Inked! Infinite Words...

I wanted a tattoo since a long time. But I didn’t really know of what! Over the years I thought about it and finally decided what I wanted to be tattooed on my body. I wanted to be sure about my thoughts and there was no turning back.  And here’s it! I got a tattoo. Of course it pained and I bled a bit. But it is worth the pain. The end result makes you happy and the fact that your belief has been etched on your body makes you smile with joy.

I believe that all of us are made up of words. Some words are said, some go unsaid, some are written and some are not. Some words are understood without being spoken out loud and yet get our emotions across to people. We express ourselves through words. They are a part of our existence. Some words can break our heart and some have the power to turn things around. Words impact us greatly. Also, I write a lot and through writing I express myself better. Literature too is made up of vast combination of infinite words. I have an unconditional and irrevocable love for words. I think about them all the time, the way they fit together and create magic. They show you things in a completely different light. Words are infinite just like our hope.

Playing with Broken Glass

“Some will win. Some will lose.  Some were born to sing the blues”

                echoes Journey’s song on the radio.

Night is as dark as the coffee I drink.

                2 am.  Smoke of cigarettes creates a haze,

not a White haze but a Blue one.

                The sound of silence is broken by the shattering of the glass.

The shards of glass are strewn across the floor.

2:16 am, the Blue haze still persistent.

I pick up a few pieces and observe them,

some catch my fancy and some instantly make me uneasy.

Shards of glass like debris of memories lie motionless 

on the floor, glistening in the light.

I look through a piece. All that I feel and see are Blue memories.

Blue. Not Black. Not White. But Blue.

No, I’m not colour blind. I know the world is Black and White.

Beyond the dichromatic hues, only the shades of Blue are visible.

I drop all the pieces and by mistake step on a piece of glass.

I bleed Blue.

The Force

It is so difficult to keep your head above water when there’s this constant force which is pulling you down. And when your head is underwater, submerged…you don’t really know how to breathe. There are voices in your head which tell you ‘Remember to breathe’. As the descent continues you wonder, has it all come down to breathing? Don’t you deserve a chance to choose how would you like to sink? How about in a clean swimming pool with chlorine stinging your eyes when you are trying to keep your eyes open and making sense of things? Or maybe in a muddy river which hauls your body as the water slowly begins to fill your lungs? Ladies and gentlemen, feel free to choose how you want to exit. Anyway, all of it is going to gush in as the downward force becomes overpowering and paralyses everything. Even the feeble attempts to save yourself are so futile that you eventually give in and accept the fate that you have to fade away; that you have to go down. In ‘Hollow Men’, Eliot had said –

“This is the way the world ends
    This is the way the world ends
    This is the way the world ends
    Not with a bang but a whimper.”

Maybe he was not referring to the apocalyptic prophecy but our fates…the sheer doomed nature of it. You just fade into the background and people won’t even come to know. Don’t expect a grand exit because theatrics aren't in your favour, though you might love them. 

Of Belonging and Understanding

Vacations are over. I’m already through a week of college. Yes, I’m in the final year now (graduation, bitches!). I don’t know how I feel about that. But the best part is that I’m studying English Literature. Finally! Vacations were a bit disappointing as my much awaited Himalayan trek got canned. So, for a couple of days I was cribbing. Most of my time was spent by reading books and watching movies, as usual. The entire enterprise of socializing didn’t seem appealing and seemed pretty doomed; hence, the quest to find solace in the fictional world. Also, my 365 Days Project kept me busy; I wrote many letters and postcards throughout my vacation and I’m still doing that. Somehow it is very self contradictory -wanting to reach out to people through letters and create a memorabilia and yet seeming distant from them. But what the hell! Letters make me happy.

There isn’t any specific reason for this blog post. Just random musings because I wanted to shake things off. I was pondering over a few things…one of them being the purpose of literature and fiction. As Josh Radnor had put forth in Liberal Arts – “The purpose of fiction is to combat loneliness.” I feel it is very profound. I believe in every ounce of it. The problem begins when I try to find human equivalents of these characters. Then the eternal fear seeps in – that life wouldn’t turn out to be like literature. It is said that art imitates life which in turn transmutes life. But what if life wants to imitate these crazy imaginations and utopian ideas in our heads? Is that even possible? It is sort of living in a denial. Does that mean everything that I’m trying to achieve and the journey to reach somewhere, somewhere that I belong, is all a feeble and a futile attempt?

