Mother

why would one bear

if one cannot love

how would one love

if not with zeal

One of these days sitting high on pot I started talking about my childhood. Till that fateful moment I had always looked back and thought that I had a perfect childhood, but that is not the case I guess. I probably share my childhood with a whole lot of other folks, who had a similar background as mine. A generation trying to come to terms with the world around them and they bear children without thinking what would happen to these lesser mortals.

The feeling of being in-adequate,

The feeling of being insignificant,

The feeling of something being wrong,

I grew up with all of them.

 The memory that has been disturbing me most after that pot session is the beating sessions, why would someone hit a child, a child doesn't know better, a child cannot think from an adults perspective. I remember living in encompassing fear of violence, I remember waiting for the next session to happen. And somewhere down the line it just stopped mattering anymore, I still had the fear, but that never stopped me from being what I wanted to be. The vision that overwhelms me is a 6-7 year old scared kid, who is being thrown around and beaten black and blue, with all that she could lay her hands on, belt, slippers, hands.

I can feel the slaps

As they landed hard on my face

I can feel the buckle of the belt

Leave its marks on the body

But the most vivid of the remembrance

Is of her face

Which was so full of hate,

At having borne someone

Who won't understand,

The plight that was hers

The scarlet red face

The expression of annihilating anger

The way she said

"oh dead one, why don't you just die"

The moments when I will pray for death

But would be too scared to die

The way I will console myself

"she will miss me when I am gone"

The way I feared her all through my childhood

And I did leave her, she doesn't know it maybe, maybe she craves for me, on my part I understand why she was the way she was. I even think that the violent sessions were maybe on periphery of sanity. I know she wanted me to be successful, her definition of success. I know she never tried to understand me, she didn't have to.

But the screaming and ululating kid still haunts me, the scarlet red on her face and the fear and horror, with which I waited for the next dose to be served, still haunts me.

They say Mother is the supreme giver of love, a love so pure that you can go hide in its warmth.

I never had that recluse, ever.

 -- The allure of Solitude lies in it being perennial

answers ???

One of the first book, of any literary quality that I read was Maxim Gorky's my apprenticeships and my universities (please forgive me if you find the title incorrect, I remember just that just now). That was an awesome book, it depicted day to day life in a troubled time, time of upheaval, time of revolution, revolution that changed the world forever.  The simplicity of narration and the visual detail with which day to day life is depicted makes it a masterpiece. I now have to read his "mother", his most celebrated work to date.

I have been in quite a turmoil lately. And it has not stopped, finally I had thought that I would rest it to peace, but again it has surfaced and made me feel irritated at myself. I think maxim gorky dealt with this turmoil by living life a very normal way, never expecting anything out of life. And I feel that is the best way to go about it. The solution is not to have any expectations of any sort from life, which you have.

To be a saint,

In your own way.

--
The allure of Solitude lies in it being perennial

castles in air

tide was low
sea was calm
sun was warm
and the beach was commodious
he thought to himself
"let me build a castle"
a castle so big,
a castle so strong,
that all will behold it
as a gem of sand
he dug deep
he heaved big
he carved fine
he gave it all he had
finally the deed was done

all this while
she stood and waited
for tide to rise again...

--
The allure of Solitude lies in it being perennial

Lost in Paradise

Born in a world that didn't seem to understand him, he was cursed into an existence that he had not asked for, let alone understands it. Expectations, a word so often used and exploited by people around him that he came to imbibe it in his own existence, expectation from life, expectation from relations, expectations from career. He had something to prove to the world that did not understand him, he had something to prove to the parents who never understood him, he had to prove to his relations that he was genuine, but operating from a different perspective.

He remembers growing up with his aspirations getting stomped out, each and every time he uttered them. He grew up with fierce determination to be his own master, someone who decides things for himself, but somewhere down the beaten track of time, he decided that he has to influence others too. There were just two things that drove him, his belief that anything under the sun can be earned, and the belief that one day people around him will finally understand. He saw her as an extension to him, not as a separate individual, he saw her as someone who will share the entire burden he has been carrying, he expected her to think his way, he expected her to be like him, and he expected her to understand. On her part she did try, but she was dealing with a whole lot more than she understood, she needed space, she needed understanding too, and she needed her wilderness to be endorsed by him. he thought it was just a waste of time and energy, all this didn't fit in his scheme of things , he knew to live only one way, he knew how to play to the audience, he had the burning desire of being the most important, the most sought after, the most looked up to. And he was willing to neglect her dilemmas, her weaknesses, her cravings for the greater good.

When he found her cold her he would wonder, what is wrong, he would want her to see his point of view, and when she would talk he would get threatened, her vision doesn't fit with his, her desires are so removed from his, in fact he would never get down to talking, because that would make him expose his insecurities, his own private war with the world around him, and how he found himself overwhelmed by the inadequacy of his existence to wipe out the random memories of depravity and feeling lost. He would stay quite, he would try to inflict the hurt that he felt, and would try to hurt her till she was at the same plane as he was, at least in terms of hurtful feelings.

The day she left, he thought "maybe it is for good", but as the time passed he realized what presence of a human being, who doesn't have hidden agenda against you, feels like, he missed that presence, it haunted him, and he realized little by little that no one can take that place, that no one had such a presence. His friends had a life that they were unwilling to compromise the way he had compromised his, his parents took him for granted, they thought that he is strong enough to handle anything, after all he is the eldest and a self made man. They did not understand the void in his life. He didn't acknowledge it either. Maybe he didn't even know his vulnerability, with so much time spent negating its very existence. He missed her, longed for her, and wanted it to magically work again.

