You.

I can fly higher than the skies,
Higher than the heavens.
But only when You are the wind beneath my wings,
Only when You have held my hand tight.
For You are my fuel,
And my inspiration for something bigger.

I can soar amongst the eagles,
And even among the treacherous Andies.
But only when You are the sound that accompanies my flapping,
The echo that hits the rocks and comes back.
For You are my love,
And my want for something better.

I can live amongst the elite of the crowd,
And even amongst the most despicable, and yet be a Man.
But only when You are the one that redeems me,
The salvation that frees me.
For You are my life,
And my desire to live life whole-heartedly.

- Vinu.

You (My personal best till now)

None but I rule here,
Fires and pits of tar I will make you bear,
I walk these lands with my trident in my hand,
My tail swishing left, right, center and making markings in the sand.

I remember Him. Well. Very Well.
He was tall, dark and rugged looking.
I guess you youngsters might call Him Eastwood,
But I think I'll call Him "I".

And I and I used to walk on the gardens of Elysium,
And He and I used to carry Zeus, Poseidon and Hades.
I loved Hades. He was a good kid. Always obedient.
But He. He loved Zeus. Because Zeus was like Him.

Powerful.

And He and I had our fights. And we loved.
And we fought.
And I lost.

Then I got tired, and built my own kingdom.
And while He knew, He never complained.
He just used to tell me, "Balance, my child."

Hah!! I used to laugh on His face.
But now I realise his true intent.
But that is past, and none can be done or regretted.

And I ruled over my roost for ages. And ages past.
And ages beyond. And ages not thought of.

And none I ever saw like me.

But then I met You.
I looked at you, and you laughed at me.
You.
You laughed at me.
I said,
"Vinay, don't laugh, you foolish one.
I am the king of my hearth,
And the owner of my lands.
I will burn you till eternity."

And You only said,
"I'm not with Her.
She is not with me.
How does anything else matter?
Is any other punishment as painful?"

I hate Vinay.
I really do.
He put me in a spot that none could.

As Mclean said,
No angel of hell could break my spell.
I really thought none could.

But then I had to meet Vinay. He showed me.
He held me, and said,
"Someday, I hope you are with someone you love.
The way I will be in some time."

And she came up one day.
All gold, and glittering,
And white feathers.

Dedication - Vinay said.
And he simply looked at me, and smiled,
And went away to her.
I looked, and could not stop him.

And now I want Him.
I want You.
You are so many.
You are so much.
You are all I want. Nothing more.
Nothing less.

And that's just not Satan speaking.

- Vinaykrishnan.

You.

That my love had nothing to gain, but your eyes forever;
That my say had nothing insane, but you forever,
Insanity they say ruled what I had in love,
But I only wanted to breathe you,
And dance in the rhythm of your music,
And revel in the ecstasy of your tone,
But none of this that happened,
Now I just feel the need for you in my life.
And she can say I'm sexy, or that I look really awesome...
And I think she does too...
But nothing like you,
And nothing like me liking you,
For whom the sweetest of the paraphrases do I do.

Enlightenment. It's like Nirvana from the Boddhisatva.
Swami.
Devi.
I live in your embrace.
I die in your love.

I am yours.

Truly.

- Vinaykrishnan.

The Hero (part IV)

Heroism, I had heard, was not only about courage or strength. Intelligence was a key factor too. Choosing your battles was as important as fighting them.

This time, I knew I had to be on my alert as I try to pull this off. Nothing fancy. Just trusting luck to do it's thing. Usually, with me, Lady Luck never liked the color of my gold coins. I was hoping she'd love it this time.

I dashed to my right. The beast spotted me rush right, and took a step towards it's left to crouch, and pounced.

And it fell to the ground with a earth-shaking thud.

It's right foot was caught in the protruding root when it jumped and it tripped and fell!

I took my chance. I dived towards the beast, hunting knife in my hand, and ran the knife through the beast's skull. I pushed and it lodged all the way up to the handle. I could feel the knife go through it's brains like a cleaver goes through mutton.

It howled in pain and struck me with a left backhand. I was flung three yards away from it and I landed on a rock that hit me on my back. I cried out in pain.

