Finding new love..

01-07-2018
10:45 PM

Bapa brought home a television for the first time back in 1998 only to watch the football world cup, I remember. I can recollect the day vividly, the way he unpacked the huge brown box. The stern, shrewd man I knew until then was excited like a teenager boy. The love for this sport was one of the very few things I couldn’t inherit from him. But now, WC2018 has been a revelation.

That last penalty save by the Russian goal keeper is one of the most beautiful moments I’ve watched on screen. Yet, with the uncertainty of being a newbie in watching football, I tell myself it should be quite a normal thing in this game. I cannot hold my new-found excitement, as I text my football fanatic brother. I do not know if he is surprised to see me ask about a football match. He is kind enough to explain. “Yes, that was amazing”, he says. He talks to me in detail how that was a difficult chance from a goal keeper’s perception. I read him proud, imagining how he’d have stood tall and firm in that same position in the games he played. The first time he brought home the money he earned playing community club football, I was elated beyond words. I knew that was one feat I could never achieve.

Spain were the favourites, it’s an upset victory for the Russians, I’m told. I join their celebrations like a kid wondering around in the field without a hand to hold. I scream inside with the joy of having found a new love, a new game, a new world of sport to chase, watch and read about. There is indefinite warmth that’s creeping in. No wonder people spend sleepless nights to watch this magic on screen. Finally, tonight, I could relate with them all. To redeem myself the guilt of not watching this graceful game all my life, I choose to pen down these emotions here, raw and bare, out in the open. For, I know writing is the only way I could always frantically celebrate.

Along the stations..

The train takes you beyond miles. The passengers around you immerse themselves in chatters, in talks we never know of. You capture a window seat as you always did. Your fingers hold your displaced shawl. Your hairs flow along the rhythm of your heart beats. I know this is a journey away from my existence. I see your cheek inclined to the window and your smiles fading away with each station that passes. I realize this is not what you want. You know this is not what we desired. Yet, you float away, from all the dreams we built in harmony, from a thousand stories we wish to cherish for a lifetime. As you see a few drops hit your window pane, you check for tears, if they had landed on the wrong place. No, the skies have joined us in our agony. It weeps for our parting. It empathizes with the broken souls. Your eyes settle as you bring back fond memories. Your heart fills in as it flies across our favorite terrains. They’re no more the same, you see. They have been destructed beyond repairs, by forces that we never thought of. Realizations occur too late sometimes. At the end of it all, aren’t we the only ones to lose? The naïve and fragile souls that’s embedded in just me and you?

28-06-2016; 1:01 PM

The office rushes see no relief even in these Ramadan hours. For obvious reasons, my head finds no space to pen down a journal. It’s been pretty long since I opened a page to let my thoughts flow and somewhere I know it’s no surprise. Since the day I joined here, reading and writing at work is quite a dream. It’s funny you know, like for the last two years, work place has been my venue of solace to write. And finally when I got into a job which I had waited like for ages, work is all that I have here. It’s rare when I take a few minutes of peace. Sometimes, days go by like a bullet train and I never know. May be this is good, maybe not. For now I’m not going to dwell in to its mess of Pros and cons.

My personal cabin is upstairs. Sitting here, I’ve often felt isolated from the rest of the staff. Well, HR has its own private affairs, they’d have thought. I know how much I’ve wanted to be among them, down there. But this is what they have for me. Do I have a choice?

It surprises me that I’m writing after so long. I haven’t been thinking of anything worth scribbling down lately. Perhaps I’d lose this momentum the moment I turn sideways. Documents to be dealt with lay on my table awaiting their turns. One look at them and their cries would drag me off this screen, or a call on my extension from my Sir Manager. Anything would do. There are threats all along. Amidst all these chores if words flow this way, I’m super excited. For, I know I’m not dead yet. I’m still able to live on these white sheets, with the air of words of such passion. In fact, I don’t remember the last time I did a journal. However, I’ve caught a glimpse of liberation today, in this hour, with these passing minutes. As Pamuk rightly exclaimed,

Nothing is as astounding as life
Except for writing
Yes, except for writing
Yes, of course
except for writing,
the sole consolation.

I’ve found my heart echo the same a million times in the past. Reading these lines, my mind connect with them instantly. The Turk has his own charm and my thoughts find tranquility in his words. Nothing matches reading the masters of words. Nothing at all. Oh Yes, of course, nothing except for writing – the sole consolation.

05-03-17; 10:55 AM

Each time I begin scribbling, in the thought of reaching onto you, I stop midway, pushing myself into a pool of infinite thoughts. Most of them are simply the rushes of the days and nights that we lived in solitude and the refreshing peace, away from the lights and tantrums of the city. This place where I stay now resembles the settling aura of composure which you always longed for. When the clock strikes past 11, as the lights go down from the adjacent rooms, I find it difficult to restrict my thoughts racing past all obstructions. Most often than not, it’s you, the center of my emotional ride inside. This time it is no different. Perhaps, it shouldn’t be different, ain’t it?

