Floating Laments

They fly by the edges of consciousness,
unending;
mostly without a beginning either.
Some sigh,
while some others cry
Some simply whisk by
some others
smile
with all the tenderness
you've ever known,
and that you will never know.

Floating laments
They sometimes come by...



In my spree of unarchiving, I've been discovering quite a few of these. Some I'll post, some of course, I won't. This is perhaps one thing about writing - the complete right you have over it! heh! - The transient traps of ownership.

At times like these I wonder what is it with unfinished things. Unfinished letters, unfinished cards, unfinished paintings, unfinished affairs, even an unfinished emotion for that matter, seem to rake up, much more in you, than you knew existed. If I detach from personal experiences, it is also intriguing how much perspective it adds. It's like tumbling down a rabbit-hole of feelings, trying to decipher some, some just slipping away in plain sight, some others never there, and some catching you by surprise by their unexpected intensity. 'What happened then?' you begin to wonder. Well Love, Life did!

Shei golper resh

Something that I'd archived again. Exactly a year ago. It's amusing how Life brings you a full circle, time after time. Unconscious, yet so omnipresent.

Aaro khanikta bhalobasha

Kotokta chena, kotokta tatotai awchena

Khuje pawar por abar kore hariye jawa' 

Golpo shuru, golper desh

Shei shuru, shei shesher resh

Khanikta kuje newa

Tarpor abar shei shurute hariye jawa

Everything begins, so that one day it will end. The only thing that a beginning ensures is an ending. However long, short, amusing, enthralling, mundane, regular, aggravating it is, one fine morning, everything except for it, will be fine. That morning, it will die. Alongside, so will the smiles, the pain, the associated memories, the smirks, the hidden delights, the confusion, the wry smiles, the comfort of familiarity and everything else, good or bad, or good and bad, associated with it. You will have nothing else to do, except to accept it, and then perhaps with some more time, embrace it. There will be nothing else left to do with it, except to preserve its memory and then one day, that will die too...

It’s an incessant loop at the most, a vicious one, in the least. Today, tomorrow, yesterday, and day after... all will come and go as it will. You will make a set of choices, life will move on, pause, sing, dance, romance, cry, wilt and then give way to another chapter.  The beginning of each chapter will bring with it, its own nuances, tenderness, the rough edges, but however it is, the traces of the end are ingrained from the very beginning. That is the nature of life. That is the nature of existence. One gives way to make space for another, and then another, and then another, till one fine day you finally finish the book.  However long or short it had to end, so it did. There really is no deeper meaning.

Like another friend says ' We are afterall, islands' :)

...for we are also what we have lost

I should have posted this a long long time back. My usual year end-new year beginning post, this ideally belongs to that category. However, anyone who knows me enough, also knows how soon i get bored of trends, patterns, or anything that has anything to do with repetitive quality, even if they are my own. So here is goes now - i hope it breaks another of those inane frenzied circles. 

This is perhaps also a reminder. To myself. Of what I seeked then, and am struggling to keep now :) 

‘...for we are also what we have lost’

We live in the illusion of a better tomorrow, perhaps in the hope of a better tomorrow. Someone once said, that hope is perhaps the cruellest of all emotions!

Everything that was wrong today, will be fixed tomorrow, what was broken today will be mend tomorrow, all that was lost today, will be found tomorrow! Everything will be allright. Tomorrow.

What we tend to discount in this equation is perhaps that a few things that were not-so-bad today will go worse.  Then is it not a constant bargain? With faith, with your circumstances, with chance? What you are ready to stake for the sake of what?

Another whole year has gone by. It brought with it its share of the roller-coaster ride. Some bits i thoroughly enjoyed, some pits i thought i’d never get out of. Then the next moment came along. In the course of the meander, at those opportune moments when you begin to think you’ve lost the way, it perhaps takes just one stroke of luck, optimism, relentlessness, call it whatever you will, to make that your very course. And tango on. Because that’s what you do, when you get tangled up. Because there simply isn’t ANYTHING else to do.

In a similar conversation with a friend, i remember her insisting, that everything cannot always be wrong. There will be a time, when things will fall in place, because that is how life works, and if that seems to be now, i’d rather embrace it. I’m not too sure. What if the stakes are too high? Then again, what if i choke and die tomorrow?

Life is relentless. Perhaps it is beautiful, like nothing else, but it’s a bitch too. It’ll screw you over; it’ll then give you the strength to gather yourself, set the pieces of the puzzle right again and then wham! You were looking for a different picture altogether. 

Last year was a year of many epiphanies. Of many heartbreaks, of many heartaches, of realizations, simultaneously of many slight smiles, of many makings and that of many learnings. A lill more of the rose tint has peeled off the glasses.  A lill more of the journey covered. Some strangers embraced, some embraces estranged. Some lessons learnt, some rewritten. New people, new circumstances, new roads, all the newness that i was earlier this year getting somewhat jittery about, have been out to the test of time. And none has failed me, neither have i failed any.  It is amusing, to say the least, when you look at life as though it were cinema, rose-tinted glasses or not. I see this person sprinting, from one place to another, from one set of people to another, from one quirk to another, to look for happiness or the semblance of it, relentlessly, sometimes a woman, sometimes the mere makings of one. 2012 ran a full circle. As i sit here and type this away, i’m once again sitting in the shelters of my quilt, safely tucked in, in the comforts of what they call home. Everything that deserved a second chance, has been given one. However, one thing is different. Today, i do not wish to run away. I’ve the knowledge to my satisfaction that i embraced the roads, and drove while i needed to. After another tedious journey, today, the sense and semblance of home rakes a queer sense of comfort. And that, i’m still trying to get comfortable with.  

Chasing the semblance of the illusion of happiness? Perhaps, but then again like another friend stresses, we are walkers. And till such time the road stretches, we shall keep walking...

Convenience.

We all find a convenient version of the truth to tell ourselves - a convenient version of the lie we choose to believe in. Self-preservation is paramount. You always seem to be able to find something that you believe in, to surpass the something that you don't believe in. The last straw perhaps. And as amusing as it is, it is a different 'last straw' everytime. Heh! One thing though, that this whole process of self destruction-preservation cycle tells you is that, nowhere, in no part of your existence, will everything be allright. There always will be something amiss - that one huge gaping hole that you are trying to fill, with everything else that you have. And in doing so, you would have used up something else, to its last minutest bit, and in the process created another huge gaping hole. Life is perhaps, indeed a constant cycle.

I heard this somewhere 'Truth is singular, any versions of it, are, mistruths'