Sarcastically yours

I’ve made countless drafts wherein I’ve written a million times of my desire to write. I want to write something beautiful, mesmerizing piece of literature that would leave the reader speechless, touched and ecstatic. But I don’t know how. Every time the ink doesn’t flow so effortlessly after all. Every time the mesmerizing words don’t match the mood and thus overflows my dustbin with crumbled papers with half written dreams of a writer.

I have been doing some thinking and soul searching and I found that I don’t really have a deep, mysterious soul. I have a sarcastic one. Once I figured that out, the clouds parted and the light gushed in. Clean, clear and bright! I realised I don’t have to make others shed a silent tear after reading my essay or passage or a blog post because they experienced something magical or because it touched the most intimate part of their soul; the one that is active when you usually sit on an exotic and fancy beach with no bhelpuri walas and no plastic bags getting washed ashore in a far away land witnessing sunset on the last day of the vacation or when you’re walking on the shore bare feet with the moonlight melting at the horizon.. (yeah, I can write this stuff). They can read what I write and laugh or better still, roll their eyes.

Isn’t that the best compliment for sarcasm?

The Monsoon

After the scorching summer, comes the much awaited Monsoon! It’s the same everywhere; in all the corners of this round world. And yet, it is so unique to every single soul that lives! When the dusty roads burn in the afternoon sun, when the winds no longer blow away the sweat beads; and when the journey tires you out before you even set out, the Gods weave together the magic of the showers!

So much for the love of rains! We live the blue winters, the sweltering summer for the monsoon. And the rains; each one has its unique rain. For the depressed, its melancholy, for the innocent, the fun, for those in love; it brings out the romance in the air and for the old, some memories! The same rain that drenches you leaves the other one untouched. The rains never seem to touch their hearts, melt their mind and bring alive their soul. And for some, the cool breeze drenches the soul on a hot summer afternoon.

I have loved and lost, in the monsoon. Each season it takes me back to the time I wish I could hold on to, forever. The rains mean love to me. The rains remind me of the endless nights I have cried. The rains have witnessed me bare my heart; and they have seen me turn cold as death. Each monsoon, I relive my life for the past decade and wonder what if my love had lasted? What if I had held on it a little longer? The what ifs are endless, the self interrogation, futile and the questions, rhetorical. What if he never left? What if he believed? What if it never happened?

The showered and cleaner, greener trees have a different story to tell. For each monsoon they get soaked in the rains, bare themselves to the clouds and sway in the wind. It doesn’t last forever. For the monsoon ends, the winter sets in and the much celebrated lush greens now turn red and fall. The passionate love of the rains and the trees ends up in the soil. The trees now lifeless are still steadfast. For it believes in the love, in the passion and in the rain. Love blooms gradually and through the summer it blossoms and offers itself to the rains again.

Rains don’t always ruin. For there are a thousand year old oaks standing tall, bearing fruits of the love of the rain, the bitter winter and the sweet summer. For every time the tree withered, it bloomed with a renewed hope. It believed in the magic of love, in the roots it grew deeper in the soil and in the winds that swirled it around.

I will fall in love again. I will have faith again. I will open up my heart and bare my soul to the showers again. For I know it gets tougher before it gets easier. And when the summer winds stop gushing and nothing moves, there's a whiff of cool breeze that the shiny clouds bring in, swirling around the dust in the air and the sleepy winding, rugged path rustles a little; know that your petrichor awaits! 

                                                                                                   

Do you write?

"Do you write?"

The phone bleeped. A simple question burst into countless thoughts, of a given up dream, of a fizzled out resolution and of a defeated passion. Dejected, she replied that it had to come naturally. The phone buzzed again "to you!" it read. For someone sitting a thousand miles away, her writing appeals, and it mattered to her. That person mattered a lot more. Suddenly, she felt injected with positivity. The otherwise dull day suddenly seemed a little brighter.

She was no Shakespeare. Going to work was unavoidable. So she did. What does positivity do to a person needing it the most? She felt dusty, dry, lifeless earth and the message; a sky pregnant with April showers. A little sprinkling of positivity made the crowded bus a little more bearable. A dash of it faded out the screams and shouts of the street vendors and all she could hear was chirping of birds and the rustling leaves.

She could feel the wind in her hair and the blasting heat of the sun dimmed just for her. Her mind raced a thousand miles away from the balmy summer afternoon and she fluttered to a place only she had known. "The world could wait", she thought, "for a little while more". It was her time after a long and tiring wait.

Everything that met her eye seemed like a poem waiting to be penned. The seemingly insignificant faces floating by had a story to tell. If only they could, she though. She flew past them. She knew what she loved. The ink, the blank page and the indescribable euphoria.

I want to write

I want to write. A clean, blank paper calls out to me and the feeling to write is strong! Hypergraphia! Oh I know this feeling so well! I hold my pen and the ink flows effortlessly. I pour out my heart on the blank sheet. There are a hundred thousand thoughts that I think of and the rush of these in my mind is so overwhelming! I have a wonderful piece shaping up. I read it over and over again. I see the words, smell the fresh ink. It looks just about fine to me. To be able to write what I have, it has taken several days, even months to experience what I have over and over again. I have laughed, I have cried and have lived every emotion that lies in between. I have lived it countless times to know the exact words which could precisely describe the joy, the happiness and the elation when I have felt happy; to describe every tear I have shed, every memory I have relived and imagined situations where I would say or do things differently hoping my imaginations would actually turn to reality and then I know the sting of how the hopes are turned down. Oh how naive was I!

