Stuck In Reverse

Its one of those days where I feel my mind being completely restless. I can feel the tension in my body as it paces up and down the narrow corridor lined with memories. Its looking for something, or wishing for something, I cannot decipher what it wants. All I know is that there is a sudden sense of longing and reminiscence.

The feelings make me feel old. I suddenly feel like so much has changed in such little time that it feels like decades ago when things were easier. My being craves for that senseless chatter in corridors trying to catch glimpses of winter sun, it craves for those days when it was so much easier to shake off a bad feeling. Somehow it feels like we've lost out on eachother, and I can't help but feel like I am no longer capable of mending a bridge.

As the tornado of these memories rushes through me, I feel like I'm stuck in some parallel universe which thrives on dilemma. I know not where to go, or whom to call when I've lost my way. Faces seem to be fading in my mind and relationships seem to just linger with a lost scent. Words lie here forgotten and promises of bonds remain tangled in the woes of daily life.

At some point in this text, I feel like I'm whining. Like I'm trying to make it seem like my life is miserable, it's not. That old 'Emo' version, as some would joke, has died away with time. I don't feel like the old version of myself, injuries and immunity issues aside. Its like another form of evolution. Time forces you to adapt to the environment around you and to cope with change, and one must learn to embrace the ticking of the clock. Granted that most of us have more tomorrows left than yesterdays, but those yesterdays cannot be forgotten as they define who we are today.

The whirlwinds of old flames and relationships and places are like old oil paintings, the frames are chipping and the paint is peeling off. And yet in its dishevelled face, there is still beauty. There is always an underlying likeability to everything, finding it makes accepting it easier.

I am walking down memory lane, and right now I do feel a little like a silly teenage girl feeling bad about who didn't call or what party I missed or why she's mad at me. At this juncture, the older version of me is saying that there are more important things than worrying, but I cannot help but do so (part of this problem may be genetic). The old days may have been fun, the new days far tougher, and yet somehow its the mixture of these two drastic sides of our lives that have culminated to make us into personalities.

Maybe today I am stuck in reverse and I miss old faces and people. I just hope tomorrow I can embrace the fact that maybe some of those faces are fading and there are new ones around, not to replace the old but to enrich me in whatever way they can. Life has changed, this fact just needs to be accepted...

The Warm Night

The warm night encases the light like a thousand fireflies in a jar,
The beginning of summer reflects off the coast, far.
The salty winds carry a message, strongly worded,
In the skies its left to be decoded.
Across the vast expanse of empty space,
Lingers a thought that one could not encase.
Words unspoken run through the streets,
Like broken jukeboxes with spurts of random beats.
A summer night eluded with mystery,
Weighing heavy with undiscovered history.
Somewhere a clock ticks slowly,
And somewhere the tower bell echoes lowly.

The raindrops linger on the leaves a while,
Before they begin their dance so versatile.
The green around pops with colour,
And we look around waiting to discover.
Underneath the moss it seems,
There are a thousand dreams.
Below the bridge over the river that flows,
I sense the currents and tides that rose.

The warm night is such a delicate feat,
It encloses me in its sublime treat.
Attempting to grasp its tiny nuances,
I am mesmerized.
Floating away into a never land,
I find my hand in your hand.

Walk with me now?
And I promise to show you how,
This night is tranquil and calm,
And exuberant with charm.

The warm night encased the light like a thousand fireflies in a jar,
The rain tricked off leaves and fell not to far,
Cool breezes blew the mysteries away,
And from this magic it was impossible to stray,
In its transformation I find my escape,
Simply foreseeing it as fate,
I run through these images in my mind,
In my heart they settle in time.

This warm night with its rain holds.
A secret not to be told.

2nd April, 2011

Last night more than one and a half billion people waited eagerly for what would be the clash of the host teams. The 2011 World Cup brought into its finals a strong Sri Lanka and a powerful India. As eyes remained fixated on a game that didn't end until the final six, restless hearts beat praying for their country and their team. A fight that was contended till that final moment that really could have gone either way. Moments of vigour and moments of despair, as fear and excitement battled it out and at moments when my faith would shake.

As I sat surrounded by friends who watched the game, my heart beating faster with every ball, every boundary, every wicket. Joy at the Sri Lankan wickets, fear after ours. Tears filling up at those early wickets of Sachin and Sehwag, and tears when Dhoni smashed that final six.

