Que sera sera..

hair in air

Sometimes I feel I am way too old to be whining about friends. The moment I start my brain back-flips as the same thoughts hit me and it feels so tiring to go round and round the same circle. I literally feel a bolus of vomit stuck in my gut and one in my head. Just wanting..out

Same exact people, acting in the same juvenile fashion. If I stay with them, I feel nauseated. If they ignore me, I feel angry and left out; when I am with them, I simply cannot wait to get away. And the cycle goes on and on until my brain starts to hurt and I give up. And I crash. And then something happens, and I am back on the same road.

And as far as I remember, this is exactly how things have been with every friend I have ever been with. I like them, then I hate them, then I like them. Sometimes all of their faces blend together when I look back. My personality brings out the exact same pattern in their behaviour. They are always there but they can’t never really get to know me. And why the hell would they try? Anne stuck around, she is like..my soul sister. But I went through hell to get to a point where her presence or absence doesn’t hurt me. She stays, I am happy (so happy), she leaves, I barely look. It’s comfortable between us. Because, comfortable distance always works for me. And it also has to do with the fact that she has the most tolerable and amazing personality. Ever heard, nay dreamed, of that breathtaking beauty, those cool brilliant brains and that gentle understanding soul in one person? Well that’s her.

My only concern is the strangulating effect of these interactions. I don’t want to be crippled by my own emotions. I don’t want my decisions to be dictated by how I feel about a particular matter. I call these my *out-of-body experiences*, when I look at a person as a whole. Not how they affect me, but how they actually are.

It’s a pretty nice feeling, actually. But to get to a point where one day their existence will have no affect on me in entire sense of the word, I have yet a very, very long and tortuous path to walk.

Till then. Que sera sera..


Que sera sera (what will be, will be)

The Journey Within

sitting by the road

I am not walking, I am just sitting by the side and gazing far ahead. All I see is..this road. This beautiful road. Flattened by the pressure of so many who have walked across it. Day in and day out. Forward or backwards. Carrying all the weight of their worlds on their shoulders. Such a poetic path. Such an elegant lane. It bends every which way, disappears in the dirt sometime, breaks down and mends again. I see it, then I don’t and then it emerges again.

And I see them walking across too, the flesh that shuffles ahead and the soul that quietly follows. The noises in the silence vibrate through the concrete that sits and the dirt that blows. I put my palm lightly over the concrete, wary of the secrets and pain it might hold. But the stubborn hardness reveals nothing while the wind screams away in my head. The questions ring through the ground and the answers blow away.

I wanna step on this road too, walk across the footsteps of so many who came before me, and disappear like they did. Leave my mark on the ground that won’t talk and give my silence to wind that won’t stay

Some other day, some other day =)

I dwell with a strangely aching heart , In that vanished abode there far apart, On that disused and forgotten road

Back to the cliffs. Let’s walk barefoot again. Yeah, come on. Kick the boots away, little more pain will not kill you. It will barely register, trust me. Hop up

The girl was naive, her eyes red with all the crying. Her dress dirty from lurking in the store all day long. I helped her up, brushed the dust off, kicked off my own flimsy slippers and led her to where I was last seen, down the rocky roads again, the last horizon

She was sobbing so hard, And I made no move to pacify her. Cry it all out, love, tears left inside will just turn into poison and when it reaches the heart, it might change you forever. Rocks and pebbles hit my feet but I barely felt them, she did, though. She flinched as they cut in from here and there. Her pain isn’t deep, I smiled at the thought. It could be distracted, maybe it was a pain that can be forgotten. Years afterwards it will grow old and wear off. I smiled again, as if I knew her pain, as if I had the right to judge her

I asked her to sit at the edge, dangle her legs down. I asked her to look at the rushing water. She saw it, her blurring eyes wandered about. I smiled again. She could see past her pain. She would heal. The wound wasn’t deep. But what if it was, what if she wasn’t seeing with her eyes, and all she saw was the pain that was so new and was so heavily pressing on her chest. What if.. what if…

There are many ways in front of you, my love. Walk away, run from the pain. Or stay and endure it. It will either kill you, make you stronger,or leave you half dead. At this point nothing I say will make sense, nothing I say will soothe you. You have to find a way to get past it yourself. I came here, years ago. Why? To make a decision. But I never had a choice. I fell into these waters, and now am a part of it. My body floated somewhere far away, some people buried it, with no rituals, with no prayers. Whether they bid my soul peace or not, I don’t know. I was too far away to hear

I held her hand, she flinched at the cold, but didn’t run. I looked in her red eyes and gave her a little smile.
She turned to look at me as I got up. Air roaring in my hair. Life will come, if you want to live it. Before I took a dive, I saw that horrified look in her eyes. She might be one of the very few who met the soul of the cliffs. They say she comes to those who are lost in pain. They say sometimes her voice can be heard with the roaring wind. She’s one of the stories lost and lonely places have about them. If a place is deserted by life, people try to fill it with ghosts, as if there aren’t many among them, as if death is only the demise of the body…

(Title: Frost’s Ghost House)

(I am so not satisfied with the story, but despite a month, I could not make any significant changes. sob)

Into my happiness

Never felt so hip and so hop. So pop and just so flop =P

If you could see me now.. I am sitting leg-deep on the wall of the pool. Water from the tubewell hitting me like boulders. I am wet. I am dripping, I am happy. Oh I am happy

And the best part is, Me myself is the reason for my happiness. Nobody called in or peeked saying or doing something that made me feel so alive, so content. It is my own existence, first time ever (maybe), making me happy. The feeling is hitting me harder than the splattering water, and every blow is making my soul glow. Wow that rhymed

Just God. Just Almighty. No one else. I see around and think of all those poets and writers. I never really believed when they talked about nature and greenery and all. Now look at me. Countryside fields. Green crops swaying gently in evening breeze. There. See. The big ball of Sun is sinking. This is so beautiful. Too much for me to take in. This happiness has to be spread. I can’t let it stay in me. It’s impossible for a person like me to enjoy a joy alone..

I look around. I swear my eyes have been shining. My wet bangs bounce on my shoulders. You see. Sometimes happiness penetrates us and when it returns to our skin.. pure light. Light illuminating all the dark parts of one’s heart. Light washing away my ills. I hear the cackle of my young cousins’ laughter and I smile wide. I look at my hands cold and wrinkled wet. I look at my trousers; spoiled and splattered. My eyes don’t stop. They are absorbing every single gesture and emotion they can.. I have never seen this side of me myself…

My kiddo cousin beckons me. He wants me to see how he jumps in water. I make a joke and everybody laughs aloud. I look at the Heavens and thank My Creator. When you are a believer.. Answers come easy…

Splashing water and making jokes….God I have never felt so innocent….