Fortitude

I wonder today, as the rain falls in all its might, for a few momentous moments, before it decides to go away. It brings with it sheer freshness, yet the familiar smell of earth takes me into a petrichor state of mind.

It has been long now, so very long, since I have felt this comfortable with myself. With no one to hold my hand, no one to save me – here I am, my own enemy, my own savior, trying my best to get through life, and coming out triumphant at the frontlines of each war-torn day!

I listen to the simplicity of the rain drops, and it takes me back. That is the thing about these rains, they are always so consistent in their sounds, in their smell, and the way they stir up an entire world inside of me, that I never knew existed. The rains are ever so consistent in making me feel sense of my existence in a new facet each time.

Tonight I feel stoic in the face of my past. Although it seems like I have endured much, yet a feeling of limbo grows within me. It is not emptiness, but with time, I am more and more aware of a part of me that has died in the past three years. Tonight I am thinking of second chances. I am thinking of how we all deserve a second chance. We must only be brave enough to take it. If the past is prologue, then we must be ready to learn from it. It is possibly acceptable to mourn the past, but it would be almost criminal to forge your future based on your fears. May be the past is a product of your worst fears, ignorance and naiveté. Now, with renewed lessons and strength, you are stronger.

You are stronger because you are resilient and wise. It has eventually come to you, and in all its finality, you know whatever the fate that life has in store for you, your resilience will help you sail through. Slowly, I am learning how to accept success with as much humility as I had accepted continual failure. With every ounce of success that comes to me, I feel more and more responsible. I am humbled at the very knock of success at my door. I had not seen it in twenty five years of my life, to the extent at which I witness it now, and I know it shall grow even more with time. This is not my vanity, but my sheer ability to face all odds, that speaks with such surety of success.

I am sure that part within me which perished was the little girl who had those hopes crushed which were never hers to begin with. It was the girl who believed in magic of friendship, the one who believed in love more than herself. I was the one who believed in the magic of relationships, and the one who worked hard to keep them alive, long after they were dead. I still see the ghosts of my past haunt me in the most ordinary moments of my day. I see the little knickknacks that I remember throwing away, and I believe they are still around me. Swiftly, I am in memoriam of a day in my past that brought me hope and smile. Such a simpleton I was! Such few expectations! There was a clean heart, a clear mind, and actions to accompany these feelings.

Today, I look back, and I see that girl. She is amazing. She is so strong. My strength is forged out of  her gentle spirit. My stoicism is a product of her constant ability to deal with sadness, and my sheer resilience is a product of her pain and capability to only see the good in people. I am grateful to her, because she didn’t give up. She kept fighting through the difficulties, she did the impossible; she achieved all that seemed impossible to her, that seemed unattainable, and all of it on the singlehanded mettle of her spirit and nothing more!

I listen to the rain, and the meter, the vision of its opaque graininess and the familiarity and warmth of the petrichor make me pensive. I take cognizance of everything beautiful in my life and I am grateful for it all, even the struggles, for they bring me strength and wisdom for the troubles of the future. The time that is to come petrifies me, yet I am not shivering. I stand strong, on the brink of the present, armed with my newfound resilience to welcome the challenges that lie ahead and come out stronger. Our experiences rewire us. I am in peace. I am now enjoying one of life’s meaningful pauses, and it makes me wonder why often silences are considered uncomfortable. I think we ought to be silent more often, and breathe in the pauses, learn to listen, and simply absorb, absorb what life is really trying to teach us, learn what we must to move on to our next lesson!

A Bright Day

It was a beautiful day. Cloudy, sunny and rainy all at the same time. One could hear all those morning sounds, like the chirping of the birds, or rustling of the leaves in the wind; and that familiar smell of the slightly wet roads in the dew. The comforting calm of the Sunday morning was disturbed by the hustle in the corner house. The croissants were in the oven, and Natalie was busy vacuuming her home. 

‘Who wakes up at 6:30 on a Sunday morning,’ Natalie thought to herself, as she tidied up her gallery. She then found the perfect spot on the bench, where she felt the warmth of the sun, while enjoying the cool breeze. The silence was eerie, almost unnatural as compared to the droning of the vacuum-cleaner. At first, Natalie felt strangely uncomfortable in her own house – all alone on a Sunday morning, no one to speak to, and nothing to do. 

Suddenly, the beautiful morning smell transformed into that of burning plastic. Natalie sprung out of her discomfort, almost naturally feeling happy at the thought of some impending drama. The oven wire was sparking, and a buzzing sound came from the socket. Without a second thought, she unplugged the oven. And, slowly, she heard the silence of the house grow even louder. The fans went off, lights were out, and the smell of fresh croissants was now overpowering that of the burning wire. It was a beautiful morning, all alone at home, and the power had just gone out. ‘Can’t call the electrician on a Sunday,’ thought Natalie, as she stood aimlessly in the middle of her kitchen, staring at the little fumes coming out of the oven wire. That was the most eventful thing that was going to happen all day, and it was already over!

Today was supposed to be her day off – a day of serial baking and binge watching her favorite tv shows. Guess she couldn’t do that anymore – thank you, electricity! She thought of cleaning the rest of the house, only to realize that even the vacuum is now redundant. 

The smell of the croissants was still overpowering. So, decided to make some chai-tea, and plated up the croissants. As the tea brewed, she went to her book shelf and tried to find an old book she had been meaning to read for a while now. Over the years, Natalie was so caught up in life, that she had slowly lost the habit of reading. Once an avid reader, and book collector, Natalie’s ‘to-read’ list only grew longer over the years, as her desire to essentially pick up the book and start reading seemed to have died. Today, she decided to reignite her passion.

She started digging through all the ‘intelligent reads’ she had collected over the years, and reached her stash of guilty pleasures. These were the books she loved reading from time to time, but found it so hard to admit to everyone, being the book-snob that she was! She placed her copy of ‘Tale of the Cities’ on the table in her gallery, and went towards the kitchen. Chai was ready, and so was she!

Tale of the Cities was one of those soapy reads filled with unexpected, but rather convenient coincidences, sassy dialogs, opportune deaths, and of course bubbly romantic humor. Natalie plated her croissants, and poured chai into a rather comforting size of mug. She ran pranced through the remainder of her unkempt house, trying to silence the part of her mind that said she absolutely had to clean it. 

