Standstill

One always comes to a standstill. There’s this moment in life when you will.

If you have always been involved in the rat race, then you might be braked down to a trifle at the fag end. Being a logical guy, you’d say, that’s the best thing to have happened. Being a practical guy, you’d say, you’ll have lived your life. Being just a guy, I’d say you’ve been running in the wrong direction.

If you let life pass you by, then maybe you’ll be feeling this every alternate moment. You will encounter a red light every second crossing. You will always pause to think. You will think to act. You will think to do. You will think to think. And then you will think, what actually did you think.

If you are among those who have visions and dreams and fantasies, you must have started walking with a chrysalis in mind, let it formulate into a caterpillar, and started running. But then, you lose the butterfly. You think it’s there around the corner, behind that hedge, across that river, hidden behind those trees. But anyway you go on, without a reason. Rather, you lose the reason. You go on, more so because everybody around you is going on. People tell you that “a winning horse doesn’t know why it runs, it runs because of pain. Life is a race, God is your rider. So if you are in pain, then think God wants you to win the race.” You run because you have to run.

And then all of you will stop someday. You have to. Maybe most of you will look at it as something you have to. But there’s a reason behind it. Life’s isn’t all about being ‘The Rat’ in the rat race. Life isn’t about being the cat either.

Something/someone always comes along at such dead ends. Be it a Coelho or an Ithaca or a Haley or a Hosseini, be it that cinemascope, be it a philosopher and guide you find in your friend, be it a spiritualist or a sage, be it that ever smiling ice-cream vendor passing you by every day, be it that drunk auto driver, be it your love who you never thought it could be.

‘cause standstill is when you actually stand still, when you actually pause to think, and then when you actually will do and act, when you actually go on into the desert holding the hand of the one you cherish the most.

Is it ?

Is it a pure anomaly that I still believe I can? Because I’ve seen people lose themselves when things don’t go their way. I’ve seen it with myself. I’ve seen it with countless souls.

Is it raw serendipity that I still believe I will? Because I’ve seen hungry minds wanting more and getting less. Because I’ve seen empty souls flatter themselves. Because I’ve seen good souls ending up with more than they could possibly get.

Is it verisimilitude? Or is it a fake impostor bringing himself out in me? Or is it ‘the me’?

Silent Moments

Some silent moments can bring to tranquil peace when you are amidst a hullabaloo of wasted shores. Such moments come once. Such moments are precious. One can live a lifetime in such a moment.

I want to

I just want to go to the riverside. Now. Its late in the night. The cops might raid. The addicts might have a potful. All I want is to go there.

I miss the groan at times, the groan of the machines, the stark rubble of the falling boulders. I miss the pent up screams and the worked up eyes and the suppressed beats. I want to miss them.

I want to just lie there. The silhouette of the distant ships in the dockyard with a few dark lights twinkling. The banks, totally dark and serene, potentially invisible. The stormy sky with the stars absent. The flash of a singular headlight in the stroke of the hour. The thrash of the water along the grassy beach. The gradual rise of the white circle with the ebb of time.

I want to lie down on the soft grass. Let the wet ground soak my backside. I want to stare. I want to forget. I want to wonder. I want to realize the futility of the effort to wonder. I want me to be absent. I want me to be wanted. I want to fall. I want to rise again. I want to be blank. I want to be clean. I want to go far away. I came alone. I will go alone. In the meantime, I want to live. I want to go the riverside.

It's been a long time since I last went through a whole night without sleeping even a wink.

I also realize I can't write anymore. Dunno, as someone puts it, if even this has a reason.

I can't

I can’t take it when you say it’s a waste.

I can’t take it when you say don’t.

I can’t see us parting on that note.

I can’t see when you leave in a huff.

I can’t leave without a troika.

I can’t go without a feather touch.

I can’t bear a loss of opportunities.

I can’t think of anyone but you.

I can’t live without you.

Something

There’s something about those strands falling over your eyes

There’s something about those deep dark eyes

There’s something about those luscious lips of yours.

There’s something about those dimpled cheeks

There’s too much I’ll miss now

There’s nothing more than you’d take me along with you

There’s you and me going over and over, again!

Rooftop Chronicles

I somehow absolutely hate “take care” messages, especially from ones who actually matter to me. I don’t know why. Maybe because it creates a distance or gives the apparent notion of distance.

Sitting on the rooftop, with a bunch of notes, the stark sun scorched me. Carelessly glancing through them, I had my mind elsewhere. As the sweat beads formed and dropped silently, I stared at the Latin and Greek sentences which would be the key to my exams tomorrow. I knew nothing.

The day had not been going right. Well to be honest, it had been going absolutely incredibly wrong since late last night. Arguments and rude words not withstanding I actually missed a parting “I love you”. You didn’t sleep early last night I presume/assume. I don’t know. I know I didn’t. In fact I only slept at 4 in the morning and woke up at 8.the morning went past. I couldn’t hear a voice, a sound of the voice I so long for. It made me all the more restless. I hoped against myself maybe I could yet. Instead a few texts, some rhetorically formal made its way. I, for once, thought I would wait. The wait isn’t over yet.

As the sun made its way across the horizon paving for a cool evening, I lied down on the dusty rooftop porch. A gentle breeze accelerated into a stronger one. I glanced through the notes, occasionally fiddling with the cell with eager wistful eyes. As the horizon darkened and a good many messages later, with the now pretty strong breeze literally hitting me, I nodded a vain sigh to myself. And I cried. Its been a good many days and months since I last cried. There is a subtle difference I find between breaking down and crying. You break down, and then try to maybe hide your tears. You break down, and then you find consolation. You break down, and calm down soon after. But this time I cried. I was alone. No one could watch me. No one could feel me. I cried. Maybe I howled. Maybe I wailed. When I realized, I could see lights sparkling in the distance. I never wiped the tears. The breeze carried them off.

It has been a horrible last 24 hours for me, probably one of the worst such periods in recent times. I haven’t yet listened to your voice. But yeah, now, I understand not listening to the melody kills me inside, yet I fear this doesn’t set a precedent for days to come. And yet maybe I needed this.

Writer's block

There have been things I would love to write.

There have been thoughts I would be better off scribbling.

I can't.

Unfamiliar pangs of writer's block.

Turning to stone is better than wearing stones around your neck.

Hard hitting shocks of reality.

Keeps me awake.

I fail to write.

Unfamiliar pangs of writer's block.

Pluck

I sat down trying to analyze what exactly went wrong. Initially it was the lack of dedication which rubbed me the wrong way. The depths made me understand I always had the dedication within me. The lack of motivation did me in. I can work hard. I can be very determined. I can achieve. But for all that I need a plethora of motivation.

I had been having a talk with D. She somehow makes me believe I am capable of much more. She somehow makes me think I can do things beyond the ordinary. I don’t know what spurs her to think this way but I believe in her.

D, I have lots to learn from you. Your hard work ethic, your dedication, your will. Somehow somewhere I have lost that down the tracks of age. I will rediscover all that. I will try to. All I need is you by my side. Always.

Nothing in the ordinary inspires me anymore. The common motivations fail for me. Maybe I get too idealistic at times, but I will try as much as I can to cling on to my principles.

I have the pluck to fight a losing battle. I can survive ordeal. I have the courage. I still lack the purpose. Once I get a whiff of that, I know who I can be.

I can make a difference.