Friday, 1 September 2017

The Broken Promise

A long time ago, all of our existence was conceived in the heart of a dying star. That could be why the night sky can soothe the misery of human existence. We feel that motherly love exuding from all those stars in the sky, a billion wombs of a gazillion stories. That is why hope fills our hearts whenever we gaze upon the heavens. Maybe.
That maybe was a certainly for Kirk. He could see stories in the sky, at stages as small as near-Earth orbits to those monumental as intergalactic. A piercing gaze into the depths of the darkness, a few lines of equation on a piece of paper and his trained imagination saw the majesty of reality; sometimes past, present and future at once. The story of the heavens with a stellar climax, quite literally.
It was not a job, not a hobby, one couldn’t even call this his passion. Beyond all that, this was his double life.
A government accountant by day, Kirk had to find a way to keep his love of numbers intact. He came to learn after a while in the job that the best way to lose interest in the love of your life would be to choke them in red tape and file them for obscurity.
“Why don’t you be an amateur astronomer?” asked Albert, a high school friend of his.
“What good is that going to do?”
“It’s not just looking up at the sky. It involves a lot of calculations. And after all that, you will can sit and imagine the numbers coming to life. Maybe, your numbers were choked to death so that they could be reborn as stars.”
“Melodramatic as always, Dr. Aego,” said Kirk, smiling.
But little did he know, he fell in love with the night sky. He stayed up every night, crunching numbers, sleeping at work. He could always afford sleeping at work, he was insanely fast with numbers.
Every night, he looked up at the sky from the apartment roof. With his laptop, a pen and a book and a lot of numbers, the rooftop came alive with all that ever was, is and could be; acts in a cosmic drama played out in light.
And then began his problems; that’s how it works, right?
“Who names a girl Venus?”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Venus is a freaking hell.” Kirk realized as soon as he said it out loud. Not the best thing to say to girl named Venus. “Th…th…th…the plaanet.”
“Smooth. And you still wonder why people don’t like you?”
“Don’t people like, look deeper into people?”
“No.”
“Ok. My whole childhood was a lie. I thought people realized the fact that I was a vigilante by night. Why did I do all that?”
“Bad joke, Batman. Who would name their child after a Star Trek character?”
“My dad?”
“At least he didn’t name you Mr. Data, that would have been ironic.”
Where was this girl hiding all this time? In plain sight. Thought Kirk.
It wasn’t just that she was named Venus, the morning star; it wasn’t just that you could always see the weight of the world in her eyes, a depth of caring unlike any; it wasn’t just that she not only knew but could casually mention Star Trek, without apologies; it wasn’t that she didn’t find her nerdiness unusual; it wasn’t the simple fact that she was the only person who didn’t bore him having talked for hours.
She was there and he didn’t see. Like the night sky he discovered to be the wonderland it is, she was right beside him and he didn’t see it.
“Now why don’t you tell her?” asked Albert.
“I can’t.”
“Explain.”
“I’m afraid she might refuse.”
“She basically talked at you for four hours, while you were mostly mute and intermittently cracking stupid nerd jokes. Am I describing your date correctly?”
“It wasn’t a date.”
“Yeah, that. Am I describing whatever happened correctly?”
“Yes, so?”
“She’s into you, you idiot.”
“How would you know, you’ve never had a girlfriend.”
“I have a boyfriend, for three years now. There isn’t that complicated a difference in how men and women feel. No one would tolerate another for that if they don’t have anything to gain from it. As far as I can tell, the only thing she had to gain was the pleasure of your company.”
To put it simply, Kirk was a coward. He kept his feelings to himself. The raging inferno that was Venus, where acid clouds melt the ground and anything that crossed the thick fog of white that covers the sky, somehow became more beautiful.
“Do you stay up at night?”
“Obviously. I’m a sky watcher.”
“Skyentist?”
“Got that off a meme, didn’t you?”
“Guilty as charged. I subscribed to such groups on the internet. I like the stars so much now. You talk about astronomy so much, it’s easy to get hooked on it if someone talks to you. Getting you to talk is the problem, though.”
“I’m not a skyentist,” Kirk smiled. “Not an astronomer by any standards. I am technically an amateur astronomer, or a citizen scientist.”
“Do you have to stay up at night?”
“I can sleep at work,” smiled Kirk.
“It’s not good, you know. An erratic sleep rhythm.”
“Why is that?”
“Stop with your scientific patronizing, you know as well as I that it just is.”
“I can manage.”
“You can’t. You’re yawning even now,” Venus pointed at Kirk as he tried to hide his wide-open mouth. “This is only going to get worse. You can take charge now. And not lose your health. And your beautiful mind.”
“I’m not nuts.”
“Can’t you do the calculations during the time you sleep at the office?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t Einstein do something similar? Working on relativity while in the Swizz Patent office?”
“I’m not Einstein.”
“And you don’t have to be. You can be you. Please don’t destroy your health for a pointless pursuit.”
A pointless pursuit? You of all people…”
“YOU OF ALL PEOPLE! You should know I will never ask you to abandon your passion.”
“Huh?”
