Nobody knows where they might end up..

By all accounts, this has been the most turbulent week of the running year. I have made significant discoveries bout myself. I suffer fools more gladly than I’d like to have admitted a while ago. I allow way too much room for benefit of doubt. The whole BOD theory was discarded last evening in the favor of a more dictatorial approach towards whom I let into my life and whom I dispose of.
So, things have happened. I got my heart broken. I didn’t fall in love with a person, I fell in love with the idea of falling in love. Its illogical and fractious on so many levels. And when the glass menagerie crashes, the shards split your skin and expose your own inability to cope up with life.
I am shifting shape or maybe I am just returning to what seemed important to me not so long ago. For one whole week I could only imagine myself standing at the furthest corner of Sydney Point in Panchgani and getting drenched to my soul.
That’s happiness. Blatant and complete.
Unconditional love is something similar. It shouldn’t suffocate as much; it should allow your asthmatic senses to breathe freely, again.
I have been revisiting the innocence of yesterday without the mandatory superfluousness corrupting my memories. Temporal belonging. Sometimes you find something so innately beautiful that a part of you wishes to detach from your own being and fuse with the possibility that something so extraordinary could exist. I have delved into this one for long. The intricate beauty that surrounds without the obsessive grandeur eclipsing its aura.
Let go. It’s a redundant but popular phrase. Let go of the past, of your desires, recollections, of people, of their desires and their memories. I don’t want to let go. Its symbolic of my Indian name. I try and collect, sometimes. I do not wish to let go anymore than I wish to retain. I want to exist in between. I want to swim through it all without making any attempts to hold on or letting go. I was always more comfortable in the interim. On the Verge. There is something so restless and hence exciting bout being on the verge of things.
Right now is On the Verge. We don’t know where will we go. New Delhi or New York. We do know that wherever we do wake up, it will be with a sense of completion. Not melancholy but just a slightly more lilac shade of nostalgia. Of writing, effectively, a whole chapter in the Life series. Not running away from what makes me inherently sad. Standing up, facing it down.
And now we have a closet-full of items. Bleeding wines and broken bottles. Silence and conversations. They all fuse to plug ever-expanding voids.
Departures and Arrivals. More often than not, it seems to me that am living in an airport lounge. Constant chaos and teeming masses either getting in or getting out. And somewhere in all of this, I stand straight with my head pointed to the skies like a particularly errant nail on a wooden board, wondering if it really is true that when you aim your head towards the North and in a very peacocky position, your prayers reach God faster than they normally would. I was dispensed this piece of wisdom by an old maid at my Grandmother’s home. And so everytime I prayed, I’d inadvertently end up with a sore neck owing to all the back-stretching.
Its been 14 years since and in between phases of being an agnostic, an atheist and a nihilist, I do occasionally experiment with the prayer theory.
I wonder if someone really is sitting and collecting random prayers in a white washed cabin. If those prayer are then filed and assessed at regular intervals like a home loan application. Depending upon the duration and the scope of the prayer.
Lead by instinct not by intellect – said someone. I’m trying very hard to do just that.
And that’s all the knowledge I have at this moment in time. I suspect thats all the knowledge I may ever need too.
I am cozy in the rocket.

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~ by iconoplastic on May 29, 2007.

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