I looked at the beast. It rose, shakily. And it stood on it's feet and steadied itself. It was an eerie sight. A beast like it standing in the backdrop of the rays of sunlight filtering in through the trees, with the handle of a knife sticking out of its head. It stood for a moment like that.

And it fell. Like a dry branch hitting the earth. Motionless. Still. Dead.

My strength drained away. I lay flat on my back heaving with relief. I had survived.

I was wrong today. Heroes do exist. They just aren't what we hear stories of, though. They aren't made of steel nor can they fly, nor do they have any super powers. They are normal human beings, like you and me. Heroes exist. And not just in fairy tales.

I am my own Hero.

- Vinaykrishnan.

The Hero (part III)

As a child, I always was told stories of how heroes would come in the nick of time, and save the world from being run over by evil. They would look handsome even after the bloodiest of battles, their battle scars and bloody noses only adding to their aura of courage, bravery and strength.

I always thought it true. I have carried this belief of heroes saving the day up to even now, as a young man. I'm 26, and I have lived in dark times. But my faith in them has never ceased, never wavered. Undoubtedly, I remained steadfast to my notions.

I couldn't be more wrong. There are no heroes coming now.

I look up to the eyes of the beast, glowering down at me. It's huge figure has blotted out the background, and I cannot see the sunlight cutting through the foliage and hitting the mossy and damp ground.

"Steady now, Viv," I say to myself. I did not want to do anything foolish. Let's just bid time now. See if there is a roll of the dice yet left. Some strange weaving of the web of fate that has spun in my favour.

I looked at the creature's feet, sinewy muscles culminating into large feet, with curved talons. 4 talons. Wicked. But beautiful. Even in an abomination, the Creator sprinkles beauty. If I were not fighting for my life now, I'd stand back and admire the lithesome creature. The perfect predator.

And something near it's feet caught my eye. A root of the oat protruded from the earth and the creature was standing above it with it's feet on either side of the root.

I had to take this chance. My only chance.

- Vinaykrishnan.

The Hero (part II)

"Get away, you foul!!!" I shouted. I couldn't even form a coherent sentence. My throat was all dry and I was waving my arms like a madman.

The beast did not even flinch. It's tail kept swishing from one side to another, balancing that huge torso. Muscles like no man has ever seen. Rippling, bulging. I felt they'd tear out of its skin.

I thought of Nicola. Her black hair, cascading on her bare shoulders. Her playful winks and her cute smile. I thought of the straw bed in her farm where we lay on a summer night, watching the stars and making love. Visions of unbridled joy. But these brought tears to my eyes.

The creature, hunched shoulders and outstretched arms growled slowly in its throat. Spittle formed near the corners of it's outstretched lips. Teeth bared. Almost in a smile.

I jammed my hands to the mossy floor of the forest, and tried to get up, my back rubbing against the bark of the oak.

I get up and gingerly test my sprained ankle. It hurts, but I can stand. I MUST stand. I have no chance against this beast on my arse.

My hunting knife in my hands, I flex my shoulders. I'm ready for its lunge. I know that if it lunges, I'll not make it. It's bigger, stronger and faster than me.

It will go for my throat or my heart. Two on one against this beast is a risky affair. One on one, I'd have to be made of iron to survive.

Where are heroes when you need them?

- Vinaykrishnan.

The Hero (part I)

The beast stared into my eyes. Red eyes, glowering with the pangs of hunger. And violence. And savagery.

I could do nothing. I was with my back against the oak trunk. Nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run. My sword was not in my scabbard. My hunting knife look like a paper cutter in my hands, not to talk of the beast in front of me.

I thought of my mother. She used to feed me rice and curd with her hand. I loved food best when it was from her hands. She was a great cook, a great mother. I loved her.

I thought of my father. He, was a man. He, was my hero. The way he'd tell me tales of the dark forests and how he won my mother's heart by saving her in some part of them. Every son loves his father. Every son wanted to be half the man his father was. I was no different.

The animal... no, half-man, half-animal, took a step forward. Claws flexing, teeth baring.

