a higher purpose...

The complacency of laziness – the art of laziness – relater – one who feels and finds solace in his comfort zone - in the home we have built for ourselves – in the rented space we seek to make ours for this brief time – we frame our pictures and hang them on walls and create a sense of ours – we seek to cover our lives in a layer of soothing familiarity – to escape from the fact that nothing is familiar – a new life a new home a new us – inevitable change defeated by framed movie posters and a collage of black and white still photographs – yet the unfamiliar isn’t altogether frightening – in fact it has become the perfect oasis of comfort – my new comfort – my beanbag replaced by an expensive couch and my sheesha and flat screen is now ours – individualism subverted for a better cause –a higher purpose – companionship – the kind that smells of fresh pine and freshly baked brown bread – the kind that you come home to each evening – and collapse in its manifold seductions of tranquility and belonging – and now you truly know what it means to come home – what home is – not just a collection of ikea – but a person with whom – home truly is – and then you realize that is isn’t about brick and mortar at all – but about who you share the space with – and then it doesn’t seem so criminal to think of moving on again – because you aren’t really moving on you’re just occupying some other space somewhere else – with the same person – home is where the heart is – home is where my heart is – her.

Song of Myself*

No Array of terms can say how much I am at peace about God and about Death.
I hear and behold God in every object, yet I understand God not in the least, Nor do I understand who there can be more wonderful than myself...
And as to Death, and you bitter hug of mortality... it is idle to try to alarm me.
As to you life, I reckon you are the leavings of many deaths
No doubt I have died myself ten thousand times before.*

I return to myself.. into my own self preserving shell.. I am but an illusion of my best self.. I am escaping and missing out on my honest self.. who knows.. I know.. I know not.

Of all the realities to imagine this is the one that I never imagined.. to be so far.. while she sips alcohol in the realm of the familiar.. stretching back to what was.. As it becomes what is..

My anxiety is for myself... no reassurances can work until I trust and thereby reassure myself.. It's like you're living waiting for an epiphany of some sign that you don't have to worry.. don't have to wonder.. that it doesn't matter.. that trust is enough that love is enough.

And there is love.. so much love.. real.. like the fear of loss.. for the first time in nine months and two days I felt afraid of losing.. to an unknown variable.. that I think is what scared me the most.. frightened me...

But I return to myself and realise that just to enjoy life and all its wonders you put your whole life itself into that pursuit.. you wager life itself in a bid to live more... patience... one needs calm.. against or with the wind sometimes you do need calm.. it's not being still if you choose to be still... If it's your very own choice...

And that the reassurance does work... its a mental self construct that you need to realise is nothing but imagination at work.. the cynical fear of something you can't touch or taste.. of some thing unknown and it worries you...

I flee from that which worries me.. I ignore it.. hoping that It'll go away.. oft it does.. or it recedes back into a harmless oblivion and you shrug and smile a half smile in the realisation that you were panicking. Sometimes it's real but not really, and you come to that realisation with time and calm.

If you want it you need to come and get it... to grasp it.. to hold that comforting thought that'll pull you through any sort of anxiety.. of her.. and her hair.. and the way she looks at me..

I return to myself in those moments of calm and worry no more.. I say I love you.. and mean it.. and worry no more...

I sleep a peaceful sleep.. I write a another scattered piece of my life.. and I return to myself...

It's all right.. It's a part of the whole process.. you can't ignore a reality that's sitting in front of her and making small talk..

You accept it and trust her.. and know that as you return to yourself you return to each other and that the feeling of being part of something more.. of something wonderfully more is what it's all about in the end...

I return to her and to my song of myself...

*cf: Song of Myself, Walt Whitman, 1885

second guessing eventuality...

is mod se agle mod talakh... humko bhi saathi chalne de...
haar aur jeet to hoti hai.. khel to yaaron khelne do...*

i've always held that life is a journey.. to be sucked dry.. that the sheer gamut and vastness of experiences holds more in it.. than most of our imaginations can even begin to comprehend... that just living is enough... through pain through heartbrake.. jobs... people... cities... relationships... they come they go.. come around goes around.. and u move on.. head held high.. and a sense of purpose..

tell me how he died...
i will tell you how he lived...**

but i will say this... it feels good to put my head on her shoulder and know that i am loved...

cynicism has been good to me.. its made me realise the value of taking this step that i have.. i cherish this moment.. of happiness.. so much more. because even though i've spent the last two and half years running away from it at every possible occasion.. i've yearned for it with all my soul...

