Fate of A Desolate Love

He was elated when he realized that their hearts had a special connection. He was so happy that his heart was part of a resonance pair. A string will swing at its maximum when the two ends are held at a particular distance. And he was petrified out of terror, the terror of fate, when he found out that the distance that makes their connection the strongest was so large that it might break the connection altogether. What choice did he have but to walk away to that far place, because he felt that one moment of the strongest connection between them was worth everything than a lifelong bond that knows not its true extent or purpose. It is so easy to call him a fool, which he really is.


Arms Of Forgiveness – Haiku #20

you are in for a long set of haiku ( abberated ones ), have patience if you can manage. ūüôā



O’ Love, in thy arms,

of forgiveness, is written

mine exile,  hidden

~ ~ ~

O’ Love, in thy arms,

of forgiveness, a thriving man,

who hurt thee in past

~ ~ ~

O’ Love, in thy arms,

of forgiveness, a broken man,

who hurt thee, never

~ ~ ~

O’ Love, thine virtue¬†

hath me breathing hard, why blind,

what sin i doth thus?

~ ~ ~

O’ Love, thine virtue,

forgiveness, hadst me exiled,

someone else got closer.

~ ~ ~

O’ Love, speak ‘least now,

i question not in arrogance,

what sin i doth thus?

~ ~ ~

if to -try to ebb

thine pains served by life- is to

sin, then i did sin.

~ ~ ~

if to -hide my name,

in humility- is to

sin, then i did sin.

~ ~ ~

O’ Love, what hadst i

done, that hath me pushed into

this vile emptiness.

~ ~ ~

O’ Love, in angst, i,

ask thee to see, difference,

in love and true love.

~ ~ ~

O’ Love, in thy arms,

of forgiveness, is written

mine exile,  hidden.

~ ~ ~

archaic (old English) words :

hath = has

hast = have

hadst = had

thy / thine = your

thou / thee = you

doth = do / does

~ ~ ~

i started writing it as a haiku,

but the inner feelings caught me in a grip and dictated me to write this, even if there were abberations from the rules of haiku

~ ~ ~

one thing i want to tell not in haiku :

forgiveness is a great virtue,

a very great one indeed,

but in excess of it,

shall, many a time,

sinners thrive,

while all along, good ones get the woeful plate of plight.

how strange.

how harsh.

how forgiving ( yes, sarcastic in deed ).

~ ~ ~

This post is an entry in¬†Haiku Challenge for April 2012¬†at¬†Haiku Heights. The prompt being ‚Äúforgive‚ÄĚ.

When You Win And You Know You Don’t Deserve It

My name was announced and I walked to the center of the floor with a hundred eyes staring at me. The mini-project my teammate and I did, won the best project award at a Project Expo held by our college to inspire the juniors. Quite an undeserving win if you ask me.

I was never satisfied with what I had done regarding the project. I simply learned how the circuit works, I hardly put in any effort in making it work. It was my teammate who did all the work. I was never proud of my contribution, which is almost zero, but nevertheless I do not feel as much guilt for not contributing because I have no proper practical knowledge of electronics even though I studied subjects falling under the same domain for 3 years.

I was guilty for another reason though. Guilty of winning when I did not deserve to. But I just walked to the center of the floor, accepted the certificate and appreciation from the lecturers.

Even with my teammate doing all the main work, we both did not do one thing – the coding part of our project. We got the stuff from the internet and made our project work. We skipped learning a major part of our project. Making us both a bit undeserving of the win. Especially me. (This is my P.O.V. My teammate on the hand does deserve a lot of credit)

I felt sick inside, but there was a wide smile on my face. I kept smiling all through this walking and receiving the appreciation and photographs, while what actually my mind was doing was it tormenting itself thinking about¬†that someone who does deserve all the appreciation, who indeed had all knowledge and idea about the project he/she did, unlike me. How I robbed them off a little joy, a little reward for their hard work. How I, after robbing a worthy one of an¬†opportunity to be happy,¬†don’t even justify the concept of ‘winning’ – that is to enjoy it and find happiness in it. I manage to screw up everything. I rob them and I don’t find a reason to be happy about the loot. Its like I exist only to rob other’s of their little joys, little¬†opportunities¬†at being happy, little rewards that compliment their tiring hard work.