Well, the book was tucked at the back of the shelf, and was free of dust. Natalie opened the book, and started reading it. After the first two paragraphs, she started instagram-ing pictures of her cute mug, and oh-so-delicious croissants. ‘I have to read,’ she chided herself, as she turned her phone to silent, and kept it out of sight. 

After hours of reading, and many ohs, ahs and oh-my-gosh moments, Natalie finally kept the book away. She felt so good. After many years she had dedicated time to herself, doing things she truly enjoyed. She had almost forgotten about being all alone on a Sunday, and even the fact that the power had been out for four hours now. The sun was shining brighter, but a soft breeze made its way through. For lunch, Natalie decided to order some pizza. ‘The cheesier, the better,’ she thought. 

While she lunched, Natalie played some old music on her phone, and was listlessly looking around her house as she noticed a picture of her mother hanging on the wall. She realized how the picture had always been there; though, its location was too nondescript to ever remind Natalie of her mom. She stopped the music, and called her mom. Although it was a normal phone call, she felt a bit queasy. ‘Could be the pizza,’ she thought. 

‘Hello, mother,’ said Natalie, unsure of what to say next. ‘Hi dear, how have you been?’ her mom enquired. ‘hmmm I’ve been good. And you?’ she asked. ‘Natalie dear, are you okay? You sound like you wanna say something.’ Natalie mustered some courage and said, ‘Would you like to spend some time with me?’ Her mom instantly replied ‘why of course. I’ll be there in couple of minutes!’ Natalie mumbled an ‘okay’ and the phone clicked. ‘WOW. I didn’t even tell her that there’s no electricity here!’

She didn’t know what to do. She spent the next seventeen minutes tidying up the rest of the house to please her mother. When her mom arrived, the doorbell didn’t sound (of course! No power, duh!) and so the thudding on the door disturbed Natalie’s disarrayed chain of thoughts. 

‘Hey mom,’ she hugged her. After some uncomfortable conversations and few glasses of wine, mother and daughter eased up. Natalie’s mother had brought a few old photo albums, which they both went through, sometimes reminiscing the good ol’days, at other times arguing over how the events had gone down! It was a beautiful trip down the memory lane. As a few hours passed, Natalie offered her mother some of the croissants she baked, along with the pizza. 

Her mother was ever so happy to be present, Natalie realized that she ought to do this more often. It was evening, and now that her father was back home from work, the women decided to call him over for dinner to Natalie’s. ‘But there’s no electricity here,’ interjected Natalie. ‘No problem, dear, we’ll light a few candles,’ said her mother. It was a while before her father came home with some chinese food in boxes. He also brought some cheesecake for his daughter. ‘Your favorite,’ he said. Natalie realized how much her parents remembered about her likes and, the fact that they still cared to take care of her little needs. She felt really nice.

As the family sat in the gallery, the moonlight and streetlights (of course) were sufficient lighting for the evening. Though, her mother insisted on the candles and some light music, for the sake of ambience! The family enjoyed a rather simple meal, talking about old things and new! They reopened those old photographs again, trying to remember what actually happened. There was more chuckling, and of course, more wine! Natalie never thought she was old enough to drink with her parents, although they felt otherwise. They treated her like nothing but an adult. It was awkward, mostly because she felt very protected around them, and at the same time, she had the liberty to enjoy herself. She glanced at them again, as they talked, and smiled to herself, just enjoying the moment. She even clicked a few candid pictures from her phone, and this time, she promised herself she would get these printed, and not let them pile on like e-garbage!

Her father then brought the cheesecake, which Natalie thoroughly enjoyed with the rest of her wine! It was a combination she really loved – creamy cheesecake with a glass of red wine! All the talks and giggles grew dimmer, as Natalie started to sleep a bit on the chair itself. Her father cleaned her bed for her, and her mother helped her change into something comfortable. They tucked her in bed, and thoughtfully opened the window just enough for the breeze to flow in. For the first time in the past decade, Natalie didn’t care if her phone was around her. 

She woke up the next morning around ten. She was not used to sleeping in. Her father had called the electrician, and the power was back on. The house was neat, there were no signs of their small party last night, and her parents were seated at the gallery, enjoying the croissants she’d made. It was such a comforting sight. 

Natalie glanced at her oven, praying that the power went off again. She had found the light in her life.

Enchantment of the Universe

Have you ever realized how small, how very miniscule your existence is, as compared to the huge populace of this planet, of this galaxy? Have you ever thought beyond yourself? I believe we need to grasp the vastness of nature to realize how very insignificant our lives our, yet there is so much substance in our individuality.

I remember that night I stayed on the mountain top, staring at the most enthralling night sky I had ever witnessed. The sky grew darker, and slowly dissolved into deeper shades of the night. I swear to you, even the most jaded city-dweller like me was awestruck and unexpectedly moved by unfathomable night-sky studded with millions of twinkling stars.

I felt sheltered in the outdoors. That night, I found myself within nature. Like the old-folk, I sat all night staring at that perfect sky and the backdrop of those grandiose mountains, standing tall. They spoke to me, those mountains – they made me realize that I am nature. As I stared at the sky, I thought of my entire existence, and at the same time I was so dazed.

The constellations, in their entirety, were a vast blue cosmic ocean, without any shore. And, here in the bliss of solitude, I gazed at the night. The blanket of this dazzling night covered the thousands and thousands of sleeping people, and their singular, rosy dreams.

I had fallen in love with those stars; I had fallen in love with myself, when I was beneath that serried godliness of stars. I realized that you can live your entire life in one moment, if you consume the beauty around you. When I came back I was a different person. I developed the capacity to find the magic of that night in everything I saw.

There is no limit on love, or being loved. That night I realized that I was one with the stars. As miniscule every star is in the infinite night sky, each and every little starlet is equally momentous in adding to its remarkable, unparalleled beauty. That night I realized – I am a star.

Photo courtesy : @geetshah26 (click to view his work)

Eerie Memoirs

Entry 2

I feel nausea in my own skin. I feel a sickness growing inside of me. On the outside, I feel completely normal and calm. However, in my head there are voices. They are telling me how wretched and dismal my very existence is. They remind me that I am nothing. They are piercing into my soul.

