Together forever

Gerber Daisies

I love you, you said
and took off with yourself and idea of me
The blissful flight onto the moon
and beyond into the stars

While I waited patiently
you landed back onto terra firma
We cooked a lovely meal together
At the table you look me in the eye
and say ‘you aren’t the same anymore’


Trailing off to serendipity

A usual summer day’s sandstorm had past by, leaving the plants in my tiny garden as if descending into their grave. Washing down the plants. Being hardly attentive to Tanya. She was going on about her job at the school and how everything would ave been different if she had decided to work at the local newspaper instead. Life was like dust and heat piled on everyday with a yearning of rain, trying to remember what it was really like to have the aliveness in her bones. The split life like many others of the repressed yearner and the mechanized worker.
The self on its own spur slips along the same way, ever deeper. An interruption, a wave of inspiration from without the bubbled self stimulates and brings the slipping self back from the precipice.Back from the edge into the mundane. From the gorge onto the cliff…

is a snapshot . a momentary capture of a few wavelengths, many missed in between. the prism of emotion/feeling accentuates some and the others are lost forever. When I look back I just have a constructed truth, but its not the whole truth. A speck called me in this infinite expanse, capable of assimilating no more than a whit, only that I dream the whole of the grandness could live in the whit.

If i get the core of the light I see a path/a hole into the real truth, a la Alice in wonderland, been through, I get to know myself, myself without the worldly noise.

Family Ties

Its been on for seven days in a row.

Dripping hair, and soaked to the skin, I struggled with the umbrella stuck ajar. Nope this little monster would not give in either. Checking past yet another, in a string of flops for the day, I ran through to the street to the platform to catch the local train back home.
Its one of those long monsoon runs, lush greens and grey skies, full of din and flashes throughout the day. All good, one would say for a view from a room, not if you have to scamper around town for work, in the slush and mess under your feet.

Feeling the chill of the rain, metal of the train, my bones are numbing. And home is still a long way away.

All for a prospect client, who did a raincheck at later than last minute.

But, its been seven days in a row.

I’m losing hope and running out of money.

Cold and tired, I walk into my house. It smells damp, dark and lonely.

Warm and dry now, I brew a pot of coffee, I still cant feel my hands too well.
As the pot is about to coo, I hear the phone bell ring.
Not in the mood for another disappointment, I tend to my warm coffee, ignoring the call. I need some quiet, peace. Sigh, I need to take this.
As soon as I reached out for my phone, it quietened. Here we go again… the string of flops..

It was a call from my sister. Leading a busy life in a big city, in a distant land, she had all in life that I aspired for, except time. Invigorated by the coffee, and the one off call from my sis, I decided to call her back.

She chirped in a hello in here usual cheerful voice.
I being coffee invigorated but still mellow, managed a meek one.

Rounds of catching up and we end up reminiscing about summers, koels, monsoons and mangoes. Our hot cups of tea and steaming hot savouries to go with it. Oh just the imagery brought it all back, the warm and cozy evenings by the window side, chatting till late and sharing dreams of hers and mine.

Monsoons back in time, we had a handful of dreams still left to pursue, many more forgotten, strayed aside. The call didn’t last too long, she left me with ‘Just doing your best counts, just keep at it’. For me it worked like a crackling fireplace and blanket in a cold winter night.

Collected and inspired, I sat down to wind up the presentation for yet another client prospect to meet the day after. By and by, the pitter patter mellowed down and I could see the sun peeking by the clouds around sunset. A brilliant play of colors around the sky scape.

All in a days work, full of sunshine and rain.

For Sunday Scribblings prompt, ‘the Call’

A thing of beauty

Getting back from sickness, I ve had a long lazy time in the bed for the last four days. Yearning to be on my feet again, I jump to the table with my laptop, reading the numerous feeds queued up in my content aggregator. And then in a glimpse, lying on the black and glass desktop monitor I noticed a white speck move.

Nearly dismissing to be my sick tired eye’s illusion, right there as before, I see it again, better, a bright white blob with fine white eight legs.

Before I could absorb its white striking beauty, it hopped onto to the matte black cabinet. To make its visual opulence even more surreal against contrasting backdrop, akin to a diva on a red carpet, capturing attention. There it landed, leaving behind a glistening silken thread working past the edge of the box.

Enraptured I got up, grabbed a colorful supplement from the Sunday newspaper – thumped it on the edge of the cabinet. Scooped whatever was underneath, and, the crushed ball of paper and all was in the garbage bin in no time.

