Unrelenting to pressures,
From the past or the future,
Frozen in the present,
Counting down seconds…
Sun kissed and bathed in time,
Suspended in little hollows,
Interspersed with the universe,
Living in an encapsulated bubble…
Fleeting flawlessly in flight,
Laughing frivolously at life,
Devoid of darkness and cold,
Brimming with opportunities,
From another world…
Tempting the impossible,
Grazing boundaries and limits,
Lifting off from reality,
Into mirages and dreams,
Coloured by the lights of dawn,
Tapping to the rhythms of joy,
Pure, peerless pleasure,
Words slip into incoherence,
Playing mind games,
Everything spins off orbits,
And the world changes course,
The moment is all that exists,
Nothing before and nothing beyond,
Just that second stuck in time…
Wednesday, 29 April 2009
Sunday, 12 April 2009
Brakes and Breaks
Sometimes you want to break off into the unknown, away from the real world. Where everything seems to come in shapes and sizes that are not comprehendible and small little things confuse you. The mind plays games of what to see and what not to dwell on. Everything becomes a myriad mix of vague and vivid images that dart in the spaces of the soul. This is so amazingly mixed up and there is no pattern to the madness of the dreariness and futility you feel after.
After what? Now, that would be the most logical question that follows. But did madness ever adhere to logic or practicality? Technically no one is mad until stated to be so or studied and then confirmed as an insane individual. But we are always stuck on the verge. The thin line between madness and sanity, one small push and you will land up in la-la land.
After nothing. Because after you reach the stage of after there is nothing. Everything you have left behind just becomes a standstill image from your past. Images that are strung together and played in the head with a constant rewind and forward pattern, or images that are pushed so far into the back alleys of the mind and are forced to be left that way. Untouched and trying hard to forget and reach a state of no reminiscences. A state where no matter how hard you try you cannot remember the entirety because you have chosen to dole out the thoughts and images tied to that memory. A state of unconsciousness, even unconscious of the struggles we undergo to forget the past.
We often believe the truth to be a fact. But the truth never is a fact. Far from it actually. The truth is what we make each one of our selves believe what the fact is. We all perceive differently so truth with this one factor becomes relative to each and every individual. We build our personal truths based on our opinions and the way we chose to respond to a certain activity that occurred in our lifetime. The only real truth is that there is no one single truth. The truth is as varied as we are.
It’s a mind warp. This state of believing and non-believing. It is in a sense as unreal as reality. The more I see into reality, the more I see the opportunity of alternate reality. Of parallel universes and of real things being as unreal as they are real and vice versa. So the deal ia there is no absolutes, there is no single truth, there is no real reality, everything is a projection of time spinning away and the universe continuing to be balanced in an unexplainable equilibrium.
After what? Now, that would be the most logical question that follows. But did madness ever adhere to logic or practicality? Technically no one is mad until stated to be so or studied and then confirmed as an insane individual. But we are always stuck on the verge. The thin line between madness and sanity, one small push and you will land up in la-la land.
After nothing. Because after you reach the stage of after there is nothing. Everything you have left behind just becomes a standstill image from your past. Images that are strung together and played in the head with a constant rewind and forward pattern, or images that are pushed so far into the back alleys of the mind and are forced to be left that way. Untouched and trying hard to forget and reach a state of no reminiscences. A state where no matter how hard you try you cannot remember the entirety because you have chosen to dole out the thoughts and images tied to that memory. A state of unconsciousness, even unconscious of the struggles we undergo to forget the past.
We often believe the truth to be a fact. But the truth never is a fact. Far from it actually. The truth is what we make each one of our selves believe what the fact is. We all perceive differently so truth with this one factor becomes relative to each and every individual. We build our personal truths based on our opinions and the way we chose to respond to a certain activity that occurred in our lifetime. The only real truth is that there is no one single truth. The truth is as varied as we are.
It’s a mind warp. This state of believing and non-believing. It is in a sense as unreal as reality. The more I see into reality, the more I see the opportunity of alternate reality. Of parallel universes and of real things being as unreal as they are real and vice versa. So the deal ia there is no absolutes, there is no single truth, there is no real reality, everything is a projection of time spinning away and the universe continuing to be balanced in an unexplainable equilibrium.
