Run

I have been having the urge to just run away from everyone and everything around me. To just step out of the life that I’m living. To stand out and see my life as it passes by.

To vanish, sublimate, disappear.

I celebrated my birthday in obscurity, in the midst of a forest where there was no cell reception, no internet, no electronic devices. Ample amount of sunshine, star gazing, dense forests, incessant chirping of birds, campfires and books, blankets and blankness.

Then I rang in the new year in a city that I fell in love with, mostly ate bun maska, watched the sun set, the leaves of calendar turn, the sea as the world went past, of singing at 1 in the night and not a care about what next.

And since I’ve been back, the only thing that I can think of is to run away. I don’t know to what, to whom, with whom, where, when, how, why. So many questions. And just no answers.

I zone out with people who talk relentlessly, sit cradling a cup of strong chai and just stare into space wondering if I’ll ever feel the rush of something, whether I’ll feel something maybe ever fall in love, the lala land type, if the pain will ever go away.

I stare at the fan above and remember the ceilings of all the rooms I’ve ever slept in, some I’ve spent hours staring at in the darkness, some have been marred by tears streaming down my eyes, finding their way and disappearing in my hair, some of them have the loudest laughs, the chorus singing and most of them with books with dog eared pages perched on my chest lost deep in thought.

This year there will be some and then more..

Thoughts over the week

I bury my nose in a pillow, my legs resting atop another, I close my eyes and inhale. A tired muffled sound, of fatigue of travel that has come tumbling down. Through the streets of sri lanka, specks of sand that coat my legs, sting of salt still in the humid air, to the winding cobblestone streets in England, behind closed windows that smell of illicit affairs, to strolling down generations in Calcutta, nostalgia of a language, of a childhood that ran by, a stream of events that altered the course of many entwined lives.

Over the course of two days, I devoured 3 books, in the company of a tall glass of sweet brown chai, 6 marie biscuits, intermittent rains and a burst of glitter coloring the skies.

Oddly I feel like the words have traveled, through my fingertips and into my veins, an odd sense of calm in my heart. The promise of the pages of a book bearing the story of a library in Japan to make peace with the pile of work that the week brings.

I watched a movie last Saturday, and of the many words uttered between characters, one line struck a nerve, rather an artery that made my heart bleed, yearning for a long forgotten feeling. The protagonist describes his happiness as “dil ka pet bhar gaya“, which loosely translated meant that the heart’s stomach was full. What a strange yet accurate way of describing happiness, the feeling of contentment, of not wanting any more.

Oddly enough this got me wondering about companionship, of the feeling of content that seeps through your pores, makes you heart smile, sends your brain on a high, makes your pulse race. Offlate my phone has been buzzing with messages, some etch a punctual good morning, others indulge in flattery, words strung like a delicate string of pearls, of brash inquiries of weekend plans, of resorting to reason for a yes.

I have realised, been painfully aware of it for a while that I bear no affection for a skin, dressed in expensive clothes, doused in aftershave and perfume, of a collage of words from movies and books, of the need to replicate the usual romantic gestures.

What lies beneath that carefully embroidered mask and the instant noodles philosophy that you are so quick to dish out, of the things you think when you are alone, of the thoughts that haunt you, of the talisman that you live by. What drives you, stops you, makes you smile, brings tears to your eyes, crack into laughter or descend into silence.

There are days like today when I do not feel the need of someone else, when I’m mindful of the fact that I have nothing to give in return for someone else’s time. When I can feel the gears that keep the clock of this world running slow down, my heartbeat sink to a low whimper.

When solitude no longer means being alone.

Perspective

You squint your eyes to look ahead, long winding road, black shining tar, sweltering heat. And then you turn back, look at the miles that you’ve covered. Half wondering how you reached where you reached, you can’t see the pit stops, all a daze, the sky and earth blend, grey and bright.

But you keep walking, running, in a make-believe race. Your bones hurt, your soul questions, but you never wake up. And then you think of how would it be if you quit. Just walked off that road and sat down on the sidewalk, refusing and bobbing your head no, to all questions asked.

But there is no side walk, so you walk, fatigue ripping apart all your dreams and hope.

Have faith, breathe. Sometimes that is all we can do. I have often wondered where and how do people end up and the past few years have taught me that sometimes you have to believe that there are things written for you, fate, destiny or position of stars. Sometimes circumstances take the decisions that we are too scared to make, that carry the burden of being indecisive.

You don’t need to climb any mountain to enjoy the view, to reap the fruits of your hard work, to put in 30 years of numbness to watch your account balance swell.

Stay. Still, calm. Let your lungs breathe. Smile, as often as you can. And look up.