But she had moved on, except for a bond that she felt and would never relinquish, she had moved on……………..

And he was completely lost…………………………..

--
The allure of Solitude lies in it being perennial

At times, time seems so inadequate, one has to fit in everything in a 24 hours day, what if you want to live more than that...........
each and every minute that I steal
each and every moment that i feel
is so full of bliss that I don't want it to end.
not now not ever

--
The allure of Solitude lies in it being perennial

preparing for flight

the fledgeling is finally turning to bird
the bird will fly away soon
leaving the nest behind
nest it called home for so long

i do this all the time, I make them take wings, I make them realize that they can fly and when they are about to fly I get more lonely then I could ever possibly realize, then I go through the gloom of havng decided my own destiny and living in agony over the fact that I do love to fly myself, but find my wings clipped, becasue I had given then to the other.


--
The allure of Solitude lies in it being perennial

Freedom

I want to live, and yes I want all that is available, and no I am not afraid to be all alone. there is a certain price one has to pay for freedom, and today of all the days I am absolutely ready for that.

I don't want to cork the fountain head of emotions
let them flow free and wild
let me live for each moment
for each moment is borrowed from time
let me love, let me loath
let me give and ask for nothing
let me utter the scream at the top of my voice
FREEDOM...........

--
The allure of Solitude lies in it being perennial

Will cry in the rain

At times something comes out of blue like a bolt of lightning and doesn't let go of your senses how so ever strongly one might try to fight it. It claws on your heart, and keeps gnawing off..... something like this happened to me today, I don't know why but I got awfully hurt, to the point of breaking up and crying. Stupid silly me maybe, I really have to get a handle on myself, I should really follow what I preach, but then that is the whole bloody point, it is always easy to preach.
Each one of us has a bag that we have to keep to ourselves, completely and totally. I might not have that bag right now, but sure will acquire it over time. At times I take a lot of things for granted, but that should not happen, really it should not happen. Expectations, as has been stated so many times before, is mother of all evils, and really I have to wage a holy war of sorts against the evils of the same :-)

--
The allure of Solitude lies in it being perennial

A Distant voice

Today morning I read something that I had written 6 years ago. I still distinctly remember sitting down with pen, paper and sudden inspiration, to write something for the play we were planning to do. I thought it would be a better idea to come up with something new instead of using stuff from long dead writers :-). So I sat down and for about an hour and a half wrote and trust me I would have gone on an on, if the thought to finish it off didn't occur to me. Today when I was reading the same piece, I felt that I can really write, I believed that I can actually be a writer and it is not just some illusion that I am entertaining.

--
The allure of Solitude lies in it being perennial

Lidia

He had been sick for days now, he looked out of the window, winter had descended on to Delhi, there was morning fog, with no clue of sunlight, all he could hear was distant traffic, no chirping of birds today, there was an eerie calmness. All of a sudden he felt lonely, this was a strange visitor from the past, as far as he knew he had killed this part of his, as far as he knew he longed to be lonely, but now when he was dying, he didn't want to be alone. He had been thinking all morning, wrapped in the quilt, staring blankly at the ceiling, he let all the thoughts flash by, didn't hang on to any one thought for long. But he kept coming back to her, kept coming back to the realization that he needs her, more now than ever.
He remembered the last time he had seen her, it had been 6 years ago. It had been a long time and very long and lonely time, he felt the acute urge to go back to roots, he resisted it for couple of hours, and then the realization dawned on him. He had been resisting the urge for too long, 25 years too long.
Finally he picked up the phone and called her.
how are you
I am fine, what about you
what are you up to
listen, whatever you are doing, just drop it, get on the next flight to Delhi, I need you, I don't want to die alone.
five hours later, Lidia was sitting next to his bed, holding his hands, making him feel, as always, wanted.

--
The allure of Solitude lies in it being perennial

Akanksha

He saw in her the virtue of an unmade mind, she was not yet decided on what she wants to be, and she was trying to figure that out, she was free. free as a bird. The way she checked out the spices, the way she smelled the fruits, the way she looked for the expiry notice on some of the edibles, all gave a semblance of calmness, tranquility that was not just skin deep, she was happy. She was oblivious to her body, for her it had always been there, she was not aware or maybe didn't care for the looks she got. she was not conscious of the leers too, once in a while she will notice them and just smile them away. she was complete in herself. She was ready for the world, she was ready to face it, and live life on her terms.
That was how he saw Akanksha for the first time.

--
The allure of Solitude lies in it being perennial

Hopeless Mortal

Carry on oh hopeless mortal
try to live with hope of love
connive yourself into belief
collude yourself into yielding
trust me not, your old ally
trust the venomous heart you have
fall flat on your face
get up and say again
love will heal it all

I have become a cynic now
in the eyes of hopeless mortal

No man can be an island

There are times, when all of a sudden you feel that time is not on your side, when you feel that, whatever you are trying to do is not yielding what you expect. but why should one expect, why should one look for moments, why should one be dependent on another at all. These are the times when I feel that living alone like an island is bliss. They say "No man can be an island" and I want to prove it wrong ever so often.

--
Carry me oh lord of good times
to a place where wine flows like a river
where the damsels are easy
where there is sin all around
where love can be found
at the drop of a hat
let me live in the nihility
and let me rot
for I want to be the island
untouched by time and tide