Wednesday, 8 April 2009
25 Things
I have been reading a lot about these 25 things. I haven’t gotten down to penning mine down yet. But there is something more pressing at the moment now:
25 things to watch out for:
My tryst with the Kitchen
If you thought that dealing with incompetent people was the last straw, think again! Welcome to the land of living vegetables and non living utensils. Veggies don’t pay any heed to you or your deadlines, you have to bow down to them and go by their rules, or its game over! As for utensils, beware they are like ghosts from your past, they might just sense your fear and strike at it! Next thing you know you have all clanking and noises as they are strewn all over, not coz you dropped them but because they decided to fall, just to get back at you.
Do not be obsessive compulsive, every speck every oil stain will give you nightmares forever and also you will end up spending so much time washing up, you will never leave!
Oh! Don’t wring your hands after you wash them into the floor, or you will end up cleaning and mopping the floor.
Do not wipe your hands on either sides of your dress, over the years all your clothes that you wore to the kitchen will have a very obvious designer look to it, designed by your wiping.
I wash and wipe my hands every five minutes when I am in the kitchen, it does not help, and the next minute it goes all messy again. At the end of it you are left with grazed, skin peeling, burning, and rough hands as opposed to the nicely creamed and soft glowing ones you possessed before your tryst with the kitchen.
Do not over load a mixer ever! The results of such a mishap can be ghastly.
Deserts are less hot as compared to the kitchen and cooking by the fire. Dress accordingly, just an apron won’t help if you are accident prone, it will only scorch your skin faster!
Onions are very very pungent and will not only make your eyes water like crazy but you can tell if someone cut onions weeks ago by the amazingly horrendous odour it leaves on the hands no matter what goes on after that. Oh and they are supposed to be aphrodisiacs, and this is not something I learnt in the kitchen ;)
Lick your hands if you are making fruit salad. As in finish one round of cutting up one fruit and lick. Wash, cut, lick… Now that’s the mantra for yummy feelings between meal times and fruit times. Pop dates into your mouth as you cut them up and add them, lick. Lick your hands after you have shredded the chocolate into the mix, Lick up the ice cream after most of it has gone into the fruit concoction! You might add weight to the waist line, but what the heck! The kitchen drains one and saps one of their energy you see!
The enzymatic activity in vegetables is so fast, they race to go rotten! So beware of when you got them and where you put them or you will have to deal with the stench.
Water takes a looong time to start boiling and potatoes take even longer to be fully boiled.
Fix leaks on the taps you don’t want to be in a flooded kitchen.
Cover all traces and tracks of the existence of food, or rats, roaches and other pests may get to it or into your house because of the kind of food there.
Do not use your thumbnail to cut through anything, if you do be prepared for excruciating pain, I will feel like the nail is coming off.
And the reason there are only 15 things here is because I took a break from venturing into the kitchen! Phew!
25 things to watch out for:
My tryst with the Kitchen
If you thought that dealing with incompetent people was the last straw, think again! Welcome to the land of living vegetables and non living utensils. Veggies don’t pay any heed to you or your deadlines, you have to bow down to them and go by their rules, or its game over! As for utensils, beware they are like ghosts from your past, they might just sense your fear and strike at it! Next thing you know you have all clanking and noises as they are strewn all over, not coz you dropped them but because they decided to fall, just to get back at you.
Do not be obsessive compulsive, every speck every oil stain will give you nightmares forever and also you will end up spending so much time washing up, you will never leave!
Oh! Don’t wring your hands after you wash them into the floor, or you will end up cleaning and mopping the floor.
Do not wipe your hands on either sides of your dress, over the years all your clothes that you wore to the kitchen will have a very obvious designer look to it, designed by your wiping.
I wash and wipe my hands every five minutes when I am in the kitchen, it does not help, and the next minute it goes all messy again. At the end of it you are left with grazed, skin peeling, burning, and rough hands as opposed to the nicely creamed and soft glowing ones you possessed before your tryst with the kitchen.
Do not over load a mixer ever! The results of such a mishap can be ghastly.
Deserts are less hot as compared to the kitchen and cooking by the fire. Dress accordingly, just an apron won’t help if you are accident prone, it will only scorch your skin faster!
