Dear Gunjan,
How have you been? It has been a long time. There is so much I have to share, so much I have gone through since I left. But first, I must apologize for the delay, and give you my reasons too.
The journey was long and smooth at first. Winds of from various lands gifted me with smells, and waters of various oceans shared with me their tastes. With sun in my eyes and clouds in my breath, I have kissed the foreheads of mountains, and have walked through the darkest secrets of the earth to be humbled beneath their feet.
It was all good, it was all fine. My sun was in my heart, its brilliance kept me from despair in the dark, gave me warmth when fear froze me, kept me going. I finally set sail, away from all lands, into the heart of the ocean. I needed to contemplate, to comprehend all that I had seen. Days passed by, and I kept drifting with the currents, not knowing where I was going, not caring either. I had let life take its course on its own, let time play its own game.
Time forgives, it just goes on. But life doesn’t. It must have a purpose, or find a way to end itself. I had robbed my life of that… and it turned the time against me. Storms raged in the ocean, gusts of winds lashing me with whirlpools. I had let go, I had let it happen.
Time is powerful, even more so when against you. But the sun in my heart has kept me alive, and showed me the truth that missed in everything I saw, everywhere I looked, the truth that I had gone seeking. And with that, I prevailed.
With the sun still in my heart, I am finally on my way home.
Psychedelic Heart.
Sunday, August 01, 2010
Sunday, October 19, 2008
The Silverfish
Lying in a womb of soft wetness, I see streaks of white chasing each other in a vast blueness. Life rushes through me in cold waves, teasing me, keeping me alive, but only for minutes. The streaks keep getting distorted, but I am unable to determine if they really are changing shapes, or is it my vision failing me. I try to turn around, I toss around, trying to change my view, but it never does. All I can see is white streaks in a vast blueness.
A cold fire is devouring my skin. Life seems to be gushing out of me. I try to hold on to it, but it seems impossible. I open my mouth wide open, as much as I can, as if to suck in all the life around me, to stay alive, but all I get is the same cold fire burning me inside. The white streaks carry on.
The white streaks suddenly start changing shapes, recognizable ones. I can see myself in those shapes, and some more like me. I know this. Its my own life being played in front of me. The cold fire has become fierce, uncontrollable. The waves of life rushing are dying out. They just tease me from a distance now, not coming forward to sooth me, not touching me anymore.
The soft wetness is drying out, becoming hard, harsh, hurting me. I try to move to somewhere more comfortable, but my body doesn't bear with me, refuses to move at all. My eyes are not in my control anymore. They move fast, randomly, but still, the view never changes, its the same white streaks in a vast blueness.
The cold fire has become unbearable now. Its has seeped through my skin, into my very being. Every nerve in my body seems to be burning with it. Suddenly, a chill takes over my body, and I go numb. Completely numb. No more burning, no more pain. No more sounds, just a soft white light, immense peace, and numbness. Finally, I die.
Tethered to a thin sliver of light, as I rise above the world, I see myself, lying lifeless, still, covered with bits of sand, lying on the shore, my silver scales glitter and the shimmer like the sand itself. But death leaves no beautiful marks. My mouth open, as if trying to suck the whole world in, my eyes, stony, dead, blood shot with all the frantic rolling. I see a huge wave rolling on the surface of sea. As it breaks on the shore, it drags my body along with, into the ocean, into the sea, into the very world where I was born and survived, the very world where I had wanted to live, the very world I longed for when I was dying... a divine funeral may be.
A cold fire is devouring my skin. Life seems to be gushing out of me. I try to hold on to it, but it seems impossible. I open my mouth wide open, as much as I can, as if to suck in all the life around me, to stay alive, but all I get is the same cold fire burning me inside. The white streaks carry on.
The white streaks suddenly start changing shapes, recognizable ones. I can see myself in those shapes, and some more like me. I know this. Its my own life being played in front of me. The cold fire has become fierce, uncontrollable. The waves of life rushing are dying out. They just tease me from a distance now, not coming forward to sooth me, not touching me anymore.
The soft wetness is drying out, becoming hard, harsh, hurting me. I try to move to somewhere more comfortable, but my body doesn't bear with me, refuses to move at all. My eyes are not in my control anymore. They move fast, randomly, but still, the view never changes, its the same white streaks in a vast blueness.
