Melancholia, Sweet Melancholia

Melancholia, sweet melancholia
You've been with me for a while
And in my mind's eye, you used to be beautiful
Two years you held me captive in a house
While physicians with their allopathy
Tried to separate us
But you were irresistible my melancholia
I was lost in your kiss
The cold caress of your lips on mine
And your dark nails of faith
Had me crucified, wanting to die, to escape
Three more years have passed
My melancholia, how we've grown
Me a plump lump
You, raven haired, sleeping in the Devil's bed
Melancholia, it's time for the symbiosis to end
I have sinned for you and alienated in your name
It's time for me to repent
And so melancholia, this is my last missive to you
Melancholia, my love, I have to break free
You've become a voice in my head
That I no longer want to listen to
I have learned how to smile
I will not weep for you anymore
When the music stops, so will our dance
Farewell melancholia
I'll miss my train if I keep talking to you

The Bilge Master

On Music Once Again

Music has power, let that be the premise
As I go on to surmise on the many qualities music possesses
It has the power to take away sorrow
And leave you looking forward to tomorrow
It is a blend of attraction and expression
Depending on what instrument you choose
Music is a living thing
Made out of frequencies not arteries
It removes barriers and inspires
But demands a lot of perspiration from it's maker
Music can cool a hot head
It can soothe the most grievous of wounds
And is a substance that does not harm you
If taken in large quantities
Hush now, night has fallen
And as we all know, the night is a time for listening
So close your eyes and plug in your earphones
And let a stranger who has become your friend
Serenade you to sleep
Slowly, gently and surely

The Bilge Master

Lights

There was once a soldier
Returning from war
His eyes had seen much
Entire empires rise and fall
He was old, and he was tired
Making his way home
Through a cold night
Suddenly in front of him
There arose a shaft of light
And the soldier heard His voice
Blessings were showered on him
And the light showed him the way home
On this festival of light
Remember our soldiers
Who stand watch so we can sleep
Do not forget them
Because you can be sure
That they haven't forgotten you

The Bilge Master

Banes

When I was nine years old, an impressionable age; I was gifted The Lord of the Rings:The Fellowship of the Ring by my father. I devoured it. I loved everything about it. Bilbo's walking song, Frodo's coming of age, Gollum, the trek to Rivendell and of course the forming of the Fellowship.

But the one scene that got branded in my mind was Gandalf's fight with the Balrog (Durin's Bane) in the mines of Moria. It was the first time that the reader is shown Gandalf's true power (before he ascends to Gandalf the White). To avoid spoilers I'll just say he survived the fight.

Forgive me for rambling on like this but I firmly believe that there is a lesson to be learnt here. Like Durin, we all have our banes-anxiety, anger, insecurity-some are strong and hard to fight; but we should not give up. That means the bastard's won.

Problems are milestones that tell us we are doing the job of living correctly. They say that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. We should aspire to be strong. We should look forward to challenges and to being challenged. It's the only way to ascend from gray to white.

The most important thing we must do is forget the past and distance ourselves from those who live in the past. This is vital. Without this we cannot appreciate the Now and if we don't appreciate the Now we aren't living- we are dying.

Holding grudges, giving in to angst or other phenomena will lead to the implosion of a nuke in us bigger than Hiroshima or Nagasaki. We all have our inner Gandalfs. We have tremendous mental capacity and survival instincts. We fall, but we also rise.

So come. Take my hand and my blade

Arise

The Bilge Master

J And H

Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
Were two sides of the same coin
On one side the genius
On the other madness
There is a Hyde hiding in all of us
It's what makes us flawed
Creatures of gray, not black nor white
Unlike in Dickens
We exist together
With all our might
I say do not let your Hyde hide
Face the darkness and only then
Can you guide yourself into the light
So pick up the sword you've dropped
Let it glitter like a beacon
And cross swords with your inner Hyde
But remember not to eliminate him
For without him you won't be able
To differentiate sorrow from happiness

The Bilge Master 

My Kind of Crazy

To be my kind of crazy
You don't have to do much
Just be a zealot
Without a church
Or perhaps a cook
Without a recipe
My kind of crazy
Is a groovy hippie
With his own weed garden
And a psychedelic convertible
If you meet my kind of crazy
Stop and say hello
And in response
Be reminded of a song
My kind of crazy
Walks the streets at 3AM
Looking for love
They compose till dawn
And publish at midday
They are also professionals
At talking to themselves
You don't need no Chemical X
To be my kind of crazy
But it might help if you
Have a romance or two
My kind of crazy is warm and fluffy
And lives in a house with 15 cats and 12 different birds
Now tell me reader
Are you my kind of crazy too?

The Bilge Master

How Bleach Helped Me Survive a Mental Hospital

Bleach is an anime series about Japanese Death Gods (called Shinigami) and about a human who is given the powers of a Shinigami. It features many arcs and sends the message that the human spirit is capable of enduring and overcoming the toughest of situations. The protagonist, a 15 year old called Kurosaki Ichigo is someone who can see the spirits of dead people and has tremendous spiritual pressure or reiatsu as it is termed in the anime. The viewer follows Ichigo as he first becomes a substitute Shinigami, then goes on to rescue his friends, fighting many battles in the process, before finally taking on the villain of the series- Aizen.

From the word go, I was struck by Ichigo's spunk. In spite of knowing he was fighting beings far stronger than he was, he never gave up. He had decent swordplay skills and he developed a bond with his sword (Zangetsu in Shikai and Tensa Zangetsu in Bankai); and this helped him grow in power.

Plato said that "The measure of a man is what he does with power". Ichigo, though being extremely powerful, only used that power to protect his friends. This protective instinct is what drove him to even risk death. One example of this is when he tells Aizen he doesn't want to fight in city limits and takes the battle to a remote area.

I was admitted into a mental institution on 15th May 2019, and I am writing this sitting in my room there. It is about 5:30pm but the light is sufficient to write with. It is the 10th of September and in five days I will complete 4 months here. Some of you are aware of my ongoing battle with bipolar disorder and I have come here to kill it dead.

The days pass slowly, leaving me with enough time to introspect. Being inducted into the Daycare unit however gives me a weapon to murder time with. It's a mix of counselling and activities, reminding mr of Ichigo's training under Urahara and later Youroichi.

I have made progress with managing anger and have come to realise that compared to the other patients here, I am not really sick. I have also realised that my anger triggers my depressive phase and if I don't get angry, I won't fall sick.

I keep thinking-"What would Ichigo do?" Though fictional, his struggle is every bit as real as the situations I have faced in my life. I draw inspiration from Ichigo's deeds and his never say die attitude. Be it Kenpachi Zaraki, Renji Abarai or Aizen, Ichigo has gone up against them all with a smile on his face. Ichigo has kept me sane in this hospital and his attitude has been nothing short of phenomenally inspiring to me.

I thank the creators of Bleach and my friend Udayan for introducing me to this anime. I urge my readers to give it a look and maybe one of you will find inspiration from Ichigo as well!

The Bilge Master

Grace

Patience is a virtue
Virtue is a grace
Grace is a little girl
Who doesn't wash her face
It's been five years since her mom cleaned the place
Her father is a drunkard, a degenerate and a disgrace
Years they fly on by
Grace is a survivor
25 years of age
Third baby on the way
I knew her as a little girl
But then so much changed
Where did her smile go?
What happened to her face?
I wish I knew
I wish I knew
And what hurts more
Is that there is nothing I can do
There is no saving Grace

The Bilge Master