Entangled in the sheets one early morning, you gingerly took my hands in yours and asked me what excited me more – the mountains or the oceans?
Our bodies pressed together for warmth encased in the mountain air as we sipped the roadside masala chai, mildly in awe of the ruddy sunrise
or laying around lazily in a quaint beach with our feet sinking in the sultry sand as the sunset stretched across the horizon, changing from indigo to scarlet to a bright orange before finally resolving into a warm tangerine?
Inevitably I was bereft of any words but then I thought of you and how intangible your love for the majestic unknown was. How always lost in imagination you were sitting at the beach waiting for the tides to rise as if with each uprising a new secret would unveil itself for you and how your hands would never leave mine till the dusk had mildly settled in the creases of my face.
I never answered your question and you never brought it up again though at that moment the mountain girl flipped and realised she was in love with the ocean.
At the end of the day, like the aftertaste of a bittersweet memory, a thought continues to linger on, humming infinitely in rhythm to our desires, floating like the wisps of a cloud left behind. It beats with a severity strong enough to claw out our own skin and mild enough to let sleep find its way back after the strenuous journey.
It rises like a soft whisper from somewhere within the hollows of our subconscious and saunters its way up when the eyes finally find their pilgrimage in the dark to haunt the last shreds of peace that the heart conjured meekly and to char our dreams with a benevolent promise.
A fragile mind, beleaguered by the monotonous charades ends up cribbing and cringing as his love for travel doesn’t pan out according to his whim but aren’t we all travelling? From one phase to another, from one emotion to a new one, living life one heartbeat at a time, unbeknownst to the adventures of future?
We travel in time, in experience and in age. Leaving parts of our soul in people and places like little souvenirs of our presence. We capture their essence and arrive back at a different phase, exhausted due to the culmination of one journey and slightly ecstatic at the beginning of another.
Somedays the seraphic morning light reminds me of butterflies and daisies, frolicking around with each other in open fields of sublime beauty, untarnished from the spoils of human greed and somedays even the thought of removing the covers from my face to let that light brush against the skin, to let it quash out the gray clouds seems revolting. Somedays humanity seems to fill me up with hope for the future; maybe Armageddon is just another big religious conspiracy of the church to ensure that fear never abandons the mind of common folk; everything is seizable, those far fetched fantasies that don’t let you sleep at night seem just a dream away and somedays even breathing becomes hard, you grasp on memories to keep you afloat and all that you find is regret.
Life dances in front of your eyes, playing hide and seek and sometimes you are too exhausted to blur out the line between dreams and reality, just so as to carve out a niche where the gray doesn’t persevere. The dreams become the reality and the world fades away in the background as you quietly slip into another fantasy.
Have you ever picked up a withered flower and wished with all your heart to witness it blooming again?
To once again be a silent spectator of its mesmerising youth?
Have you ever plodded down a busy road, bustling with nothing but unfounded nostalgia?
To relive it all again and see everything burning in your eyes?
Have you walked away from life through a closed door, only to be led back to your ownself?
Have you? I prod, rather intrusively.
Have you loved someone so much that all your senses slow slip away from grasp and you stand back, smiling widely at its departure.
I meant to write something long, something from the heart, something to take the edge off, just something, to heal the bruised art. The words had arrived, tumbling in their path, dragging along with them the dripping ink and its pristine canvas. I meant to rip open every portal there was, to let the pain out, to let it all escape me; to be finally bereft of those silent tears and it felt so soothing, at least in my thoughts. I had it all, my muse was back, but the words betrayed me yet again, this time laughing sinisterly at my gaped soul. The sands of time had etiolated the initial enthusiasm of their arrival and my pen remained unmoved, burdened by the weight of the ink of my thoughts. The canvas lies in tatters now, simply because it could not escape the wrath of my frustrated mind. Another day passes and the pain is still inside begging for the words to stop their sabbatical. I cannot end this cycle and the war inside wages on. The words are fleeting but the agony is perpetual.
Perched on my shoulders, rests a lost little bird, drinking in everything through his shiny beady eyes, somewhat awry of his surroundings yet in a unique state of bliss.
“What keeps you so high about, oh little bird?” I ask him earnestly, curious of his meanderings and adventures.
“I escaped my cage today.” comes his joyful reply.
“What was it like?”
“Like that first drop of rain after a sultry summer, like those precious moments in the morning when there’s nothing more beautiful than a few rays of sunshine. It was like waking up after a horrible nightmare and realising that the demons that torture our souls cannot overpower our flamboyant selves. I escaped my prison with a heavy heart and an exuberant smile, when will you escape yours?” He peers at me slightly, preparing to fly away any minute.
“I’m not a prisoner, just an obstinate person.” I laugh shakily, bewildered at his delusional words.
The bird only gives me a sad smile, pecks my heart repeatedly and takes his leave. He turns back for the last time, stares at me with utter determination and whispers, “
One day even you will be free from your caged heart.”
Do you fear your love too?
Dread the erratic rythmn of it’s melancholy flowing through your vile blood?
Do you also cower away from it’s wrath,
Because heartbreak is inevitable and you’d rather eye it’s disintegration in a dingey alley hidden from daylight than be rejected and strewn around like vintage confetti?
Do you fear your love too?
Dread it’s power to move oceans and brown eyes with frozen hearts?