I cry every day. Very few days have gone by in the past decade that I have not cried. There have been so many inflictions. There has been so much pain. I just want to retire into a perennial sleep.

I feel haunted – my mind is wasted, my body is tired. Like, an old forest, I feel withered, dead from the inside. Like dark creatures live within a dead forest, malevolence and barbarism thrive within me. It’s scary how beautiful this doomed jungle is; it’s my soul, I’m telling you. It’s my very soul that is filled with darkness that torments my existence each day. It torments me enough to want to die, yet not enough to murder me. There is so much quiet here, I can hear my heartbeats like a drum. There is no air here, yet I still feel poisoned as I breathe in the everlasting depravity within this murkiness.

Every so often a bit of sunlight might pierce the withered canopy, but this ray of hope brings so much more hopelessness to my entire existence. That little spark of optimism, the very anticipation of getting out of this labyrinth of madness, is a farce. Hope is a farce.

I want it to end. This hope is not letting me take my own life. This love around me is not letting me strangle myself to death. I don’t know why but ever so often in this forest of despondency and agony, grows a little flower of happiness and hope.

I wonder how much more I must suffer to close this vile canopy to the outside world. I want this desiccated forest to consume me from within. I want that agony to come out of me as I die, and envelope my soul as I strangle myself, finding peace in every moment of breathlessness. I wish to die.

Photo courtesy - @geetshah26 (click to view his work) 

Eerie Memoirs

Entry 1 

Don't you just hate memories! They have no physical form yet they make you feel like your entire existence is unreal. In just one moment. They blur the lines of time, years and years seem meaningless. All you see is a corporal image of you floating in space and wondering how things changed and how the hell did you get where you are. You're trapped in the same nightmare you keep waking up into.

Have you ever felt the beauty of the day transform into terror? As I pass through the gardens, I feel the ghouls gathering around me. I feel that my demons have taken physical form. I am running. I don’t want them.

I am running for what seems like hours, and suddenly, I can feel an apparition gaining on me. In the endless tunnels, I see no light. “Wouldn’t you give me a chance,” it said. “Wouldn’t you rather embrace my darkness, than revel in the false friendships of those around you?” I think, it was a dream. Nevertheless, it was very real.

I woke up screaming. As I bolted every door and window in the house, I heard the doorbell ring. I opened one door, and saw my old friend. But, all I could do was stare at him. Gradually, I reached for the doorknob and let him in. As I leapt at him, wanting to fall into his arms, he changed form. I knew it. In my heart I knew it wasn’t him. Then why did I open that door? The very feeling of wanting to spend a split second with him was so momentous, that I couldn’t resist the urge to let my demons in.

I can’t remember what happened next. I remember screaming, and shouting. I feel the frenzy even as I sleep. Those demons, they live within me. Every night I as I sleep, I feel the their conscionable presence. They haunt me. They torment me. But, time and again they remind me of how life is exactly like them - deceptive, beautiful and doomed.

I find beauty in life. When every moment ends, the next begins. In that moment, we are as alive and young as we can ever be. Beauty, I believe, seems beautiful because of how much it is destined to doom. Beauty, in its every form is appreciated, because it will never last. The rose wilts, the youth ages, and landscapes crumble into dust. And that is why honesty is so important. To live each dying moment in honesty, in full strength and resolve of pursuing your life dreams. We are destined to die the very moment we are born. Then why is there so much struggle for money, wealth, glamour, power? Why is it so coveted?

Because it is so beautiful. So powerful. Because it does not last. ‘Everlasting’ is an illusion. It’s a farce. When my demons hurt me, they bring me back to the reality. They make me realize that Life is the illusion, and death, the reality, the finality.

In all these musings, I feel like I have forgotten the world. I can’t recognise my family and friends. I feel the parasomnia. And tonight I am screaming again ; tonight I yell because I want them to stay. I want my demons to stay within me, for they make me more human, more vulnerable and enable me to experience feelings with the depth and piercing certainty of every fiber of my being.

In all my oblivion, I remember my friend. I remember his smiling face, the glint in his eyes, his reassuring touch. I remember everything about him. Like he exists in the alternate form of my reality, he exists in my illusion.

He stands guard on the borders of my phantasma and mortality, ensuring that I don’t lose myself within either worlds, that I stay there, with him, by his side. He makes me feel wonderful, and strong and beautiful. He makes my world a fairytale. It’s all so good that I never know whether it is a dream or not. My demons can’t touch him. In all my oblivion, I remember him.

Love is the most abstract reality we have. Love is the most achingly beautiful thing in this world. I wonder that is why my demons don’t let go of me. May be they want a part of it. They want to experience love, and they want me to experience love with the same intensity that I experience misery. There’s nothing more exciting about being alive than having every fiber of your being soaked in emotions. I love my demons.

The very meaning of life is our very existence, in the way we are designed. Our senses, our thoughts, each of these are a key component of our consciousness. Sometimes you listen to a song on loop, because you can't figure out exactly how you feel about it. What is it about rainfall that uplifts you? What is it about love - it's energy wraps all around you. You can physically feel it shielding you from sorrows. We are born with all that we need to truly live life, in all its ways. Yet we squander for materialistic things, and that, my friend, is the tragedy. I love the very sense of doom that the human life is destined to; it is so poetic. Don’t mangle this poetry with preordained definitions of life. Discover your existence. Substantiate your life. Embrace your demons.

From the ink-blots in my notebook

Dear Friend,

I don’t know how you feel. Or how must I console you. I am not that good a counsel, but I am going to try. For all these years I’ve known you, I’ve watched you grow into an amazing person – stronger, yet mellow, with each passing year. But today, I am moved. I am moved by how strong you’ve been. I am moved by how brave you are. I can’t imagine a day in life without my beloved. And, yours has flown miles apart. How could you survive that? And still be so strong? I admire you.

Every time I see you cry I see a person stronger than I knew. Your heart is forged of tensile steel, stretching oceans apart, yet unbreakable.  Every time I see you cry, I cry – not because I am sad for you. No, my love. I cry because nothing makes me happier than to see you’re so strong in the face of such life-turning events. I cry because I see my friend has found untainted love on the face of this evil planet.