I could feel drums in my head. Maybe someone coming to save me! That would be most welcome!

But no. It's just my blood rushing through my ears. Throbbing. Pulsating. Electrifying.

Scary.

I always thought I'd be a hero when I'm in a fix.

I was wrong. This is no fairy tale. The damsel in distress is me. There is no knight in shining armour to save me. There are no heroes.

- Vinaykrishnan.

I cried.

I was not born then. My mother says she had cried back then on her birthday. 25th June, 1983. Kapil Dev. Mohinder Amarnath. Some great cricket.

She cried again last night. As did I.

When Sachin strode out to play with Sehwag, we had a sense of awe about them. That no target is too huge while these two are at the crease. A God. And a lesser God. But Gods.

Then went Sehwag. Sachin looked in touch. But He fell too. Anti-climax before the end. I was amazed at how someone I do not know can affect me so much. I was angry. Really enraged.

But then two Delhiites came to the crease. And took us a distance. I had hope again before Virat fell.

Then came the master stroke. Cometh the hour, cometh the man. It takes guts to stand up and say, "I am your leader. I will take you to the end". Dhoni proved that he had it in him. Biblical, almost.

A grittier knock never has the world cup seen by a captain in the finals. Maybe, Da Silva in the 1996 finals. But no. Not of this kind. Dhoni played his heart out. He came out to the pitch, and he batted like there was no tomorrow. As if losing today, and his heart would stop beating. Clutched at his wicket with the same tenacity as a drowning man holds on to his last breath. But Dhoni held. And he emerged.

That stump that he picked up. I am taking the World Cup home. Awesome.

I was adrenaline-pumped then. Big time. I was laughing my ass off at everyone of the doubters. Everyone who ever said that India would not win.

But then something even more awesome happened. The kids carried Sachin on their shoulders and paraded. Sachin. The Man we all admire. The Man we all respect. The Man we all love. The Man who makes us believe in miracles, and in Gods, and in switching off our lives and switching on our television sets.

Sachin. Now He has everything. And He can now sit back and say, "I did what I had to do. But now, the time has come where I have Men I can trust to do my job."

He has been at it for 22 years. 22 YEARS.

Now, He can rest.

Thank You, Dhoni and Sachin. And all the others involved. You had to be the ones to make me cry. And I have no regrets.

Thank you for making me cry.

- Vinaykrishnan.

All This Loneliness

(Yeh Viraaniyaan - Namaste London)

Those days, when You were with me,
Life was wide awake,
All the seasons were my best friends,
The paths were invitations
Written by destinations for us on the ground...
The trees opened their boughs
To drape us in the shawls of shade...
In the evenings, all the stars
Used to smile watching us...
The winds, singing the songs of fragrance,
Used to tease us and pass away,
The sky was a lake of the moonlight,
In which every night a flower of the moon used to bloom
And in the lake of the moonlight
It used to touch the banks of the rivers of our hearts...
Those days, when You were with me,

My love, when it got thirsty,
Then my sadness got even deeper...
My Life, without You
Has all this Loneliness...
All this Loneliness...

All the roads are empty,
All the destinations are pointless, Love,
My eyes are still desperately searching,
My heart is still bare...
Love...
Only Loneliness only surrounds me,
In my heart lies only silence,
My Life, without You
Has all this Loneliness...
All this Loneliness...

Whenever I breathe,
My breath pinches in my chest, Love,
Even now, there is a a ray of hope that pinches in my heart, Love,
Love...
All my dreams are about to be shattered,
Even the straws that I clutch at are a stretch...
My Life, without You
Has all this Loneliness...
All this Loneliness...

- Vinaykrishnan.

Asked, Not Received

Am I really all of this?
Two ounces of respect, and
Three of love,
I didn't ask for much.

Yet I received none.
All in vain,
It seems.

I did not ask for royalty.
I did not ask for
People to carry me on their shoulders
And parade me through the town.

I did not ask for a palace,
Lord,
Only for a small hut
To stay in. Hide away.

But You insisted on making me a mansion of glass.
And glass is strewn all on the floors.
And now even the slightest footfall
Causes me to shout out in angst.