I am what I seek

“My major hobby is teasing people who take themselves and the quality of their knowledge too seriously and those who don’t have the guts to sometimes say: ‘I don’t know….’” -Nassim Nicholas Taleb

We’re born into an illusion. Grow up to live in and create perceptions of us and the world evermore. In fact buying into and working around the illusion is the only way one can navigate through the life here. It’s the only framework available here, one gets into the game of life and has to play by the rules. Most of our life thus, is spent perfecting the game and scoring the points as the rules dictate. The only difference between being lost and having a handle to the railing is in being aware that there is an illusion. As the guard of awareness goes off, the railing vanishes and one simply falls infinitum into the deep dark hole of the myth.

Though Taleb meant the above in the context of once awe-inspiring now hated financial pundits, this ailment of believing your own myth seems all-pervasive in these times. Is the reason that the life’s illusory myth has self perpetuated to such a complex level that it is harder to keep up with the other half of the void of the myth? The balance to seek between the self, hidden and marred by role-specific perceptions and expectations; the life, in all its material manifestations and limited time; and in the and the game therein, of perfecting the rules and workarounds about it: to me, is the aim to seek in my time here. Mystics and spiritually enlightened folks, from their high pedestal of having been there, done that call others ‘ignorant’. I understand the spiritual journey to be a very personal and internal endeavour, one that is catalysed and guided by the trials and tribulation of the illusory life aforementioned. A guide should be able to nudge to on track if you go astray, but nothing can push you or bring it to you unless you respect it, seek it in earnest; and, perceive yourself to be worthy and ready for it. A seeker seeks and cannot be shown. To each his own, in this long hard journey. There is no one single highway or even a single destination. There is no formula, and probably no answers at the end. An individual evokes respect, if his is a sincere path treaded with earnestness and awareness that the absolute is a semblance.

The perception link

The Akira Kurusowa movie, Rashomon(1950) exemplifies the effect of the subjectivity of perception on recollection (the Rashomon effect, named, after the movie). Its a movie that lingers, long beyond its done being a sequence of visuals and sound. I am in no way a movie buff, but i like the ones that tingle me in some way or the other..and this one did. Being simple, and nuanced in its treatment. Movie aficionados would find more adjectives on the technicals of film making; but I channel the movie’s subject to my understanding that a person is her perception and all that is tied to it. In realms of higher consciousness, all observation is superfluous and transitory. Even scientifically, each living creature is limited in its grasp of the environment. Humans cant hear the same audio range frequency as bats do. Cats cant perceive colors as we do..and hence, each of us have a limited observation leading to peculiar perception. A perception guided further by our needs and, in context of consciousness: beliefs. And so, what we are at a given moment in time, is the sum of our beliefs. Its the tuning force of our perceptions and actions.

Beliefs, are acquired over time..mostly based on events and situations experienced before. But I find some people more keen on experiencing the unknown than others. I would imagine that spirited people are in the process of building up their beliefs while others are at the stage of adhering to the beliefs they have. But is it frugally possible to experience beliefs as a stream and be treated as a repository to go through our lives? That would be the same as being in a fluid state of being, without defining an image of yourself. Not holding on. Unprejudiced. Open and accepting towards life as it comes.

I do not know how many experiences can I have through my lifetime, but I do not want to miss relishing the ones I am going through. Present to this warp of time alone, and none other, whichever way it makes me feel, but it does bring about an extreme emotion..and I want to savor it, wholly..the succulent fruit that i slice and roll over my tongue to feel the texture, smell and the burst of nectar when I sink my teeth into it…the flavor of the moment. Life is made of beautiful bits!

déjà vu

I grew up with a mystical reverence for water..and dreamt in my adolescence of living in a quiet city where water is cardinal to its existence. Freed from my protected abode, i wished and prayed i be in the place i am now. Even before i knew it, i had left a line for here..months later, touchdown and it felt like home!

Over the years i lost any yearning, my dreams all in a pool of bountiful keeps and wonderful discoveries. But i lost something in me that knew. Struggling to find the light, i faced the dark, fighting my fears, vanquished but resolute, my spirit ebbed and flowed.

And then, i staggered out to feel like myself again, be touched by the emptiness and its expression, that could only be mine. So, the magic happened once more, i sent a wish and the universe boomranged it. Lo! I was in the woods which hold the promise..

This one was like reading ‘the Alchemist’ once again.
Surreal but so life-like. Its the magic touching me once’s an intoxication!