The cold fire has become unbearable now. Its has seeped through my skin, into my very being. Every nerve in my body seems to be burning with it. Suddenly, a chill takes over my body, and I go numb. Completely numb. No more burning, no more pain. No more sounds, just a soft white light, immense peace, and numbness. Finally, I die.
Tethered to a thin sliver of light, as I rise above the world, I see myself, lying lifeless, still, covered with bits of sand, lying on the shore, my silver scales glitter and the shimmer like the sand itself. But death leaves no beautiful marks. My mouth open, as if trying to suck the whole world in, my eyes, stony, dead, blood shot with all the frantic rolling. I see a huge wave rolling on the surface of sea. As it breaks on the shore, it drags my body along with, into the ocean, into the sea, into the very world where I was born and survived, the very world where I had wanted to live, the very world I longed for when I was dying... a divine funeral may be.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
At the heart of the tornado...
Years of struggling within has come to a standstill, questions stirring the turmoil have for the moment faded away, the shrilling noise has dissolved away into a distant silence, that envelopes the vast emptiness beneath the dark brooding clouds, the tornado has finally stopped.
Poised between a moment of violent flurry and and a moment of sublime peace, the tornado pauses and watches as streaks of light travel and break through the clouds in a slow dance of ruptures and explosions.
The tornado waits, looks on to the slowly appearing sun. The heart has now begin to stir, in a calm swirl-pool of colors and dreams, the furry rises again. The tornado is still waiting. It writhes and wrenches, muffling the screams of its agony, fighting against the heart, holding on to it.
The swirling gets faster and faster, pulling the wind along, the tornado screams, louder and louder. Mad streaks of lightning scorch the tornado and agitate it from within... the flurry rises and rises, going out of control, breaking through.
With a shriek that echoed through ages, the tornado explodes into a deluge of bright colors. Speckles of dreams drift through pillars of light breaking through the clouds. The tornado is still there, still waiting, calm, and patient, as time comes to a halt, and dreams move on.
Poised between a moment of violent flurry and and a moment of sublime peace, the tornado pauses and watches as streaks of light travel and break through the clouds in a slow dance of ruptures and explosions.
The tornado waits, looks on to the slowly appearing sun. The heart has now begin to stir, in a calm swirl-pool of colors and dreams, the furry rises again. The tornado is still waiting. It writhes and wrenches, muffling the screams of its agony, fighting against the heart, holding on to it.
The swirling gets faster and faster, pulling the wind along, the tornado screams, louder and louder. Mad streaks of lightning scorch the tornado and agitate it from within... the flurry rises and rises, going out of control, breaking through.
With a shriek that echoed through ages, the tornado explodes into a deluge of bright colors. Speckles of dreams drift through pillars of light breaking through the clouds. The tornado is still there, still waiting, calm, and patient, as time comes to a halt, and dreams move on.
I just wait.
In my fantasy, I have a butterfly. As it flutters, grains of light shed from its wings and add to the brightness of my horizons, but do nothing to the darkness of my sky.
The sky remains perennially dark. Occasionally lightened up when the silver clouds above throw sparks of greetings to the grains of light at the horizon, the sky remains, dark.
The butterfly flutters and flies, settling here for a moment, hovering there the next. The winds tremble to the beatings of the wings and shake the walls of my world. But the butterfly goes on, oblivious to the tremors its causing, the butterfly continues to hop and fly.
I stand in a dark corner, and wait. I feel the powdery light falling and slipping over my closed eye-lids. And as I open them, the soft brightness of the horizons entice me and capture my attention. But then, the butterfly... the butterfly.
It captures my senses and my imagination, enveloping me in a mist of soft brightness. I follow it around, even with my eyes closed, and my ears full of music, and my mind in a whirlwind of emotions, I can sense it, I can feel it, I keep running behind the fluttering wings of light... never getting nearer, but never falling behind, I go on running.
I am out of breath now. I stop, I wait, I breathe, I look up. The butterfly hovers above me for an instant. I turn my face up and close my eyes. I feel the particles of light falling and slipping over my closed eyelids, and I sense the butterfly flutter away, not caring whether I follow or not. I stop.
I turn around, look at the horizon, look at the sky, and the streaks of lightning. And over the distance, I still see the butterfly, fluttering, flying, settling for an instant and flying again. I don't try to follow the butterfly anymore.
