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Rubbish

Yeah, so I was watching House M.D. it’s good only. Very good actually. But there are things in serials and movies and books and there are things in life. They just don’t match.

He is in pain. Physical pain. He is out of his stock of pain killers and he can’t cope up with the pain. He cuts himself in the arm. One pain reduces the other logic. He just cuts himself in the arm. As simple as that. Yeah, well, not simple. May be painful. He looked cute and stuff for a spilt second. But two days later here I think… really? Cutting one in arm does not relieve the aching leg. It just cant.

One pain does not reduce the other. A devastation is not overcome by another devastation. A disappointment is not killed by another. My guilt is not relieved by your punishments. The hurts I carve on me are not diminished by hurts you give me. I can’t speak for the world of stories, I never lived there, but in real world it just does not work.

If you are drowning and you put more water you drown faster. If u are drowning and you manage to burn yourself you will get burnt and it will hurt. It just makes it more feverish.  More hurtful. More brutal. Relief is rubbish. A doctor like House would know that… I thought.

To connect, to belong, to find oneness in all that surrounds. To be surrounded by what’s known, by what’s yours, what you love, to be near, to be accompanied, to be involved…

I started writing this post on Feb 17. It never crossed the above two half expressed lines. Today in my fears I looked for it again. The feeling… and of course the post.

I always used to say. When things part from you, you realize their value. You realize what you once had. To hell with me, everyone says this. What I say is, that’s not the real value. That’s the fear of parting spiking the real value.

The real value is, or rather the real realization is when it is closest to you, when you have it, when it is just lying by the bed, when it’s not yet going away, when it’s all around you, but you still feel the value, you still feel the need. You still realize it’s worth, while you see it giving you troubles. You still crave for it when you can’t handle it. The every day, every second realization of, Wow! The thing! The everyday every moment realization of looking across the floor and feeling, Wow! That is it! That is what it is, when you actually realize the value. That is when you know this is where you belong. That is when you know what you have. This is what you have longed for life, feeling all along that you know there was somewhere you belonged… but where? Here you dumb, your heart cries in happiness.

I saw the first link as searched for this song in youtube. New Release – 5 years ago. In my face.

It was a warm humid summer afternoon when I first heard this song. This travelled through college pretty much like a part of me. Well, through whatever was remained of college life. Not a day passed when this song did not play in my room. Even after I learnt tu jaane naa and apologize and tune jo na kahaa and all those I’ll be right here waiting… this never stopped being the first song I started the day with and never it stopped being the last to close in my sleepy eyes.  And then it stopped. College ended. I moved. And it stopped. Being a part of me, of my playlist. It did not even travel from my college laptop to my company laptop. I bet the last time I closed the lid of that old HP Compaq laptop this song was playing and I thought, it’ll sleep on its own. Songs are like acquaintances… for me… I realize. I lose the closest ones the fastest. And when I lose… there be no touch. I don’t want to feel there being away may be… so I don’t think of them. I try to remember them close… like old days… and in the process I drop the present… I drop the contact. I drop the song… or the memory may be. I like to believe that the real friendships are those… like the stupid saying… that when you talk… it’s like you never lost touch. Yeah stupid saying… I admitted already. But I like to believe yet. Only I never take in account… losing phones… forgotten passwords… changing numbers… changing mails… changing priorities. Only I don’t take into account… the new songs… so much better songs… so many of them…

But one warm humid summer afternoon… when you feel like one of those afternoons… you ring a bell… or search a song… and who knows… sometimes you might actually find it… like this one. And you realize… that stupid saying… it’s like you never lost touch wasn’t so untrue after all…

Coin

I tossed a coin. For the decision that could change my life. And then, then I did not do what the coin said.

It’s like you learn and you don’t learn yet. It’s like you don’t want to learn. It’s like you will have the same question every time. Like you just don’t know the question. Like you haven’t already had the question ten times in past. It’s like you are stubborn. You and everything inside you, they are running in two different directions or multiple directions actually.

You are supposed to listen to your soul, for that’s what people do. But you don’t have slightest clue of what it says. Or! May be it doesn’t have slightest of clue itself. But you need to hold yourself together. Bring the broken pieces together. It’s kiddish to talk about souls and clues. It’s all about you. The person you. Huh there exists one such person too? You might ask. Stop kidding. You need to think and feel on this person’s behalf. Make the best and most optimal decision. Logical reasonable decisions. And then you can always toss a coin. Coin tells you something. And doesn’t force it on you. Coin tells you and lets you ask again. And again. Till the moment it doesn’t tell what you really want.

