I'm a fighter. Yes I am. But sometimes, you just get tired of fighting and wish you'd get something good from life without having to work so hard for it. You wish you'd get something easily. So many people do. Why does everything have to be so complicated?
Some of us lose our rose tinted glasses early in life, and grow up too fast. Once you stop being a kid, it's just the same old thing over and over and over again. You look around with your cynical eyes and you recognize the patterns: the same hurt, the same pain, the same bloody vicious cycle. You realize there's nothing at all glamorous about anything in life. It's all a grand theatrical performance, and we don't have the script, but there's nothing new to the plot.
Yet, we're taken in every time. Average life expectancy is sixty years, generally. Half this time is enough to absolutely tire you of everything.
It disillusions you so much. You trust neither your own emotions, nor any one else's expressions. It all seems to be a sham. There are no dreams left, because you're afraid you'll get hurt if you let your self dream; if you let yourself hope; if you have expectations from people. There's nothing to look forward to in life. And there's no one you can blame.
Nobody ever promised me a rose garden.
May, 2007.
[Inspiration: "I never promised you a rose garden. I never promised you perfect justice and I never promised you peace or happiness. My help is so that you can be free to fight for all of those things. The only reality I offer is challenge, and being well is being free to accept it or not at whatever level you are capable. I never promise lies, and the rose-garden world of perfection is a lie . . ."]
Friday, February 27, 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Spent and unspent
Gone are the people who rocked and rolled in the world of music two decades ago. Gone are all the Pink Floyds' Kurt Cobains' & Elvis Preisleys'.
The birds that made us dream yesterday, the fears we had of failing school tests we never prepared for, the sunrises we hated to see at the strip of dawn when the alarm clocks sang go-to-school-another-day-awaits-you, the sorrows we shared together.. the games we played and loved - the victories we pondered about for days and months; the passions we had for little things like chocolates and group appreciations; those moments are now all dead, all long gone.
Dying with our emotions, we are mortal again, mortal as we were.
She said that he said live like there's no tomorrow. - A.K
It's sad, is it not? But if you hold on tight enough, some part of it all remains with you forever. The whiff of a smile, a sliver of sadness, a trickle of love. A taste of the passion, spent and unspent- all that remains of a grand feast. All our dreams photocopied black and white. Not as good as the original, but better then nothing.
Someone said that with searching comes loss, and the presence of absence. Well said, I say.
But nothing is ever gone. Not totally. The shadows remain. Often to haunt us. Memories lurking in the dusty halls of our mind. Sometimes I wonder whether it wouldn't have been better if they just left.
Maybe then we would have peace.
The birds that made us dream yesterday, the fears we had of failing school tests we never prepared for, the sunrises we hated to see at the strip of dawn when the alarm clocks sang go-to-school-another-day-awaits-you, the sorrows we shared together.. the games we played and loved - the victories we pondered about for days and months; the passions we had for little things like chocolates and group appreciations; those moments are now all dead, all long gone.
Dying with our emotions, we are mortal again, mortal as we were.
She said that he said live like there's no tomorrow. - A.K
It's sad, is it not? But if you hold on tight enough, some part of it all remains with you forever. The whiff of a smile, a sliver of sadness, a trickle of love. A taste of the passion, spent and unspent- all that remains of a grand feast. All our dreams photocopied black and white. Not as good as the original, but better then nothing.
Someone said that with searching comes loss, and the presence of absence. Well said, I say.
But nothing is ever gone. Not totally. The shadows remain. Often to haunt us. Memories lurking in the dusty halls of our mind. Sometimes I wonder whether it wouldn't have been better if they just left.
Maybe then we would have peace.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Confusion Reigns Supreme
Another April is almost upon us, and when I look back, I wonder what I should do.
No doubt, the journey was something I would not have missed. I got so much I never imagined I'd get. I belonged. I liked that. There was appreciation (at least in the beginning). All those heady experiences. I had a rock to cling to. I had support. I had promises.
I began to trust. I thought it would never be taken from me.
