What's the point?

What interests you more?
The comeback, or picking up the old fragments of what you were years back?

We start something. We think we will stick with it all along, through everything that will be thrown at us. And then while we are tottering our way through the thick fog of everyday life and viewing the world through the smokescreen, we forget our old muses, promises and our images. Before we know it, we do evolve into completely different human beings, made wiser by the mistakes, blinded by new pursuits, smitten by the temporary dazzle of fresh people we have come across. Soon, before you can sense it, such things will be routine. Somehow, everything that has ever been precious to me has always slipped into the background , as if to protect itself against the onslaught of the on-the-face present.

And the best quality to seek, find, nourish, teach and learn is how to forget everything and keep moving. What matters is what we need to do to the ones who we are leaving behind, what stories we are going to stitch with them, how reassuringly we are going forward. It's the look in your eyes, that's the only thing that is going to stay with the ones behind. The stories, the graceful exit, the silent signs and promises of possible comebacks. 

Silent nights.

It's a mixed feeling. It was raining for days at end, to the point that I grew sick of it. All my washed clothes fell down and got drenched all over again. Initially, it seemed to be a refreshing change as the sky darkened and cool gust of wind started bringing the smell of earth to every seeking nose. But then the accompanying channels of water all over the place spoiled everything for me. To add to my misery, I found a cute pomerian hovering around a market, looking for a shelter from the pelting drops. Looked like it was abandoned by some rich family and some other canine had annexed its coveted kennel. It was a sorry sight and as I pencil in my thoughts tonight, my mind is consistently being drawn back to that poor dog. How desolate and lonely it would be now!

There is a little kitten that loves to stay in our dormitories. Her was a classic case of separation from her siblings and her mom. Her other frolicsome and perhaps more naughtier sister was run down by our relentless bus. But the fortunate kitten that our little one is, she was saved by our guards. She is as intrepid a cat as you would ever bump into. She has taken a liking to humans. She lifts her paw and chases your fingers deeming them to be some insect or her eternal foe, a mouse. If you are daring enough to get near to it while she is a bit sleepy, you can make out how much she loves being caressed or how she curls into a ball in your lap shedding all her fickleness for an hour of beautiful and rare peaceful sleep. I am a little worried about her. How would she survive the dreary winters and aberrant spells of rain? On second thought, every solitary kitten in the jungles or our gardens fight all odds and grow up and so our kitty would too! I hope she will.

For me years have worked the other way around. When I was a kid, the very sight of a dog appalled me. I steered safely past them and could never quite pat,caress or fool around with them. To me , they were a mad lot chasing rag pickers and suspicious men who never liked people drawing close to their meals. Cats were more deceptive and seemed more shy. They walked gingerly and were always on the prowl for milk or anything they could lay their whiskers on. As I have grown up, this sense of unfamiliarity has been replaced by a feeling of curiosity. I want to know them. Although I am yet to lift a dog/cat on my lap, there is a surge of love and satisfaction which holds me whenever I find a dog/cat engrossed in its own world chasing imaginary preys or enjoying forty winks on the beds of my friends. To them everything seems new and filled with possibility. They don't get bored walking the same lanes or sniffing the same soily corners. To them a park never grows old or a house never seems bereft of enjoyment. They would always find something to indulge in.

In a way, life too is a quest for that elusive thing that would keep us engaged all through. That one thing which we must seek all our lives without getting tired or bored. That little thing, procuring which, our faces would give the widest smiles of contentment. Take your pick. Live for it. Forever. Until you find it. And then rest in a benign way like the kitty on your lap.

The past is well past us!

A dry spell again! A rough patch or a sudden aversion is all it takes to stay put in the cocoon where I find solace and silence. I am not a cynical man. For that matter, I have loved life with a vigor which surprises me. But I am just sick of routine. I am not tired of the darkness that seems to envelop the world. I very well know that I am also a part of the gloomy picture. For some, I am the most sinister of minds that they have ever come across. I want to extend my apologies to such souls. If I had a device to turn that angst you feel when you bump into me into something lighter , I would have done that straightaway. Alas! I can't.

There is no need of remaining crossed with the state of things, forever. Every other day some ugly situation would arise in an unprecedented fashion to give you a bite of reality. Sometimes your worst dreams would come true. Friends on whom you were relying all your life would pull the rug out from under your feet and leave you deserted. Life treats you shabbily at times. It is a blunt truth. The sooner you realize that, the better.

What then remains to be done? Unwarranted outcomes, deliquescent relations would always remain there no matter how earnestly you want them to wane. It is very natural to get disillusioned in the face of such adversities. It is perfectly normal to shed some tears and shut all windows. But for how long? Invariably I have felt that eventually your heart settles down, starts gaining the poise and it conforms to the bad realities of life. Then it sends you a silent omen that signals that it is high time you started looking for newer options and broke the shackles of the past. And that is when you should cease the moment, kick the past in the butt, make friends with immutable truths and set out on achieving something more realistic. This time don't stake everything you have on one dream or even worse on one person.

