Poetry 2014 Longlist, Vishal Gupta

Angel Gates 

-           1          -
She lay on silk
empty eyes, looking up for meaning
Hands, still as mountains
lips, frail as leaves
He lays a finger on her navel,
remembering, each moment of pleasure
A tear falls on her, glistening on her body
He sees it for a long time, he knows the time has come
Flashes of memories go by his eyes
flashes, were all there had been
Never taking time, to savor a moment
Always, saving his precious time for future
Today, he felt no need to rush
clocks turned away, deceiving time
Clocks, which once his eyes scrounged for
had their backs turned in shame
He touched her lips with his, trying to remember
Love, which was always his, which he never embraced as his own
He ran his hand up to her throat, which words had abandoned
Now she lay, breathing, heart beating, blood running, alive
He did not move till his eyes blurred
the boundaries of her being with the world
He did not care to wipe the tears, he knew where his blade lay
Minutes, hours, maybe days before he lay his hand on steel
The shallow breaths stopped
He heard heartbeats; he knew they were not hers
The blade took her, but not without any pain
He cried himself to death
-           2          -
The ceiling felt like a part of her
She knew each layer, dent and texture
She knew he was not a coward
She knew he loved her enough
Yet, he took a long haul
One haul, was all she had asked for
before she left, he had conceded
She felt the touch of his hands, just before she had to leave
A brilliant light entered her eyes
Yet, it was unable to blind
She was not lying anymore, nor was she a stand
But she knew it mattered not, for the gates were now open
She did not walk, but simply entered
It weren’t clouds beneath her, but nor was it ground
She knew she’d broken the cycle, and now was the time to rest
In her final hours, she received the final blessing
Love

Short Story 2013 Shortlist, Vishal Gupta

The Day Which Could Have Been

Oh dear! It was all just a dream. He woke up with a start, sweating.
He didn’t have the time to lay more focus on the dream. It was already 8:20 am. Class began in 10 minutes. He had to rush lest he be thrown out of class again. He quickly picked up his bag, gave a thoughtful look to the toothbrush and ran out of the room. He never noticed the note pressed below the clock.

It was another usual day. He cycled past innumerable faces which he saw every day. They never cared to give him a glance. Everyone is so self-engulfed here. He reached the classroom. The professor had already started distributing sleeping pills. He quietly went to sit in his usual chair. The professor didn’t seem to care. He must be used to it by now. He looked at the chair across to him. Aashni, she had come today. One of these days, I’m going to tell you how I feel about you. He knew he wouldn’t. She was out of his league. A member of the choreography team, a basketball player and one of the brightest students in the class. She didn’t even notice him when he used to pass the occasional smiles to her. As if he didn’t even exist. But he didn’t mind that. All he knew was, that there is a girl, whom he loved.
‘Vaibhav!’ The professor spoke for the third time, irritated.

He came out of the world of his dreams and responded, ‘Present Sir.’
The professor moved on to the next name. Barely giving an acknowledgement. The students followed the professor out of the class after the roll call. There was still some time before the next class. He waited for Aashni to leave. After she disappeared beyond the door, he got up, picked his bag and left. Some of his friends were chatting outside the classroom. They were talking about the upcoming fest and the new theme. The organising team member amongst them was recounting the story of how his teammates agreed upon the idea after three hours of debating and argument.
‘But playing cards? How much can you innovate with them?’ He argued.

Nobody seemed to listen to him. They went on with their conversation. Why? He didn’t get it. Every time he spoke something, most people behaved that he didn’t even exist. Why can’t you all be a little more respectful and give the words of another person a little thought before continuing with your mind-numbing thoughts.
‘My dad has a deck so old that all its hearts have had bypasses by now,’ a friend tried to pull off a joke.

