Irksome but true.....

As I sat staring into a blank word document with a desire to pour my mind. I continued staring blankly. There are days when words and ideas cram your head but little can be done to process the same on paper. It is one such day I presume.

Life I thought with a sigh and a pause. The constant irksome word evoking a thousand thoughts, a whirlwind of memories, an ocean of hope and a desert of wants. I smiled as I let go off my breath with the numerous thoughts. Why is it so difficult to talk about life? About experience and what is and what could have been? Why is it that words are never enough to describe people, moments, events or days? why is it so difficult to figure out what makes us happy and what is it that we want?

Does the surge ever end?
Does the quest ever cease?
Does the desire ever die?

Is it all about acceptance and adjustments or is it about living life on the edge and craving for the wee bit more? Is it the cyclical nature of bad and good days or is it the attempt to always feel that adrenaline rush? What is it that we all seek for ourselves or despite ourselves? “The journey is long and endless and in the end it is only with ourselves” (The sunscreen song) .

I seek without knowing, I travel without destination, I wonder without pausing. I constantly think. In the midst of the ageless mindless confusion, I attempt to live the irksome yet infectious thing called life. Do u?

The last flight

It was a sinister feeling as I walked the last flight. I never understood why I felt that way. A sudden shudder would also run through my spine as I remember always hastily turning around. I always wondered why it was only on the last flight that the eeriness crept in. The moment would pass the moment I reached the door. I remember puzzling over this for days. No matter how engrossed I was in my thoughts, how hurried I tried to rush the climb or how indifferent I tried to be the feeling remained.

It was unexplainable I thought to myself trying to analyse. The feeling was of disturbing familiarity, of an uncanny calmness and of known and unknown times. I ran through options of a doctor, therapist, a voodoo specialist in my mind but decided against any of them. It would only make me think more on the feeling. I decided to live with it. There are days I would pause on the last flight and feel pain, there were moments where I would dash the last step and feel hurt. It was a morose feeling, of anger, anguish and yes a lot of pain.

Its been many years now and the house has grown with me. The last flight remains. The feeling remains. Yet it has got surprisingly easy, it’s a part of my life now, a grown sense of familiarity and at some level fondness. It’s a feeling of comfort that maybe I am being watched over by a unknown someone. Maybe it will never make sense, maybe I will never know but the last flight is here to stay in me.

Stolen Glory

My feet still tremor each time I remember the moment etched in time. I can sense the adrenaline rushing to my head. The nausea and the euphoria engulfing me, as I make the last dash. The award ceremony and the glory of being a title holder seems a blur now. I clench and unclench the Olympic gold as I remember passing the drug test despite….


I startle with the sound as the bottle breaks spilling out the remains of the heroin

Whhatterson

“What is life all about?” asked me?
“Sheer bliss in nothingness” smirked snoopy
“I am destined for bigger things you know for intelligensia, discovering the undiscovered and braving to find unsolved solutions.” Me continued.
“ Don’t you think we all have a purpose in life? We are all here for doing something different and life is more than school and slides.”
Me jumped up and held up my hand. “Here I go I shall strive to achieve and I will begin by not going to school and work the whole of today on the effects of nuclear sciences on mankind. What say snoopy?”
Snoopy muttered in his sleep while me pounced on him awakening him rudely.
I suddenly felt the bed moving and felt that the gods had heard me and the nuclear war had commenced. “Run for your life” I muttered only to be woken rudely up by mom waving a calvin copy in my face. I could only wake up giggling at my Watterson stint.

This thirteenth

Dreaming beyond the moon's beam
I stare into the vast emptiness
I glimpse at the expanse of nothingness
The stilness in the forelone space
I blink and blink again
amd slowly open my eyes
Its a haze at first
but the moist clears and the smog moves
I see the vast greens of days gone by
I stare at moments of simple past joys
I glimpse at life lived despite the odds
The stilness is calming
I close my eys in relief
Reliving years gone by this thirteenth

Thirteen till I die?

The eerie Friday
The desolate road
The pitch dark gloomy night
The unknown, unforeseen incidents
The vagaries of the thirteenth

The mystically mauvish madness of embracing life
Understanding the eccentricities of "toblerone"
The essence of 'music and lyrics'
And the madness of 'bed of roses'

The quest to experimenting newness
And loosing oneself amidst
The triumphs and trials of days
Faced with the exhausting enthusiasm

The eeriness of the conventional friday
The vagaries of the thirteenth for all
But the insane factum of me
are my vagaries of thirteenth

The journey of years
The defining eccentricity
The unending quest
I relive my thirteenth every day

The rage within

It was 9:15 am and she was late. She could visualize the boss fuming furiously. The after effects of the fuming were easily imaginable. Sherene was always running against time especially on Monday mornings. Why does life have to be so time bound she grumbled as she fled out of her door. Not only was the biting cold getting to her, the thought of the long hectic day with the fuming monster was no icing on the non existent cake.
The race continued at the never ending traffic light which seemed perpetually red. Sherene let out a yell in despair and started vigorously thumping the steering wheel. Suddenly she could see the street hawkers and beggars walking towards her car. Great! She thought to herself the last thing she needed was shooing them and missing the split second green signal.
Sherene randomly shook my head and started saying that she needed nothing, had no change to give nor could she buy anything much before anyone begged or offered anything for sale. Her rage brimmed higher as she cursed them under her breath. Why can’t they seek some employment and stop begging or do something worthwhile?
Just then, this old wrinkly lady with sagging skin and disjointed arms came and extended her hand. This was the hilt for Sherene, she screamed at her and said – “no change. Please get lost. I need to go. NO CHANGE.”
Having let out the scream, Sherene felt calmer but started feeling a bit guilty. There was no need to yell like that. Just then the signal turned green and just as Sherene pressed the accelerator she happened to glance at the old lady who had not left the side of the car. The old lady smiled a toothless smile, extended her hand and placed it on her head. “Bless you” she said.
The car raced ahead and Sherene for the first time felt calmer in her insatiable, irksome and baseless rage.