“You can see the stars in numbers. You told me before pointing up at the day sky, I know that’s where planet Venus is right now. And I know that from just these bunch of numbers. You can see stars in broad daylight. You can see the stars through the Earth. You see the cosmic sphere in your head, from just numbers. Now why do you need to stay up at night? Why do you have to screw up your health? Why?”
Why?
“I’ll stop.”
“Just like that?!”
“I’m a man of science at night. I can be convinced by reason.”
Kirk was not a man of science at night. He was an addict. It wasn’t just the numbers anymore. It was the ecstasy in prophecy. Although he knew where every celestial object would be, with startling precision, seeing it there made all the difference. With his own eyes, Kirk had to see the math coming to life. Numbers smiling back from the heavens.
Double lives begin to protect the loved ones from the dangers associated with being a hero; ironically, Kirk began his to protect himself from a loved one.
That night, Kirk was feeling guilty. More so than any other night. Dismay warped around him as a bone-chilling cold as he lay motionless. The sky was pitch black as if the clouds had held the heavens hostage.
Was it the right choice? Was there a right choice? Why did I lie to her? Why can’t I tell her about me? Why won’t I tell her I like her so much? Why am I such a damned coward? What would she think if I told her? What would she be like after realizing I outright lied to her for six months? How can I get out of all this?
Kirk sat up, crying. He stared at the numbers on his screen, they still came alive. And through the tears, he saw the cosmos once more. He stared into the depths as far as human ingenuity could tread.  
This, this is as far as I can go.
Determined, he climbed onto the ledge. He had reached the end of this journey. His purpose was fulfilled.
I’m not desperate. Not out of options. Not particularly without hope. I have done all I can as a stargazer, as a sky watcher. I maybe young, and I have a lot of live for. And Venus. I have of lot I can screw up with her. I don’t want to. I don’t want to go wrong. I don’t want to keep hurting her. I don’t want to lie. I don’t want to hope about us by myself.
What’s that?
He jumped back from the ledge, hurting his knee in the process. He was bleeding and in pain, but in elation, he stood up. He would have yelled Eureka! if he was the yelling type.
I missed it all this time. He laughed at his own incompetence. He thought about Venus all the time, and missed this. He lost his touch with the night sky. And the horrible weather had made it worse. So, his calculations were off.
Correcting for my earlier mistake, andYes! I was right. It’s headed this way. Now, what do I do about this?
A comet. It’s on a collision course with the Earth.
Put simply, it was his relationship versus the whole world.
Should I lie to Venus and the world cover up this fact?
Should I not lie and screw up my whole life?
My leg hurts like hell.
He climbed down from the roof and got some ice. Then climbed back up. He sat up, with his back against the wall. His laptop and the papers stared at him. And his imagination now wasn’t stars but a fireball threatening to wipe out the whole of humanity.
Do other people know about this? NASA or ESA or someone looking up at the skies other than me? I took the data from a NASA program, they should know.
He googled it. Apparently not.
Could they be keeping it a secret? If so, how long till the other countries find out? If everyone decided to keep this a strategic secret, what about countries without a space program? Now wouldn’t that would a great argument for sending a lot of telescopes into space? A paranoid one, nonetheless.
But the data was public. I don’t believe I would be the smartest one looking at this. Maybe I’m just lucky to notice this early. Others would find this out soon. Actual astronomers are looking at this. To think of me superior to them and the only person to save the world would be stupid. But what if they don’t? Every second counts in scenarios like this. I have to decide soon.
Was I not thinking about Venus a second ago?
He scratched his head as he thought of other possibilities. Maybe, just maybe, he could save the world and his relationship?
An anonymous tip? NASA and the like should get a load of those. There is no way they would take it seriously. And the faint chance that they might is not one worth betting the whole world on.
People at NASA are not stupid. It’s possible that they are covering this up on purpose. I have to stop diverting my thoughts. What should I do?
Two options.
I. Go public. It would mean that Venus will probably hate me for being a liar. She might still be my friend but I will not be able to look at her face the same way; I can’t see any wrong in her feeling the same way in such a situation. But on the pro side, human civilization might just survive for more than eleven months.
II. Keep mum. Destroy the world. Maybe keep lying to Venus for another eleven months if nobody is smart enough to look at the numbers like I did. What do I gain? Nothing. Why is this even an option?
There is no other option here!
I need to go public. I have to dial up Albert.
No.
Screw the world.
I need to sleep. There is a promise I need to keep.
Then the phone rang, and Kirk was free from his nightmare at last.
“Albert”
“Dude, turn on the news, an amateur astronomer actu…”
“I need to sleep, man. Not at two thirty in the morning, or midnight or whatever this is.”
The choice was to sleep. And he had slept; although by accident.
Its cold. I should probably go inside. Or maybe not.
Thought Kirk as he lay looking up at the sky. It was star-lit and clear, probably for the first time two months. He closed his eyes. And fell into the cosmic sea.
Maybe, I can see Venus rise as I wake up.
And in his phone, a news notification popped up:
Amateur astronomer discovers comet on collision course with Earth.

