Sunday, 14 December 2014

Call Me Crazy!

If I jotted down all of my thoughts people would call me a raving lunatic. Good thing I am lazy! My sister actually thinks I am one and leaves no opportunity to chance to comment on my being a loony tune. But that’s forgivable. What are siblings for anyway? However, there’s something that’s been bothering me for quite some time now. I think it would be better if I just said it out aloud once and for all.

I think I am crazy.

Actually No. I don’t think that I am crazy just that I say I am crazy so that you might not find my crazy activities too crazy or weird. Anyways, considering the deadly simple life I lead with no crazy activity during the whole day or night for that matter, how can I call myself crazy. I am just being humble here, nothing else and… and… and… trying not to be a little too critical of me as I mostly am.

So, why did I say that I am crazy to begin with?

That’s because I sometimes think I am crazy. Scratch that!

I think I am crazy most of the times.

Why?

Because I am always trying to judge myself from the normal standards. But then what if those normal standards are crazy and that I am normal?

Frustrated? Don’t know what the crazy heck am I rambling about?

Courtesy: Objectivised/Creative Commons/Flickr

Don’t worry! This piece of writing isn't going to be that long. How do I know that? Call me crazy, I was only trying to hold you so that you might read this worthless monologue which was supposed to say something, but in all honesty is turning out to be a really pointless piece of crap with nothing to say except for a shit load of words!

You’re asking me to do something?

What?!

You want me to think, improvise and lend it some meaning?

But what can I do?

I can’t. You see, I am having fun writing something pointless and seeing how words can just be wasted without having to mean something! It is awesome. I’m feeling awesome! I feel so awesome that I wanna draw a smiley though this page and do a happy rumba, though it might look totally ridiculous here. 

Saturday, 13 December 2014

Love is Many Things...

“Love is many things, but mostly a remembrance of things past. It’s a memory of a time when you were young and naive. It’s a wisp- a figment that despite its immaterial condition makes you go on. And so, all your life you go ahead thinking of the past, trying to be that past.”

More often than I should care not, I dwell on this monosyllabic English word ‘Love’. More often than happiness it has been a major cause of concern and unnecessary tears. It has caused me to spend my attention on itself far too much. As I am growing, I regret it I think. But then I could easily have regretted not having it.

So what is love and what does it really mean to be in love and in a relationship? Is it the same thing? Or two different things connected by a cord so strong and unseen that you wind up considering them synonymous?

Honestly? I don’t know. 

All I know is that love is some emotion that makes you want to care for some person/persons much more than you do for the others. So is that it? Is that all? 

People say it’s the happiest thing you could ever have in your life. 

I remember being happy once.

think I have become disillusioned now. And I think I used to create too much drama about Love when really there was no need. I think I can love but to expect anything out of it is self-defeating. ‘I Love You’ only says ‘I’ love ‘you’, and not ‘you’ love ‘me’. My problem is that I assume ‘you love me’ goes hand in hand with ‘I love you’ like an unspoken complementary pact. So all I have to do to alleviate my problems is to love you without expecting anything from you back. Because really, to hope that you will do anything for me once, a hundred times, forever or never is just so horribly wrong. It is wrong on so, so many levels that it will be my demise if I did not change my perception of love.

You could do something for me, or you could not do, it doesn't matter anymore. But then why do I feel this pain in my heart? Like it’s been pierced and gouged. 

I think of you when I think of Love. Why are you so in my thoughts? Maybe it is not you I am speaking to. Maybe it’s your face that masks my imaginary friend.


Courtesy: Daniella Brown/Creative Commons/Flickr

I am not strong. If what I think love is, then it is only for the strong. And I think it will perhaps come to me one day when my mind has become resilient enough to withstand you. 

Till then I am letting you go...


Tuesday, 25 November 2014

To Kahlil, With Love…

Courtesy: Simon Howden

If I could meet you,
I’d stand before you and say nothing.
Words won’t do a thing.
But if I remembered in future having loved you in the past,
I’d stand in future,
Someday, I’d stand naked in front of you to say nothing,
Hoping you’d know what I wish to convey,
Because we've been fashioned from the same clay of the one you like to call ‘Unseen’.
When that blessed silence would enclose us,
Your heart would resonate with mine,
And you’d know that I love you…

That I have always loved you ever since I saw your picture in your work.

A Visit to my Inner Sanctum

Sometimes when I sit doing nothing, those very few sometimes I’m able to hear my heart best. Sometimes it beats in a way that lets me know that things in my life are about to change. You know, just a little premonition of what’s to come and what to expect or not expect maybe. But mostly, it beats to keep me alive needing no acknowledgement, no appreciation or gratitude. It beats the same and not quite the same. Often times I have chanced upon my heart beats singing in different rhythms, chorusing their intent. It’s like they have a language of their own- a secret language.

Those rare times when I sit to hear my heart speak, I get a peek inside this vast yet small world that is alive with a life of its own. I enter it, taking baby tentative steps. I lift my skirt just a little as I proceed barefoot and find myself facing the sea. It is here that I hear the voices. All those silenced desires, ambitions, regrets and secret wishes. This is my haven.  My inner sanctum.



I walk the shore. The air is so fresh here. It unlocks my mind immediately and for the first time I open my eyes and stare at my vastness. The enormity of it is staggering and I think it scares me a little. But then follows the elation and I have never felt so happy. I will never be as exultant as I am right this instant.  I observe. I see my eyes brimmed with tears. I always cry when I see something beautiful. I always cry when my heart is solitary in that beautiful loneliness. I smile as I cry, brushing a stray drop as it falls down my cheek.

I can see my life spread out before me. Wave after wave carries with it an important moment of my life. And as I see them crashing against the shores, I wonder if I am contented, I wonder if a tiny little soul like me is happy and okay in this world. I wonder if I’ll ever be held gently as if I’m precious, if I’ll ever find some protective warmth when the waves around me get too cold. Sometimes my heart actually finds contentment. Other times it wails silently, and some other “other times” it remains in a passive state of activity. And I think mostly when I am contented I am alone. But even that loneliness has a certain poignancy to it that I love so much. This has always been my natural state. I do not think I’ll be able to explain it to anybody. After all making any “body” understand you is such a waste of time.

So I go on looking deep into myself. And then Life suddenly changes her pace. She becomes slow in her movements and quite gracious indeed. And I realize that somehow she manages to give me the space and time I need to savour what I have and dream of what I don’t. But then so miser I am in visiting my inner sanctum and so less do I give to myself. Funny, isn't it? To have to think so much before giving a little piece of time to myself. I find myself forgetting what brings me life when I step out of my haven. I am scared, and I think a part of me wishes to put on the facade of life herself minus the voices of my sanctuary. However, I will not do that. 

"The sea is my soul, my mirror and reflection. And now that I have seen myself, I want to remember my visage, so that when I step out of my sanctum I venture into my everyday life with strength and humility. I hope not to be counted among those that lived without living but among those who were conscious of their life force and its beauty."

I have always believed that you don’t go through life, you take it along with you, just like you carry your heart, its billion heart beats and longings. I hope that this visit serves as a reminder of those dreams that I often forget. So, I’m thinking, I’ll take it one day at a time, starting today.

Today, I just wish to be “me”. I want to be quiet today. I am not contented but surely I can be calm. I want to sit and watch, watch the skies, and see my words fill up my diary. I want to do everything and nothing at all.  Today, I wish to rest my head against my desk, close my eyes and drift into myself.