The sky remains perennially dark. Occasionally lightened up when the silver clouds above throw sparks of greetings to the grains of light at the horizon, the sky remains, dark.
The butterfly flutters and flies, settling here for a moment, hovering there the next. The winds tremble to the beatings of the wings and shake the walls of my world. But the butterfly goes on, oblivious to the tremors its causing, the butterfly continues to hop and fly.
I stand in a dark corner, and wait. I feel the powdery light falling and slipping over my closed eye-lids. And as I open them, the soft brightness of the horizons entice me and capture my attention. But then, the butterfly... the butterfly.
It captures my senses and my imagination, enveloping me in a mist of soft brightness. I follow it around, even with my eyes closed, and my ears full of music, and my mind in a whirlwind of emotions, I can sense it, I can feel it, I keep running behind the fluttering wings of light... never getting nearer, but never falling behind, I go on running.
I am out of breath now. I stop, I wait, I breathe, I look up. The butterfly hovers above me for an instant. I turn my face up and close my eyes. I feel the particles of light falling and slipping over my closed eyelids, and I sense the butterfly flutter away, not caring whether I follow or not. I stop.
I turn around, look at the horizon, look at the sky, and the streaks of lightning. And over the distance, I still see the butterfly, fluttering, flying, settling for an instant and flying again. I don't try to follow the butterfly anymore.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Footprints
I kept walking,
Away from myself,
Away from you,
Unsure of direction,
My heart and soul blue,
I kept walking.
The night,
It got darker,
My eyes weeping,
Never knowing why,
My mind sleeping,
I kept walking.
The wind,
Shards of glass,
Tearing through,
Cutting me apart,
The pain only grew,
I kept walking.
The silence,
Heavy like my heart,
Howling in my ears,
Deep, like pain,
Moist, with tears,
I kept walking.
And you,
Cold, distant,
Silent, smiling,
I wept, I cried,
Tears shining,
I kept walking.
Away from myself,
Away from you,
Unsure of direction,
My heart and soul blue,
I kept walking.
The night,
It got darker,
My eyes weeping,
Never knowing why,
My mind sleeping,
I kept walking.
The wind,
Shards of glass,
Tearing through,
Cutting me apart,
The pain only grew,
I kept walking.
The silence,
Heavy like my heart,
Howling in my ears,
Deep, like pain,
Moist, with tears,
I kept walking.
And you,
Cold, distant,
Silent, smiling,
I wept, I cried,
Tears shining,
I kept walking.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
and so I was hated...
"Get out, Let us live our lives..."
The voices ringing through my ears as I walk back to myself, to my loneliness. I am passing through a myriad tunnel, like passing through time, people swooshing by me in jittery lines of various colors, suns and moons playing tricks with my eyes, feelings playing hide and seek with my heart, and thoughts playing around my mind, and I wonder... is that all I stand for? Is that all that I mean to the world? Is that all I am?
I don't know if I will ever get an answer to that, and I am not sure if I shall live long enough to wait for one. But, now I do realize something for sure, I am hated. I cannot be a part of life... not even my own.
How could I be blind to that all this long? I keep running away from myself, how can I expect others to stay? There's no point looking for an answer to that one, because there doesn't exist one. Its just that I am hated, and I guess I must live with it. But one thing is for sure, I do miss everyone, I miss myself, and my loneliness too.
The voices ringing through my ears as I walk back to myself, to my loneliness. I am passing through a myriad tunnel, like passing through time, people swooshing by me in jittery lines of various colors, suns and moons playing tricks with my eyes, feelings playing hide and seek with my heart, and thoughts playing around my mind, and I wonder... is that all I stand for? Is that all that I mean to the world? Is that all I am?
I don't know if I will ever get an answer to that, and I am not sure if I shall live long enough to wait for one. But, now I do realize something for sure, I am hated. I cannot be a part of life... not even my own.
How could I be blind to that all this long? I keep running away from myself, how can I expect others to stay? There's no point looking for an answer to that one, because there doesn't exist one. Its just that I am hated, and I guess I must live with it. But one thing is for sure, I do miss everyone, I miss myself, and my loneliness too.
Sunday, September 02, 2007
My Definition of Life... Revisited
Sun and Rain and Smiles and Pain,
Nights and Days and Gloom and Glaze,
Quill of Feather and Edge of Knife,
Yes, my friends, That is Life.
