The beautiful past before everything – i

“Nothing goes waste.”

I said to myself. Overwhelmed for a moment, I took a deep breath.

Beetles squealed as they made their signature noise. Why are they so many in numbers. One out of every four animals is a beetle after all! Amazed, I pondered at that thought for a moment.

“And that’s too much noise on a silent night!” I said to myself as I walked across the room to close the wooden door that looked over the balcony.

I unwrapped an envelope I’d been holding for too long, in my head rather, my hands holding them for a moment, for I couldn’t gather the strength to let those years of nostalgia flow back in my head. I caressed it, closed my eyes and remembered how she must have penned down words after words, expressing her feelings.

She tried so hard. I told myself.

“You didn’t need to.”  She would have heard in an utopian world. But that is not where I am. And I must push those letters back in. Let me sink into this feeling, that I’ve developed a sickness towards these days. Pondering over forgotten past is nothing gained.

 

The Meeting

“Do you remember?” I asked her.

She quietly stared back at me, her affirmative gesture in her eyes and a short lived hum.

When I remember those days, I still hear us talk, our excited souls, hands clenched onto the phone yet softly we held onto each others’ conversations. To be young and in love. A teenage love affair. Those were the days of passionate nights and long unforgiving afternoons.

One fine hot sunny day, her name alone had my attention fixated upon her. And only I know how I managed to speak to a lady for an indefinite time, for the very first time in my blooming teenage life. I talked in a subtle manner. I must have sounded moronic but nevertheless I felt suave.

I could sense in her, that excitement one has when one is guilty and excited of doing something secretly, out of the ordinary and how she enjoyed that. I gave her my number to bring her to confidence. She was unwilling at first of course, that was our very first time…

(To be Contd.)

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NEURASTHENIA – II

Only a weak strain of light shimmers in the backdrop. The tides raise their pitch. It disturbs her. I cover her up with the quilt a little more as the evening sets in.

 

A Nostalgic Dream

Taking not one stop past Nilgiris, we had left the old Mumbai road far behind as if a distant memory. The breeze from Arabian sea pacified the moist and sweet summer through the silk curtains in the dark room as the wind blew over my face while I lay in my bed, a sweet lullaby to my ears. 

I think I overslept for she was nowhere near to be found. Stepping out towards the porch, over the steep cliff I could hear the maestros playing by the palm trees cast in the backdrop. I take it to be somewhat of a grand function organized by our gracious hosts for their private amusement who had been kind enough to leave us undisturbed for our own little honeymoon.

An exhilarating feeling, as I took a deep breath, amazed by a life of contrasts. Here and there.

“Here, I have no concerns for tomorrow will be just like today” I said to myself.

Unlike the bustling streets, the unforgiving traffic and hyper metros of Mumbai, what lay before me were beautiful palm trees, white sands glittering like diamonds for sale and a beautiful woman behind me bringing something very familiar she  had found earlier in the morning, in her hands.

“The breeze never stops does it, here?” I asked her.

“And its always that sweet smell from this porch. It’s beautiful.” She said as she crossed her arms around my arm.

I remember her words so vividly. Her eyebrows arched up as she raised her head, eyes pointing at me, hair flowing with no destination in mind.

“Was it you humming in the washroom?” I asked her slyly.

She nodded, handing me a fresh cup of coffee handpicked from the garden of our very own little guest house, then doing her hair with her hands. At every step, I glance her with a different perspective.

(To be Contd.)

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Celestial Flight

Time was knocking on my door
And when I opened
Suddenly the gush of wind caught me
And pulled me along with it
I was flying, being in its arms
And experiencing the space at last
Where there was no emotion
Not a residue of hallucination
As I rose higher , I saw the glitter
The bejeweled sky and the earth as star
“How mean!”, I asked the wind
“You want to possess me,
You took me so far.”
And then it replied,
Not that I don’t want to possess
not that I don’t want to love
But my fair lady,
can you know the beauty by being below
Can you measure the magnitude of the glow
See with me ,see the sun and the moon
See the morning glory and moonlight charm
I am the one who knows all the beauty and that’s why you are in my arms

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The newly wed

So many sides that aid her defences,
As many sides that aid his’,

 

A mans’ insecurity baffles a woman,
When he spits words of fire, so does she.

For then the woman doesn’t understand a mans desires,
it lasts for the moment and the heart becomes vulnerable.

For times he longs her to admire,
And offer her comforts to his needs.