Onions are very very pungent and will not only make your eyes water like crazy but you can tell if someone cut onions weeks ago by the amazingly horrendous odour it leaves on the hands no matter what goes on after that. Oh and they are supposed to be aphrodisiacs, and this is not something I learnt in the kitchen ;)
Lick your hands if you are making fruit salad. As in finish one round of cutting up one fruit and lick. Wash, cut, lick… Now that’s the mantra for yummy feelings between meal times and fruit times. Pop dates into your mouth as you cut them up and add them, lick. Lick your hands after you have shredded the chocolate into the mix, Lick up the ice cream after most of it has gone into the fruit concoction! You might add weight to the waist line, but what the heck! The kitchen drains one and saps one of their energy you see!
The enzymatic activity in vegetables is so fast, they race to go rotten! So beware of when you got them and where you put them or you will have to deal with the stench.
Water takes a looong time to start boiling and potatoes take even longer to be fully boiled.
Fix leaks on the taps you don’t want to be in a flooded kitchen.
Cover all traces and tracks of the existence of food, or rats, roaches and other pests may get to it or into your house because of the kind of food there.
Do not use your thumbnail to cut through anything, if you do be prepared for excruciating pain, I will feel like the nail is coming off.
And the reason there are only 15 things here is because I took a break from venturing into the kitchen! Phew!
Misconception
We live in a world of a myriad web of misconceptions. They stem from rumors, gossip, hasty judgments the works. Everyday everything is misconstrued and blown if not out of proportion, blown beyond repair and recognition.
We hear and we decide and pass judgments about things that w have no control over. We base knowledge on other people’s perspectives and we see the world the way it is presented to us. Not the way it appears to us, but the way we see it, through the eyes and ears of others.
It is easy to say I know it all, I have been there and done that! But no one ever has done anything anyone else has ever done. You can only do and feel what you have chosen to do and feel. You can never step in reality into another’s shoes.
How can you trust the words of people over reality? People who apparently have no plausible connection to the reality. People who are nosey busy bodies and think it is in their interest and it is their business to keep a tab on the rest of mankind. What do they think they are doing? A favour? Yeah Right! It seems absurd. But that seems to be the way of the world.
We choose to make judgments based on opinions and perceptions, not based on original individual thought and action. We are so caught up in the web of desire to talk about other people, their clothes, their love interests, their choice of food, the way they behave, we even grudge people their happiness and their individuality.
What a tangled web we weave, when we first choose to deceive! We weave the web and we deceive, yes, but we do that to ourselves not to anyone else. We live n a world of self depreciation and pitiful gossip. Not because that is the way it is but because that’s the way we have chosen to make it.
We hear and we decide and pass judgments about things that w have no control over. We base knowledge on other people’s perspectives and we see the world the way it is presented to us. Not the way it appears to us, but the way we see it, through the eyes and ears of others.
It is easy to say I know it all, I have been there and done that! But no one ever has done anything anyone else has ever done. You can only do and feel what you have chosen to do and feel. You can never step in reality into another’s shoes.
How can you trust the words of people over reality? People who apparently have no plausible connection to the reality. People who are nosey busy bodies and think it is in their interest and it is their business to keep a tab on the rest of mankind. What do they think they are doing? A favour? Yeah Right! It seems absurd. But that seems to be the way of the world.
We choose to make judgments based on opinions and perceptions, not based on original individual thought and action. We are so caught up in the web of desire to talk about other people, their clothes, their love interests, their choice of food, the way they behave, we even grudge people their happiness and their individuality.
What a tangled web we weave, when we first choose to deceive! We weave the web and we deceive, yes, but we do that to ourselves not to anyone else. We live n a world of self depreciation and pitiful gossip. Not because that is the way it is but because that’s the way we have chosen to make it.
Tuesday, 7 April 2009
Pain, the next level.
Pain is interestingly refreshing. It adds perspective. Those fuzzy blurred lines in the horizon that come into focus, like readjusting the zoom of your camera lens. The complete sync in mind body and soul is something you can’t ignore to see. If your head hurts it could be very well because of all the crazy stress. If your heart aches it could be because of a love thing. If you are mind f***ed, it could be because of a pain in your body.
We are so connected in the 6 human basics, as I choose to call them. The intellect, the mind, the heart, the body, the soul and the spirit. The blend is so perfect, that a small imbalance in one can have a skyrocketing impact on the others. It is amazing how we work. How it huts and how the pain sinks in. Slowly eating into the very essence of being, of existence, of life.
