A place to scribble words. Allow them to take shape. Sometimes they lead me to a merry dance; sometimes dancing to their own tune or even running away.
Maybe one day they will tango with me and then....
Monday, November 28, 2005
Games I play
smiles and laughter abandon the eye weight intangible bog down shoulders
mornings feel grey pink dawn unseen words ring false deserted I feel
blooming unhappiness life in constricting veils culprit I seek in innocent you and the fate
painted by laughter pink sky and shining words dancing in glee, I cry vanquished you all
after all you are just bones and flesh two eyes and two feet anger, unexpected laughter so warming then why did I on meeting you break the mold, shrug off veils; to find freedom some call it love
Why does fear come up again and again? It reveals itself, in it's many hues, to remind that the limitations, the blockages, the barriers in life are the same thing - just the veil that it is covered in, the make up that it has donned makes it appear different every time. In moments of connection (is that what it is?) I recognise that it is nothing but lack of faith, the non-acceptance that stops me from living life to hilt, from feeling ok/happy.
Big words; convoluted ideas; and yet that's been the experience.
And the icing - when I live in the acceptance mode - acceptance of myself, my feelings, my likes, dislikes, of people as they are, of their actions, of my expectations and recognition of the fact that they are mere expectations and not life's duty to fulfill them, of desires, of fears, of the baseless ness of these fears, of unexpectedness in life - suddenly am ok, am ok with everyone, am ok with everything, and amazing grace seems to flow. I feel light, the smile dances on my lips, the laughter bubbles in my eyes, the heart feels gentle, people feel gentle, the attitude of being there for everyone automatically happens and I feel as if I am ready to tackle anything and nothing less than best would do for me. It was in one such instance that I realised that I wanted to write. Write so that even I would be blown over by the words. Now I understand what Kabir's doha means "aisi vaani boliye, mann kaa aapa khoye; auran ko seetal kare, aapahun seetal hoye".
I have to write and I have to write so that one day I can experience that emotion - of the writing being just right...
"Damn you. How dare you? Do you take me for a wimp? If you can, so can I." she panted. Suneeta swung her arms wildly. She fought off Sumit and at the same time tried to avoid the blows he rained.
Who would have thought that he could change his personality so dramatically. He was kind and cheerful and popular. Everyone liked him. They loved to invite him for get togethers, for a cozy evening with just a few friends, in fact for every occasion. As soon as he entered a party, the energy level would climb up a few notches. He made people laugh. He managed to coax even the shy ones to mingle and have a good time.
Very few knew about his other side. He could be sarcastic. His tongue could turn rapier sharp. And he could turn violent - physically violent; mentally violent. But this gift he saved only for his beloved. His beloved wife. The wife whom he loved. Same wife for whom he waited for eight years till her parents finally accepted him in her life; till they agreed to accept him.
What happened to him? What brought out this animalistic side? Suneeta questioned him when his anger would subside. She searched for answers, looking for clues but came up empty handed every time. She even wondered about his sanity. Was he taking revenge for all those years that he had to wait to be accepted? Did he resent her decision to cajole her parents rather than rebel against them? None of the questions explained his behaviour when he was angry with her.
She had a perfect marriage. Her husband was doing well. She was attractive. She was intelligent. She was successful. She held a senior manager position in a multinational bank. She was an object of envy. But she felt very lonely. She needed to talk to someone. The shame, the guilt, the embarrassment stopped her from opening this aspect of her life in front of anyone. Just once she had tried. Only once she had let her close friend Raima see the mark of brutality; told her that he had hit her in anger. But Raima didn't believe her. It was apparent that she thought that Suneeta might be lying. One look of disbelief was enough for Suneeta to clam up. She knew she had to carry this burden herself.
So she smiled and laughed. Her laughter was deep. Deep enough to drown the anguish. The anguish of the soul battered by love of her life.
Someone recently asked 'what's your idea on love, life or maybe peeves and rants'.
I thought about it and realised that they were very jumbled up, half baked ideas. Not the kind that I would like to offer to anyone just like I would not invite anyone to taste a half cooked pizza or a half baked cake.
Initialy those words created a jumble of thoughts. Actually those tangled bunches were already in my head but I became very aware of them. And then slowly it appeared as if someone had unplugged a pipe and they were slowly leaking away to leave blank space behind. I no longer seem to have a single thought that could even hope to pass near the reality of life and love I had experienced or that even seems possible. The sheer beauty, the elegance, the power, the exuberance, enormity, dimension, the size of these two tiny four letter words just take my breath away.
The language, the words - they all are just too inadequate. How could I ever show even a glimpse of what I have experienced till now with these inadeqaute tools. I need my hands, my voice, my tears, my laughter, my energy and still would not be able to describe them as I think they are. And this is when I have almost sleep walked through most of the moments of my life.
But I will try. I have to. There is this need, this enormous need, to talk. And I will....
when the curling moonlight met the unfolding sunrays when the hesitant bud bloomed into enticing flower when the firm beliefs met the shattered knowings when the tears of the child met the spreading smile when the parched lips met the drops of rain when the vacant arms met the new born babe was that the moment I woke up to love perhaps it's the moment I woke up to love
I unwrapped my heart and gifted myself… ...freedom ......From entangled desires, ......limbs and breaths ......and those glances covert ......that we shared. And then I let go of final string… I gave wings to memories today.
It's not about words .........nor is it writing it's not about paths .........or pace of our walking it's not even about fear .........or what we sometimes call passion it's simply about you and me or perhaps nothing...