My friend, you are one of the luckiest people alive. You have a man, who has filled your world with so much love, that it physically hurts you when he departs. Cry. May be, it will make you stronger. I don’t know how things work. But I do know this – yours is the purest heart I have ever known. In the face of adversity, you shall rise from your tears, and fight those difficulties with a smile on your face. Not only because you are strong enough to fight, but also because you are brave enough to face your demons.

I can physically feel the utter mayhem in your heart. You're trapped in the same nightmare you keep waking up into. Days are turning into nights. Time seems to have come to a standstill, yet it seems like time is passing by too fast. You don’t know how to feel. What is it about love – it’s energy wraps all around you. You can physically feel it shielding you from sorrows. But, still your heart breaks. It’s not even consciousness; it’s just an awareness in the dark.

It must be killing you from inside every time he goes away. But look at you coming back to life again, just to see if he’s okay. Imagine that time, few years from now, when you see him again. He might have changed, grown as a person, lost some weight, may be. But, as he walks towards you again, smiling, looking into your eyes. You’ll know. You’ll know it’s the same smile. It’ll be like he’d never gone away. That, my friend, is an achievement; an achievement which ordinary couples like ourselves will never experience, may be because we are not strong enough to stay apart.

But you, my dear, you are made of far superior stuff – your heart is made of the stars, and who else, but you could be ever present in his life? You are the reason he holds on, when he wants to let go. Your love shields him from the evil, and your memories soothe him like a balm, at the end of a painful day. You are his everything. Don’t break down, my dear. I shall stand by you.

Absence is to love as wind is to fire; it extinguishes the small and kindles the great.* Burn bright, my friend. Burn bright. There is no greater glory, than to be forged through the fires of hell. The fire will give you power and your heart will give you strength – your love will rise above the ashes. You, my dear, shall survive.

Forever and always,

Your friend

*Quote by Roger de Bussy-Rabutin

Picture Courtesy : @geetshah26

Spiritual Anarchy

All these years, life has been changing. A lot. Everyday. And, I feel that substance – the shift from one day to the next. It’s like a boulder added to the heap every new time.  I don’t even blink. I hear voices and cry. I am trapped inside my head. It’s dark and cold here. Sometimes, I see the light. I feel its God coming to my rescue. I am not sure. Most of my days, I have found solace in religion. I have found peace in temples, but not in the heart within.

Have you ever been in an accident? It’s like when you fully recover from a calamity, but still feel the rush of the aftermath – that’s how I feel. You know, even silence is something you can hear. It’s even deafening, at times. Have you ever seen someone writhe in pain, screaming noiselessly? It’s the greatest outcry for help from within. It’s the heart crying.

I don’t know why I feel this way. I don’t know why I write these things. I feel like I am in frenzy all the time, trying to fight everything all at once. In my head, I’ve given up. I want to physically hurt myself sometimes, to see if bodily pain is greater than the heartache that I bear. I don’t want to die, but I often feel like I want to take my own life.

I’m free-falling into the recesses of my past. I am floating somewhere, mid-air. There is an odd sense of peace as I plunge into the darkness. I feel like I belong here. This is my chaos. This was where I was always meant to be.

Mid-afternoon ramblings

I walked the same road again. I missed her. I have never felt so forlorn in a crowd. Never have I felt so obscure on this road. I can see us sitting by the ocean, looking into its vast expanse and talking and laughing. We never held hands. We never kissed. But it was romantic. It was friendship.

I admit I haven’t spent all these years moping. I had been watching her from afar. But now it was time for us to meet. She lived inside her head now. Seeing things she wanted to see, conjuring images and bringing them to life. She was crazed. She loved the solace of her mind.

‘Hey,’ I said as I brushed her hand, feeling her cool, silky skin. But, she looked blank. Inside her head, I knew there was a storm and I could literally feel the energy from her mind exuding into the room.

I was scared, and I didn't know if she even recognized me anymore. But she just held out her hand and said, ‘Hold my hand, and I will keep you safe.’ This was my only chance. This was the closest I had gotten in years. So, I decided to do it. I closed my eyes, and lied down next to her, probing through the recesses of my mind for an ounce of spirituality. There was none.

In my entire life I didn't feel as religious as I felt that very moment, as I said ‘Dear God.’

I was right there, in that house. Broad daylight had transformed into the dark of midnight. In the very corner of our room, I saw it. It adorned a dark robe, and it was breathing. It was like smoke, but thick and somehow, alive. As it consumed me, I went on travelling to other places. I was breathing it, living its thoughts, feeling its cool rush under my skin.

I looked at her. ‘Now, is the best part. Hold on tight,’ she said smiling. The next thing I knew, we were walking through a path. Those coloured flags captivated me. We walked through the woods until we reached a cabin. It was like the place had no life. None. I didn't even know where I was standing anymore. As I walked into the cabin, I saw it. I saw it all. I didn't know if this was real, or was I just losing my mind?

All my feelings had taken form. I felt like my emotions amplified. It was almost like I was out of my own body and staring at another version of me – a more ethereal version of me. I saw us reunite there. I saw that were together again sitting by the ocean and being carefree. It was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. I felt queasy. As though the smoke I was breathing was slowly poisoning me. So, I let go of her and quickly walked out.

I saw her there – holding on to the bars of the window, peering into the sunlight. Her eyes were empty, and her face seemed pale. I wanted to bring her out of the labyrinth of emotions she had tangled herself in. I wanted to be the awakening she needed. I knew this was going to hurt me more than I could ever endure. I simply sighed, and looked at her face, and in that very moment I knew what I had to do. I reached for her hand and went back into a trance.

As we walked back through the mirth of the city lights, all I could remember was that faded photograph; but my memories were still afresh. There is nothing more fulfilling than pure, unadulterated friendship.

Alter Egos

I remember Jeremy. He was sweet, and harmless. When he said hello, it was like somebody had died. He seemed so constipated. Then I heard he stabbed that Parker kid with a butcher knife. There was no way in hell he could’ve pulled off a murder. He couldn’t even defend himself from little Jenny on her bike. The boy had no muscle.

