Thursday, May 24, 2012

Unending pursuits...

It was late in the evening when I stood at the balcony of my house looking at the world outside. Street lights sprinkled colourful ellipses on the tar roads which overlapped each other like in a Venn diagram. These areas of interaction added more colour to the dark road which was now dolled up in all hues and shades. This happens to her every night when she lives her Dream of Colours in her otherwise dark existence. The moment sun begins to fade away to brighten the existence of some other world, she waits with bated breath for the daily make-over she goes through with such elan.

Buildings reflected each others' lights with an underlying fervour that comes from a sense of mutually shared responsibility. At a distance vehicles moved with a steady noise. An undercurrent of uniformity running through all that bustle. The roads around me stood there silently trying yet again to soak in all the colours just to be disappointed the next morning. Some car would pass by once in while acting like a bump in the otherwise smooth flow of consciousness pervading the world.

The sky looked menacing with eleven dots of fire spread on it. These eleven dots of fire chased each other in their pursuit to become bigger by engulfing the others. In this otherwise anarchic world some rules persisted which made these fiery dots stay in the sky and not bring down their hot pursuit to the earth. A distant moon, living in reflected glory, stood there watching this blind pursuit dispassionately. He wished for a quieter existence but the stars were beyond his control. For what can some one living under the reflection of some other entity say to those who have fire of their own? For the world, he was the king of the sky when in reality he was just a lone sad old man who looked at the earth with a longing seen in lovers who were once together but got separated by a cruel turn of fate.

A tall Ashoka tree, painted black by the night, stood in front of me forming a bridge between the earth and the tumultuous sky like the magical beanstalk. The chaos of the skies finally had some effect on the earth and a strong directionless wind started blowing. A stray polythene bag which was silent until now started fluttering wildly. A plaything for the mischievous wind, it danced to her tunes. I saw it moving uninhibitedly around the walled campus seemingly enjoying its gifted freedom, believing that it has wings of its own. Just then it got stuck in one of the pointed iron rods planted on the campus walls. It tried hard to free itself. Its moves were so desperate that even the stars forgot their pursuit to look at it. The entire world went still to watch the struggle for freedom. I instinctively moved towards it to free it and let it take its flight of freedom but then thought better of it and came back to where I was standing. The freedom of the polythene bag was not real but induced. Once the wind goes, it would come down to where it previously was. I let it realize that it never had any freedom but was just a plaything of the wind. The realization finally dawned upon it and it gave up. The wind moved on to some other spot to pick up some other toy. The stars resumed their chase and the vehicles kept plying noisily. The tar road kept trying to absorb colour. I went inside to catch some sleep.

Friday, May 11, 2012

Rolling Into the Abyss of Happiness

The vast green fields undulating
Like the rhythmic tones of Mandarin
The joy of rolling over
Rolling into the abyss of happiness

The tiny cherubic flowers
yellow
green
red
purple
Like tiny colourful stars in the green sky

Soft velvety sun rays
Smooth as marshmellows
Massaging the mind and soul
The lightness of being
The urge to keep rolling
Rolling into the abyss of happiness

The ribbon-like stream
Of honey and milk
A hiatus in the vastness
A break from rolling over
A reality check
A need to quench thirst
Thirst from rolling over

The cool breeze from
The distant snow capped mountains
A reminder
Of the end of one era
And beginning of another
As you roll away
Into the abyss of happiness

The Body
Becoming Green from rolling over
and
The Green becoming the body
The soul pervading the Cosmos
The Cosmos becoming the soul
The Cosmic transfusion
The becoming of One from many
The undulating rhythm of life
In its highest form
The cosmic joy of Oneness
Of no boundaries, no separations
Of rolling
Rolling into the abyss of happiness

Sunday, May 06, 2012

Tough Woman and Water Hyacinth

They call me a tough woman. They say I can make a come back with a broad smile no matter how bad  things are. So now they have the licence to trample me with the nailed heels of their boots and I am not supposed to shed a drop of tear because you know what? I am a tough woman! So no agony. No pain. It is all for their gain. I look at people playing with my most precious possesion stretching it beyond recognition, breaking it like a plastic toy while I am supposed to move on.

Move on..

Two words that I am supposed to swear by. Words with which I have an inseparable association. Words that give me company when all others fail me. Like water hyacinth they permeate my world, my existence, my vision. And just like water hyacinth, they do not belong to my world. They are invasive species brought about by a careless traveller who stopped by my world for a while, touched somewhere deep at some unknown place and left his traces there. In the form of Water Hyacinth. The dark green bulbous stalks have long strong roots tightly holding on to me just as I hold on to them. Like a vicious rumour it has been spreading its tentacles around and I struggle..... to move on.

I am a tough woman so the flowers of spring do not make my heart smile with joy, the wild chirping of birds fall on my deaf ears, the soft breeze fails to cool my soul. I am a stone which no acerbic words and acts can erode. I am a make of different space, time and substance. So you can kick me with all your might. I will roll down the moutain of wrathful hope, unhurt. Nobody asked me if I was strong, nobody asked me before kicking me down. An a priori truth, an axiom which everyone belives in. With no consultation I was branded as strong. With this burden I shall live until I crumble under its weight and then I shall seek the yellow fragrant flowers and the vast blue ocean which would welcome me with open arms. No assumptions of strength and I shall give in to the waves of freedom. Freedom from unthought ideas and presumptions, from the words of courage and beckoning. Freedom from the roots of the Water Hyacinth. Freedom from moving on...


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Meanwhile, here is what Milan Kundera has to say,

"...And therein lies the whole of man's plight. Human time does not turn in a circle; it runs ahead in a straight line. That is why man cannot be happy: happiness is the longing for repetition."