The past is never past us. I may serve a thousand diktats here and still you would cling to it. You won't forgive people who ploughed through your heart. It is impossible for most of us to accept that our trust has been met with outright treason. But is past that precious as to barter all your happiness for it?

No body can improve the things for you. If you are in a pickle , you have got to pull yourself out of it. The past is like that creepy herb that would impede your progress by entangling you in it. How long you want to be in its captivity is entirely upto you. Every one has an innate machinery to deal with the ghosts of the past and come out shining. It might seem flimsy but losing your ground to old mishaps ain't the way.



Being unhappy forever simply doesn't sound right.

Enough is enough

Am I obsessed with myself? I only dish out angry, silly rants that no one even bothers to entertain. I am tired of writing about myself now. For a change, I want to stop patronizing all of you with conceited shit. Now, I would offer everything under the sun but myself.

* A philosophy is not philosophy if every one swears by it.

All of you are encouraged to halt my train of thoughts and opine in whatever way you can.

Silence is deafening

I have never known why silence intrigues me so much. Often when I stop by a famous book-store in Pune, my eyes seem to hover around for someone who is all engrossed in herself and perusing through some unknown novel. Fixation doesn't stop here. There is a certain charm in silence which words, somehow, have never been able to tap. I have lived alone, with a thousand thoughts bustling in my mind and but still have managed to look calm on the outside. I have celebrated alone and have adorned silence as a coat to hide my earnest desires of being loved/ cared back. I have always loved silence- but somehow I have never volunteered to smear myself with it. It just so happens-that life makes me a loner, murders my will to talk and a sudden huss replaces all the silly blah-blah that was rambling across my head. Sometimes, silence is thrust on us. At times, I have nursed a desire to sit besides my friends and talk to them about everything in this world, but I have found no one willing enough to listen to me.

I have always impressed people with my glib conversations- some have just marvelled at my never-ending zest for life, some have grown tired of my voice and have distanced themselves from me. A particularly sad incident happened a few days back when a summer intern at my place summoned enough audacity and darted straight to me and said," For all your wisdom and nature, I find you irksome. Your talk bamboozles me. I can't stand it.". It was so straight in the face, so brutally honest that I wasn't even able to respond properly. There are a thousand answers I have with me now but the sheer honesty of his confession is what has held me back. Why! I can't be interesting or engaging for every bloke on this planet. All I managed in retribution was , "It's ok". That was all I could muster and then silence prevailed. If I was a shadow of what I was some months back, I would have issued him one tight slap and would have not thought twice before doing so. But silence has conferred me that humility to inhale the severest of criticisms. Voice, on the other hand, has only earned me flak from everywhere. I am a terrible speaker, it seems.

So where I was? Silence draws me. There is this one particular intern, this time a girl who has captured me. She is so calm, diffident and drawn to her books that I can't help but admire her. Sometimes I have this strange urge to go upto her and listen to what she has got to say. I am sure her silence has got something more than what meets the eye. An agony or a broken dream, who knows?

I am still at a loss of words. A part of me wants to hit back at the impostor fella and let him know that I ain't a sissy if I haven't answered him yet. A part of me wants to embrace silence so that no such guy ever-ever comes to me with such blunt truths. The road to recovery seems to be a weary one.

Quickfix

Ok. The hiatus ends . A calm resides in my life after a flurry of upheavals. Life is so transcient. After long contemplations, battle with thoughts, turmoil, isolation...I feel like a pariah who has just been inducted back into his native village.

How is this summer treating you , pals?

Late addendum:: I visited someone's blog today. It was so full of wisdom, strength that it reminded me of a time when even I emanated that vibe. Well, he goes beyond that.

The art of rediscovery is something you pick up when everything you have learnt or believed in over the years , goes for a toss.

Fare not well! Fare forward, Voyager.

People often complain that I tend to be very mundane and preachy. A sermon is the last thing one expects from someone like me. On the surface, I have always been the one with life trickling down his eyes, all embossed in festivity and never letting sorrow get the better of me. It's time to shed that cloak forever. I have put on that veil of happiness long enough . Deep down , I am dying. A slow but certain death. I am dying with every passing minute. The falseness of the world is killing me. And the worst thing is that the dome of situations encircling me has led me to condescend to such a low standard that sometimes I am ashamed of myself.

I am only a shadow of what I used to be. Anger, Jealousy, hopelessness is turning me diabolic. All of you would pour sympathy on me and drench me with your concerns. Or even leave me unscathed inside the refuse of my own being.

I am retiring from everything. In the lookout for my lost soul. Till I find everything that eludes me now, I won't return here. A prolonged wait in store? May be... but sometimes it is better to stop than to keep moving into the shallow marshes.

Adios.