But then, he’d done it. He’d stabbed Parker nine times. It’s been over a year that I look after Jeremy at the LK General Hospital. I’ve been meeting him for over sixteen months now. He still has no memory of that night. Then, there are times I encounter his alter-ego, Clive. He says he did it. Initially, I found it hard to believe that this could be true. But, I know when someone is telling the truth, and I saw the fear in this little boy’s eyes.

During my meetings with Jeremy, I saw different facets of his character. I met Marvin, who is the first, and the main personality living within Jeremy. He is twenty eight years old, has blue eyes and brown hair. The second personality is William, twenty one years old, British. These two are the minds that control the remaining personalities that exist within Jeremy. Clive is the mercenary who controls the frustration and hate. There was the poor criminal, Sean, who was always a victim; and, lastly, a four-year-old boy called Joey.

In the mind of Marvin, he had been raped by his step-father. He told me during our meet that he was eight or nine when it happened and he distinctly remembers the day like a movie playing in his head. What would a child do at such a helpless, tender age? He’s too young to report the incident to the police, and might be neglected by his mother. May be this was why Marvin had always been the suicidal one.


To gain a deeper understanding of Jeremy’s personalities, I met with his parents, foster care supervisor and school friends. When I visited the foster care, I noticed that boys were being bullied by young men and administrators. When I met Jeremy’s father, I knew he was the one Marvin was afraid of. He seemed like a person capable of molesting his son. He also seemed like the one who would indulge in domestic violence. I saw gashes and wounds on Jeremy’s mother’s arms and neck. When I asked her about it, she gave me that apathetic look. Well, at least I knew where Marvin and Clive came from. Jeremy was afraid, but he also wanted to act on his fear.

Jeremy was good at the arts, explained his teachers. But he was bullied for the same. The boy who Jeremy murdered, Parker, was a senior. He locked up Jeremy in the girls’ locker room and oppressed him for hours. To make this worse, he video-taped it and made it viral across the school. Imagine the anger within Clive. The crime scene had photos of Jeremy passed out in a pool of blood next to Parker’s dead body. The feeling of anger within Clive was so intense that it physically drained Jeremy.

Each personality had its own need to come out and live in the outer world.  For instance, in a dangerous situation when there is need for defence, Clive would come out and fulfil his duty. Another example is just before Jeremy was found at the crime scene of Parker’s murder. Two days ago, Sean had set out to find a new job, and over the weekend Marvin had been reading a book about Great Leaders. All these personalities had their area of expertise, and when Jeremy was in a peaceful situation; William took charge and decided who would do what. For most of the time, this arrangement worked out without a glitch.

None of these personalities shared memory with one another. Only William could see what the others were doing. Imagine every time you wake up you didn’t even know where you were, or what you were doing. I could only imagine Jeremy waking up in a street with torn clothes and wounds all over his body, absolutely clueless as to what has been going on. Of all the papers I found in Jeremy’s file, there was a detailed rap sheet of various crimes that the same criminal wouldn’t commit. He was accused of rape, shop-lifting, and gang violence. It was almost as if each personality had a violent streak to them.

Sean and Joey were more dormant. I figured they were more empathetic towards Jeremy’s life, and the few memories he hopelessly held on to. He may have had a few good memories, which could’ve been instrumental in soothing his aggravation. I wish I knew him better to help him. Jeremy’s story breaks my heart. He was found dead in his cabin few days ago. I just presumed it could’ve been Marvin or William. Weak minds like Jeremy’s can’t handle stress well. They can’t help themselves the way we do. May be Jeremy was a victim all his life, but wanted to break out of it. In his mind, Jeremy could have created alternate visions of his reaction to the oppression he was subjected to. Mysteries that are hidden in the subconscious mind of people and are not so easy to identify.

This kind of mental state is a hint at the depths and power of the subconscious mind. As humans we are the most developed form of species on this planet. We must have a wide perspective to understand the power of the mind. May be more testing into this disease might someday bring about methods to hone the central function of our body – the brain.

The brain is wider than the sky. We all have very powerful minds and, we don’t realise how our subconscious mind governs our daily life, slowly moving it towards the lifestyle we truly desire. The paradox of reality is that no image is as compelling as the one which exists only in the mind’s eye.

You can be whatever you want to be. It’s just a matter of how strongly you believe in it.

Never Gone

Never Gone

She held Mark's hand and led him through the woods. He saw a wonderful land where the trees were as green as they could be; sunlight was peering out of the clouds and a perfect rainbow drawn across the sky. He could hear a brook gurgling in the distance, and little splashes of water as they hit the rocks.

Mark gazed into her eyes as she escorted him deeper into that magical land. Although he was aware of the enthralling beauty around him, he was more engaged in looking at her walk him through the forest. Her face was gleaming, and she wore her hair loose. Every now and then she would glance at Mark and secretly smile as she looked around.

Suddenly, he felt his vision blurring into darkness. 'Call the paramedics,' he could hear from a distance.

   *** 

'Doctor, is he going to be okay?' Alice hurriedly scuttled across the hospital to get enough help for Mark. 'He fainted as he was walking across the lawn this morning,' she explained.

Lysergic Acid Diethylamide, commonly known as LSD, is a hallucination-inducing drug. All of Mark's tests came back positive for LSDs. Alice only wished she could be more concerned! Mark hadn't slept in six years. His eyes were always red, and he looked around as though he were gazing into a gaping hole. He was a wreck of a person - his soul torn apart.

Six years ago, Mark lost his lovely daughter. A rogue stabbed little Gina with a huge chunk of glass, while Mark crawled across the street trying to save her.

Mark sat in the living room waiting for his wife to step out. The Sun had set. The sky was black and orange; night was silently marauding in. The air was still. His face was blank, yet he seemed to know exactly what he was doing. Mark put on a shoddy blazer, which was the best he had. He looked scruffy and exhausted as always. His face still was hopeless, and his eyes, vacant as ever.

He silently turned on the garden lights. The cake was decorated and candles were lit. She appeared before him in that same blue dress. She wore those pretty pump shoes, and her favourite suede jacket, still bloody from the stab-wounds. As she approached Mark, he could feel the ice in the wind. A burnished aura surrounded her presence, as she simply smiled at Mark and nodded in dissent. In a blink of an eye, Mark lost her. He was immersed in a mysterious hue of colours that formed a mist in the air.