to belong.. to be here.. to wake up knowing.. she's mine...

i never imagined that i would be able to willingly let myself be vulnerable again.. now that i know that i am... it doesn't scare me so much anymore.. it makes me smile instead...

its a world of possibilities.. lets go exploring...***

it really is...

hi... so we should catch up then... when im in delhi next... heres my number...

mocha... conversation... sumthing...

endless conversations about music.. and each other.. endless messages about absolutely nothing.. rain.. lyrics.. events.. nothing.. everything....

a delhi trip... a disaster.. followed up by another not so much a disaster as a release...

you could have atleast picked up the phone.. i musta called a million times.. too much emotion.. to confusing.. walk away.. best to just walk away.. can you...?

silence....

more sheesha... more alcohol... hukkah.. lbw... confusion.. a statement to break a heart.. and another one to give it hope.. all at the same time... walk away... jus walk away... did i?

lbw again.. revelation.. coming full circle...

would you go out with me? heart racing.. hands shivering.. and her smile that frightens and calms me down all at the same time.. a little nod.. sumthing happy about it.. something of an eventuality we both knew we'd come to always...

facebuk reaffirmations and sercpico... jus the right words and a frineds smile...

you should never try and second guess the possibility of eventuality...

ek subah ek mod par main ne kaha use rok kar
haath badha ae zindagi... aankh milaakar baat kar

roz tere jine ke liye
ek subah mujhe mil jaati hai
murajhaati koyi shaam agar to
raat koyi khil jaati hai
main roz subah tak aata huun
aur roz shuru karata huun safar
haath badha ae zindagi... aankh milaakar baat kar****

*cf: Hip Hip Hurray, Hip Hip Hurray, 1984
**cf: The Last Samurai, 2003
***cf: Calvin's Last Words to Hobbes, 2006
****cf: Ek Subah, Hip Hip Hurray, 1984

can't take my mind off you....

you're my weakness she said... what is a weakness... its harmful.. it gets you into trouble.. makes u do things you dont want.. its not love.. its not even real.. its selfish.. so selfish and prude... weakness...*

anahat would like to retract this thoughtless and childish outburst... lets write it all over again. with some more insight...

you're my weakness she said... i heard her.. and my heart skipped.. it was the perfect thing to say.. there.. like that.. holding her... it was like the slightest shiver... yet i knew.... she was jus being honest... and i couldn't grudge her that.. she hadn't promised me anything.. rather she had warned.. sinister words.. brave words... i hadn't listed, didn't want to... no fault but mine...

it still felt the world to hear those words.. and echo them in my own heart....

but all that's in the past now...

bygones...

i was talking to an old friend last night... after about eight years we were talking.. really talking.. and she asked me to brief her on what in god's name i'd been doing for the last five yrs i'd been away... and after all the drama and the sympathy hogging.. she said.. u know.. wait for it.. until ur good and ready.. and when u are... itll be perfect..

she may already be right.. id said.. more right than she knew.. more right than I was letting on...

life.. has an extremely sick sense of humour.. but its also strangely generous at times.. its pretty much a goes around comes around sort of setup... is someone puling the strings? who'se to say.. but sometimes it seems to me the 'coincidence' portrays a consciousness of some sort behind it all.. but thats for another time and another post...

time... pepperoni pizza and distraction heals all... i've had more than my fair share of each...

i'm ready...

so like a wise young man said to me once on a train journey through the real india... we shall soon see... **

Did I say that I loathe you?
Did I say that I want to Leave it all behind?
I can't take my mind off of you
I can't take my mind off you
I can't take my mind off of you
I can't take my mind off you***

*cf: A Season of Faith's Imperfection, Things Left Unsaid, Anahat Arora
**cf: Dr. Karthik Ramanna Ph. D, during the Azad Bharat Raial Yatra 1997
***cf: The Blower's Daughter, Damien Rice

Measure in Love... contd...

ive decided to fill the vortex with feeble words.. I still don't feel i should write anything on this post... but i've decided anyway... how do u measure what someone means to you.. how can you capture the butterfly effect of a million a billion instances.. intricately woven into the web of life... each string a memory... a fate... a destiny... each tug each bend decisions to be made.. courage.. to make them.. and to face the outcome... it seems impossible to explain.. to comprehend.. to understand.. but an attempt must be made.. what is human life.. lives... if not an attempt to understand why and what now...

