown-ups not able to sit down and smile for no reason.They call it madness and the complaint about how they are not content. I don’t know, I just probably want to kiss the girl again. It brings me closer to myself and to you.

Dear death, I dont know. Let me.

Sagar Arora

Strokes of Silence

Do you remember? Somehow the background that filled in our favourite tree started singing when we forgot about the pain. We call that tree, Surreal. How he was breathing away the toxic silent despair that we let out to the world. Some leaves would drop down to us, in remains of our misery. We keep still, sometimes look into each other’s eyes. It took a few breaths for me to realize that I was. I was in need. I was in love. I was.

The music played till we gave up to the world. The beautiful kingdom we used to serve in our own ways. That place is like no other, in the middle of a menace but serene to synthesise love without the lows of the violin that I never learnt. No matter how much we loved the place, as soon as we used to leave to greet the rush, we were lost. The moment, I find the bricks smiling at me, and the people disguising themselves to stay away from the shame, I left the page and start to write a claim that makes no sense like this sentence. Yes, this is how my consciousness works when I think about the world, where you are lost laughing beautifully and sustain my self as this pseudo-personality.

You never used to speak a word that would sustain my self in the black spaces of write up. You never told me how you feel about the void we shared to feel our soul once in a bit of the menace. Surreal never used to speak either and at times, when I was not happy with my work, I used to enter the temple of silence with screaming thoughts and that’s when I felt the ambience hold me in peace.

We will leave this place alone, I know. But then there are ways, this universe compels you to smile and say, that it is alright. Listen to me, I would ask, tell me things. And no words would reverberate through surreal as the vibrations never left your beautiful lips.

Now, all of this would add on to my dilemma and leave me with the love I have, a little less lost, but never to be found.

One day, a day known for my arrival on this planet, I got a painting from you. And this is what it is all about. Now listen to what you said to me.

“Black bleeds reality and no reminiscence,
The dark comes from the heart,
That beats but only to feel,
The things I can say,
But won’t,

The red dips underneath the surreal surface,
Below the lies of all my mistakes,
From the secret of the smile,
That hides in the night,
Not thinking,

The blue is by the seas of the sky,
Where only dreams survive,
Where you and I die,
Deceiving the lost,
We find,

The yellow is in your lost eyes,
When the sun denies,
To feed the flower,
With light,

The pink is dwelling in the dark bark,
The flower on the burnt tree,
You call us, destiny,
I barely know,
How I am,

The white is the witness of it all,
The divine that decides,
The structure of all,
Your rhyme,

I know you dipped the brush in the deepest streams of your consciousness, somehow you reached me. And therefore, I call it destiny.

Strings of the Stars

I am weak. I struggled lifting myself up with each step on the stairs. I climbed up to my terrace. The stars were waiting to listen to my violin. It is 20th march, 2040 and I was aware that this was my last birthday. I took out my old violin, the strings were relatively younger than me, but I am sure of the wood being really old. Some tree, a beautiful tree and then an amazing artist would have crafted this magical instrument.
I was playing the strings since last three years, the sound was perfect but sensitive. I held it in my arms, placed the base on my shoulder, felt the wooden surface with my cheek and embraced the bow with my right hand. It was time.
Everytime I used to play, some part of me was transmuted with the vibrations to my past. As I placed the bow on the extreme right string, I remembered my first kiss, a sudden touch and everything disappeared. The emotions of the violin had filled the void of the night with a flush of reminiscence. I glided hard to feel my youth in the old veins of my heart being held by the neurons that have never been so kind when it comes to my sexual frustrations. I did not realise that my force at almost injured the extreme right string and with a sudden break in music, I found myself with three strings remaining to be touched.
By this time I knew how the universe was talking to me, I had to settle my impulses, tonight. I placed the blow gently over the extreme left string and dragged the two energies, the music this time was sharper, somehow more alarming. It was the rush of my senses reflected by the dawn of the night where I spent the time away in arms of a beautiful woman. The night went away faster than I could ever perceive. Somehow the music was hurting my heart. It was not the blood pressure but the symphony of my broken trust in the humane frame of life.
This string was strong like my memories of going through the emptiness of her pleasure principles. My pain had sucked in the air around somehow puncturing my lungs with the break of the sound. Another string had broken its effect on me. Somehow, my energy had drained at this point. The remaining two would be the most meladious, the two key strings I play on the most. The most beautiful music. Frequencies that held my heart since the day I got the feel them.
One of them was sensitive over the other, but loved the sensitivity and the frail sound of perfection.