The desiccated tree haunted the arid lawn; Mark sat on the wobbling bench. The dangling branches of the trees formed an ominous claw-like shadow over Mark's head. Yet again, he poured a drop of that pungent liquid on his fist.

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Disjointed Thoughts At The Break Of Dawn...

“When to the sessions of sweet silent thought

I summon up remembrance of things past, 

I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, 

And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:

Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow, 

For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,

And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe, 

And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight: 

Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, 

And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er 

The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, 

Which I new pay as if not paid before. 

But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,

All losses are restored and sorrows end.”

- Shakespeare’s Sonnet XXX

Yet again, I ponder on emotions – So many emotions. Off late I've been thinking about friendship – who really is a true friend? More often than not, I can’t place faith in my own self. I feel like a stranger in my own life… As though I’m watching myself in a movie and time is just passing by. I feel so helpless. I can’t differentiate between dreams and reality. My heart yearns for what is not mine, and, my mind abstains from choice.


Loving yourself is not selfishness and being strong is an endearing quality. If someone doesn’t make an effort to understand you, it’s not unto you to speak it out. Put up a smile and move on. You deserve only smiles.


Feelings are not meant to be spoken. Feelings are meant to be felt. Feelings are never wrong or right. They just define your closeness to a person. Would you have felt a thing, if you weren’t so close?


There is no sense in belittling your feelings by always speaking about them. The more you express, the more you are taken for granted. Gather yourself. Calm down. Take a deep breath and feel your senses relax. Look yourself in the eye, and respect yourself for who you are. If you can’t respect the person you are, how do you expect the world to respect you?


Don’t waste your tears over someone who doesn’t understand why you cry. Don’t let your own feelings hurt you. No! Your heart will speak to you. Accept its premise and simply understand its implications. Just feel your feelings. Don’t complicate your life by trying to act on it.


Sometimes, inaction is the greatest action of all. The one who loves you will find a thousand unspoken words behind your silence; the ignorant will find no meaning in your endless expression and tears.


The more you seek out friendship, the harder it becomes to find. Meditate. Love yourself. Accept yourself. You’re the best friend you’ll ever have. Don’t let yourself down. There is no life without hope. May be life doesn’t turn out the way you want it. That’s really alright. Don’t let your Tomorrow recede beneath the waves of Yesterday.

Watch the Sun Rise. Feel the energy when Darkness breaks into Dawn. Fill your life with Light. Everything is luminous at the break of dawn, yet nothing is clear. Think of where you live and what you love – things that elude you. Let the realisation dawn upon you – You can love without complete understanding. Be your best friend. Let the Sun Rise into your Life!

Ponderings

He sat on the park bench, breathing lightly, observing his surroundings. May be, he was looking back at his life. Just then, I saw myself running towards him. It felt as though, time had turned back and I was 12 again. He looked at me running towards him and got up that instant – we walked hand-in-hand, as he regaled me with various stories. I remember his voice; my innocent laughter rings in my ears as he narrated stories to me. And suddenly, this picture is blurred into my tears.

******

Tears trickled down my face, as I reminisced time spent with my Grandfather. He was a man of old age – he was 80 years old, when I was just 10. Yet, I remember him walking in the house – headstrong, tall, yet mellow and smiling.

It’s very difficult to accept that a person in your life has gone away, to never return. You never know when a ‘moment’ would turn into a ‘memory.’ Sometimes, you want to wail your heart out just so that your shriek brings them back. But all you can hear is silence – Dead Silence.

I wish for his guidance, and I miss his wise hearings. May be, that’s why I’m dreaming of him. May be I couldn’t cry when he passed away because I was too young to comprehend human loss.

Tears came, a little too late, a little too soon – as, 8 years later, I know what it means to lose a loved one to Time.

It pains me to know that every moment of laughter will later only ring in my memory. May be, there’s too much amiss in this world – but our share of it, however imperfect, is truly tailored for us. Sometimes, I wish I could record every such moment of joy, and relive the memory – it’s only when I realise how painful it is: The Ability to Remember. Sometimes, you wish you didn’t have it. May be, life would have been simpler.

It’s very easy to blame a friend for drifting apart. You can ponder as much you want over your choices, they wouldn’t change. Your feelings will remain with yourself until you speak them.

Ever wish you had full-time access to some one’s mind? What if you did? Could you still change the way they thought about you?

Sometimes, you’re in the best relationship in the world, and it comes to an end – all you’re left with is a blank mind and a heart ripped into pieces. To begin with, may be, you weren’t as close as you thought.

It’s not necessary to explain every feeling you feel. May be you end up saying it because your hearts are not as close as you think they are. If they were, would there be a need to speak? When your hearts are too close for words, days, months, years of being apart never seem to matter. You know that you’re understood. You know that the bond is alive. It’s an odd feeling of unsettlement in your heart – the sweetness of being loved with the acidity of being apart.

As usual, I’m not being able to settle down on a single thought. But, I’ve learnt one thing. It’s okay to fall apart with people you love. Being truthful is what matters. Being truthful is very simple. Being ‘hurt,’ in my opinion, is an over-rated feeling. Sometimes, you think you’re very close to a person because you’re spending so much time together and doing all these important things in life. That may not be true. Deep down, in your heart, there lives a bond which you might not be aware of today. Look around yourself, and think – think hard on how every bond affects you. Nurture the relationships in your life. There will be a day when your moments will turn into a memory. You’re always going to have that sinking feeling in your heart, wherein you wish you’d done something more. Get ready for it. Someday, you’re going to have to look yourself in the mirror, and just hope that when you meet eyes with yourself, you’re not going to cry.

All these years, I never realised that my Grandfather was so important to me. But, I guess he knew. He was wiser. I knew he heard me cry. That's why he came into my dreams. He could feel my heart yearning for a lesson.

As I clear the mist around my eyes, I still see him walking… I see him walking away.

I wish he didn’t leave me. I need someone to hold my hand, and guide me through this world.
Nobody’s perfect. We all need someone.

The Girl Who Cried

Tears filled her eyes as she hung up the phone. Yet she made her way through the crowd and moved forward to work. Life hadn’t given her that option to relax or unwind and be who she wanted to be.

