Each word of his was like this special stroke of brush that wildly painted with joy and madness...
He tried painting her out of the grey and black..the shades of griefs... It was as if every word he spoke evoked an emotion that nurtured her, moulded her into a new body of life and hope... With every smile, story, wish..countless nights spent in soul-stirring conversations...her soul seemed to be absorbing light a little more...like a desert finally drenched in rain.. like the mirage of happiness finally shaping into a real-life tangible structure... An era that was but a phase that unfolded into a life-time of tale.. a short journey with trillions of steps ..highs and lows...smiles and tears..endless tears.. endless laughters..
The red rose finally seems so red...
(lot to scribble..an attempt to revive the passion of writing again...but somehow words fail me as usual...)
And then sometimes the silence screams at you, darkness screams at you, memories scream at you piercing through these screams wishes scream back at you… wistful..wistful wishes…
The night, when the palms clenched itself and opened again.. and again… asking for something that was a part of nothing… thin air hanging above her body while she pretended to sleep that night , she tried snatching that something so desperately, only to find her hands empty…as if the still air in the room reacted back in reflex, with a soft push….whispering a promise of nothingess… Prayers…that were desparate…full of hopes…sacred..innocent…strong …bold…ambitious… returned behind more of absolute eternal emptiness
Tears finally learnt how to trickle down silently from the corner of the eye…making no noise…so hushed..no one would know… when the heart can contain no more…numbed but somewhere deeply slit..wounds bleed indeed..and they bleed so hard.. anger fails..sadness fails.. normalcy fails…
Eyes left with a lifetime of longing expression..speaking a language of eternal void… When presence is but a memory….when memories but just memories… When there is no court left to give a verdict…help the helplessness…
When eyes deliberately sink into nightmarish sounds in midway slumber and search for the nothing ..search for the gone..craving one glimpse..even if its false….even if its not meant…because it is so meant deep insde…so wanted…so precious…
Memories fly back to the moment of that stil nothing lying on the ground…that flooded the air with millions of screams… when even that stillness felt like a presence…it felt…it whispered…of all that could have been…
The world lies at those feet…that went so cold…lied at those still clenched palms that once desperately tried escaping the fate of nothingness… while the other set of siamese palms clenched itself and opened again.. and again… asking for something that was so brutally cruely declared as no more..
It's sad how easy it becomes to discard things once they are old and irrelevant to the present. Say, those old documents at my desk. I rummaged through the pile of files, folders, A4 sheets, colour prints, checklists... neatly put back the selected ones and rejected others. Rejection becomes such an easy job when time has passed. What point am I trying to make here? Nothing just an observation and attempt at understanding this typical behaviour. These rejected ones were so precious few weeks ago. I thought I would sit at peace and go through them, absorb each element, understand and preserve each bit.
There are times when you know you wouldn't let go of something. But you never know, the future might see you indifferently get rid of the same, suppressing few wishes deep down, mechanically surrendering to situations or the idea of "moving on with times".
Those envelopes or gift wraps you had lovingly unravelled to find your gift by a special or not so special one, tucked the torn pieces safe into your shelf, looked at them time and again to relive the same warmth.. With time, you keep some reject few...why?because you can't keep them all na... Just like you need to sell off old newspapers..the same newspaper that had helped you explore the most surprising facts around the world..articles that had prompted you to discuss and debate and gift you the world in mere 2 to three bucks.
It gets so difficult to preserve all the memories that you had once vouched for. Your first best friend at school, when you didnt even know what a best friend meant..who helped you learn your concepts by-heart by reading them aloud again and again , pestered her mother to pack your favourite food for lunch, voted for you as the class prefect! Today,years after, one scrap on orkut might just bring in memories of you and her, but what I find sad is how mute feelings can become with time which once screamed with promises of eternal bliss.
Yeah, you can give a new name to this rejection. Call it Priority. Time. Change. Plain Indifference?
Things take a backseat, life takes a back-seat...people change.. you adjust according to your convenience...at times let time and life take over than you taking over it...
Imagine, colouring a blank canvas the way you like it. With no one to dictate, or judge. The world and you are at sync...peace..and harmony... Imagine, spraying the shades and hues all over the blankness and colouring your world crazily...just the way you like it..randomly, tangently, not adhereing to set patterns or rules... Because, to have your own story you need to go that extra mile and spray the colours of emotions on to the blank sheet of your life just the way you like it..just the way your heart demands.. The colours may turn dark once in a while..or indecipherable..but that's no reason to stop believing.. or is it?