Out of all the lives you could live, as what you could be born, you’re here. Of all the inhabitable universes, here you are on Earth, with a blue sky above your head, with a heart that pumps blood relentlessly never giving up hope on you. So that you don’t.

For those reading this, its easy to quit, its easy to concentrate and read all that is wrong, its easy to run on the well trodden road. You aren’t here to do all that others have done earlier, chart your own course, satisfy your desires, do what you want, wish others well, from your heart, take a learning from everyday and thank someone, anyone, give a hand to pull someone who needs it, give a shoulder to lean on, sometimes all that any of us want to

Sink

Ever felt like your feet were chained to a boulder and you were flung, sent crashing into ice cold waters?

Exactly how I feel, every single day, at work during weekdays, post work timings on weekdays and weekends.

I try to make a checklist and get things off my to-do list, magically something gets skipped it and all comes tumbling down. The time that I spend staring at the laptop screen, I’m consumed by work. Off the laptop screen and I still can’t shut my brain.

I’m sinking, drowning, grappling for air.

Books that would be devoured within 2 days of arrival, have been collecting dust since three weeks. I’ve stopped replying to messages, taking calls in general. The intense urge to blow off steam by screaming and venting out is met by a competition. Of who has been working how hard, whose work is tougher, who is more pained.

Any and all conversations invariably go down the work route, at this point I’m tempted to run away to a forest, sit next to a brook, drown my phone and laptop in that very brook preferably and be able to read 10 pages of a book and savor a cup of coffee for half an hour.

Which is why when I’m not cooped up in a corner at office, I’m trying to catch up on sleep, watch phone calls go unanswered and put conversations on mute in whatsapp. Safe to say my social life is in the dumps, most recently last Saturday I went to a friend’s place for an apparent girl’s night out, spent the night eating and watching porn (cause the human body has needs and well this need not be justified). Which is how after a long time I felt ‘normal’, and could drag myself to face the Monday morning blues.

Monday should be declared a holiday, all Mondays irrespective of month/ profession/ country. If there aren’t any Mondays to get out of bed, there would be no Monday morning blues! And we could do this rotation every few years, taking it to Tuesday morning blues and back to when it rounds up to Monday, henceforth the cycle continues.

Honestly enough I’m tired. Sometimes I just fall into a day dream of rolling over and taking a nap for a few hours. Funny thing being that I almost have a love hate relationship with what I’m doing right now. I love that the work is interesting but hate that I’m tired and I positively have dark circles, I’m reminded on an almost weekly basis on the ‘oh relationships are great’ motto by everyone who’s either committed or getting married, really behind on my reading schedule, have my poster paints and brushes dry and wither and take up a teeny nook on my shelf.

At this point if I were given a million dollars, the only people I could call would probably be my parents and a heart to heart conversation with my dog on how many dentasticks and chews he’d be rewarded with, for just being there.

I have been showing terrible restraint to not walk over and buy a bottle of vodka and ice cream, slump into the sofa, tie my hair into a bun, wear loose pyjamas, prop my legs up and watch mindless television.

Well that pretty much looks like what I’m going to spend one entire day of my next weekend doing. Care to join?

Auld Lang Syne

‘Where are you?’

I read the text, rather stared at it till the words blended into each other and disappeared into the white background. To say the truth most of the messages on my phone read in a similar fashion, a few just have my name, others enquire if I’ve forgotten them, albeit a few angry texts and welcome to the corporate life smirk, unanswered calls, mails just left open, a couple of helium balloons free to just be in the sky.

I am busy most days, but I do wrangle out a few hours for myself, sometimes it’s just 15 minutes in a day, at other times almost an hour. During these precious minutes, I try to catch up on some reading, shut my eyes and listen to music, feel my fingers strum the strings, or like today manage inordinate amounts of concentration while having Hershey’s kisses melt in my mouth, chocolate coating my tongue, and warmth spreading over my heart.

Throughout the day we talk, communication is inescapable. To colleagues, parents, cab wallahs, grocers, anyone and everyone. And we pick up on a ton of opinions, on love, life, listen to their stories and pocket a few fears, learn, unlearn, relearn our insecurities.

We become a culmination of a lot more people than we want to be, good though it is, we also lose ourselves in the mix, one person at a time.

Which is why I decided to spend time with myself, weird at first but the more I look into myself, staying silent, cutting off from people, the more than required dose of the same people I’m exposed to all day, the more I like it.

Oh and by me, I mean me, books, chocolate and caramel popcorn, and icecream.

So there you go, what was keeping me away from scribbling my thoughts here, was me.

