Those whom we like

   

"Those whom we like, we never get courage and strength to write about them."

It is a line written somewhere in my draft posts. Which is, well, very true (atleast in my case). I never write about Those whom I like completely. Why? Firstly, I feel that their beauty will shimmer, if ever I tried to describe them through my writings. I don't possess writing skills which could portray the special people of my life. Also, If I write them out completely, then what would I think about in my gloomy days?

Some torments should be eternal I think, so does some memories.  There should be some space for thoughts. Some memories unwritten or some memories not shared with anyone, but just placed in a deep corner of heart, which some day strikes and we remember a past shared with a special person, a sweet bitter smile of unrequited love or may be a laughter shared with a close friend. Yes, life is always present in those memories. It never dies.

Life, always a one way road, we can’t go backward, sometimes close ones are left behind but we move forward (we have to) with more pace or they leave us in mid way but journey have to completed. With or without them. What kind of journey is it? What is the purpose of such journey when we don't have our true, desired or prayed companions beside us? Full of compromises life is! Wouldn't it be better if those people, for whom our heart has a special place, should always be present with us in our life long journey? But does it happen? NO! a big NO!

People come and go and nobody else can replace anybody else. Our heart is huge, very huge, it has a place for everyone, but always a special place for a special person, it never replace, it never vanishes, (if not you then your memory will reside there eternally).

Love is like a radioactive substance it can decay but never vanish completely. Just depends whether your love is uranium, which take thousands of year to decay or carbon isotopes which take few days to decay. But indeed “first love is like uranium.”

Writing after a long time, just second blog post in this whole year and perhaps last of the year.  Though, there were some reasons to write but I didn't. Had no courage, no strength to write. Hopelessness is bad, But thanks to people who like to read (me). Some promises, thus writing, some people, thus writing, some torments thus writing, some memories thus writing.

Adieus to 2013

                                 "जाते हुए लोगों को रोका नहीं करते, साल को भी नहीं"

Looking ahead! Adieus to 2013, its bitter memories and some sweet ones too... This year also shall pass, and especially this year “2013” should. I don't know why we think that if a year changes, our problems would also change or vanish? Does it happen really..?  Perhaps no. But I want to sound hopeful this time, so I am assuring myself falsely. I can remember vividly, for 2011-12, I wrote “Past year was Dickens-ian (the best of time and the worst of time)” but I cannot write this for this year. Not for 2013. There should be a year for making mistakes, loosing grip over life, defeat, survival and conflicts… And this year was indeed full of these.

Again… realizing how unpredictable life is, I hadn't anticipated a year that could be such a waste. As if I just woke up from a deep comatose and a year passed and I could do nothing.

"Idleness makes hours pass slowly and years swiftly

Activity makes the hour seem short and the years long…"

as said by Cesare Paverse in a poem. Well,  I shouldn't label this year as a complete waste, got much awaited degree this year, learned some lessons, although that would be consider learned only if I don't repeat the same “mistake” again.

This year, I met some new people, some close ones became acquaintances, lost some old ones, and yes, a conflict ended or can I say, I gathered enough courage to accept the end. An end, to years of waiting for the dreams to become real. An end is always painful but what else could I do?

“All that” was supposed to end someday and that someday was in this past year. For how long one can dwell in the past over the same thoughts? And after all, I believe things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end. And at times not in the way we expect. But they do come certainly. So I will wait.

Ups and downs are a part of life, I shouldn't disdain any single person or a thing, everybody have their own different role in this unscripted drama called life, where nobody is protagonist but all act in a chorus. Every person have some blank spaces to fill in. And, it is up to us what we fill; happiness or sorrow. But, the point is, we should keep moving, despite every obstacle. I tried but I failed.

Then I lost hope and I sat idle. And that is the reason I am cursing this year, I tried but was caged in my own thoughts, conflicts. They say taste of victory is sweeter when we’ve just tasted defeat. So I hope I’ll see good things may be this time.

       Introspective time is quite painful and embarrassing too! So I’ll stop it. And now I am feeling like this year wasn't not that bad or a waste (well, after writing all this). I can say finally;

“Enjoy yourself!

 These are the "good old" days.

You are going to miss in the year ahead

Amen!”

            

Grave of memories

        There should be a place where we can bury all over our griefs, all our problems, tensions or should be a place like black hole , you know black hole, a celestial object whose gravitational field is so strong that  even light cant came back from it,  where once entered there is no escape,  some people  are also like  black hole ,whom after meeting we forget our identity or they forcefully snatch our's.