It creeps in, going up a few notches every second and then turns the body mind and soul into a burning edifice. It starts from anywhere and ends at anything. It could begin in your toes and climb up or it could start in your brain and eat into your insides. The fact being, how will you fight it? How will you fight a pain? Was pain designed to be fought? You can escape it, yes, there are escape routes, pain killers and drugs to dullen it. But can you avoid it? Can you side step it or ignore it?
Try to endure pain, try to block it, try to ignore it, try to smother it, try to embrace it, no matter what you do, it gets the better of you. It drives you to suicide, to death, to craving for an end to it. It is the hopeless state, one of sheer helplessness. What can one do? One is a mere spectator in the dance led by life and directed by pain, choreographed with sheer excellence enough to leave you baffled at the ways it works.
It leaves you with scars of experience that are scorching in the least. Experience of something that is so personal that no one else beyond the boundaries of your skin and mind can ever fathom. Pain is something that you can never share. You cannot make a person understand or feel the pain you feel. The pain that leaves you shaken and wise to the ways of parallel realities. No one can ever take pain away from you. It is solely yours to do what you please.
In pain all you can do is live one moment at a time and breathe hoping that you will forget the last moment and the moments to come with more pain promised. Every waking hour or even in sleep you pine away for a peace you knew existed before the pain hit you and knocked you cold. Knocked you cold of feeling and sensation of happiness and peace, now so alien, you forget what it felt like.
After a while you learn to live with it, you endure it and you slowly embrace it. You become pregnant with pain. A mixed bag of feelings. It gets addictive. If you have a painless moment you miss it. It is like the smell of perfume or odours, after a while you don’t realize. It is still there, it is still persisting, but you have gotten so used to it, you don’t sense it. It becomes a part of you, like your appendix, or maybe like your lungs or your pancreas. You don’t realize it’s a part of you until it changes. Yes, even pain is subject to change. It is inter - convertible. One pain can be converted to another. From a mind ache to a body ache to a soul ache to a spirit ache, and finally the ache of death.
Yes, the ache of death and dying, the ache of leaving behind, even undressing the garments of life, love and pain. The sheer ache of not existing in mortal boundaries, not feeling. Then there is the ache of calmness.
From birth to death, pain teaches to live and to fight your own battles. To learn to live with it. To tolerate and exist. So the next time it hurts, embrace it, its pain teaching the lessons of life and death.
Till death removes pain...
We are so connected in the 6 human basics, as I choose to call them. The intellect, the mind, the heart, the body, the soul and the spirit. The blend is so perfect, that a small imbalance in one can have a skyrocketing impact on the others. It is amazing how we work. How it huts and how the pain sinks in. Slowly eating into the very essence of being, of existence, of life.
It creeps in, going up a few notches every second and then turns the body mind and soul into a burning edifice. It starts from anywhere and ends at anything. It could begin in your toes and climb up or it could start in your brain and eat into your insides. The fact being, how will you fight it? How will you fight a pain? Was pain designed to be fought? You can escape it, yes, there are escape routes, pain killers and drugs to dullen it. But can you avoid it? Can you side step it or ignore it?
Try to endure pain, try to block it, try to ignore it, try to smother it, try to embrace it, no matter what you do, it gets the better of you. It drives you to suicide, to death, to craving for an end to it. It is the hopeless state, one of sheer helplessness. What can one do? One is a mere spectator in the dance led by life and directed by pain, choreographed with sheer excellence enough to leave you baffled at the ways it works.
It leaves you with scars of experience that are scorching in the least. Experience of something that is so personal that no one else beyond the boundaries of your skin and mind can ever fathom. Pain is something that you can never share. You cannot make a person understand or feel the pain you feel. The pain that leaves you shaken and wise to the ways of parallel realities. No one can ever take pain away from you. It is solely yours to do what you please.
In pain all you can do is live one moment at a time and breathe hoping that you will forget the last moment and the moments to come with more pain promised. Every waking hour or even in sleep you pine away for a peace you knew existed before the pain hit you and knocked you cold. Knocked you cold of feeling and sensation of happiness and peace, now so alien, you forget what it felt like.
