Beauty lies in places deeper than your mirror.
After myriad thoughts that did not find preservation in words and a plethora of impressions written in sand, and wondering meanwhile what stares back at me from my mirror, I am back; hoping to pick up the thread I had left, or find a new one, knowing that each is an individual entity of the same rope entwined; entwined about what I am yet to figure out.
Well, getting back to the apparently more comprehensible thoughts, I feel this space would be put to good use if I mention Manasvi's poetry; refreshing pieces written with unapologetic honesty put forth with subtlety bordering on the outspoken. If you care to read them, you'll find them on allpoetry.com..been quite some time since I came across thoughts I could relate to, so I guess they deserved to be mentioned here.
Anyways she's given me a new topic to write about (because her tee bore a green heart :)), and I am curious to know what I can do with as randomly innocuous a source of topic as this one, so here goes (for the record, Ive got Goo Goo Dolls' Before Its Too Late keeping me company):
He stood on the edge feeling the wind play softly on his face. It was the first sense of movement he had sensed in the half hour that he had stood there. Or was it eons. He tried to feel the blood surging through his forearms. Or the adrenaline surging through that blood. He felt neither.
To the passers-by who glanced at him as an embedded part of the landscape, his thoughts seemed like a storm in a teacup. When he looked as far behind in time as he could, he felt like a teacup flung into an incessant storm. But he looked upon these things with a mildly detached, objective curiosity; as if he was seeing them from a protected pedestal behind a thin film, thick enough to let him feel detached, but thin enough to give him a tangible, remote sensation of the events that played out in his head. He longed to feel the angst he did not feel.
And so he allowed himself to fall into the abyss of analysis wondering how had he come to this.
It had in essence been a journey of his heart - red, because it had too much life running through the arteries, uh veins, (uh, we'll keep the biology aside)...Red, because it had a spring in its beat; because it beat with a hope to see the world being 'the stuff dreams are made of', innocently ignorant of the treacheries involved, living with infinite hope, like in a surreal dream.
But 'nothing's real until its gone'.
And so he had stood rooted, trying to feel her from afar..trying to see without worrying about cause or consequence, frozen in that moment, finding himself unable to turn away even after that 'moment had passed him by'. He wondered how many people let their lives be controlled by people who didn't care..how many spent their lives just existing, trying to be what they're told is acceptable, holding on to a social image that flatters to deceive..how many spend hours willing themselves to be what they thought others would like, realizing that those very 'others' forgot about them the moment they said goodbye. But man is a social animal, and we live in our relationships even 'if the other is hell'. So his heart felt bewildered.beaten.bruised.
Blue, as if the oxygen had drained from it (uh, I guess we'll even leave the chemistry aside)..blue because he didn't know whether to run or wait for the smoke to clear and see who was still standing, or whether he wanted to know that at all..or whether it really mattered..whether there existed a truth beneath the lies, and whether he would find strength in it.
And ambling through fiction he found fact. He realized that all he needed to do was be himself; because he had his thoughts and he had hs belief and all those high-sounding things that are supposed to be good. But quite frankly, beacuse it is way easier to be yourself. And so, in giving in to yourself, you are actually conquering your faculties. I guss that's where the whole stoop to conquer thing comes from..And so he chose who should be happier amongst the two.
I guess this condition is a complicated mixture of being confused and mellow and assertive and confused about whether you should be assertve, so by the standard of my imagination, this condition would be like feeling yellow.
And thus he ended up having a green heart (= blue + yellow; sorry can't leave the physics aside) and he well, i guess just kept standing on the edge too bored thinking about all this and so came back in and went to sleep (sorry i'm too sleepy).
In retrospect, I started off decently and ended with a pathetic anti-climax (sleep does things to you), so I am sorry for being abstract. Uh, those who have to understand will, if they ever happen to read this crap, but more importantly Manasvi, I guess silence can sometimes say a lot more than words can; that's the state of perfect understanding, and yes, it is better to listen to you your ever screaming heart over the reasoning head.
Sorry about the tenses Sujit Sir, still working on them, and for all those who have endured this piece of 'heavy shit',
Donald Trump Presidency begins
2 months ago