Sometimes it doesn’t. It does not tell you what you want. You want head, it gives you tail. Ah. But you can always give the logic of coin’s being a little eccentric, a little tilted. Maybe. You never know. And you change the sides. What was head, is tail now. Happy. Are you? You toss the coin and to the highest of your surprises its gives you the head. The head you always wanted and it never gave. The one you just changed. You can toss yet again, but it gives you yet the same. You can smile all you want now. But you wouldn’t have smiled then.

But then. It’s a coin only. You can always ignore it.

Like I did.

And in this, may be you would know what that dumb soul of yours wanted in the first place.

On my way back…

(Not so much of a poem, just paper napkin scribbles on my way back home… and yeah the title doesn’t go along at all)

 

Bright white flowers by the neat little pond

At two o’ clock in the foggy night,

Blinking in continuum of acquaintanceship,

That foolishly happy yellow light.

Defeated is the familiar numbness of my steps

Against an uneasy blissful delight,

I wouldn’t really want to die soon may be,

If this is what it feels to be alive!

What would I ask…

And then Kabir faded away in my memories. That is how it works… isn’t it? It does not really take very long for people to fade away in memories and then memories to fade away in some sort of past. Memories are like habits, you get a more contagious, more infatuating one… you lose the older one without a notice. Kabir was on the way of getting lost somewhere in the piles of memories… of changing habits… something.

I would occasionally want to miss him… but missing him was more like a task. I would try and sometimes I would succeed too… but other times, I won’t and a feeling of – time not well spent – would creep in. Not that I had suddenly started valuing time. Not that I was creating a rocket that must launch on twenty three point zero three hours. It was just that my mind was unconsciously involved in other threads, or no thread actually, in long time. And was liking it. The presence of no thread. The presence of no thought, no memory in my life. The presence of nobody in my life.

Life looked okay. With or without him, did not make much different. He did not call much. I never expected he would. He was my kind. Leaving habits behind, leaving people behind, dropping relations, dropping memories. He wouldn’t mind me calling or not, I thought. I was right. He did not. I knew I could still call him if I wanted to and that we would have a nice long chat. May be he knew that too. The confidence never allowed us to call. Maybe we were afraid of the clanging sound this confidence will make if broken. We never dared to try it. We just kept knowing.

Today… as I met this person… I was reminded of Kabir. Why… I cannot state for sure. But there was a creaking similarity, that I could not find, but could not avoid either. The wheat colored wrinkles on his forehead. Or the metalline cold smooth voice. The unconcerned, self-absorbed look. I can’t say. I was thinking of all the things I liked about Kabir, all the things I hated him for, all I wanted to change in him. You don’t get to customize people and then love them. He used to say. He was right. You don’t. Only I did not know how to. People in stories and people in real, I don’t see them in one-ness as the girl in yellow scarf who reads books by the library does. I am not that girl. I read a book in the corner of my room when I am not working. And other times, I work, mechanical, methodical, monotonous work. I like to put up a yellow scarf appearance sometimes, but at the same time I want to compete with the merciless high heels boots tapping around. Impossible… I am! Yeah… Kabir used to say the same.

Oh I got derailed… apologies.

So I met this person, the Kabir-like one, let’s call him that, it suffices name’s purpose, doesn’t it? So I see him, and beyond him I see so much of Kabir – lost in the memory lane or getting brighter in present Kabir, dipped in fog Kabir, drenched in in rain Kabir, smiling at me Kabir, sunny chirpy Kabir, dull sluggish Kabir, all kinds of Kabir. He asks me if I am alright, I don’t know the reply. Of course I am alright, but why do you look so much like someone I used to know. I don’t ask. What would I ask.

One without a title…

I was hiding smiles and I was hiding tears,

Hiding oceans as if, much sturm und drang

So many words unsaid, fears swallowed

I thought I was hiding me well all those years

 

Learnt to fake stretched lips, mature smiles,

Learnt to bury me, so many rehearsal I had

Rehearsed opening scene, and curtaining off

I thought I was learning to walk alone miles

 

All those dumb talking rule books of life

I boozed them all, they flow in my veins

Plucking me out of me, acting it’s no pain

I thought I was growing mature in time

 

Today I look around. I feel lost in woods

Today I look around. I feel fooled n dumb

And today I’ve got no one but my fake self

And all it does… is it fake laughs at me.

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