There is nothing that makes me as sick as winning something when I don’t deserve it. And I cannot even properly express it, because I must bear the guilt that is forced onto me. I never even hoped to win that, nor did I want it. And yet, I get it. Along with a big load of guilt and self pity, the add-ons not necessarily part of the package for all the undeserving winners(who don’t dig deep into their conscience).

Anyway, they gave us both a monetary reward. I had no second thoughts about how we shared that money, at least that would give me an¬†opportunity¬†to breathe a little free under the burden of guilt however cheap it may seem. Yeah, cheap. Really, what other word would I use when I am trying to compensate the guilty of robbing a person off their opportunity to win something with mere¬†money!¬†Kind of sounds desperate, doesn’t it.

Well… I am.

P.S: If you notice, there is a pattern for ‘how people who deserve don’t win. how people who don’t deserve to win, do”. It happens more ¬†than you recognize. What scares me about it is not the stat, its the minds.


I Miss You More Than My Eyes Show…

i miss you more than my eyes show,
my eyes never lie though,
because it is for a good reason that they act so,
nevertheless, good is being done with me watching from a distance, staying low.

i miss you more than my eyes show,
my eyes never lie though,
i am one secret admirer you have now,
i will stay so forever, if the acceptance doesn’t grow.

i miss you more than my eyes show,
my eyes never lie though,
seeds of love i sow,
how and when they get the rain and sunlight is left to nature, to whom i bow.

i miss you more than my eyes show,
my eyes never lie though,
will watch over you like a pure entity, like a rainbow,
for you shall admire me at least as so.

i miss you more than my eyes show,
my eyes never lie though,
i don’t measure distance in feet or words or hugs, but in how much i comprehend what your eyes show,
jacket on or not, new or ragged, there will always be winter’s snow.

i miss you more than my eyes show,
my eyes never lie though,
respect is what my eyes show,
for you can still share it all, the pain, telling me what transpired in life – what?when? and how?

i miss you more than my eyes show,
my eyes never lie though,
i miss you more than you are allowed to know,
sometimes tears flow,
sometimes smiles bubble and blow,
and so all the time, my eyes glow.

i miss you more than my eyes show,
my eyes never lie though.

Devastating False Positives

A zero is better than a false positive.

when I am devastated and nothing is going my way, and will seemingly not(as you will come to read); one small moment that hints at ‘a turn of events’ in favor of me will raise my hope so high, unaware of the eventuality of the nature of fate, that, when I come to know that it was just a false positive, and that the truth is that nothing is still going my way, I would be but double devastated.

A zero is better than a false positive. Less devastated is better than devastated-devastated.

click for high resolution image

Time, Vision and Other Uncertainties In Life

each day seems to drag on,

unwilling to kiss the next,

whether you’d come, willingly yield to my love,

or not,

oh! the uncertainty of time.

each blink of my eye wishes it was the very last,

unwilling to rise again,


half held up, half let down,

no one will ever know, half glad,

no one will ever know, half sad,

the bright but blinding white fog,

hides but all,

oh! the uncertainty of vision.

each breathe that was to come, seems to stalk,

turning the present one into a rock,

that rolled,

too fast and away,

that, yesterday’s¬†fragrance¬†of the bloom is now a mere¬†remembrance in delusion¬†,

so small that i may not feel it slipping away through my fingers,

so subtle that my breathe might not even know that it just missed to sense the last air of life,

and so escape sometimes, from my grasp, even the remaining wisps of memories that let me survive,

oh! the uncertainty of the very life.