After a while you learn to live with it, you endure it and you slowly embrace it. You become pregnant with pain. A mixed bag of feelings. It gets addictive. If you have a painless moment you miss it. It is like the smell of perfume or odours, after a while you don’t realize. It is still there, it is still persisting, but you have gotten so used to it, you don’t sense it. It becomes a part of you, like your appendix, or maybe like your lungs or your pancreas. You don’t realize it’s a part of you until it changes. Yes, even pain is subject to change. It is inter - convertible. One pain can be converted to another. From a mind ache to a body ache to a soul ache to a spirit ache, and finally the ache of death.
Yes, the ache of death and dying, the ache of leaving behind, even undressing the garments of life, love and pain. The sheer ache of not existing in mortal boundaries, not feeling. Then there is the ache of calmness.
From birth to death, pain teaches to live and to fight your own battles. To learn to live with it. To tolerate and exist. So the next time it hurts, embrace it, its pain teaching the lessons of life and death.
Till death removes pain...
Fear and its twisted ways!
What is fear? Is it this gnawing emotional reaction to the threat of a looming danger or is it the threat of pain. Pain of the third kind, whatever! When is it you are afraid? When does your heart beat a little faster and you sweat? Is it normal to react to fear normally?
Enter a room with the knowledge that you are signing up for voluntary pain of whatever kind. Emotional, Mental, Physical, Spiritual… Everything around you slows down. Sluggishly almost. Every second takes longer if that’s possible. Everything around you is imprinted in your mind.
It’s not like the fear of the dark or of closed spaces or of marshmallows, these are phobias and the last one at that is called Althaiophobia. It is not like the fear of being mugged or being followed, it’s beyond all that. It’s the fear of what you are going to do with yourself after this fear. The fear of never to be erased scars. Scars that will remind you of the fear and scars that will hold you to the thoughts that have plagued you from the moment you gained the knowledge. The fear of knowing. Butterflies in the stomach because of anxiety, nervousness and stress. How much will you intellectualize? How much of strength will you give yourself?
Looking back it may all be over and done with. But what about the feelings that are tucked away? So scary to even be shared. Its crazy, its killing. It’s the fear of knowing the unknown and the undeserved. The fear of a punishment for sins that you might have unknowingly committed. What will you do with this fear?
There is no end to it. It is a swirling vortex of unknowns. There is no turning back or moving forward. There is only the one choice of staying put and watching how this fear will twist and turn and contort and mutate to something else, prettier or scarier, who’s to tell? Life may move on beyond the fear but you will always get a glimpse of it around every street corner, in every mirror, in every reflection. Never to be released from the clutches of the greater fear! The fear of fear itself!
And the best part is no one will ever know…
Enter a room with the knowledge that you are signing up for voluntary pain of whatever kind. Emotional, Mental, Physical, Spiritual… Everything around you slows down. Sluggishly almost. Every second takes longer if that’s possible. Everything around you is imprinted in your mind.
It’s not like the fear of the dark or of closed spaces or of marshmallows, these are phobias and the last one at that is called Althaiophobia. It is not like the fear of being mugged or being followed, it’s beyond all that. It’s the fear of what you are going to do with yourself after this fear. The fear of never to be erased scars. Scars that will remind you of the fear and scars that will hold you to the thoughts that have plagued you from the moment you gained the knowledge. The fear of knowing. Butterflies in the stomach because of anxiety, nervousness and stress. How much will you intellectualize? How much of strength will you give yourself?
Looking back it may all be over and done with. But what about the feelings that are tucked away? So scary to even be shared. Its crazy, its killing. It’s the fear of knowing the unknown and the undeserved. The fear of a punishment for sins that you might have unknowingly committed. What will you do with this fear?
There is no end to it. It is a swirling vortex of unknowns. There is no turning back or moving forward. There is only the one choice of staying put and watching how this fear will twist and turn and contort and mutate to something else, prettier or scarier, who’s to tell? Life may move on beyond the fear but you will always get a glimpse of it around every street corner, in every mirror, in every reflection. Never to be released from the clutches of the greater fear! The fear of fear itself!
And the best part is no one will ever know…
Friday, 27 February 2009
Grey
A blotch of grease,
A sheet of rain,
Graymalkin, the cat…
The river at night,
The sky at dawn,
Greygoose, the vodka…
Steely dull metal,
Shadows of the dark,
Grey cells of intellect…
The winter frost,
The graphite rods,
Gray Lady, New York Times…
The deep eyes,
The dark forests.