Last night was a night of nerves, of thrill, of fear and mostly of passion. I don't pride myself on being a big cricket fan, but last night I was proud to be an Indian. I sat glued to the television, superstitious in my black, praying at odd intervals, trying to reassure my faith. I gave up, like any typical Indian at one point, but I remembered that this country of 1.2 billion people was holding its breath with me. Cricket fans or not, the country stopped to pause and watch what was a glorious victory.

The night was filled with frantic SMSs and calls to my mother who reminded me to hold onto my faith and believe and the twenty years of being a commentators daughter kicking in. In a family where everyone possesed that love for sports, I felt like the black sheep. Last night I felt passion and love. I felt pride and amazement as the Boys in Blue became the Men in Blue. I may for the first time not have the words to express my sentiments about cricket. A sport that this country thrives on, where Tendulkar is God and where we all Bleed Blue.

This cup was ours from day one, and now it's shine will illuminate the entire subcontinent.
2nd April, 2011 will be a memory etched in every young Indian as the first time they saw their country hold the World Cup. It will be a day that generations ahead will reminisce over 1983 and feel that pride and joy for the second time in their lives. A morning filled with restlessness only brought to ease by a stunning victory. It will be remembered as the historic day when for the first time a host country kept the Cup.

So here's to that victory. The victory that was not only celebrated by those eleven men led by their captain, but a victory that is celebrated by one billion twenty one million people as their hearts swell with pride. To the World Champions. To India.

Jai Hind!

Struggle

I didn't mean to end up here. The path to this old door was so inviting. As hard as I tried, I couldn't resist. Voices and forces pulled my weight into the dimly lit curious corridor. I tried to keep my feet firm on the ground, but I found myself lifted and moving forward.

There are no people around me. Just a cold damp darkness and the longing to find the glow and shimmering light. The stone walls are bare, blank like canvas craving artistic strokes. My hand trembles while my mind works at a lightning fast speed. The intensity of the energy is too much to handle and it may drive me to insanity.

I turn, looking for an escape. There isn't even a crack around me. The door I walked in through has vanished. I'm lost. Stuck in this stone covered aura. Blocked from the world outside. There isn't a decibel of noise, nor a glimmer of hope. All the movement is restricted to my fearful trembling.

I'm stuck. The thought keeps overlapping all others. My mind is scared, but my body stands still unable to grasp the position I've found myself in. The cold wind is trying to tell me something. The silence is so unsettling I can't concentrate on its tones. I strain my ears, my mind and whatever part of me still functions. I can't. There's too much happening and yet its all still.

The blankness stares at me. Strong and bold. All knowing that I can't take its intense glare. It looks me in the eye, laughing feeling superior and I feel like a empty paint tube lying discarded on the floor.

I know there is a looming greyness over me, I struggle to find the colours. The darkness creeps into me and as I struggle to find the strength to fight it I feel my knees giving in below me. My weight seems too much to handle and I fall to the ground.

The cold hard floor sinks its sensation into me numbing any of my own. I sit there numb and trapped. Stuck in a world where I fail to see beyond the mist that fogs up my eyes. I feel my eyes bulging out in the hope of finding something that I know in my mind and heart exists but that which I cannot see. I let my beliefs get the best of me.

I want to scream. I want to cry. I want to yell. But the helplessness has caught my throat. I can feel myself choking on the silence around me. No sign of life, scaring me out of my skin. Goosebumps run up and down along with the shiver that chills through my back. I fall completely. My face hits the stone and I feel the cold surface take over the core of my being.

I lie there. Quiet. Shivering. Trembling. Hoping. Wishing. Waiting. No one finds me. What seems like days pass me by. I crave the warmth of familiar arms, the cackle of friendly laughter. Its lost somewhere in the silence. I am in another world. I close my eyes, a pitch black surrounds me. I let myself go.

I am lost. I am stuck.

Save me, I want to yell. I try screaming. Whispers leave my lips. I gather some strength and try again. A faint voice this time. I know no one can hear me. I wonder if anyone has noticed that I am missing. This thought scares me more, what if no one has. The minority of me that was attempting to hope, loses its battle to the majority of me that has given up.

No inking of optimism, I continue to lie on the cold ground. I look up. The blank canvas still stares at me. I find myself at war with my mind again. I feel my fingers at my side itching to move and my brain restricting that very function.

