Addiction

For then I realised that addiction didn’t require a glass of whiskey nor a pack of cigarettes when it was easy getting drunk on the words we once spoke and delusional on the conversations we may never have.

– Midnight Thoughts

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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.

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!

Stumble

Of dark nights and the things you stumble on,

Of long walks and silence that envelops you,

Of days that push you to the edge of your soul,

Of words that stay stuck in the pen,

Of many that are said but don’t mean a thing,

Of those that need to be said yet don’t have a voice,

Of clenched jaws, blinding anger, punctured armor, tattered soles,

Of life.

A pinch of salt, a squeeze of lime, a bar of chocolate, a cube of ice.