Alien Humanoid Grey’s…
Dull needle tips,
Electronic microchips,
Elves and Goblins dressed in grey…
Rocks and snow capped mountains,
Dust and ashes,
A greyhound’s howl…
Pencil squiggles on paper white,
Sandy beaches in the evening light,
Grey’s Anatomy, Star World’s right…
Blacks and Whites,
A blended blur,
Now all grey, for lack of colour!
Sunday, 14 December 2008
Thoughts to pen, dedicated to another...
The power of isolation compels,
Complete dissociation from another,
An existence of separate individuality,
Cut off and removed from ties,
No hand rises to hurt,
No finger points out to blame,
The power of the soul dwells only within…
You bolt up and guard the insides,
You hold yourself close,
Scared to reveal to the world,
The amazing turmoil of your mind,
The world within watches,
A mere spectator of reality,
Laughing mockingly,
At what seems to be the truth,
A passionate flame burns,
Incessantly within you,
You let it elevate you,
Away from the others…
Not by fear but by choice.
Playing games in your own mind,
In a world that only you desire,
In a world that only you deserve…
Complete dissociation from another,
An existence of separate individuality,
Cut off and removed from ties,
No hand rises to hurt,
No finger points out to blame,
The power of the soul dwells only within…
You bolt up and guard the insides,
You hold yourself close,
Scared to reveal to the world,
The amazing turmoil of your mind,
The world within watches,
A mere spectator of reality,
Laughing mockingly,
At what seems to be the truth,
A passionate flame burns,
Incessantly within you,
You let it elevate you,
Away from the others…
Not by fear but by choice.
Playing games in your own mind,
In a world that only you desire,
In a world that only you deserve…
Saturday, 13 December 2008
Transitory Reflections
You know, in this world, time flits past so soon that you rarely get the time to pause and breathe. You get stuck in the race and you forget all the milestones you passed and the things you left behind. You run looking hard ahead, you focus only on the destination, but the journey is forgotten, the roads are left behind, mere images to serve as fragments of memories from the past.
Then one day, suddenly you end up reminiscing, because of someone or something around you that made a memory distinctly livid, that made the past come alive and dance in front of you. That has happened more often than once. When all you can think of is how it used to be.
Childhood is an interesting thing. It is that time of life when you are unguarded, when you can be yourself and say everything you want to without being afraid of judgmental people hovering around you who are waiting to character assassinate you and your existence.
Childhood images of you stand alive in the hearts of those that are dear. My uncle still remembers the first sight he had of me as i came rocketing down a slope on my friend's cycle headed straight to is car and braked just in time. The excitement, the mad rush of adrenaline, the laughs. I still remember it too. I also remember the shocking pink frilly frock i had on. I was a terror even then, no wonder my uncle remembers it so clearly. A shocking pink thunderbolt of lightning on a cycle headed straight at your car, when you are actually planning to propose a marriage to someone you love and this thunderbolt actually happens to be a relative that too a closely related one. Someone in all probability who is going to be a part of the new life you are beginning. Love you Roy Mama ;)
So coming back to childhood and cycles and bike rides... When you relive these things all of a sudden out of the blue, you realize how old you have grown. I just did all the mad child like antics on Saturday and i feel sooo good.
Went to a birthday party at ma's friends place. Her girls are 13 and 9 and they are a riot, a little crazy but a riot. I started with sliding down the banisters and the jumping 7 stairs at a go from landing to landing. Then went on to play aeroplane hopscotch on the road with the vehicles dodging us. Then it was around ten when we took the cycle out. Her Miss India Lavender Cycle. There were two other kids as well. So i took the cycle and i took off. The moon was at its gibbous best. There was a halo of clouds around it, a thin wisp but a pretty one, the stars peeking out, blinking and twinkling... Like holding a conversation, as if they have some secrets to whisper into your ears. The cycle ride was the best of the lot, in the moonlight, taking the kids on doubles. Sweeping down a slope, walking it up again. It was ten thirty when ma finally managed to tear me away from the cycle.
