It’s been ages in my head since I last made an entry in my blog. As I sipped my lukewarm milk tea (an evening ritual) , I started to think about how human beings changes with time. I remember five years back , I practically begged god to let me find some another job, not that I didn’t try but I just kept on failing one year after another than another. Ironically that one job I thought I won’t survive for one month is the one sticking with me for last five years , well I have started with my 6th year.
Today, I am just somehow grateful for the work I do. I might sound irrational here but it is definitely one of the best things that has happened to me.. The challenges I face everyday is something reminds me that I am capable of handling anything that comes in my way. I am less afraid and more courageous. All these years while I failed or succeeded , I remember sharing both with my friends.
Few years back, I thought friends are just mates with whom you share few things. But with growing (apparently when life kicks and slaps you and you look for someone to console you) you realize that you do need them. To celebrate success to vent out anger to tell them how you messed up in your job or marriage or anything. You just need someone to tell to that “it’s okay” or “Work hard, you got to pass this time” . They are the one who just stand by you. I wouldn’t be wrong If I say , I found myself a cheerleader in these years.
Though everyone would agree that adulting is definitely not a bed of roses but when you see your friends celebrating your existence even when you are physically away from them , you realize that it’s not even bad. The joy I feel because of them is something that makes me grateful every single day. They bring me close to what I truly am and I think knowing yourself is not less than any achievement. After all a good friend is definitely someone who introduces you to you.
Thermometer flashed 103, looks like The fever has reached the core. The body shivers,mind enveloped with the question why? Yesterday, you danced like there was no tomorrow until you realised there aren't going to be any more tomorrows with him.
Today, Grief has made her sick.
Sadness lingering in her mind has finally found a way to reach her bones.
It's strange the doctor said, grief could make you lose your strength.
Get well soon her agony said, mocking her with a big smirk.
This body is like a frame Our souls are the paintings Like the one we see In the art gallery,
The frames are usually made of glass, wood, or maybe cheap plastic Yet handling the soul made of soil With depth of honey and Burning sensation of coal.
our soul fights everyday to come out of the frame, almost everyday to scream and breath and lie down on the green grass of our lawn and gaze at the open sky, Only to realise, Maybe the frame is not just a frame but a maze of karmic connections.
There are endless reasons for us to remain in the maze Yet we need just one to be out of this world...
Eventually the body is yet again just a frame within the frame.
Love, It’s 3 am, you are asleep but I can’t close my eyes. Woken up for a long time, what should I do? I thought for a while and then a thought sprouted and I imagine you talking to me, Talking? How many days has it been since we last talked? Had a conversation? Well, we have been avoiding “The Conversation” since 2019. Yet you are peacefully asleep in other Country, other state, other city and I am wondering when the sun rays will strike the window panes and I won’t regret that all the metaphors, similes, and imageries elude me at this time of night when I hold my pen to write to you of my loneliness, sorrow I feel each day spiralling round and round engulfing my heart and soul in its loop deep.
Before I am stuck in the loop, I got up and drenched my hair in cold water, searched about the hair care remedy, read poems and yet it’s just 3.20 am.
Overthinking? No! No! No! I have learnt a trick of wearing the elastic band on my wrist, Already pulled it twice. Ah! It’s going to be a long and tiring night.
This question has haunted me for years now. what is love ? Everyone tells us that it is being happy in someone else's happiness, it is accepting someone as they are. Love is imperfect, it's imbecile , It's sane and insane and could be counted on fingers. No, It can't be counted though but it can be measured as in the depth of your heart.
Everyone told me how to find love, With this advice , seek love as it is seeking you. okay ! I agreed and did as adviced, Seems like it is seeking me in some parallel universe.
So I stopped.
But after giving it no serious thought for past few years , Today out of a halo I learnt what love is.
Love is breath. Before you assume what's new in my argument ! Let me tell you this theory I came up today at 4.30pm.
Love means the air in your lungs which can't be expelled. It doesn't matter if you do/don't pay attention to it. It will remain there.
Few years back In biology class I learnt about the residual air that remains in the lungs and that's what I say is love. That air is present even though you slowly inhale or quickly exhale. The momentum of your breathing has no impact on it. There is no if or but about its existence . It remains unchanged irrespective of the lungs volume . It just is. Until one day you realise that it is at the verge of leaving your organs. That day is the day when you truly understand that with it gone, you will stop existing.
I am dragged to one secluded corner of the room by an unknown woman, I don't think I know her, She looks like my mother but is too brave to act like her.
Well, the story continues...
While she dragged me, I had a vision In which the abuses he hurled at me in the past were visible, The most recent one being called a bitch. A child born of your blood is called "bitch", Well that's unfortunate I thought and stopped the train as in haste.
What do you say, my dear reader, was I right?
No, I don't mind being called one, Should I let the opinion of one man leave an ugly impression on my mind? Sometimes I think I should let all the abuses be absorbed, Some day I am a little braver, And pity him for his words.
To be frank, I find the later section more courageous, full of valour So, I tend to hear from an ear and take it out from another.
But the woman today made me stand in a corner, Went back into the room Asked him if I deserved the words he spoke to me?
I apologise but it doesn't make any sense, Why is she talking about me? Doesn't she know I have learnt to live without being affected? Yet I heard her And remembered someone telling me It's alright sometimes When someone decides to stand for you.