Things don’t always work out in our favour. Mick Jagger has taught me that – “You can't always get what you want. But if you try sometimes well you might find…You get what you need.” Life is already complicated enough. And to add to that we have to fight these existential demons which haunt us and the ghouls of the past. Problems exist for everyone. They mean different to different people. They are not comparable. The fact remains that they do exist; we’ve got to find ways to deal with them and try to feel okay about them.

I’ve been making some amends…rejuvenating old bonds. It is a universal fact that people drift apart. It is bound to happen. Everyone differs in their thoughts and has different perspectives. We need to find a common thread that keeps us tied together. Everyone has a valid reason for being however they are. Only if everyone was sensitive and understanding enough to accept people the way they are. The other day I was having a random chat with a friend on Facebook. I love these random conversations.  It gives you these little moments to understand people and that in turn defines the closeness and the thought process. It enables us to live in that very moment which escalates into something larger and meaningful...something worth living for. I shall wrap up with a quote from the movie Before Sunrise, this quote speaks volumes and is very thoughtful-

"I believe if there's any kind of God it wouldn't be in any of us, not you or me but just this little space in between. If there's any kind of magic in this world it must be in the attempt of understanding someone sharing something. I know, it's almost impossible to succeed but who cares really? The answer must be in the attempt."

Lights

                                It was winter. Twilight began to fall and there was no trace of wind. He was sitting at his usual spot in the park; it was a few minutes away from his house. Usually he would take a book along with him to read or he would listen to music. While reading, he would shift his attention for a brief moment to observe the people around him. And then again he would become completely oblivious as he would resume reading. He believed that the purpose of fiction was to combat loneliness which gave an assuring sense of belonging. He enjoyed solitude. He felt that it was perfectly alright to spend time alone and not be defined in the presence of  the company of others'. But today wasn't one of those days. The grey clouds had cast a penumbral shadow on him. He felt sucker punched and miserable. He had built those walls around him as a line of defense. He wanted someone to get those walls down. Tears had stained his cheeks. His eyes were still hazy. He dabbed them with the sleeves of his black cardigan. He wiped his spectacles and put them on. He gazed at the swarm of moths which were lingering around the street light. He quite liked the design of this street light because it had an ancient and rustic charm to it. But the same street light which had a charm that he liked made him sad today.  The swarm of moths made him sad. People around him made him feel sad.

                                She came and sat next to him, keeping her bag next to her but not between them. They didn't talk. Not a single exchange of words. He felt comforted in her presence. She knew exactly what he was feeling. She knew how unhappy and broken he was. She began to search something in her bag. Her movements were very calm and she was composed. She drew out a candle followed by a matchbox. She lit the candle, picked up her bag, hung it on her right shoulder and stood up. He looked at the flame of the candle. He loved candles.  Then he looked at her face which was illuminated by the candle. She turned and began to walk. He too got up and followed her. The flame of the candle flickered as she walked ahead. He still walked behind her hoping that the candle shouldn't go out. People looked at them. They didn't really care. They reached the apartment. She opened the door carefully as she had still held the candle in her hand. A few drops of wax had fallen on her hand. She didn't wince or anything of that sort.

                                She entered his bedroom. He was still behind her. She mounted the candle on an ornate candle stand that lay on his desk which was surrounded by many books.  The candle filled the entire room with an aura of positivity. She hugged him and left. He sat on his bed and found a folded sheet of paper torn from a spirally bound notebook with rounded corners that lay on his pillow. He unfolded the paper and read the words which were written with a fountain pen of blue ink. Those words written in her cursive handwriting made him feel wanted and loved. He then looked at the flame of the candle and began to cry silently, tears streaming down his face. This time he was happy and was engulfed with a sense of euphoria. The words on the sheet of paper read –

“Lights will guide you home.

And ignite your bones.

And I will try to fix you.”