She had a plan. And, she was committed to making it happen. As she found a train and cleared her face of the big beads of tears it adorned… she noticed a boy. He was not more than 12. He was trying to make a sale.

His hands were full of cheap stationery products and too huge for him to hold. It was almost as if he was drowning into his own baggage, yet, he seemed to exude the determination to walk steadily enough and make a sale.

He’d made up slogans, and was singing them out loud. His eyes showed the pain of his struggle, yet somehow his face was lit up with a smile.

At that moment, she wondered, what misery this boy must face. She wanted to go there and give him some money, but it seemed too impersonal for the connection she had with him – any money would just belittle his troubles. She knew that no material gains would make her tears go away.

 She wanted to go and buy something from him, but she couldn’t find the courage to look directly into his eyes.  It was a matter of shame for her. She wondered deeply and closed her eyes to let the tears flow away, as she broke into a hint of a smile.

Often we pray to our Gods, asking for wealth, courage, happiness… May be what we don’t realise, is that, we already have it all. It’s very easy to ask for more. Greed is such an ordinary feeling. The feeling of satisfaction is rare. That is what saints are made of.

The girl-who-cried, realised how little her heart was, how shallow her thoughts were. True happiness lies inside us, but it glorifies, when we see the light in other’s faces. Most people are so busy with their lives that they fail to acknowledge their loved ones, or thank God for the roof on their head and the food in their plate.

We are so busy in looking into our own troubles and magnifying them that we turn into selfish beings just hollowed by our very existence.

The girl in tears forgot her misery when she looked at the pre-teen boy trying to make a sale. He didn’t lose hope. May be he was robbed of his day’s work by some sick drug-dealer, or he earnings of the day were taken away by his drunk father, or he had to pay for a relatives hospital bills.

The little boy did not even find a chance to enjoy his earnings, and yet she cried over a petty fight for a stupid movie or a dinner party. Isn’t there more to life than our own worries?

The little boy never gave up his grit and determination to make the sale. He moved on with his life, notwithstanding the circumstances.

The same stands true for us. The best thing about Time is that it’s never the same. If you feel the Good days pass by too quickly, so do the bad ones.

All I’m trying to say is, joy or sadness is momentary. What lasts is the deed you’ve done for another. For, any efforts that you make for the happiness of others will truly lift you above yourself.

Sadness is an inevitable feeling. Without it’s existence, we wouldn’t know what happiness would mean. So, it’s okay to be the girl-who-cried. But, don’t forget to thank God for all that he has given you. There will be a day, when it won’t be there, and however little you thought it was, you would realise it meant a lot.

Rise above yourself. Like the little boy was thankful, so you must be.

You must think that somewhere on the way in this write-up, there’ll be a moment, when the girl gets out of her own troubles and helps the boy. But that’s not what happens. When you have to give or share a feeling, it’s not about how rich or poor you are. It’s about how sensitive your heart is to a stranger’s life.

It’s ironic how a small boy with far less means than the girl, could help her forget her sorrows and grow. He gave her a gift… A gift of a moment that she would never forget, and a lesson for life which she would always cherish, no matter how good or bad the times are – he gave her A lesson of Gratitude and Togetherness.

Give it a thought – “How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a weary world.”

Let’s make an effort to look beyond ourselves and be humans, in the true sense.

Feelings

Sometimes, when you hear something very hurtful, there’s a physical pain you feel in your chest. It feels as though you’ve been violated.

Your world has been vandalised, and when you look around, you can literally see the good days just floating in empty space, blurring out into your tear drops.

Pain is a feeling harder to describe than love – the feeling that eats you up and throws you down and vanquishes your faculties to even act coherently.

To every person, his pain seems the greatest. Truth is very hard to accept, but it’s even harder when you not only accept the truth, but also embrace the consequences that come along.

And, it is that wretched moment, when you want to speak your heart out, however much shipwrecked you may be…

It’s unnerving when you muster up all the courage you have, to confront the one you love about how you feel.

You’re short of words…sometimes, breath! You’re choking at every thought and your head spins, but you feel you’ve finally made it. You’ve shared how you feel. The battle against tears has not been won; alas, it has just begun.

‘Painful’ isn’t even the word, to begin with. You try to be numb, but you are not. You can feel the agony in your heart – you feel a physical torture inside your head and the inflictions of those emotional wounds on your corporal being. It’s like your mind is numb, to everything but the hurting and throbbing; your head’s heavy and all you see is a glare of colours disintegrating into their natural forms – you’ve lost the capacity to distinguish between your pain and reality.

The heart aches for love, and it aches more of curiosity. Expectation is such a bitch!

It’s painful when you can’t convey how desperate and lonely you are for someone’s love and acceptance. What stings more is, when all the courage you’ve amassed, have turn into hollow words – because, they can only hear your feelings, they can’t understand.

Follow Your Heart...

From the Ink-blots in my Notebook...

Sometimes, your goals seem too close, yet too far. Like, it’s a hard day’s work, taking you no-where. You feel exhausted and lose hope; and, all-the-same, there is a voice inside you that pushes you towards it.

You’ve been with yourself forever, but you just can’t seem to fix the puzzle in your own head, that is, - What do you really want?! May be it’s the closeness that blurs your view; may be standing further along and judging would give you the vantage point you need. May be, it may not.

All you need to do is continue on the path your heart feels is right. Love your family, fear God, and be honest with your day’s piece – you’ll get what you deserve. Don’t leave any stone unturned.

It’s very difficult, sometimes. You think you know what you really want from life, and suddenly you’re without a plan.

May be, that’s it. Life has no plans. Life is unpredictable. You just have to live it. And, the day you reach your goal, however sooner or later it may be, no one can take it away from you. It’s your achievement, you worked for it – No one can take it away from you.

And now, magically, when you look back at the time you spent, you see the plan unfold. All this while, when you were flustered, now seems like a good day’s work – your journey to success.

May be that’s all life is about – being truthful. It’s way too simple. Wonder how people manage to complicate it?!