Everyone laughed. Most people didn’t understand it, but it wouldn’t be very wise to keep a straight face when everyone else was laughing. He laughed too. I wish I could walk away, but it would be rude to walk away. He wouldn’t dare to walk out of the chat everyone was having. Being a part of everyone was all he had. It was time for the class again. No one seemed interested. He knew, they were going to go in the class 5 minutes late. No reason. People just thought it was “cooler” like that. Aashni moved in. He went in after her. Someone looked at the spot he had been standing a moment ago, then joined back into the conversation. It was nothing which required too much attention.
After another hour of a fatal lecture, he started moving to the mess. Along the way he thought why he was there. Everyday the same question bothered him. He was not learning much in those classes and he did not excel in anything else. The world belonged to people who excelled. He was not an achiever. Then why was he put on the planet. What purpose did he serve apart from being a waste to his parents’ hard earned money. Everything he had learnt till date was of no use in the real world. He was reaching nowhere. Well, I’ve reached the mess. Irony always ruled a part of his mind. He glanced at the thing which was being served in the name of food. He moved to the canteen which had dared to operate right next to the mess. Initially everyone was sceptical if a private canteen right next to the mess was a profitable idea. But the dealer was a good businessman. He had seen the condition of the mess and knew he’d get more business there than anywhere else. His business had grown beyond its capacity. Mismanagement and misplacing of orders were nothing new there. He ordered for his usual. After 30 minutes of waiting, he didn’t get anything. He moved to the kitchen where another boy was already complaining.

‘Wait dada, your order is next on the line. It’s a busy day today.’
It’s a busy day for me too you pest. He didn’t give a thought to what kept him busy. He laid down a 20 rupee note and took two packets of chips from the shop. He made way for his room, thinking about the last phonecall conversation with his dad.

‘Apple?’
‘Yes.’
‘Glucose?’
‘Yes.’
‘How many glasses?’
Two. ‘Three.’
‘Why do you do this Vaibhav? If you don’t take care of your health then how will you put the effort in studying? Don’t do this.’
Silence.

‘Had a bath today?’       
‘Yes.’
‘Yesterday?’
Truth or yes. ‘No.’
‘Won’t you listen to anything we say?’
Silence.
‘Keep a chart on your wall, of the list of things you have to do every day.’
‘Yes.’
‘Yes. And study well and keep good care of your health.’
And shouldn’t I keep my head clean of garbage? I’ve heard this a hundred times dad! ‘Yes.’
‘And listen to some wise men’s words. I have couriered you the Geeta. One page a day. It’ll keep your mind off the filth. And today Sri Sri Ravi…’

He didn’t remember everything about the conversation. Even though it was the same thing day after day for the last two years, after a point he just became uninterested and kept the phone after he heard the final ‘Okay’ from his dad. Life did not have much meaning.
He looked at his phone again. His family were the only people who contacted him through that phone. I really have no other friends. Of course, there were people who lived near his room. They came every time India won a match to collect money for crackers. He knew they spent most of it on alcohol. He never participated in the drinking sessions, but he paid every time. Everyone else does too.
 
It thundered. It was going to rain. Winds were slowly brushing his hair, prompting him to get to his room before they turned violent. He reached his room, thinking if he should follow the plan he was thinking of for such a long time. The fan invited him every time he looked at it. He had already bought the rope but slept every night just staring at it. He knew he couldn’t gather the courage to actually do it. He opened the door.
Wind rushed into the room as soon as the door opened.

The boy passing by the room did not notice the absurdity at first. He came back and looked at the room with a shock of disbelief. He had seen the view before, but only on the television. He closed his eyes and screamed at louder than he had ever before. A small crowd gathered around. Someone ran off to inform the warden. Some people got inside the room and brought the body down. Someone saw a little note under the clock. It didn’t make much sense. ‘Even I feel the same way,’ he thought. An atmosphere of shock and grief engulfed the hostel soon.

Oh dear! It was not a dream.

