missing the woods for the trees

Sunray's blend with a strange brightness that makes you see the world around in a luminous yellow, as if a high wattage bulb glowing sharply in a rather small room. The objects seem to glitter and shine and reflect more than they absorb, the air is a little chilly, really an atypical late winter morning.

The stagnation of thoughts and the reduced ability of my mind to observe and assimilate seems to have increased manifold, the all permeating dullness slowly fogs my view, as if in a trance, on automatic transmission, life seems to proceed day ticking into night and then all over again.

I ask myself if this is a trend I need to intellectually interrogate and deliberate upon, the answer is usually yes. But beyond the usual yes, the single minded pursuit of this train of thoughts seems to demand more energy than I possess.

I wonder often how life slowly but surely transforms us as an individual, the singular constants such as my name and the physical body I will embody until the day I finally someday stop knowing and living in this world, notwithstanding, everything else seems to be in a perpetual churn.

Walking the streets of our past, we often realize how the world and the people in it have been changing, but very seldom does this inquisitiveness to observe and comment on change gets directed inward. How life changed me as a person internally over the years and how those changes tend to manifest themselves externally is something, quite to my surprise, I have never really postulated.

Friends, lovers, acquaintances, family all keep changing with varying degrees of abruptness and comprehensiveness, some for good, some for bad, some for neither of the two, but in my preponderance and preoccupation with their changes, I always ignore the constant churning at the epicenter of my life, me.

awakening on a sleepless night

A few years back I used to spend a lot of sleepless nights, wide awake into the crazy early morning hours,  pondering and cogitating while fidgeting all antsy and sleepless in the bed. Over time that went away and I found myself capable of salubriously dozing off at any time after ten in the night.

Then the other day, deja vu. Starting with a little fidgeting, I soon found myself afloat the ponderous river of meaningless thoughts, though empirically a major majority of these digressive expeditions have been bereft of any significant outputs, however in a digression from empirical patterns this particular digression from sleep ended bumbling and stumbling into a discovery, as I serendipitously became au courant of the fact that I am not driven by any apparent desire , small or big grandiose or plain, of late.

On the mountainous stream akin cirucitous, convoluted and undulating path that my road to self discovery has been, this sure is a new sight. No pressing desires, well this currently true fact really does border on incredulity.
For,the inventiveness of my mind, in constantly churning out new desires, material or otherwise, and my unabashed acceptance of them all, has always been a parameter on which I enscon myself on the highest level in the scales of intellectual highbrow.
Treating it as a belief, a marker, a potent indicator of my zest for life.

But here I am confronted suddenly by this vacuum left in the wake of disappeared desires. I search myself, for any post facto allergic reactions to this discovery, beyond the surprise ofcourse,  and all I encounter is an overwhelming unaffectedness. A complete lack of nervous reaction, no conveniently timed yawn to surreptiously disguise a reaction, no deep gulp for air, no twitch on the corner of a lip, not even a blink too many.

Comforting? This harmonious acceptance ? Not really sure.

Lost

I call you, a one last time,
From the end of the long mile
Stumbling through the coal black night,
want to hold you just a little while

I see visions of a wonder land,
Faraway from where I stand
A twinkle here and a glimmer there,
Just illusions conjured by a tired mind

I dream of dreams so many times,
Of snow white clouds in star less skies
A little star struck and a little vile,
I seek some lies in these honest times

I watch the fluttering kites of hope,
As the empty, weary sky they grope
Asking life for another try,
Just seeking some winds to an unknown sky.

Parallel life

And I am thinking of those long past exits, on to parallel lives, of weak willed wishes, and the sinking feelings in my stomach.

On this lonely bend in the fog filled valley of my life, I refuse to find solace in despondence's arms.

Just empty hands, and a  last few ember's of my slow dying dreams. 

So many may-be's , so many sigh's, so little to show for my long winding ride.

Winter monologues

It was a flailing leave in the cold winter wind, that called me softly as I walked huddled under my clothes, 'would you mind stopping by for a word sir, you see I am all bored and cold', it said.

Encumbered by my sense of duty to all the lonely's of the world, I couldn't move my tongue to utter a no, and instead acquiesced with a little nod of my head. 

We spoke of winds and we spoke of stems, of the things that wanted us to move and the things that kept us grounded. 

We argued about the sun and its wicked ways, shining bright in sweltering heat and disappearing in the oppressing cold. 

We agreed about the constancy of love and its changing faces, and passionately argued our right to be loved by everyone.

We called each other names, comparing notes on the wisdom we had gained. I called the leave pathetically rooted and immobile, while it called me a vagabond wanderer of little use.

The leaf said something about arrogance and humility, which I did not really listen to- and it held that up as a sign of my arrogance.  Since I am the humble one, any aspersion on my humility irritates me, so pat I shot back- why do you choose to be green when the rest of the tree is brown?

And then the night it started to fall- much earlier than usual I thought, the darkening clouds and the morose wind made me want to head back home. But I found no opening to bid  a decent goodbye, so like always, I lingered more than I ever needed too.

16 Jan

Heaven is beyond that sky, beyond the blue deep color in your eye

You can call me anytime , and I will hear you each time

Instead of holding your hand,  near you I will just stand

In your moments of truth and times of defeat

I can hear you cheering , just listening to my heart