It has changed me in a thousand ways, not all of them positive. When the 'old' me looks at the 'new' me, I barely recognize myself. This is not what I signed up for, this isn't what I wanted.
If I could, I'd quit in a trice. If I didn't care. If I could stand not having my dreams come true. If I could stand knowing I'm a quitter.
Sometimes I wish I hadn't had those dreams at all.
No doubt, the journey was something I would not have missed. I got so much I never imagined I'd get. I belonged. I liked that. There was appreciation (at least in the beginning). All those heady experiences. I had a rock to cling to. I had support. I had promises.
I began to trust. I thought it would never be taken from me.
It has changed me in a thousand ways, not all of them positive. When the 'old' me looks at the 'new' me, I barely recognize myself. This is not what I signed up for, this isn't what I wanted.
If I could, I'd quit in a trice. If I didn't care. If I could stand not having my dreams come true. If I could stand knowing I'm a quitter.
Sometimes I wish I hadn't had those dreams at all.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Remember my songs...
A crowded garden, a thousand lights. Countless people, countless voices: a multitude of emotions.
An old man in a black tuxedo, playing the piano and singing old, sad songs. "For the price of a smile", he says, "all for a smile".
So we sit around the table, smiles upon our faces, tears glistening in our eyes, and the foreboding of loss heavy in our heart. And we pay for the songs with smiles and we sing along, each of us trying to make the evening memorable.
Chaltay, chaltay, mairay ye geet yaad rakhna...
As you move on, remember my songs...
It was definitely memorable. That walk, the play of emotions across a face, the confusion, the shy smiles; the hesitant admission, the laughter and the tears. And the promise to remember forever...
28th April 2007.
An old man in a black tuxedo, playing the piano and singing old, sad songs. "For the price of a smile", he says, "all for a smile".
So we sit around the table, smiles upon our faces, tears glistening in our eyes, and the foreboding of loss heavy in our heart. And we pay for the songs with smiles and we sing along, each of us trying to make the evening memorable.
Chaltay, chaltay, mairay ye geet yaad rakhna...
As you move on, remember my songs...
It was definitely memorable. That walk, the play of emotions across a face, the confusion, the shy smiles; the hesitant admission, the laughter and the tears. And the promise to remember forever...
28th April 2007.
The presence of absence...
When someone dies, we all know what the waiting and mourning period is. It’s like an in built program. We cry the first day and it hurts like hell. We cry the second day too. By the third day, a sort of hysterical relief kicks in. We find our selves laughing crazily at stupid things. Then slowly but surely the storm starts to pass. We get comfortably numb, and yet, we never forget. A little gesture, a forgotten scent, anything can spark a flood of memories and the dull, silent ache is right there, in your heart.
It’s all right. Like I said, that’s how we’re programmed. We learn to accept death. We know how long to mourn, how long it’s supposed to hurt; how long it’s acceptable to cry about it; when the broken heart should mend.
But what is the mourning period for a loved one lost, not to death, but in the countless unmarked streets of life? How long should we hurt? When should the heart forget? Should we wait, clasping the hurt to ourselves, or should we give it up and accept the absolute presence of absence?
I only wish this was an inbuilt program too.
“With searching comes loss, and the presence of absence.”
It’s all right. Like I said, that’s how we’re programmed. We learn to accept death. We know how long to mourn, how long it’s supposed to hurt; how long it’s acceptable to cry about it; when the broken heart should mend.
But what is the mourning period for a loved one lost, not to death, but in the countless unmarked streets of life? How long should we hurt? When should the heart forget? Should we wait, clasping the hurt to ourselves, or should we give it up and accept the absolute presence of absence?
I only wish this was an inbuilt program too.
“With searching comes loss, and the presence of absence.”
We'll go down fighting...
Life is so vast, we never know what is significant in the grand scheme of things, and what is not. What should matter and what doesn’t. What should hurt and what shouldn’t. What we should remember and what we should banish to the dark recesses of our mind.
