Skip to main content

Struggle To Sleep

Image
By

I need to wake up. To welcome the dawn. To let the excruciating night go.
Oh, but wait, I haven't slept the whole night! Is this how Insomniacs feel? Live?
Tried all tricks to trick my mind into slumber.
Tossed and turn. Tossed and turned again.
Until my arms pricked my shoulder.
Until my waist bone pricked my stomach.
Until my spine went spineless.
A part of smile seems to control, cajole and hurt me.
For it traces rapidly before I can stop it,
With thoughts picked up from different departments of mind.
It digs deep.
Into the ocean of unrelated events. I block it.
Alas! Futile.
It sneaks into neighboring neuron.
Seduces couple of them. Copulates. Creates a new one.
Ah! Now I have to block this too! And then when I do. Teases me. Tears me.
Like the boon of Raktabeej,
one drop of thought begets to thousand more and more.
The clock strikes 3. The night's moving away.
I yell. I cry. I want to sleep. I want to sleep.

I decide to pact. I accept defeat. Call my mind to the table.
Give it a free hand to think relentlessly.
With a hope to rest my eyes I move one.

Treachery! Treachery! Restlessness strikes back.
As if thought is that ruthless King set to conquer time and space.
How do I know? I rub my hands and feet in despair.
It has grown into a Monster.
Feeding on my neurons. Making illegitimate connections.
I feel threatened until my Ego arrives.

Ego reverses my thoughts.
Unlearns and un-connects.
In a quest to single out the origin of the devil.
Like searching needle in the haystack.
I feel a bit eased. Eyes soothed. Thoughts percolate.
On the cusp of oblivion yet awake to find the cause.
Won't go until my Ego solves it.

Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

Bingo! Culprit nabbed!
My thoughts stem from my habit of obsessive reading.
I am too busy celebrating than introspecting.
Ego warns me. "NO!" it says. Wait.
The monster arises from an unfulfilled wish of mine.
Mine? Sky's the limit for them I exclaim.
Seems Ego has figured out.
My unconscious urge to write,
after capturing so many characters, events, anecdotes, observations around me.
They are revolting. Desperate to come out.
Accuse me for ignoring and ditching them.

Like an innocent devotee, I vow to unleash by writing.
Placate them. They recede. Throw back my freedom.

I pounce on it greedily and then the darkness hugs me.

- Aniruddh Naik
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Two Minutes

By
This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 29 ; the 29th Edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton . The topic for this month is 'TWO MINUTES'. 1935: “Radha, where are you? Come soon. Get me my pagadi “shouted Ramrao. Radha came running inside the room. Managing the nauwari sari was still a difficult job for her. She was wearing it since 8 years as it was the traditional Brahmin apparel for women in those days. She went to the wooden cupboard beside the bed and took out the white pagadi and gave it Ramrao. Ramrao took it with a smile on his face and looking into her eyes he said,” Thank you my dear wife” for which she smiled him back and put her head down evincing her shyness. Having said that he left for work. Radha was 18 years old and Ramrao, who was 35, then, was her husband. In those days girls were married at the age of 8 or
29 comments
click here to read more »

Story of an Untold Story

By
This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 32; the thirty-second edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following  Blog-a-Ton . The theme for the month is 'An Untold Story' "You miss her ??" asked the son to his father who was on the verge of entering into senility. “I have never. Nor do I intend to.” was the sturdy reply. Son sensed the succinct rudeness in his father’s reply. Trying to be indifferent he proceeded further. “Well… true. You only miss someone when that someone is absent; mother is present in your heart and you can’t deny it.” “See, you got me” said his father with a smile on his wrinkled face. “Dad, I wish she was with us today. I could have seen tears in her eyes when I was about to go abroad for my job. I could have asked her to prepare all delicious desi dishes to eat.” There were tears in his eyes while saying this
30 comments
click here to read more »

THAT LAST NIGHT

By
This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 26 ; the 26th Edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton . The topic for this month is 'That Last Night'. A small crowd of reporters was waiting anxiously for the WRITER to arrive, and back of my mind I was very much excited to keep them waiting. I was accompanied by my agent and we walked inside the conference hall and the sound of warm applause relieved me; though, it didn’t satisfy me. We sat on the chair, which was a de facto way to start the so called interview. “Good evening to all my friends. I am now fixed to chair and you can start the interview. I know many of you have myriad questions running in your minds and soon they are going to be blasted on me. So let the 1 st question of the evening come in” (A lady of a leading newspaper gets up as soon as if she was waiting to pounce the piec
26 comments
click here to read more »