Life, A Myth


I’m sure I’m not living, I’m slowly dying. I came to life when I was born and then the imminent process of death commenced, beyond my comprehension of medical science, of magic potions, of healthy diets and breathing air that is 21 percent of oxygen, I have come to sense that I’m not living, I’m merely surviving and nearing death. Living is a term given to slow death to avoid any panics or uproars in humans. We are simply dying, slowly but surely and living in the disguise of death, how intriguing and horrifying that is, isn’t it?

© Aniket More

The One Time I Met God, Never


Why do people say that I should believe in the existence of God? The existence of someone not natural, superficial but accurate. Must someone ask me to defy my senses, my logic and all the meaning that consists in me and to follow a being which controls us, controls all and who is the sleep maker, I will not do so, for it has nothing to do with arrogance or with considering me mighty above all, but it’s the humble truth that didn’t escape me. Maybe, it’s my version of truth, my version of perceiving or one of my shortcomings that I am committing to such blasphemy according to many, but I’ll still accept what is true to me, what is called as the truth to me. 

Time and time, I have been called weak and then I’ve been called strong, by myself and no one else, and as time aged, I’ve become prone to myself, my shortcomings and my almost existent, made up sixth sense and prophecies of failure, abandonment and then companionship again, an imminent circle of life, but I have grown out of circumstances and vicious fangs of madness, and survived, I did it by compelling myself to move, to grow, to fall and then rise again and I’m happy to share my defeat and victory with myself, it’s sempiternal, my downfall and rise, but I hold on, keep myself on my toes and leap, and when I say this, my arrogance isn’t whispering in to my ears, but my submission to the truth that I am responsible for my growth and my deterioration, and not God. 

If he is responsible for both, then yes, he is the most powerful of all, and if he is God and how people portray him then I’m sure that he is humble and forgiving, that he wishes nothing but the good of the beings he has created, and if he does, I’m sure he won’t hang me for believing in myself, struggling by myself and rising beyond everything, I hope he won’t mind that I’m taking all the credit to have made myself what I am today, if he doesn’t mind then sure he is God and I’d like to see God someday, but if he doesn’t like the fact that I’m taking credit for everything that I am doing to myself or that I’ve done to myself, then pardon me, but isn’t God being arrogant himself? Isn’t he supposed to be the well wisher? If he is boasting about creating this world and full-filing our wishes and dreams, will he also boast about putting us through pain and misery? Will he take the blame for our downfall when he can take the credit for our happiness? Will he tell me that this is a test, that life is a test created by him and that we are his subjects, should I not be upset about that? Then, again I ask, should I not take the credit for making and destroying myself? 

I think, there will be biased and supportive answers to these questions, but I’m not looking for any, I’m not asking anyone to prove anything to me, I’m not asking for knowledge from the book of wisdom or the logical truth, I’m in colloquy with me and asking these questions to myself which I will not find answers to but I know, I sincerely know that I will continue believing in myself, that way, I won’t have to blame anyone or offer my life to anyone, but myself. 

I don’t need miracles in life from God, and if you offer one from the book of magic, I’ll pay for peace for this globe in barter against my life, if not, then your miracles are not for me, they are for the T.V screen. 

© Aniket More

I Am…

I exist in darkness and tainted love. In ruins and funereal winds. I live in deep wounds and sleeping woods. I’m the silence after the chaos of suicide and self-sacrifice. I’m the tears in her eyes and the lump in his throat. I’m the midnight shadow and the sempiternal toll. I’m her betrayal and his broken trust. I’m the ship rust and the drowning body. I’m the pain unzipping his veins and the summer in her winter nights. I’m the novel that was bookmarked but never read. I’m the insides of the God and the coffin buried under their house. I’m not her’s, nor mine; I’m gone but I will partially subsist. 
© Aniket More

5 am 

I’m at my extreme form and I have a queer sense of sentiments. I walk the streets at 5 am and I want to be everyone that I see or seek but not me. I have been me for ages and it’s starting to feel cancerous. Troubled memories, loss of sanity and depraved of ghost smiles, I have lost me. I rise with the sun and sleep against the moon but all I wish is to never wake and slumber dark and deep. I was small and I grew tall and was lifted off my feet, but I have no alibi to go on, I need eternal sleep. 

  © Aniket More