Everyone there thought i was in school and i am not wondering why. I was told i will never be forgotten. I had a ball. Went home, sat on the tank on the terrace, it was freezing cold and i was in my shorts and tee. The moon overhead, the stars laughing, the lights of the city blinking in the darkness, the wind rustling in the trees, ticking, teasing. I sat wrapped in the moment, of sheer joy, of childhood thoughts, of the beauty of the night, of the soothing sounds of the wind, of another world so far, yet so near...
Then one day, suddenly you end up reminiscing, because of someone or something around you that made a memory distinctly livid, that made the past come alive and dance in front of you. That has happened more often than once. When all you can think of is how it used to be.
Childhood is an interesting thing. It is that time of life when you are unguarded, when you can be yourself and say everything you want to without being afraid of judgmental people hovering around you who are waiting to character assassinate you and your existence.
Childhood images of you stand alive in the hearts of those that are dear. My uncle still remembers the first sight he had of me as i came rocketing down a slope on my friend's cycle headed straight to is car and braked just in time. The excitement, the mad rush of adrenaline, the laughs. I still remember it too. I also remember the shocking pink frilly frock i had on. I was a terror even then, no wonder my uncle remembers it so clearly. A shocking pink thunderbolt of lightning on a cycle headed straight at your car, when you are actually planning to propose a marriage to someone you love and this thunderbolt actually happens to be a relative that too a closely related one. Someone in all probability who is going to be a part of the new life you are beginning. Love you Roy Mama ;)
So coming back to childhood and cycles and bike rides... When you relive these things all of a sudden out of the blue, you realize how old you have grown. I just did all the mad child like antics on Saturday and i feel sooo good.
Went to a birthday party at ma's friends place. Her girls are 13 and 9 and they are a riot, a little crazy but a riot. I started with sliding down the banisters and the jumping 7 stairs at a go from landing to landing. Then went on to play aeroplane hopscotch on the road with the vehicles dodging us. Then it was around ten when we took the cycle out. Her Miss India Lavender Cycle. There were two other kids as well. So i took the cycle and i took off. The moon was at its gibbous best. There was a halo of clouds around it, a thin wisp but a pretty one, the stars peeking out, blinking and twinkling... Like holding a conversation, as if they have some secrets to whisper into your ears. The cycle ride was the best of the lot, in the moonlight, taking the kids on doubles. Sweeping down a slope, walking it up again. It was ten thirty when ma finally managed to tear me away from the cycle.
Everyone there thought i was in school and i am not wondering why. I was told i will never be forgotten. I had a ball. Went home, sat on the tank on the terrace, it was freezing cold and i was in my shorts and tee. The moon overhead, the stars laughing, the lights of the city blinking in the darkness, the wind rustling in the trees, ticking, teasing. I sat wrapped in the moment, of sheer joy, of childhood thoughts, of the beauty of the night, of the soothing sounds of the wind, of another world so far, yet so near...
Tuesday, 9 December 2008
Fuzzy
Sometimes in the evening,
A dewy mist settles,
On the rooftops,
Below the clouds,
Along the skyline…
A wispy wind blows and tugs,
The mist and the fog,
Fuzzes the light,
From the dull shiny lamp posts,
A hand clutches at the coat collar,
Drawing the warmth close,
The heels click on the sidewalk,
The shadow follows,
Fast paced footsteps,
Fight the cold, Goosebumps…
Eyes dart and thoughts flow,
A gloomy sigh escapes,
Strength is drawn from within,
A smile is forced onto the lips,
A sudden warmth spreads through,
A lift of the head and a toss,
The moon smiles down,
The lights wink in hide and seek,
As she walks the lonely city street,
In the light of the nights darkness,
Lonely, but not alone…
A dewy mist settles,
On the rooftops,
Below the clouds,
Along the skyline…
A wispy wind blows and tugs,
The mist and the fog,
Fuzzes the light,
From the dull shiny lamp posts,
A hand clutches at the coat collar,
Drawing the warmth close,
The heels click on the sidewalk,
The shadow follows,
Fast paced footsteps,
Fight the cold, Goosebumps…
Eyes dart and thoughts flow,
A gloomy sigh escapes,
Strength is drawn from within,
A smile is forced onto the lips,
A sudden warmth spreads through,
A lift of the head and a toss,
The moon smiles down,
The lights wink in hide and seek,
As she walks the lonely city street,
In the light of the nights darkness,
Lonely, but not alone…
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