There have been scatters of rain last night. A long awaited relief from the scorching heat. Prayers and offerings in the state did not go in vain after all. The foreign visitors here are amazed to have witnessed the drops. They eagerly wait for the further showers. This place has something that isn’t but definitive; some emotions that gets inside us right from the day one of the stay. My treatment is going jovial than expected. I’ve managed to build a rapport with the therapists, junior doctors and the support staff here. They’re more than glad to serve me with all grace. It feels like home; and sometimes, even better.

I’m yet to have my medications for the morning. That can wait, I suppose. This flow in which I type is a rarely met phenomenon. And I want to keep doing it as long as I can. Or rather, until I go drained out. The sound of the keyboard being tapped frequently in a rhythmic speed is an amazement to listen to. Sometimes, my words actually dance to its tunes. And when it stops, the mind goes blank, and pauses for infinite seconds. And when the sound resumes, it is like I start breathing again, after being caught in a dark breathless cave for long. I give out a sigh of relief and type again.

The room beside mine is occupied by a French couple. They seem to be in their late twenties, graciously in love, I must say. There’s no pretention, I watch. There’s no compulsion, I see. We do have conversations once in a while. They love books and when I told them I’ve read Kundera, they were astonished. They were quite generous to introduce me to a couple of wonderful French writers. I think that is where we struck a cord and it’s nice to see them talking without a halt on what they love to do. They love being in Kerala, they tell me. Since the last six years, it’s been a routine, the visit here, they say. I’m more than surprised. My state has a glory indeed. It is just that I don’t identify its true worth. A certain sense of guilt passes through my heart. Faintly, though. But then, what I’m more in awe is the fact that they’re totally into each other. I’m not sure what happens behind closed doors, but on the outside it seems like, they’re the happiest couple on earth. It’s beautiful to watch a man and a woman totally engulfed into each other, more than ever in love; one of the most pleasant sights to look out for.

I can hear the thuds and hush outside. It’s beginning to rain again. What more do I seek for, this precise moment? The drops shall turn heavier before long. And the skies shall grace this place with thunderous showers, I simply hope. I’d want to see it all, the way it gets intense and heavier. And if I’m to sit on this chair any longer, I’m certain that it is not going to be worth it at all. So my dearest, here’s me taking your leave until we meet next. Let me move out of the closed doors and see for myself what the morning has to offer. Wish me luck and write to me at the earliest. For, here’s a heart longing for your words of warmth, since the day it heard your voice for the first time in that cold misty afternoon.

Love,
Prayers.

Eternal..

I always wonder what is that which control my fingers on the keypad when we converse. I tend to tear off the chains of consciousness and simply float alight. Letting my inner self take on me, I bear no mask, I bear no shield. I am what I am when I am with you. Sometimes I am at my best. Yet at times you see me at my worst. However, they are extremes. Extreme poles of the person in me. And that’s how I witness liberation at your presence. Such times are treasures. The bed I lay on turns cozy, for the velocity in which my mind raises in no time. I be a hopeless romantic and you my partner in the process. You dance well to my tunes. And my rhythm keeps progressing at your warmth. Together we produce, substances of eternal beauty.

Trance..

I feel this familiar notion of you lying on your bed, sending blank stares at your ceiling. You tell me you’re scared. And all I want to let you know is that I do care. I wish you could get a sleep so deep, moving yourself into a dark warm space where there is no upset. If you could let me know where you reside in there, I would send you flowers. With love and regards, you’d read. And then there is no waking up until the next sunset. When the world sleeps away in peace, you shall rise. We shall talk. You’d tell me your dreams. I’ll caress them with my arms and let them rest in peace. Despite your attempts to hold back, you’ll confide your emotions in me. We shall fall deep into conversations, as I collect the pearls within you. I’ll stand captivated in its elegance. At the end of it all, when your eyes search for my face, I would dive deeper. Before you’d realize my absence, the waves shall take you back to where you belong. With another sunrise, you’d let your eyes settle. As you fall asleep into the deepest ocean of darkness, I shall slowly arrive again; to watch you rest; or rather, to witness beauty at its best.

Grown ups..

Years down the lane, perhaps a decade after this day, I would want to sit down with you on a coffee table. Amidst rushes outside and the weather almost ready to shower down, I want us to face each other with coffee mugs in our hands. Taking occasional glimpses at the street on the other side of the road, I would want us to share how life eventually went. I’ll look at your eyes like I did today at the time of your departure. I’ll watch you pick a couple of calls to reschedule, after the mess your day brought you in. We would be grownups, adults. Two responsible citizens, passionate about what they do. Yet, more compassionate about their pasts, their yesterdays. We would be far matured enough to handle our emotions better and wiser. Hence, when I look at you, I would feel warmth and not anxious. I’ll see composure and not restlessness. We would realize we’ve come a long way there. We’ve achieved far more than what all we talked about. Yet, we would find ourselves, across that coffee table, holding mugs to ease our postures. Only to come in pact with the fact that no matter how many years pass by, there shall be places and moments which we wish to revisit, relive. Offering refreshments of unique kind, off the hectic days and nights. Perhaps, to ultimately prove ourselves that no matter what, somethings never change. No, they simply don’t.