All that a man seeks is knowledge,
Knowledge that will set him free,

Knowledge that she knows him too well,
And so does he.

Eclipse, Dark, TRACEs and light

Ageing clocks have ticked away the lives of flowers that have reached their very nadir. With time, average mortals wither their expectations. They shudder, they muster their long lost strength. They despair and hope.

With age, their glory and hopes decline, their years of nourishing a dream they have in their minds that befits the young and steady starts forgetting them. The wise and old, they falter. Some stammer, some tremor. They leave the warmth of a bed they had for a companion for years.

“This is that eclipse” I tell her.

“I remember.” She nods.

“Yes you have lived through this before”

And she will live through it once more with me. Says the Sun, to the moon.

Darkness is all about valuing that time. This is when one musters faith and the other holds hands, in times of metamorphosis, facing each other ever so close to each other. Nature is full of surprises. She changes with time as so do the sun and the moon, during these times of the eclipse, who have been a witness to her dance.

The two heavenly bodies circle this blue eye in space, unending darkness and streams of celestial light playing their game they have played since the birth of time itself.

“We don’t get time enough to spend together” Says the moon to the sun.

Facing each other but never faltering on duties. Only in his light, she shines. They don’t talk much, except for the eclipse, that auspicious moment that humans so reek of, in fear. They join hands when others hide. In this time, when one shines over the other, they learn to embrace each other every once in a while.

Men succumb to either extremes. They burn up in his little flares or get consumed in her darkness. Only a few understand the balance.

One dawns upon the other and the other basks in glory of their partner. A time when they make merry. Only the sport, the adventurous who have waited for this moment witness the beauty of this play between the light and dark. They know the two are incomplete without each other. Life, in its spectrum, covers all such contrasts.

“We will meet again.” He beams his strength to her.

“We will.” She stares back at him as he beams steadily at her, signalling the ray of diamond is about to burst, a celestial gift to her no mortal can keep. Into light.

The sun. My king.

Neurasthenia – i

Great Expectations. Chasing Time. Hurried Life. Neon Lights.

Closes eyes. It’s sunrise or sunset. Waves playing melody to my ears. Under a black and white lens, I can see all the shades of her skin. The feature of her nose, her eyes, hair flying tuned to the rhythm of the breeze.

No more ads, no more noise. The clutter of information far in the distance now. Grains of sand my friends, they give me company watching her embrace the winds, soak up the weakening sunlight. Black and white is all grey. The divide between fast life and gradual real life.

No more hollowness, dissatisfaction due to a perception that others are living ‘that’ life where they have it all. This is a sense of completeness. Having nothing in my hands but the strands of her hair. Makes me feel superior, full, satisfied, glowing and at peace. Contrast it with the feeling two years back, trying to get out there and reach it..silly me. Life’s like some traveller show in a beach with white house and a white sailing boat and beautiful partner walking on white sands.

Great expectations to become that figment of our imaginations.

“..This intense burning desire you have..” She says. On the part of common people to become millionaires, or merchant princes, or railroad kings, or something beyond their powers and opportunities, where no hero rules, she has lived that silly life. Netted brassier, doing the jive, shaking her hips slow to the beat, inviting me into her comfort zone where everything zaps out.

“Welcome to the limbo land.” I try to tease her.

“No this is not that.”

Driven by our aspirations, imaginations, thoughts and information, everything explosive by nature and here we are stilled and silenced.

“This is what the world needs.” I tell her. A gradual push of her hands and we are back underneath our purple sheets. The sun shines through the glass.

“I love this rhythm. It’s the beat of this soil.” I tell her.

Far away from the modern sickness of neurasthenia.

The lovely but silent barren hills have something to give. I turn my head up embracing the gentle warmth of the sun, looking over the sky in all its discipline, leaving all the flutters and mutters to us humans. As she sleeps on the sands of this beach, a lady sings atop a mountain nearby a long forgotten lore. Soon the sun will set. The silent mountains fascinate me.

‘A little stroll and I’ll be there.’ I think to myself. The sweetness in her voice is evident, like the sweet and tangy pulp of a ripe orange.

This is the setting, this is that holiday. This is the day everything starts on a lotus leaf, a little boy floats in the silent sea before me, in the midst of strong waves, when she comes from the far above, in the sky adored with all kinds of exotic jewels one could think of, reminding the boy on the leaf of who he is. This is the setting.