In pain.

True was my faith,
I held hard to the rocks.
Yet the sea still threatens to swallow me up like a whale swallows a school of fish.

Intangible.
Inconsequential.
Like in autumn
A dry leaf in the wind.

Fluttering away to meet the earth.
It's genesis.

My creator.

- Vinaykrishnan.

My Fatal Flaws

I have realized that I have two fatal flaws. Both take me to completely different levels of thinking. And I like it this way. Maybe they are not flaws at all. Maybe they define me. Maybe they make me the person I am.

Anger. Rage comes to me in a frenzy. But I let go. I almost always let go. I have learnt to control my rage in a manner that I can deal with. Because my anger only causes hurt to others. And I am bigger than that.

Disappointment. When I am disappointed, however, unlike my anger, I can never let go. Ever. If someone disappoints me I will never let them rise in my graces again. Then they become non-existent for me. I am apathetic towards them. I will tolerate them, even be nice to them, but I'll never be their friend ever again. I know only one person who has disappointed me, and rose back in my graces. And half of us are not fit to even lick her boots.

My fatal flaws. My Kryptonite.

- Vinaykrishnan.

Flight of Icarus

There's a man standing there on the hill. His figure casts a silhouette in the backdrop of the rising sun, and he looks like an angel. Yes. An angel. Not by his countenance or his aura or anything so spiritual or supernatural. But because he has wings. Yes. Wings. When I see them spread as he spreads his hands out, I realize he's about to take off. And he takes that step over the ledge. For a moment, I run towards the edge, weighed down by my own wings, but then, suddenly he swoops up in the air like an eagle, wings flapping to assist his rise, the updraft helpiing him along and soar towards the open skies. He's a free man now.

Now it's my turn to walk my father's steps. Or should I say, FLY my father's path. I stand at the edge. Looking down is scary. It's pretty deep a drop from here. I don't think falling would be as musical as they say. Or even lyrical. Nopes. It would be plain horrid. I'm afraid. I do not want to take the leap. My father is a genius, and I see his genius at work even now when his wax wings have done the trick. But I'm still scared. I don't jump. I won't jump. I'll find another way out of this mess.

"Guards, there he is! Capture him!"

I turn back to see guards rushing at me, the red crests of their helmets fluttering in the wind. Their swords are unsheathed, glinting in the sun.

I turn back, and jump. Father had told me to flap gently and I did. I was scared. But the very first flap of my wings took me higher. Three more flaps and I was gliding away towards the sun. Towards the skies. Towards my father. Towards freedom!

It takes time to adjust and learn how to fly. But I'm a natural. I took to flying so easily, I started proudly smiling at my own abilities. Father is a genius, and his son is not a dolt either. I catch up with Father, who still warns me not to fly too low, or too high. I smile at him, nodding, and shout out that I'm not stupid. He smiles back.

But ahh, the thrill of flying. I swoop, soar, rise and glide. My heart calls out loudly to all the Gods and all the men, who never thought man could fly. We beat them all. I see the sun. It is majestic. Helios should be saluted. I fly higher to offer Helios my salutations. I don't see him yet, and so I fly higher. I feel hot. But I still fly higher to see Helios. The sun is glaring down at me as if to challenge how a mere mortal can come so close to him. I laugh it's glare down. I fly even higher.

It's getting harder to fly now though. I have to flap harder, faster. And that's when I notice that the wax holding my osier and willow wings together are melting. The twigs are giving way, creating holes in my wings. I lose control. I am now losing height.

I spiral away towards the sea rapidly. I can't do a thing to help myself. Somewhere in my mind, I can hear myself shouting. It's all surreal. Like a dream. I see my father trying to help me by holding me, but I'm too heavy for one set of wings to support. I fall.

I crash into the ocean. I don't know how to swim. I'm drowning. They say drowning is the most painful way to die. I think so too now. The last vestiges of air in my lungs give way. I feel my lungs being filled by water. I wonder if they would ever honour me. Maybe name the sea, and maybe even a small island after me.

I'm blacking out now. I see stars in the sea. Yes, stars in the water.

And my mind now only has two thoughts in it.