So we live it like we would live a moment. We live so everything is significant. Everything hurts, and every little joy is bliss. And we forget nothing, and remember forever. And in that one moment, we live eternity.
Life’s tough. Fortunately, we’re tougher.
So we live it like we would live a moment. We live so everything is significant. Everything hurts, and every little joy is bliss. And we forget nothing, and remember forever. And in that one moment, we live eternity.
Life’s tough. Fortunately, we’re tougher.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Some where beyond the heart
Aur kuch dair main jab phir mairay tanha dil ko
Fiq'r aa le gi ke tanhai ka kia chara karay
Dard aaey ga dabay pao'n liey surkh chiraagh
Woh jo ik dard dharakta hai kahin, dil se paray
Dil se phir ho gi mairi baat, k aey dil aey dil
Ye jo mehboob bana hai tairi tanhai ka
Ye to' mehmaa'n hai gharri bhar ka chala jaey
Mushta'al ho ke abhi uthein ge wehshi saa'ey
Ye chala jaey ga, reh jaein ge baqi saey....
And in a little while, when my lonely heart will, once more,
Be distraught with worry, to find a solution to its loneliness
Pain will steel through me, glowing lantern held aloft:
The pain that beats somewhere beyond the heart;
And to my heart I'll say: O' heart,
This alleviator of your loneliness, your companion in solitude
Is, but the guest of a few moments, he will leave.
And clouds of gloom, banked down, will ignite again;
It is shadows that will remain; he will be gone...
So there it is. Love and betrayal. Reality barging in, to drag us out, kicking and screaming, of our love induced stupors.
Until it's just "me" again. And a memory of "us".
I don't believe in "happily ever after"s. Not for Romantic love, or any other kind. It's a wave, not a tide. It doesn't last a life time, or even half a one. It's a crazy little see-saw, where all the "downs" hurt like hell.
And yet, if you look back, when the pain has dulled a little, and if you really really try, it will let you look beyond the heart break. That's where the beautiful memories live.
So we march on to the beat of our hearts, knowing how it will be, ignoring all the warnings of our calculating brains. We march on, because it's the memories that make life worth living any way.
[It's Faiz again. I can't imagine how one person could express every one of the emotions we experience in our lives, with such soft poignancy. I wish he was still alive and I could meet him.]
Fiq'r aa le gi ke tanhai ka kia chara karay
Dard aaey ga dabay pao'n liey surkh chiraagh
Woh jo ik dard dharakta hai kahin, dil se paray
Dil se phir ho gi mairi baat, k aey dil aey dil
Ye jo mehboob bana hai tairi tanhai ka
Ye to' mehmaa'n hai gharri bhar ka chala jaey
Mushta'al ho ke abhi uthein ge wehshi saa'ey
Ye chala jaey ga, reh jaein ge baqi saey....
And in a little while, when my lonely heart will, once more,
Be distraught with worry, to find a solution to its loneliness
Pain will steel through me, glowing lantern held aloft:
The pain that beats somewhere beyond the heart;
And to my heart I'll say: O' heart,
This alleviator of your loneliness, your companion in solitude
Is, but the guest of a few moments, he will leave.
And clouds of gloom, banked down, will ignite again;
It is shadows that will remain; he will be gone...
So there it is. Love and betrayal. Reality barging in, to drag us out, kicking and screaming, of our love induced stupors.
Until it's just "me" again. And a memory of "us".
I don't believe in "happily ever after"s. Not for Romantic love, or any other kind. It's a wave, not a tide. It doesn't last a life time, or even half a one. It's a crazy little see-saw, where all the "downs" hurt like hell.
And yet, if you look back, when the pain has dulled a little, and if you really really try, it will let you look beyond the heart break. That's where the beautiful memories live.
So we march on to the beat of our hearts, knowing how it will be, ignoring all the warnings of our calculating brains. We march on, because it's the memories that make life worth living any way.
[It's Faiz again. I can't imagine how one person could express every one of the emotions we experience in our lives, with such soft poignancy. I wish he was still alive and I could meet him.]
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