So well, they walked..and walked...and walked... Like memories tugging on to them like a little kid, like moments dripping down the timeless togetherness, like words melting into the thin air with fond blushes. The laughter echoed into the woods and pearls of sweet nothings waved into the foreverness ... Fingers entwined, thoughts aligned, oh! at times not so aligned, but drenched in the essence of randomness..the beauty of dreams realized itself through that walk.. Time teased them, destiny chased with a wild vigour for answers. But who cared, when all that mattered was..the power of freezing time. Standing still like a deep ripple-free ocean sleeping cozily without being disturbed. The trees stood tall and the branches formed themselves into a bouquet..covering them..protecting them like a mother tenderly holding its child. The twinkle of the stars shone on their bright faces while they ran..like running against the rushing waves in a sea, holding each other like never letting go. Futility turned pale, shyed away, and visions of eternal moments danced to the tunes of triumph.
Moist eyes and warm hearts, shivering steps in the dreamy envelope of fog and mist.. the night growing silent ..intimidating but challenging..haunting in a beautiful way... They paced down, and started walking again....like they had all the time in the world, like beauty stood for them with open arms as they trodded the streets with no names......like the never-ending roads stretched futrther to move away from their destinations. For they seeked no destination....no answer.....no deadline...they looked for nothingness in that moment of everything..they just wanted to melt like silhouettes before a sun, like elegance before fearless love, like lovers in the rain....
Here comes the the season of floaters, and capris and hot cappuccinos. The season of splashes and 'coming late to work' with loads of excuses, blaming poor rains for the delay.
The season of swimming across water-clogged roads (eww!) and watching people on the streets a little more intently. Smelling the samosas, the tapri wali chai and hurriedly relishing the moments.
The season of wishing you could stay back home and wishing of the cliched wish-- "oh-I-wish- i could cuddle in my room cozily with a book"...ofcourse, wishing you have with you a cuppa hot beverage as a perfect companion :P
The season of working while listening to the beats of the drizzle hit the glass panes...falling on your senses with utter boisterousness..like an impact.. work no more functional but garnished with pleasure and hopes.
The season of wet memories..fulfilled and unfulfilled ..drenched moments.."fond and mesmerizing"..crucial forgiveness ..kind and by the by
The season of long conversations.. and random smses to long-lost friends..heartfelt conversations with family and beloved ones...reading stories like the gift of magi and erich segal's 'love story'..and feel like feeling like a crazy mushy fool;)
Like people melting into the same essence with the smell of wet earth, indifferent expressions but hearts brimming with emotions...deep within craving and desiring of things muted with passing time.
the shower drenches you till the soul...the cold breeze engulfs your heart...the colours blur with a haze...but droplets trickle no more...
The season of happiness and beauty and all the things lovely.
So, what are rains...just a change in climatic conditions or a state of mind? The latter indeed:)
And there are days when you are choked with emotions..but the numbness is so overpowering it refutes all reasons of letting thoughts breathe without fear of consequences.
Like stray memories demanding a decision to forgive or forget, let go or supress... life sometimes poses questions framed in a format that is hardly decipherable by the mind and the heart... A phase comes I guess when an individual has no clue of what is happening around him/her but keeps operating...functioning..surviving...and sustaining... awaiting with bated breath for moments that would reaffirm his faith in the very word faith itself...
Crossroads are a dangerous juncture... you have to take you pick.. you may go backwards, go ahead..but freezing or going still is the worst form of surrender!
But life, time and again with its favourite game of hide and seek has splashed reasons on me to keep functioing...and at times cherishing and reveling in the ecstasy.
So what are we ultimately, zombies?? aliens to the other wordly creatures (if any) who emote, cry, smile, demand, whine, pester and ultimately mould into the rationalities with the emotions getting emoted like machines, where even a decision from the hearth is as functional as a device that flashes reminder or to-do note as set by its owner. The only difference here is we ourselves are the owner here running our lives like a puppet show. The heart is scared to feel,changes boggle and amuse it... and the most that the owner can do is probably try and tenderly hold the heart with utmost care by protecting it from the harshness outside. A scratch and you are damaged for a lifetime. How weak;) I guess whoever says he is strong says so with all the scratches and wounds having gone numb in the heart and well! ignorance is bliss right, you just need to be prepared to shut the sudden pangs and desires that heart cries out for at times.
By the way I inteneded to start this post on an entirely note, but never mind.. Life is beautiful:) more later...
sribbling from a balcony, in a land of blues, memories and muddiness..., India
Wishes-few wistful,few within reach..
Ideas bubbling out ..to be turned true before they burst..
Confusions-to clutter n define my world
Dont really know why this blog!!or why blog atall..
But all this while have realized its a beautiful way of expression n reexpression.. learning n unlearning..or rather just a means to find few moments of solace I like delving into just Khamakha!