I love my father.

I could not salute the sun.

- Vinaykrishnan.

Don't leave now... (Ab na Jaa - Euphoria)

When I close my eyes,
I see only You,
Only in my dreams
I can call You mine,
Please leave it be,
My faith in my illusions,
Don't leave now...
It's a night of love,
Don't leave now...
It's just a small matter,
Don't leave now...

My sleep is only by you,
So what if I don't get sleep?
My conversations are only by you,
So what if I don't get to talk?
Let the stars tell their stories untold,
Don't leave now...
It's a night of love,
Don't leave now...
It's just a small matter,
Don't leave now...
It's a meeting of only a few moments,
Don't leave now...
The night is like magic,
Don't leave now...

On my forehead are drops of love,
Scattered are many questions,
My eyes have many seasons in them,
In a moment how many years passed!
Let life take me wherever it flows to
Don't leave now...
It's a night of love,
Don't leave now...
It's just a small matter,
Don't leave now...
It's a meeting of only a few moments,
Don't leave now...
The night is like magic,
Don't leave now...

Don't leave now...
Don't leave now...
Don't leave now...
Don't leave now...

- Vinaykrishnan.

My Personal Pleasure

Compulsive Blogging? Never heard of it. I've only done two blogs a day, that too one day of my life. TODAY. But they say the joy of blogging, putting down everything on the internet for the world to see, is something that is addictive. Like cocaine. You just can't stop. I think I can't get addicted though. The reason is simple. Lack of people's criticism on my blogging. I have not publicised my blog to too many people. Only some friends, and my family. Well, I do get the occasional post on Facebook for my efforts. But really, not one person has ever said that a post of mine was TOTAL CRAP. And I find a lot of my posts to be truckloads of bullshit. Like this one that I'm writing right now. A two-tonne truckload of mindless rambling about things that nobody would EVER read, or want to read themselves, or want others to read.

But then I think to myself, that maybe, MAYBE, I'm only writing for my own pleasure. Of course you can argue that I am saying this as no one does read too much of me. Sour grapes, is the expression that comes to mind. But personally, I really do think I write only for MY OWN reading pleasure. When I do write something for someone, I always make it a point to tell them that that particular post is for them to read, or is something they would like to read, or is a DEDICATION to them.

But I guess, this, like all my previous posts, is just another straw of grass in the wind. It will dry out too someday. And something new would take it's place. Maybe another blade of grass. Maybe an oak tree.

Till we find out what that new thing is, I'll just keep writing for my personal pleasure.

- Vinaykrishnan.

Random Observations.

Hmmm... I'm wondering what to write. I am at the New Delhi IGI Airport, and I love this place. I also am basically of the nature of observing people at airports and bus stations. What they are doing, what they are eating, what they are reading, whether they are listening to music on their mobiles or talking to someone.

The Aussies are playing the Kiwis right now. I think the match is in Ferozshah Kotla. Mamata is raving on about her Railway Budget for over a couple of hours now. Costa Coffee, Curry Republic, Foodie's Bar and Masala Twist are overly priced. KFC and PHD look pale in comparison. But I love my Zingers. I remember I was flying to Kochi once and I had 2 Zingers and 2 Chicken Pieces with a Coke at 6:15 in the morning! Beer is available, but I'm avoiding it. Flying is a dehydrating experience in itself. Not to mention that I am shit scared of flying, yet end up taking at least 6 to 8 flights in a year.

I'm also chatting away on my cell phone with a lot of people. And was going through my Sister's Blog. I thought I was a decent writer. But my Sister kicks my ass left, right and center. I love her posts, and love the passion with which she describes recipes, and my Niece's naughtiness.

The dry announcements rambling over the loud-speakers are the only part of this setup that I dislike. Intensely. All right, I heard you the first time! Just shut the eff up already! God, you're like a school of piranhas! Nagging away.

Okay, I'm done. Need a change of shirts. I'm wearing warm clothes, but Ahmedabad is hot this time of the year.

And oh, someone is singing Bailamos on the television. Not Enrique. Just thought you'd like to know.

- Vinaykrishnan.