Spot On

This is where I went for a holiday. Wait, let me rephrase that. This is where the family chose to vacation at.

 

There was the sea, the sand and the sun. Too much of all of it. Not the best place to be if you dislike the water. And the sand. Yes, the sun too. 

Far too many people too. Again, not the best thing if solitude and quiet is all you really want. 

Still, here's what made the trip worthwhile.

A quiet dinner out with my guy.

An unhurried cup of tea in the morning without the pressures of responsibility waiting to gleefully squeeze the life out of my day.

And a bookstore I had discovered on the internet, and had vowed to find in Goa, when I visited. This is the place; an old Portuguese house with an abundant garden surrounding it, and carefully selected books up for grabs inside it. I even bought two books for remembrance sake.

I’m back home now, and somehow, the trip to the seaside only confirmed what I had known all along.

That this, my warm li’l corner in the study, will always remain my spot of choice, holiday or otherwise. If I want the sun sometime, I’ll open the blinds. If I want the blue sea, I’ll change my current Transformers wallpaper on my computer to one displaying some random sea, with some random beach. If I want to see the hills, yeah, they have those too.

But maybe, the best the thing about the study is that it’s my space, and I fit perfectly into it. That, and the essential fact that it comes with a door.

Abstraction

You realise the best way to be alive is to feel...something, anything. So you try to savour each and every little emotion in all its hues, both tints and shades, turned on to maximum. But somewhere down the line, even too much colour overwhelms, and there’s nothing you’d like more than to settle for some monochrome. For a while, at least.

But there are times when your brain refuses to read colour, even the dull monochrome. Sometimes, there’s this random, snow-like static that pervades your mind and possesses you in an undefined restlessness. It seeps into your day and takes the attention away from everything you do. It’s a feeling that you can’t quite peg down, but it’s there...following you around and hollowing you from within. And no amount of work, or routine, can quite distract your mind from it.

So you carry on doing what you usually do, hoping it’s a phase that will run itself out. And most often, it does. But sometimes, in those rare instances, it doesn’t. And when it stretches out longer than you’d expect, you know, with sudden, alarming clarity, that what you’re going through is some sort of withdrawal. That the addiction that gave birth to it, has consumed your spirit in brilliant, blazing orange and gold, and left behind grey, scattered ash and dust.

And that even in the midst of possible ruin, you’d do anything to hold on to this bleached, illusive dependence. 

 __________________________________________ 

"The memories are shadows, ink on the page." 
Five Finger Death Punch with Far from Home

Unforgotten

In secret mental spaces

Lie submerged...

Some feelings, unspoken,

Some stories, untold…

For silence, I have learned,

Is a faithful friend

And love,

The chief restraint. 

Dog-gone it!

You never know what you want till you don't get it. 

However, more interestingly, as M once commented on this blog,

You never know what you don't want till you get it. 

Cheers! :)

Once Upon a Dream

Sometimes, our fondest dreams come true,

Simply because, the universe is listening...

________________________________

Here’s a ghazal I associate with a dream, and with destiny. 

बातें...

बेज़ुबान बन जाते हैं ये होंठ

तुम्हारे आने पर

लफ्ज़ न जाने कहाँ गुम हो जाते हैं...

समझे ना यह दिल इस बात को,

जब बेक़रार मन करता है बातें तुमसे,

हर पल.

Remember a Rainy Day

It’s been raining incessantly for the past week now. It’s been raining memories too; memories of another time, another place, and rain…always, the rain. 

I like the rain when it falls softly, gently…

It reminds me of my first kiss, from a boy I had secretly held in my heart, hoping, yet never expecting to be loved in return. But it rains magic sometimes, and some of that must have touched us and kept us together, if only for a while. I remember that kiss now, in that magical, misty rain, and the wonders of first love.

I like the rain when it beats down relentlessly…

It takes me back to the day my bike had refused to start – thanks to the rains – and I had had to push it all the way home, from college. What had made me ignore the near-pneumonia the weather had almost given me, was the company of the boy who had walked me home that day; who had pushed my bike for the better part of the journey and had made the hour seem to rush by in a few i-wish-they-never-ended minutes. I remember the wishful beginning of my last love.

I like the rain for the remembrances. And I like the rain for all those feelings they brings back. But lately, call it growing up or growing old…

I like the rain, mostly, when it stops. 

I give you Smokie, with 'Have you ever seen the rain'.

Now She’s Fat and He’s Bald

So apparently, it’s all about appearance these days. She won’t consider going out with him coz he’s not ‘hot’ enough, and he won’t give her a second look coz he thinks she’s a plain-jane. That’s ok, I guess when you’re teenage-young and forgivably stupid, but not such a good excuse when you’re older and looking for something meaningful.

And yet, take one look at the matrimonials and you see that almost all ads for brides begin with ‘Wanted beautiful, fair, tall girl…’ or ‘Handsome, fair boy seeks…’  And in that mad scramble to find a groom, you have columns that read ‘Wanted groom for beautiful, slim, fair girl…’ Leads you to believe that the usp for the marriage market is good looks, good looks and good looks.

So what happens ten years down the line, when father time catches up with mother nature? What happens to the passion that was once fuelled by beauty? Does it die down in change, or does it finally find different reasons to linger? 

I find that beauty is merely an advantage for getting that first look, but it takes beyond a pretty face to sustain it. And I guess most people do have a sensible head screwed on their shoulders, because when I look around me, I see plenty of couples who may not look breathtaking, but definitely look happy! The only conclusion I draw from this is that somewhere, growing up, people stop looking at beauty, and start looking at worth. 

And then, there’s that maverick feeling, love.

The thing about love is that you can’t force yourself to fall for the person who wins the most ticks on your list. Or withhold it from someone you may have never considered at all, even. The heart itself is beyond your control, and maybe that is what eventually equals things out. And then, it’s not about being attractive, or holding that perfect ‘bio-data’ that brings two people together, but quite simply, the understanding and unconditional acceptance in another’s eyes, and that special feeling that gives more joy than anything else ever could.