Poetry 2013 Shortlist, Vishal Gupta

The Song of Sun and Earth

The first time Sun saw Earth, he did not like her
she was nothing like he’d seen before
no heat no fire, yet she seemed to be brimming with life
Sun saw her for a while, not knowing what to say
while she innocently danced around
By the time Sun realised he was staring her
staring her was all he knew
and he did so at every opportunity he had
for the sheer joy in her beauty
to see her flowing like the rivers within her
were too much for Sun to take off his eyes
Not that there weren’t other beauties around him
He had Saturn’s rings and Jupiter’s moons to gaze
But somehow this little lady with blue eyes
sometimes who saw him and sometimes shy
captured his imagination
Sun was in love, before he knew it
and if there was joy, it was in Earth’s smile
Earth, unsuspecting, danced along with her life
she took life from Sun, but knew not what he had in mind
Sun waited, to be a little brighter
so that one day his rays could shower the love he had for her
Sun waited, perhaps a bit too long
for by when he was ready to proclaim his love to the world
She’d fancied a new partner
one, who’d hurt her in the past
one, who’d sprung out of her
one, whom Earth fancied and Sun fancied Earth
Earth smiled, in moonlight
Moon, showered his love on Earth every night
Every day, Earth would talk to Sun
every evening, when Moon arrived, Earth would bid goodbye
Moon waxed and waned, Sun remained constant
but now he knew, he was to be a friend
Earth’s happiness lay in moonlight
and her smile was Sun’s joy
One day, unable to hold his feelings
he let her know, he wished to be near
But could not, for he would burn her
He could neither go too far, for Earth needed him for her life
His curse for his love was to stay
to watch his love choose another way
To watch forever, as Earth moved on
To never come near, yet not too far
They danced along, in a heavenly trance
circling each other, never seeing
Earth knew not, he still kept a watch
for now she waited, for moonlit nights
Sun wondered, if on moonless nights
she remembered him, and silently cried
if she ever wished, to speak to him again
if she knew, moon blotted him out on some days
if she knew, he still stays close
and would come, at her slightest haul
Sun wondered, and got used to crying
he shed no more tears, just watched them fly
He once thought he had time
but then from nowhere, came night
Our lives, the same, we think we have time
we live each day, hoping to work the night
and night we know, tomorrow comes
and live another day, waiting for the night
It’s the night which deceives us, yet that’s for what we wait
Our dreams our hopes, silently walk by
while we wait, for the right time to arrive
Perhaps if Sun was first, she would’ve been his
perhaps she would’ve said no, and asked him to leave
but now was too late, for him to go
and now he was surrounded by loved ones, yet utterly alone
For his eyes would not leave the one he once loved
for he still lived in hope, she might return
she never did, could never do
and Sun waits, for the day in his pain he erupts
engulfs her, makes her his, destroys himself
and leaves generations who see from a distance the splendid tale
there once lived a man who loved someone
spent his kips, in dreams of someone
lived like a star, and died like one
found no love, but loved someone
‘Was my life a waste?’ the final question he asks
or was it a testament to my love, which beyond me lives on

Flash Fiction 2012, Third Prize, Vishal Gupta

Friday, The Thirteenth

February 13th, 2009. 8 am. A Friday.

I saw her. She looked lovely, like always. This was the day, I could see it in her eyes. She looked at me. Smiled. I smiled at her too. Slowly, she moved close to me; checking, if I was ready. Honestly, I was never more prepared. She sat beside me.

Slowly, she said, “The time has come dear.”

I saw the fire in her eyes. I knew it. Yet, I could do nothing but just look at her. Even now her stunning appearance affected my senses as it did on the first time I’d seen her. Beautiful black gown delicately covering her slender body. God! I knew then what love was. But today was different. She opened the drawer. I knew what she needed. I’d personally made sure last night that she finds the instrument in good shape. I looked at her as she devoured its sight. I knew this was the last time I was seeing this gleeful look on her face. Everything would be different after this. Seems so unreal how only one night could change everything. But after last night, I myself am surprised to believe in my own existence.

THE PROLOGUE

Feburary 13th, 2009. 1:30 am. A Friday.

It was the most memorable night I ever had. It had been so long since we’d been together. Alone. Me, and Shreya. But tonight we were together again. And what a time we had. We’d talked, danced, drank, everything. I always told her that I loved her more than she loved me. Tonight, I was to know how true I was. Safely resting in my arms that night she had told Amit how she was going to come back to him. Once she got rid of the old man with nothing to offer other than his wealth, she’d be back to him. She smiled after this. It was the same smiled which once made me fall in love with her. This time though, it could not produce the same effect. 

After a cold silence of 30 seconds, I asked, “When do you plan to get rid of your old man?”
“Whenever you want me to,” came the direct reply.
“Tomorrow.”

All the old man could hear was a light giggle. After which he could hear heartbeats. One light, composed, peaceful. Of pleasure and ecstasy. Another of regret, sadness, purposefulness. The same purposeful heartbeats which the other heart would have the next morning.

THE SEQUEL

February 13th, 2009. 8 am. Friday.

She looked at the blade for the last time. It was the last time she was experiencing thoughts which her mind was guiding. I had nothing left to lose. It was her turn. The smile was still on her face. A smile she’d carry for the rest of her mournful life. Her final words, “Goodbye Old Man.”

She lifted the blade, pulled off the blanket and then, everything drowned in her scream. She dropped at the sight of the blood. The spotless knife lay shining beside her.