Sitting at the shrine of solitude, at the bottom of my own heart, I was going over these very lines of mine. Pondering, wondering... what made me write these? Is this really what I feel about life? The answer, though hard to find, was sure lurking somewhere in the deep recesses of my heart itself, and I resolved to find it.
I got up and started walking, feeling the walls with my hands... looking for answers... The walls felt all cold and hard, rough... almost bruising my fingers. A chill started taking over me... it was getting difficult to walk. And I started wondering, where is the sun, the smiles, the days, the glaze.... where are they all? Is it that I have never been happy in my soul, that I have never smiled from my heart? Somewhere, there has to be a little warmth, a little softness. But where?
As I kept wondering, forcing myself to go on walking, I stumbled, and fell. I couldn't get up anymore. My body wouldn't respond. It felt like I had been packed with kilos of ice... I tried to keep breathing, to keep my eyes open, to avoid the darkness that was closing in, to stop the blue clouds that were forming all around me, getting denser and heavier. Shadows... dark shadows... darker than the darkness around me, started emerging from the walls and moving towards me... I tried to get up, to run, to keep them away... but I couldn't. I was getting weaker, and weaker. The walls of my own heart were closing in on me, trying to crush me... and I couldn't stop it.
But then it's my heart after all, so why couldn't I? I tried, but then I realized, I had run away from myself long back, my heart was not my own anymore, we were strangers to each other. My own heart was trying to kill me. But why?
Nights and Days and Gloom and Glaze,
Quill of Feather and Edge of Knife,
Yes, my friends, That is Life.
Sitting at the shrine of solitude, at the bottom of my own heart, I was going over these very lines of mine. Pondering, wondering... what made me write these? Is this really what I feel about life? The answer, though hard to find, was sure lurking somewhere in the deep recesses of my heart itself, and I resolved to find it.
I got up and started walking, feeling the walls with my hands... looking for answers... The walls felt all cold and hard, rough... almost bruising my fingers. A chill started taking over me... it was getting difficult to walk. And I started wondering, where is the sun, the smiles, the days, the glaze.... where are they all? Is it that I have never been happy in my soul, that I have never smiled from my heart? Somewhere, there has to be a little warmth, a little softness. But where?
As I kept wondering, forcing myself to go on walking, I stumbled, and fell. I couldn't get up anymore. My body wouldn't respond. It felt like I had been packed with kilos of ice... I tried to keep breathing, to keep my eyes open, to avoid the darkness that was closing in, to stop the blue clouds that were forming all around me, getting denser and heavier. Shadows... dark shadows... darker than the darkness around me, started emerging from the walls and moving towards me... I tried to get up, to run, to keep them away... but I couldn't. I was getting weaker, and weaker. The walls of my own heart were closing in on me, trying to crush me... and I couldn't stop it.
But then it's my heart after all, so why couldn't I? I tried, but then I realized, I had run away from myself long back, my heart was not my own anymore, we were strangers to each other. My own heart was trying to kill me. But why?
Friday, August 31, 2007
Illusion
Here I am, sitting in the shadows... of my own dreams. I am trying to hide in here, hiding from the world, from people, from myself. And thus, from the shadows, I am trying to observe the world around me, and see if it means anything to me, if I mean anything to it.
But as it seems from here, the world doesn't even exist. Its just an illusion, a kaleidoscope of illusions in fact. I see people, and yet they don't see me, I hear them talk, but its not me they are talking to, I feel them around, but they don't even notice me.
And yet again, a doubt creeps in, is it the world thats an illusion? Or, is it me? Is it that the world doesn't notice me? Or, is it that I am oblivious to it? I try to probe into myself to find out the answers, but I can't. How can I? I have been sitting here hiding from myself. I try to return, to the world, to myself. I emerge from the shadows, looking around for myself, hoping that he would be looking for me too. But...
But as it seems from here, the world doesn't even exist. Its just an illusion, a kaleidoscope of illusions in fact. I see people, and yet they don't see me, I hear them talk, but its not me they are talking to, I feel them around, but they don't even notice me.
And yet again, a doubt creeps in, is it the world thats an illusion? Or, is it me? Is it that the world doesn't notice me? Or, is it that I am oblivious to it? I try to probe into myself to find out the answers, but I can't. How can I? I have been sitting here hiding from myself. I try to return, to the world, to myself. I emerge from the shadows, looking around for myself, hoping that he would be looking for me too. But...
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