With closed eyes I see everything. I see an entire decade of my life flash by. Each day. Day after day. I have cried myself to sleep, have fought depression every single day, alone. I have cursed everyone around me and myself for everything that happened to me. Now, as I look over my shoulder, I feel at peace. Today my reality, my present is so much more different that what I dreamed of it to be. The future I wanted 10 years ago is now so distant now. It is a blurred memory. This is not what I had ordered! Alas, unlike in a restaurant, I cannot send it back. Well, had it been at a restaurant, I would have known what I had ordered for. I don't know if my present is what I want. Nevertheless, it is.

It is so amazing that nothing changes in life. Every day is just like the previous day, with a different date. And then in a reflective mood we look back and realise how far we have come! Nothing in life is the same anymore. People deeply in love are strangers now. Unknown places now make us feel at home. I find shards of broken promises and years later, the sting is just as fresh and sharp. Some wounds never heal after all. We just learn to live with them. But then, this life is good too!

Life teaches you and how! It teaches you everything that you ever need to know. Life is what happened to me while I still held on to my past and dragged myself through the present. So much has gone by without me having lived it. May be that's how it was meant to be! 10 years back, I lived only to dream about a perfect future for somebody else. Today I see the future shaped up but I am nowhere in the picture. 10 years on, I have learnt to live my present. I finally believe thatl the future will eventually fall in place.

I open my eyes to my present. The crisp blank paper stares back at me. Inviting! Hypergraphia I think. I want to write everything that I lived in the last few moments, an entire decade. I grab the pen and begin, "I want to write..."

Coping

Death is never easy. Be it of a person, a relationship, a dream or peace of mind. Untimely demise is even worse to cope with. Living life in guilt is the pain that even the deceased cannot endure.

I am devastated and I blame myself for everything. I inflict more pain to numb myself. I cut myself off from people, positivity and life. After the initial chaos, the dark, empty feeling sinks in making room for more darkness and emptiness. Self inflicted pain is addictive and like a whirlpool, it pulls me in deeper, and the loneliness surrounds me; closing on me making it difficult to breathe. I close my eyes to the world, where people are waiting to welcome me with open arms, where I have sunshine and warmth. The light seems too bright and it hurts my eyes. I shut my eyes tighter. The sounds fade, the light dims and I realise I am deeper inside my black, dark, cold loneliness. Now the darkness offers me calm. The light, the people, the chatter hurts my eyes, my mind and my soul. But the darkness... Ah! It hides everything. There is nothing I can see in the darkness. Nothing I can feel. I cry and nobody knows. I scream silently, cry silently and wonder at how the darkness takes it all in, my tears, fears, and my screams.. It absorbs everything and insulates me. The dark, cold negativity offers solace. I find peace in crying and inflict pain on myself further, only to cry more and feel numb. I look at the people in sunshine standing at a distance. I cannot hear a sound, cannot say a word. The tears have dried, the numb feeling is long gone. I lay there writhing in pain, yet again.

20th Dcember 2015: 3:00 am

"Move on .." she said. "It's time you put the past behind and think about your own self. Give yourself the much deserved importance. You must close the chapter, turn the page over... Move on.. You're worth more than what you have made yourself to be. Nothing changes between us. Ever."

The death ends. The healing has begun, although the scars will remain.

Time Warp

On a lazy afternoon, I opened my long forgotten old school bag, now covered in dust. I found old friends, first love, well kept secrets, promise; some kept, a few forgotten. I met a little girl with starry eyes, small enough to believe in miracles, big enough to think she knew everything she needed to know about life.

The little girl never had big dreams or grand plans for her future because she was too busy living her present. I met her friends, saw them laugh. I met her first love, who promised he would never leave her. Ever. I met her best friend in her classroom, clean, sharp sun light streaming in. They talked about books, studies, boys, friends, sometimes about nothing. There wasn't a word spoken but I could hear everything. I understood every moment they spent together!

The old, ragged school bag took me fifteen years back in time. Fifteen years! It is a long time. The books, the journals, the notes they passed in class. I found it all in the bag! I laughed reading them until I could see no more and I realised I was crying.

Just while I thought the girl had lost her love to time, a friend to an accident, innocence to life and her dreams to reality, I found them all in the old bag, sitting at the bottom; safe until I opened it again on a lazy afternoon.

New Beginnings!

Suddenly the romantic movies have all started seeming true.. Missing him is a part of her daily chores and she spends hours smiling at herself when she is not blushing while listening to him.. The wait is over.. They're finally in love..

There is always music playing and the guitar strums effortlessly.. Nights seem shorter when they spoke and endless was the day at work.. Never was she riding on the surge of love.. Today is their's.. No one knows until when.. It takes a while to fall in love but a only a moment to delve deeper, they learnt.

Love finds its way... For what is yours will always come around... It took half a decade for him to fall in love and she just began loving him all over again..!