Doing what you love best shall never let you down. Failure shall not hurt you easy and success shall not render you proud. It shall humble you – give you an odd sense of unsettlement in your heart, to push yourself a little more, and compete with yourself. Cause, that’s the real measure of competition – open and the toughest, where you challenge your own faculties. Mind over mind!

Think over it. May be, you’re wrong. Yes, you have been with yourself all your life. But, make sure you aren't seeing yourself in the light of how others perceive you. There’s a little voice inside your heart trying to scream out what you would really covet. You’re dimming that sound within the drone of the world’s expectations. Nevertheless, you hear that voice humming.

Think really hard before you decide – Are you judging yourself too much?

Colours

Where do I go? I wonder. There is this ardent desire to break free. I wanna fly.

I have been thinking about these colors for some time. I feel like they’re almost trying to be vocal. They’re almost like a cure for my pain. Or maybe a consolation to my fears. They seem to break my sense of disillusion and take me into a beautiful world- a bright, lively and vibrant world. Yet how is it that every time I try to feel them, they seem to disappear?

There is much more to this tint than being a mere figment of imagination. Or maybe I am just foolish enough to try and find meaning out of something so trivial. I don’t know. The more I try to discover them, the more intensely they seem to blend. They seem to merge to such a extent that a magnificent glare is produced that blinds me. And soon enough before I regain my senses, they crumble into their natural forms… and I am back to where I began. So significant, yet so alarmingly inconsequential! I almost figured out what they were trying to tell me, and suddenly my words come crashing.

My words are not eternal. It is a harrowing process of blending together, yet it takes only a split of a moment to disintegrate! Just like, it takes a lifetime to come together, and a moment to withdraw. Wonder how do I forget things? They haunt me. I am hanging on a hope that is already shattered. The idea of forgetting is unacceptable, and remembering things only makes me realize that I’m desperately trying to maintain a promise that is already wrecked. Its vexingly eccentric. I am beginning to understand my slow slide into madness.

Words

It’s like time has played the most ruthless wager on me. Pen testing … 1... 2... 3...

Works! Hah. So, words just flow through a pen? It is a medium for thoughts to flow, and not the origin. Where I stand, right now, I wonder why each and every relation in my life seems so distant. There is a sense of disconnection. Like, a certain level of understanding is lost.

There is an emptiness in my life. Ugh. The more number of people I meet, further lonely I feel. Is there anything I can fill my life with?

There is a thought in my mind which I might fervidly want to express at this juncture. But an effort is being taken to forgo, and move on. Nonetheless, the effort is otiose.

Paradoxically, where my strength emerges from, is where I need it the most. Like, my mind exudes so much power that eventually it can’t get a hang of things for a while. It’s grueling.

There are people I love. A lot. I wanna give them my love, and feel good, probably great. The exultation of gifting love, which is so perfect. Impeccable! I don’t know. I don’t know where this write-up is taking me. May be it’s just helping me tune my judgments, which are precisely, extremely harsh on my own self.

Like, an explosion of thoughts, and fragmented images joined together to form the distorted picture of my chaotic life.

Time is not the greatest healer I’ve met. Nonetheless, it remains the greater preacher I know of. I promise to do full justice to it.

This pen doesn’t seem to be the perfect agent of my words. Thoughts are still rambling. I can’t seem to find a flow.

Probably, there is none. Probably, all I need is nothing. There is nothing that is amiss. Yet, this stretching hollow in my heart; it’s like the tunnel that separates me from the rest of the world, where I hear various significant voices reverberate, and tell me something so inspiring, yet so alarmingly inconsequential as opposed to the vast hollow of the tunnel. Worthless, muted and woeful. Like voices are dimmed as I move forward; only to find myself completely absent in the world I have created for myself. Like, I’ve gone adrift; perplexed, I can’t find what I’m looking for. Where am I, I wonder. I’m tangled in my own labyrinth of words. Words, that empower me, only vanquish my faculties to sensate, comprehend and respond. Like, they’ve left me with a feeling that I can’t even dredge up, or achieve all my life. A feeling that leaves me, with nothing but tears that wordlessly flow down my cheeks. Wordless.

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Think, again!

12:00 pm
June 30, 2011
It’s about knowing how you feel, yet not knowing how to express it; when you feel so important, yet so
insignificant at the same time. You feel happy, like on top of the world, yet petrified as though it’s the
last moment of your life.
It’s the fringes of life that make your head spin, and it’s so ironical that joy and sorrow almost always
stand juxtaposed to one another, and mostly you can imagine posing right in the middle of them –
trembling, confused and fighting for breath!
Sometimes, you wonder which could be worse – A moment of happiness filled with tears or a life of
tears knowing it couldn’t get worse!
It’s all in the mind. It’s all as you see it. Ever wonder who conjures up these images in your head? Why
have you turned into the person you are? Why did you ever make decisions you regret? And, how
uncanny it is, because you’ve been living all your life all this time, yet you don’t know what you want
from it?!
Why is it that you run after building a house and buying a car? And how is it meaningful if you have no
love to share it? Who is your true friend? What does a well-wisher mean?
Sometimes you wonder if you could break free from all the chains of these norms and do what pleases
you and say what you feel. If only you could open your heart and cry out loud, or, dance around life a
buffoon to express your joy!
Your sorrow does not emanate from the money you earn, but from the people you hurt; more so, your
happiness does not emanate from the riches you gross up, but from the smiles of the people you love. God didn’t intend money. God intended love, and he brilliantly filled the world with it. It is unto you, to
find it, and embrace it.
The truth is, you know it all. You always know what you want, you know what you love, you know
who you are and you know how things will be!! But you’re afraid. You feel judged. And you want to
prove yourself to a bunch of people who don’t matter anyway! There is nothing about your life that
must baffle you, and there is nothing that you don’t know. It’s only love that your heart craves for. It’s
acceptance that it cries out loud for!
You could be yourself, and God has tailor-made one such person on the face of this planet, who’s
capable of loving you in countless ways, however ugly you may be – Cause we’re all very ugly people,
made of more bad than good. Yet there is one person, who is a friend, a lover, one who cares silently
and lends a hand in the hour of need – A friend who loves us without a reason; someone who’s always
on our minds, someone we can never get enough of– The one person we can love all our lives.
May be that is why they say, Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder; yet somehow they vouch that Love
is blind!