Eternal Longing

I am thinking about you today. 

And I am trying to write about you today. 

Slowly, the reality of your existence has been eroding away from the soil of my mind, by the misty winds of painful memories. And a fog is gathering on my mind and on my perception of reality. And what is the sense of reality? Only that which is temporal, imperfect, impure and that which will die tomorrow. You will die tomorrow, and then me. 

As the sense of reality erodes away, the surreal fog takes over, and your existence takes on a new form. Detached from a sense of reality, and all its imperfections, it is now pure. You live inside me now, transcended beyond reality, pure and innocent, like the first morning on this earth. You live inside me now, a part of me which is immortal. You will live even after I die. 

You are a sweet pain, a mild heartache which is almost pleasant. The edges of your memoriesare blurred into the incoherence of my sub-consciousness and you become a part of it, present in all and everything behind a thin veil of incoherence. 

I know it’s a dream, a dangerous dream. A downward spiral towards insanity, and then…emptiness. 

But I can’t stop. It’s as if you are calling me. And it’s all painfully beautiful, here inside me, that I can’t break the spell. 

There is no end. Only an eternal longing…

Letting Go

I love Friends, the show. Not that I love everybody in it. A few characteristics are extremely annoying(which is good, and deliberate, that’s why they are there), like Rachel’s popular-schoolgirl-snobbish mentality, and Monica’s obsession with controlling her life.

Ironically, as it has dawned on me in recent past, I’m a control freak too(not a popular-schoolgirl-snob, could not be even if I wanted to). And, there are many frightening similarities with Monica. Not-so-successful handling of the career, lopsided handling of separate aspects of life, some sensibly, others emotionally, and ordering close people what to do, what to think and how to behave when around.

For a long time since it started, I was under the illusion that I’m the right one(the self-righteous disease of pseudo-intellectuals) and I am getting other people’s perspective but they can’t seem to get mine, and it’s their problem and not mine and so I need to call them on their faults. This self-righteousness, coupled with a need for approval and low self-esteem, slid imperceptibly into a need for control, a need to control the surroundings, people’s behavior around me, and their thoughts and opinions about my life and actions. This led to touchiness, distorted social perspective and behavior, furthermore aggravated controlling behavior and a perpetual state of sulkiness.

It was only recently, that I was called on this behavior of mine. Initially I was stumped. How could I, such a sensitive, righteous, moral and inherently right person, be a control freak? I, who is all for individualism and personal freedom, can’t be like this. But I am. And the argument, that I know what they should do and how they should behave because i am more intelligent, holds no weight in an individualistic and free environment. Even if you’re right, which you have no way of knowing absolutely, it won’t make any difference to the fact they are and will act and think the way they want to, either stupidly or intelligently, whether you like or not. You just have to deal with this fact, gulp down the discomfort, and move on.

The last line is what I’m trying to do nowadays. It is very hard to remove the pseudo-intellectual bug within oneself, it takes hell lot of self-mastery and detachment.

Just let go. The more you try to control, the more you are controlled.

Let go, and be free.

Happy Birthday, Dear Diary

Dear Diary,

Happy 6th birthday.

You started as a custom-made sewn notebook father made from office papers for rough use. You changed forms, but you remained the same reluctant companion for my troubled thoughts.

When I see your first form, I see a life long consigned to nostalgic oblivion, a life of lost childhood ideals, of chess excursions, petty, superficial acquaintances (especially girls) which seemed so important at that time, anger and pain which I thought had scarred me for life. Life which consisted of free roaming, eager discovering of worlds, people, knowledge and meaning of success (happiness seemed a not-so-important commodity back then). I see first buds of love breaking forth, filling me with unspeakable, strangely exhilarating emotions, which engulfed me, inspiring, driving, confusing, yet all the more exciting, in all its innocent, and ignorant, glory.

When I see your first form, I see my first friendships, the ones in which I had great trust in. Once again, ‘innocence and ignorance’ come to mind. They go hand in hand. Everything seems good in one’s own innocence and ignorance. ‘Nothing could break us apart,’ we said to each other. We saw dreams of future life, riding high on the waves of idealism, hoping to walk uncharted paths with formidable courage, battling against the world(the world was the enemy), upholding our philosophy and ideals at every step, with eternal, lonely glory as our reward. And we were happy. Ah, how wrong we were. Because none of us saw, that idealism has its own contradictions, and philosophy isn’t as simple and monolithic as it seemed. It was but a castle of sand which came crashing down in the first winds of autumn. We upheld our ideals, but our ideals became conflicting. You, my friend, are upholding your ideals, walking your way, in your world. I’m doing the same. But, the world is no longer the enemy, it’s just the spectator. You, are the enemy. I don’t know if you’ve realized it or not. Betrayal was the lesson I learnt from you, but only too late.

I see love, being born, and blossoming in its adolescence. Ah, the innocence. With these eyes, now set in stone, tearless, I see myself 5 years back, when the petals were fresh and pink, watching helplessly as I get swept in the storm of emotions which took me places, which broke my heart, revived it again, and took me to some more places. I see the rose blossoming. I see it being cast aside, and I see me thinking it’s all over. Of course, I didn’t know, that it’s time will come, it’ll blossom again. And it will take me to many more, much more beautiful and also many ugly, places. And it will eventually succumb to the poisonous winds, wither and die. Your’s was the first name I wrote in my diary. At least this fact will never change.

I am now at a different place, with different people, with different thoughts. It was just the beginning. When I look back, I see life, which was so fragile. Bringing together various pieces of life, basking in the sunshine of innocence and ignorance for a few moments, only to watch them shatter in the first storm. Collecting new pieces all over again, setting up a new picture, and start living again…

Pearl Jam- I’m Still Here

(Source: http://www.youtube.com/)

The Perfect Place

Right now I’m feeling so peaceful and happy. Its really a very strange feeling. I am feeling very relaxed, peaceful and calm, the feeling I love so much. And today I’m getting exactly the same feeling being in a college which I crave to get, the feeling of perfect calmness and peace, snuggled in my niche, and a state of relaxed absorption in my work, my passion, literature and writing. As if I’m sitting in a cozy room in a distant village beside the window overlooking the fields shining in the moonlight, being blown by a relaxed wind, the wind slightly warm from an approaching summer.

Also, read Manohar Kumar‘s blog-posts after a long time. It was the reading of his blog-posts that is responsible for the flights of imaginations which are taking me to distant, silent, solitary small towns where somebody is sitting at the edge of fields, enjoying the winds in his hairs, and silently contemplating over his pipe, occasionally smiling half-dreamily. The night is lazy and long and he has no desire to part with it anytime soon.

There is an image, which had been there in my mind since I was a child. When I was to go to college, it embedded college into its landscape. But the image was not realized here. Now, again the image wanders, without a landscape, in the back-alleys of my mind, nudging at my conscious now and then, like it did today. I feel like a traveler, searching for the perfect place to halt, and watch that image come alive…