Kirk didn’t hear its faint sound.

Sunday, 21 May 2017

Meaning

Was it me who gave it meaning?
Or was it you...
Words are but sounds,
Letters but markings on the wall,
Poems are but song,
But not for everyone.
And again, into the darkness,
This time as light and not a prisoner,
But what do I get across,
Is my light really what they need?
Hurt, makes you frightened
Hope, makes you desperate
And that one goal you've ran to all your life
Is not there anymore.

Life is to find meaning.
But maybe it was better left unfound.

Monday, 1 May 2017

I Doubt

I want to punch in that smile,
Break that nose,
Maybe break my knuckles
Still, I want to punch that face
Only because
I still see her face.
May be,
For broken knuckles
Even a wall will do.
It used to.

Do I love her?

Not like I used to,
She is real to me now,
And I am no longer a romantic,
The mundane, to me
Has lost its magic.
She put the mundus
In my mundane.
And I hate her.

The magic is gone.

I doubt.
Am I in love again?
Or do I hate everything?
Or have I lost it all,
Unable to feel anything.

A face.
To punch?
Why is it in my mind?
A flood of unsettling confusion.
I have lost my self.
The only anchor to it
Is that I have to find it,
And even this hurt leads me somewhere.

Is this it?

Is or isn’t.
I’m too tired to find out.

She is still there.
Fading now, maybe.
Thank you.
Once again.

Be gone for good for now.
I doubt this again will end
Any good for either of us.
Still,
I doubt
Do I love her?

Not like I used to.
She is mundane.
Still, now
My mundane lights up with magic.
And maybe

I can.

Tuesday, 18 April 2017

Perspective

The forest is but trees.
Nobody forgets the forest for the trees.
The forest hides, in plain sight
And it’s not our eyes that conspire
Nor our mind, with the trees;
It’s the light.
Nowhere to go but straight,
The light leads us straight to something.
From above, the forest is but leaves,
Rustling in the wind,
Dancing to the chaos of something somewhere;
From within, it’s a lot of grass, trunks,
And the light trickling from above,
Not green, it’s dark.
From the outside, it is trees,
A lot of trees.
We all see it; we all have a picture
Of what the woods are.
They are indeed dark and deep
And probably lovely too;
But the picture changes,
How did we see the same thing,
And feel it differently;
Blame the light.
But the light never means it,
They have no malice,
It’s our malice that seals
Malice onto inanimate things.
To see something is to look straight into its heart.
But, that is seldom possible.
To see the woods for what she is,
I know I can’t just be looking at it myself,
I have to see it, through other eyes,
Many, many paths for the light to reach me.
But I always remember, there are mirages,
The air tricks the light sometimes.
In the sea of confusion,
I need to know how to look, but
There is no correct perspective;
There is reality though.
There is a full version of reality,
Hidden among the sights,
Yielding to but the tenacious,
The poets ready to hear the song.
Poetry is, after all, putting the obvious
Into the limelight, in a different light.

Heavens


I didn't have anyone
To tell me this,
As a child I never heard
That dying would take you to the heavens,
To that place between the stars
In your rightful place in the cosmos.
My father, a storyteller,
Had no stories of the heavens.
And for me, the night sky
Was a boring black with
Uneven spots of unstable lights.
But I looked up, I have no clue when,
And saw that most that spots are stars.
Stars like the sun, bigger than the sun
And a million times bright.
Gases crushed by their own weight,
Boiling beyond vapor,
Turning themselves into another
And the night sky into a Van Gogh dream.
My dreams take me there,
And my imagination is my fuel.
But just not any kind of imagination,
The one with respect to the grandeur of truth.
They lead me to the skies...
And they lead me away from death.