Tweet me at @sankarajayanth

Why Did I Name My Blog ‘Black and White Heart’ ?

named my blog black and white heart,
many wondered what it meant.

how can a blood-red heart be black and white,
how, ask me how.

when there is love for even subtle, generally-ignored things like a crumpled autumn leave,
when there is sympathy and empathy towards the weaker beings,
when there is a zest to know why one has to be strong while another has to be weak,
when there is the kindle flame deep inside, burning only to seek truth, when there are questions burning to be fired at the injustices of the world,
when there is this void of unknowable knowledge, as to why there has to be so much suffering in the world,
when there is this herculean rage inside, to bring down the traitors of humanity,
when there is a special respect for women,
when there is again a murderous rage inside, for how most men treat women,
where there is angst to show people how aberrant us human lives have turned,
when there is this restlessness and immensely overwhelming pain looking at how we humans sabotage our own well being,

what else do I see but the colors – white and black,
which form all world for me,
every speck of sand,
every breeze of air,
and ever drop of the sea.

swinging between extremes,
my heart is but black and white,
void and veracious.

In Dreamy Haze – Haiku #4



in a dreamy haze,

wanders my soul, deserted,

in silence i love.


A note : I am new to writing Haiku and I know I need to improve a lot to write a 3-line haiku pertaining to the rules. I would welcome all help and also re-writes of my Haiku so that i can learn (about the syllables).

Sarab, a fellow blogger, a friend, has been very kind to help me out. I thank him, a special mention he deserves indeed. Thank you.

His blog : Mused Cynosure

This post is an entry in Haiku Challenge for April 2012 at Haiku Heights. The prompt being “deserted”.

The Dark Of Mine Melancholic Soul

Mine Journey, Mine Self-Exile, Just Ask For It. Mine Love.

The dark of mine melancholic soul,
Hears not my own words,
Selfless and determined, it heeds not the dangers –
– Hidden and shadowed under lies and blinds of the world,
The winds tell no clue, nor promises to be a glue,
That would hold mine melancholic soul,
With its rightful destination,
Self-exile heavy on mine back,
Walking, not looking back,
Feet tell not how weary mine melancholic soul is,
From these nights and days of life,
That threaten to end that tender, thin string,
Holding mine melancholic soul –
– And mine love.

Mine love,
Fear not,
Mine journey is to nowhere but to where  i can find you happiness,
Mine journey is a search for nothing but for what gives you happiness,
Mine journey, mine self-exile, just ask for it.

Mine love,
Fear not.

Where Once Sky Used To Be…

where once sky used to be, bright because of an invisible flame behind the azure colored veil,
there flies a fabric of dark and doom,
wore by whom?
none i know, and surely not the person i have met this noon,

as if asking for an embrace,
the dark fabric closes down unto me,
i try to run and win a fool’s race,
for i fear not death but the mute of a true soul,

where are my good deeds reflecting,
where are my pure thoughts ending,
where are the results of such true and righteous intentions that i have formed and lived along,
where are the fruits that i thought i would see grow,
from the seeds of the past i sowed,

i try to run and win a fool’s race,
for me, a win doesn’t mean beating the dark doom that is chasing me,
for me, the win is seeing the fruits of goodwill flower out and glow,
before the dark fabric reaches me and encapsulates my withins,
chaining me to the void,

where are the fruits that i thought i would see grow,
i ask no right which tells that the first fruit should belong to the up-bringer,
nor i ask any right that tells all fruits belong to the up-bringer,
all i wanted was, to see them grow,
for that moment, i would keep running,
coward i may be looked as,
i do not care the world’s stares,
for they see a fool running, constantly looking back at nothing,
ha ha! they see no dark fabric,
i am a specially picked one.


restless and helpless,
i wander through thorns and ferns
forest, a quiet place now.

countless acts of solace
i give out,
you felt nay.

thorns hurt me less
than the words buried inside
begging to be let out.

stumbling and wobbling on weakened feet
i wander through thorns and ferns
forest, a mere shelter now.

i pick up a flute
sung from a tree,
i prepare to play.

i whistled
through it until i was out of breathe,
nay sound came out.
maybe it withheld.

i pick up a violin
sung from a tree,
i prepare to play.

i spiel,
from the deepest vaults, a melancholy,
nay sound came out.
maybe it withheld.

i pick up a guitar
sung from a tree,
i prepare to play.

i ruffle the strings
with love and care, a melody,
nay sound came out.
maybe it withheld.

i feel heavy,
at heart,
all that should have rippled out
seems buried inside me.

it pains, that it should be withheld.