     "Kuch ghar aise hote hai jahan ek bar koi chala jaye to wapas nhi aata "

      I  am in search of that house ,whenever i will found such  i will bury some of my memories ( of your's) , but what  if those memories start fighting within themselves , every memory belongs to different person but would be placed in same places, . Achha, do tell if any rivalry person's grave are  at same place do their soul live in rest or they continue to fight , we always says rest in peace, do they really rest in peace or their peace already snatched away.
      Will your memories live in peace with someone else's or will you fight with them, i heard  kinship may develop even in enemies if the faces same atrocities but you are quite diplomatic i know it very well,  you always pretend like everything is fine or you not aware of the convoluted things.The day when i will left your memories with her you would promise me that you will live in peace but i know you wont , and very soon i will be aware of it, you know why , because at that time I would also there, a part of mine would be there, resting on pillow of your old  memories, tough tormented .
Addiction could be of anything , could be of dwelling in past too , can pass morning to evening thinking on same thought  because its never ending  I know many thing faded with time, but still lies something somewhere in dark corner of heart, this 300 grams muscle called heart. It have something, it have entire universe in itself , it have single person's memory to a whole world's .

Chalo, aj kuch to positive likha, bahut sikayte the pessimisttic likhne ki. See magic of your memories.

Random Thoughts

        Just for a moment, a gaze so firm ,so  furious, burning eyes, of agony,of  anger, disappointment too,  all together, this is what i can see right now. God forbid.  can remember Japanese legend writer  Murakami         "In a sense, I'am the one who ruined me. I did it myself"
     So life is unpredictable proving day by day ,every step of mine like speculation.  Today writing is just releasing   anger and stress and it should be like this, if not always then at least for some time. How therapeutic it is when writing without thinking of any reader, just writing like an open diary, never had thought i can  release stress with  punch on keys , this poison called anger.
     When fight is between you and only you, the toughest one, but this too was destined to do ,when anarchy isn't only outside but within inside , when chaos isn't just of images but of thoughts too,  conflicts  in every  thought ,but  this is transformation. This process makes you to survive in  more harsh situation, making you to believe  in unveiled strength of yourself ...
In book "The Alchemist " the Shepard  boy realizes real treasure wasn't  in far  pyramids of Egypt  nor in church or fields of Spain  but in the voyage , in pursuit of treasure all the obstacle he met , all the lesson he learn ,treasure was the memories of happiness and sorrow , the journey itself  was treasure,  same  true for all of us too , but sometimes we forget this or our gaze disillusioned .
Sometimes there is nothing called good or bad , right or wrong  all are just different aspects of same thing, all are just right in their own perspectives,  who we are to blame ,who we are to judge them , its only time"s work and right , time not just heals but it justify. People arnt bad they are just different from us and we make our belief on base of our prejudices. when frame of reference changes things changes a lot, might be what i always believe is entirely different from truth, and that's why it is said "Truth is eternal ".

So far these are some random thought,  anger which is releasing through writing, some conflicts within me, its good asking yourself questions then suddenly getting all answers , things never remain same when  any drastic  happen  but slowly slowly it tries to come  on  same path again, what we thinks   in childhood we found ourselves surrounding with same  in old age. because in end we again came back to starting point, as like in race it's end is the same starting point .its just circle, eventually we came back from where we starts. All Napolian came back to their roots, we will also, after wandering a lot, we  will also on same track perhaps at end. Till then just enjoy the journey. 

Abstract Of september

                 "Likhne ya na likhne ke confusion se bachne ka ek hi tareeka ho sakta h ; likh dena fir chahe kachra hi kyun na likha ho" .
 Same should be in life too , just take any initiative than to stick in dilemmas , might be  that decision turn adverse  ; nonetheless  take decision  it need  courage. Taking right step is best but even taking wrong step is  not  as bad as not taking at all and we don't get any straight choice, as  "Life ...the way it really - is a battle not between good and bad but between bad and worse " (Brodsky) .
                 khair ,  Fulfilling promise arnt that easy ...Don't know  what's happening with me but I am not able to write , why...,don't know "Perhaps liking/loving anything to such extent that even you cant get  that  "
life...There  is no any specific tool to require to pen down thoughts just a pen, diary (in my case register as i write in register )and isolate place. earlier at terrace i could pen down  easily or late night in room. Such time also came when i had wrote in crowded place like cafe shop, fly over, who cares when you around all unknown people. Yeah there  a restless to write but i am still stranded at a place where one part of mine feels to  write , but other one denying  neither body have strength nor mind have thoughts , poor me ...Ohh, whiskey you are really affecting my body CNS...trembling hands.
             Procrastination is a different thing ,but when heart really wants to write no matter how lazy are, you still gather some courage . There  should be any reason to write, else it got tough to pen down, don't know if  we called that as inspiration, that could be anything  nostalgia ,past dreams , regrets, some memories rest nothing  but needed.  there lies  a person or dream whom we can write eternally, you know why because we wont get them, we can only dream of them, Unrequited love are eternal. "The sweetest songs are those that tell that the saddest tales".
"Adhure Khawab ache lagte hai"  maybe life too,  someday we would like this , but wouldn't adopt it , accept it completely, there always  remain  a thrust for completeness which is unattainable, Perfaction is unattainable, things should accept it as like they are life too , person too.

