Tag: apology

In Waldosia

I wonder why the kàwn is always teeming with people.  Here and there, people are moving as if they were automated with some specific commands inscribed in each and everyone’s brain.  I usually feel shy to look at other people’s faces.  Because when I have an eye contact with someone, I feel disoriented since my brain instantly has to figure out what that person might have been feeling the moment we look at each other.

I think one has to have the chutzpah to look at someone without losing one’s poise.  It also takes quite a decorum because staring at someone with a blank face and emotionless expression is one kind of modern-day-rudeness.  We were taught in elementary to be affable to people on the road because it could be the last time we ever see them.

To quote ‘Man is a social animal’ is like to coerce someone to oblige that showing a face which has a gamut of indecipherable  emotions is a vice.  ‘Always be kind to strangers’ is also another adage which has an ulterior implication: If you do not smile at someone you’ve met for the first time, they’ll for ever be your enemy.  Well, it seems I have many vices being committed and enemies multiplied as the clock ticks by.

A wise man, I forget the name, says that waiting is the attribute of the anxious.  He must have been right when I ponder about his statement keenly.  When someone is anxious, he is almost always too little too early.  So, he has to wait and waste time—the most valuable commodity man has ever invented.  I wonder why I almost always get the fidget when I’ve had something to do in the near future.  Like, when exams are near, I get the exam-fever even when I do not bother to study at all.  So when exams start, I resort to reaching the examination hall with a handsome hour still left to go.  To tell you the truth, killing time at the examination hall is the worst kind of waiting.  Had I been a sadist, I would surely torture someone by letting him wait for a caravan in a desert that would never arrive.  How sweet would that be!

I remember one occasion, if memory serves me right, when I had to wait for you at a bus stand.  I had to endure my worst nightmare—waiting and being exposed in public with strangers.  It was the worst fifty one minutes of my life.  But you had finally arrived with a thousand alibis ready to be spoken out in ingratiation.  You smiled at me and it had the implication that everything was fine, would be fine, and finally broke the ice with ‘sorry I’m late Bud’.

Today, I did the test of patience.  I’d been sitting on a waiting shed for three emotionally strenuous hours.  I was scanning my vicinity and had to smile nonchalantly at the faces I’ve never met before.  Amidst those, I was hoping to see your face that would relinquish me from the torture I had to bear alone.  But you never arrived because our rendezvous wasn’t the one where I was resting my bum.  Then I realized I had to text you, but I was running out of data balance.

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I don’t mean what you think I mean

I don’t mean what
you think I mean
when you think
I intentionally mean
what you think
my words would mean.
What are words but
meaningless symbols that
have meanings only
when two souls
agreed to each other.
What is language
but a mere façade
of mankind’s endless
need to complain.

Often, at times,
my stupid mouth
spits out words
that might imply
something derogatory to
the object who suffers
my (tongue’s) action.
But deep down,
if their subtlety
is looked into,
they’re a mere subterfuges
where I try to
conceal the finer nuances,
so that one might
not think that I’m blandishing
with a flattered mockery.

I don’t know what that
freakin’ French philosopher
Derrida tries to prove with
his deconstruction theory.
But something is clear—
he’s trying to tell us
that what we think
is the meaning of meaning
is just a perpetual loop
that ultimately means
meaning of meaning.
Oh! Sometimes I feel like
I get photosynthesised
just because I feel
some words are trying
to be trapped inside
my thoughts, like the
process being involved
in plants trying to make
glucose out of sunlight.
And why glucose!
Can’t we just say sweet?

You haven’t texted
since last . . .  And
our conversation ended
with rage like a
beehive being catapulted.
I kind of reaffirm
myself that somehow
I’ve become a miscreant
in your eyes.  But what
does it matter anyway?
When you think that
I mean something
I’ve never intended to mean.

Twisted is the soul
that can’t be bent.
Foolish is the one
that never compromise.
I’m sick and tired and dying,
can’t you see?
Well, I’m just beating
around the bush,
you won’t believe my
‘says’ anyways.

Wherever you are
& whatever you
might be doing
I hope you are fine
& be able to sleep tight.
Like those times
You told me you were
having an acute insomnia
but always dozed off
at the first hour
while we were chatting
& only a blue tick that
always reminded me:
I too need to hit the hay.