every step you took, every mistake you made again and again and called yourself a fool for it and still went ahead an made it again.. every life you live simultaneously all those masques.. always changing.. always acting.. reacting.. never really just being.. you...

and it comes down to this... you cant measure a life.. a life you've shared.. a night a week a lifetime.. you just can't you can... as mr. rice put it so beautifully.. love.. thats all you can really do... love life... that'll teach you grown ups struggling with numbers.. measure in love...

how much you loved?.. how deeply.. how real was it... how much did it hurt.. was it worth it.. these are the questions you should ask... and you'll know... whats important.. whats impacted you.. who...

and then you can sit back one night.. half asleep not really awake and write about it.. names.. places.. memories.. etched forever in your life.. how will you be measured...? in love? will you match up...

will they say... he lived completely.. loved and hurt completely.. or...

thats all you need to know.. and.. and... then you can just be....

If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!*

*cf: If, Rudyard Kipling

Measure in Love...

how do you measure, measure a year?
In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee.
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.
In truths that she learned, or in times that he cried.
In bridges he burned, or the way that she died.
Measure it... in love.*

*cf: Seasons of Love: Rent, Tim Rice

a season of faith's imperfection*

I dig my toes into the sand
The ocean looks like a thousand diamonds
Strewn across a blue blanket
I lean against the wind
Pretend that I am weightless
And in this moment I am happy...
I wish you were here**

what do you do?.... findamentally do... when you know that person you love.. loves someone else... how do you tackle it.. what words of consolation do you offer your heart as you drift away into thought and imagine that one night... the night of many lifetimes... pure passsion... pure and real in a way that feels like playing with wet clay.. base and beautiful...

sometimes you get a phonecall and your life turns upsidedown.. sometimes you go for a sheesha and drinks and existance decides to blink.. atlas shrugs... chaos reigns...

to feel that you want something that you cant have is a crazy thrill in its own way... forbidden...

but she said no guilt... strange that...

you're my weakness she said... what is a weakness... its harmful.. it gets you into trouble.. makes u do things you dont want.. its not love.. its not even real.. its selfish.. so selfish and prude... weakness...

the absolute irony of it all is that i cant imgaine what i like about her so much... except for the intellect.. and the kindness in her eyes.. and... oh dear.. the absolute irony is that i do like her so much...

always forward... never look back.. no regrets.. meet life head on.. carpe bloody diem.. all shatters with one smile... one little tilt of the head and the kindness in those mischeveous eyes...

embrace it.. live it.. love it.. be pure to it.. and life will show you experiences like you cant believe... from broken hearts to the pure ecstacy of that touch... tender...

pouring always pouring.. giving.. letting out.. closure.. letting go.. tumbling free wheeling gonna be more gonna do more.. always more..

love will find a way.. love actually is... believe it... you have to.. no choice but to...

may even find a way... its possible..

nothings impossible.. peter pan..

leave it to faith... faith.. a season of possibilities.. of nature and youth and laughter.. her laughing eyes.. a season of faith... of faiths imperfection and a broken heart...

*cf: Finding Forrester, Columbia Pictures, 2000
**cf: I Wish You Were Here, Incubus

now... all set...

phonecalls can be intimidating... you get them.. all the time.. the ones you dont want to take.. the ones you wish you hadn't taken.. the ones you wish you hadn't missed.. caller-id from hell... you know how you can get a phonecall and it turns your world upside down...

all these memories come tumbling out.. all the pain.. all the expectations.. all the mistakes.. all the hope.. so whaddya do.. u sit it out.. and smoke some sheesh.. have a cold glass of water.. send some sms'.. distract yourself.. and maybe if you're lucky it buries itself away until she calls again.. or maybe thats just the way its supposed to be.. you live your life from one rush of feeling to another.. pain.. pleasure.. same old same old.. and you enjoy it.. take it all in and take a deep breath.. and smile..

ohhh.. in some other news.. ive moved into my new apartment in delhi.. its in nizz east and it a whole lot of life coming full circle.. kit kat's chicken burgers.. om's butter chicken.. aap ki khaatir's kaakori.. familiar roads.. familiar turns.. sights and sounds.. so its a cozy little place.. the pdp is wall mounted.. the dish works.. and i have broadband again.. all set.. oh and thanks to prince paan i have a new sheesh.. now.. all set..

so phonecalls and coming home and new apartments in familiar settings and losing bombay and coming back to friends who seem so real but you cant tell cause you havent been around to new friends who dont know how messed up you are in the head and havent adjusted to dealing with you all over again.. moving towns can be trying...