I stop and stare a while longer. I feel like I find strength in the emptiness. Time has taken the best of me. Fear has restricted me. The shiver has held me in its tight hold. And beyond all this I hope to be saved.

Save me. Hold me while I shiver. Laugh so to wipe my tears. Hold my hand through life till I find where I'm going. Push me so I stumble, and help me up when I hit the ground hard.

Teach me life. Teach me how to live.

Be.

Be with me.

Till I can be myself. Till I shed my cover. Till I break away from this cave I'm stuck in. Till I can hold you, not just in my heart, but in my arms.

I didn't mean to end up here. But I find myself closer to getting out.

It's Been A While

It's been a while since time stood still,
Since the rain hit my window sill,
I sit perched in a lingering thought,
In search of the reality or fantasy I forgot,
The merging lines of definition,
Seemed to be a flawless addition;

It's been a while since the clouds were shaped,
Since I picked and pointed random gates,
Wondering which path to pick,
Spinning a random stick,
Following the unknown night,
Wishing that choice was right;

It's been a while since I found,
The words to depict my sounds,
A peek into the mind of frazzle,
Where nothing would dazzle,
And pitch dark coldness would encase,
The thoughts of another taste;

It's been a while since a cold foggy night,
Rolled in hovering over street lights,
The chill shivered quietly in the corner,
Wondering how much longer,
And wishing for the warm,
To take away from the brewing storm;

It's been a while since reminiscence,
Since memories ran self sufficient,
Like a slide show in my mind,
Not pausing to find,
Any detail or line,
And in itself we lost time...

Faded

The sunset faded away,
Turning from the shades to grey,
Opening into the night,
Of dimly lit sparkling light,
Shadows they creep around,
Undetected and seemingly unfound,
Merging into streets and walls,
Like the surrounding forgotten calls.

Street lights glow afar,
Like a thousand fireflies in a jar,
The twinkling water stream,
Runs into my vivid dream,
And the cold breeze wraps itself around,
And in its grasp I am tightly bound,
A chill to fear, A chill to forget,
That night that seemed like a threat.

Giving up on the tide,
That would have taken me in its glide,
I lie around as pictures swarm,
Memories that were tightly bound,
Placed in a far part of my mind,
Unravel and reveal themselves, all kind.

And as the sunset faded away,
Everything I had to say,
Lay buried underneath my skin,
Lingering and burning within,
And as I wrap up my belongings,
And crave for warmth and longings,
Come out of the shadows and walk me home...

Changes

Life is full of these obstacles that as we grow we are supposed to overcome. They are supposed to mould us into the people that we are one day to become. At every moment everything, the tiniest of details, surrounding us are going to be incorporated into the life we make ours out to be. Subconsciously and consciously, we make moves, decisions and choices that inadvertently have some outcome or consequence. At every step we are modifying, making life into something more than a thing, but something more.

At each stage we are trying to find the comfort in something. Kind of like that lived in feeling. That feeling of slipping into an old t-shirt, or lying on the mattress you've been sleeping on since you were seven, that smell of your parent's cupboards, the familiarity you have with your ceiling fan or that unexplainable sensation of 'home'. In each thing we do, or see we try to find that sense of belonging. The perception that we have is moulded into something that's more than just a glance of some item, or retention of a random piece of information. The way we look at things changes over time, distinguishing between what is truly important and what in some way is just some frivolity.

As things modify they change the sensation that each factor brings into the overall equation of our lives. The existence we are so used to knowing and living in, when in a way it is snatched away from the reality of situations that we are too used to, it seems like another world is overtaking our lives.A changing force acts upon the still state of rest of our lives and suddenly what seemed to already be in a state of motion, gets spiralled into some other crazy path of motion.

In that spiralling force, where you find that balance or state of equilibrium is another struggle. And though life carries on to be this hard earned prize money for the struggle and mental confusion that one goes through, the winnings sometimes just cannot be collected.

The whirlwind romance that ones life has with change is one of those eternal love stories that are not ending anytime in the near future. As the years, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes and seconds carry on, the power exuded by one onto the other grows into something that in the long run tends to be beneficial. So as we grow, we gain, knowledge and insight into our surroundings and through that we adapt to be something that I think sometimes we never even thought possible until that fraction of a second modifies that one thought of who we were, are and can become...