           Life  don't know what exactly it is , what day add in it, what night, what rain, what memories, person;  this blend is too complex . To understand furnace of God is not easy , so let it be as it is, engineering don't teaches every manufacture process.  I afraid very soon this blog will turn into an open diary of mine, as nothing to post special , anything different   , just posting old  written work
but

"We write to taste life twice"

Micro Fiction

              

1. Letters:
                  There was a night when i wrote letters to you, it felt like soft hammering, as if  with every word a hammer was  striking .I coudnt complete even a  single letter. But In morning i found a heap of uncompleted letters.

2. Body:
               Those days when you were exploring my body and i was stupidly dreaming you to love me divinely.
I lied, those days never had came.

3.Vanish:
               Some characters from my life have suddenly vanished in thin air, silently as they came they leaved . Now i search them in my old writings.

4.Praise:
               One day someone praised of my writings, i felt proud and  tried to write more  better. Since then i coudnt write anything good.

5.Darkness:
                    I sit in the dark, and it is hard to figure out which is worse, the darkness inside or the darkness outside .

6.Washed letter:
             While i was writing a love letter in chalk on your house wall,  you  came with your lover. Suddenly rain washed all writing .

7.Permanent:
                     I f anything was permanent  ever that was the admiration i did years ago, without knowing you.
Thus i don't wanna know you.
             
8.Remember:
          She: do you ever remember me.
          ME: I only remember you in the days sadness and night of insomnia.
But coudnt tell her every night of mine is insomniac and every day is sad.

9.Answer :
                After struggling for 12 years i finally gather courage and tell her, I have crush on you.
when i look for any answer  , she said i knew it from first day and have answer from that day. "You and I are cannot live together, not because of you , not because of me, but we are just beyond time."

10.Voice Echoed:
                             I was sitting in the park and reading a fiction novel, slowly failing in love with the characters . suddenly they appear across me, i tried to touch them but they disapear .A voice echoed then "we come like this only, and disapear  "
Next day, when i was at her home, and stretch my hand for handshake , same voice echoed. since then i never touched her.

11.Outfits:
                 She said: Good outfits, looking handsome.
                 I smiled and said i look pretty wearing cloth of sorrows.

12.Vicious circle:
                           It was all over, but one day someone met,  our gaze fixed to each other, she was smiling and i was afrading. She read that in my eyes and ask why you scaring.
I coudnt tell her that , again vicious circle of dreaming, insomniac night and writing have  starts.

13.Rain:
                 She exclaimed cheerily- Wow...! its raining.
I looked into my teared eyes rather then outside and said exhaustively- Yeah, raining here also.

14.Lie:
            One day she was reading poems from my diary, she asked for whom you write all these.
I looked in her eyes for a moment and said "No one"
and lied that every writing of mine belongs  to you only.

15.Curse:
               When we last meet, she cursed me that i would forget every memory of her.
I was smiling on my intelligence that  i have already written a lot about her in my diary , by reading them i would reconstruct those memories.
At night when i picked up my diary, it was empty.

PS: few are inspired.

Day of leaving writing.

         Reason of not writing is not always lack of inspiration, but fear also. Fear of completeness . For those who haven't words but always have relentlessness to write, inspiration matters but not that much , for them it doesn't matter how bad their grammar or how rubbish there piece of  writing is but  it is essential as its always therapeutic .
For them writing is not just merely pen down some thoughts  , but  like a meditation and why not  as they forget everything (sometimes even themselves) while writing , or it  may be healing a object , even in their rubbish  writing you may found some jewels or may be not.

         writing is  necessary as like breathing but what when  some people deprived them from it, what when the only thing they can do for themselves  is hurting others. How could they so mean , when there writing is hurting to others why they still writing , ... no they wont, they would leave that.
Day will come , they will lost inspiration , some people too, though life is about moving on, (as Churchill said, "If you going through hell, keep going " or ) but they wont , they found themselves sticked upon some people's memories only, (as those people long moved leaving them).  Loosing people  is not a new thing,  but loosing own part  would leave a silence not torments like earlier, silence of solitude .
           Perhaps a day come, they would leave there work; writing , not because of people or lack of inspiration but because they cant do that anymore, they would choose to not to write ever, they will slowly loosing themselves too , they would start a process of  killing  themselves daily, a part of them would die daily . The soul  who urges them to write would stop responding then ,or they just wont listen ,  that would be finished. They won't lost everything but would lost that part which was there own thoughts of reflection , but that day will come, if not now then someday.
 

Their soul will mourn that day so loudly even universe would scares from that cry , their  regretful eyes would wound more painful then ever , that fade smile  turn into sarcasm, own shadow would give condolence to  lost writing , epitaph would be without any words and may be for some moments poetry would be unemployed  ,doom's day for a soul that day.

       Tears wont roll down cheek that day , heart wont beat slower but for a person his inner life would finish since then. What they would do after that day, how they would survive , would they celebrate this solitude or live in comatose but surely they wont remain same person.
        Nobody is eternal in this fragile world, not words , thoughts , everything just live their destiny and passes away , just leaving  marks of them and memories.

"All our lives are merely one painful, laborious search
for our own graves"