Most days I’d think of a few lines, sometimes witty, at times melodramatic, short stories and galore, but the balance tipped slightly towards the sit in silence and either watch the fan and eat kisses or read a book.  But I catch up on reading what my dear fellow bloggers read, be it on wordpress or on mails and I realise that I miss writing here dearly, so I promise to try and make time, steal, borrow maybe from myself and scribble away!

Corners

I pulled a chair into the balcony, it had been raining since morning, at times a cloud burst and bought in a fury of water, thundering and rumbling and then so, it drizzled and poured, like a woman unable to make up her mind, leering at the pastry counter and weighing whom she loved more, chocolate or butterscotch, yet ultimately taking two of each.

For most part of the day, there wasn’t any electricity, so me and an empty house, the rains, rhythmic melody of tip tap and fragrance, grey skies and lush green trees, tiny rivulets running down the length of my arms and pools of water in the grasp of my palms, trying to win endless battles against the laws of fluid dynamics.

Making myself a cup of coffee, a book and a pillow plonked on my lap, I wondered how long it had been since I felt at peace, no internet pulling you into the virtual world, no television screaming at the top of its lungs, no soul to put a brake on the train of your thoughts.

If I could, I would buy myself a piece of the sky to lie under,

A little place in the forest, where its scent rubs off on you,

And if you were really quiet, you could listen to your heartbeat.

Shut your eyes and disappear underneath a sky full of stars,

Watch the mountains from afar,

Let the rain seep into the pores of my skin,

Spend hours making constellations, and guessing shapes of the clouds.

An invisible corner in the middle of nowhere,

For when thoughts burden your shoulders and make your head feel heavy,

To take a pause from time.

Walk away from the mess,

Paint your nails red, the leaves pink,

Carve love on the barks of trees.

Wait for the waves to bring back what was once yours,

And the wind to take you, to where you truly belong.

And a million thoughts

It’s past midnight, I’m under the siege of a thousand thoughts and here is where I pin it down.

You know that one kind of deep intense love that transcends boundaries, gracefully clearing and jumping through loops and hurdles like a gymnast?

Yeah, that does not exist.

No matter how many times you tell yourself, there are some things that just can’t be forgiven. You may love them more than words can even begin to describe some things pull you back. Words even if not intended to mean one episode, magically transforms into that one reminder of an ugly incident.

Which makes me wonder, are things better when left alone, maybe fixing or rather trying to get back to what you were just tampers the lovely memory of a time once gone by. What has sailed past is already a memory to cherish, protected and that isn’t going to rust. Maybe to be in love again, you need to be that very same person at that place, is it worth running back into the past?

Also it doesn’t take much to feel like you are half in love, 5 nice words, a few laughs, wit and charm and there you are floored, especially when there is no flirting! You go zoom from stranger to Wow! Why the hell did I not meet you earlier and I wish we were dating. The harder someone tries to flirt, the greater the put off is.

And as luck would have it, I had the most amazing conversation for over 3 hours with someone I had no clue existed 5 minutes before I spoke to him. Being the technology klutz that I am, I got stuck at a place and with no help around and on the recommendation of a friend, approached this stranger a few hundred kilometres away for help. And not only did he spend a good chunk of time despite being terribly busy, infact not just did he manage to help me out but also assigned another person to finish my work for me from his team.

These rib tickling, loud laughter conversations are what I long for.

Add to this that it really doesn’t take long for impressions to reduce to dust and bury itself in the ground. In retrospect, it really makes you evaluate as to what the hell was happening all this while, were you delusional or are people really crappy at times.

There are days that I sob and mock cry on not finding someone to date, but the truth being, I don’t just want to date someone and be in a typical relationship, more like close friendship, the kind who’ll tolerate a 3 hour movie for you, long lunches and longer conversations. Someone who isn’t in it for the typical romance part of it, friendships that run deeper maybe? Or love but not the clingy, compulsive, regular garden variety.

Also why would you talk to someone with the aim of just flirting or a quick fling somewhere? There are maybe two other paths to run down, what about the intense passion or the good friends one? Wouldn’t you want to know someone’s dreams, thoughts, take a peek into the workings of their mind? Is the body all you want?

Currently all I want to do is stuff my face in ice cream, any chocolate variety would do and just be done with men, love and promises. Oh and definitely get someone to mentally kick me when I start my funny flirt routine, great ice breaker but terrible in the long run.

In some weird sense the funny flirt comes easy to me, I’m one of those women who run away from the words hot/pretty/sexy and chase after smart, confident and witty and I never feel conscious while doing the crazy routine. The practice of being able to laugh at your flaws throws away the awkwardness, and that is where my strategy of ‘win-them-over-with-your-personality-and-then-make-them-find-you-hot, comes into play.

On second, third and probably the hundredth thought already thought this week, I should swear off romantic books and movies, sometimes that is just where they belong…