yet miles to go before I sleep

From the shady green coconut canopies to the high-rise buildings of a yet not-so- familiar city...feelings , thoughts , hopes , anticipations and aspirations brought along with all the other baggages , packed haphazardly in mind.First day at office…staring wide-eyed at the 9-floored building of Laurel Facilities, taking in the atmosphere of professionalism around. So many strangers in a lift waiting to reach their destination , silent , thoughtful , tied but by one bond “ The MphasiS tag “.
The formal introductions and redirections to the concerned department.Finally landing up on the 5th floor of Laurel Facilities and being introduced to the project and some team members. First step into the cafeteria the same deafening din but somewhat different from the cafeteria at MLA , not because everything is more costly but because everything has a “professional” feel to it.Then returning to lodge to the empty room , to the empty bed , the tv switched on to some familiar channel but the mind loitering on a not so familiar feeling… “ LONELINESS “ .Words of a familiar song throbbing in mind – “ and I walk alone “ .
New city , new hopes , new career , new aspirations … cut , cut , cut … replaced by “ LONELINESS “. Put in other words the first step to being “ INDEPENDENT “ may be.

In solitude and silence...

It is 3.35 am and I am all alone in my hostel room blogging.I look out of my window to see the dark shadowlines of the mangalorian landscape merging into the darkness of the sky and somehow I am reminded of my home Kolkata though far from my window but probably closer to me than ever before through my mind's eye.Kolkata sharing the same night sky,having a similar landscape resembling this similar view.It has been more than a month here and as the days go by I feel nostalgic.I miss the hustle and bustle of my busy college days' mornings,those familiar faces brightening my mornings each day,those ever-greeting classrooms,the comfort of my table and chair before semester nights,the feel of the evening wind rustling through the leaves around lake view road,the sounds of cutlery and laughter creating some enchanting din @ Grub Club.I miss the familiar sight of Ma in the prayer room, I miss the way I used to watch Didibhai sleeping,I miss the sight of Bapi returning from bazaar carrying bags full of eatables and essentials.I miss the feel of walking beside someone for hours on end blissfully unaware of the world around chatting and laughing over the silliest p.j.s.I carry them all with me now, memories like sugar candies which leave behind a sweet taste and yet instills a craving for more sweetness, an unrequited urge to run back to those very feelings, sights and sounds.But alas some things once done cannot be undone like some decisions taken carve some entirely different routes.So here am I walking on such a route that I consciously chose which was all smooth and straight awhile ago but has somehow become thorny and winding now making me trip as I go now.But all the times I trip and fall I always have this feeling that I am not falling in vain,when the pain gets irrestible and when my vision blurs even in the darkest of times I realize that this is just His way of nudging me out of my cocoon and this is my way of growing up.Hope this metamorphosis gives me beautiful wings one day till then keeping my fingers crossed and when the pain seems intolerable taking some pain killers in the name of "blogging". Adieu.

Images

Scattered dreams,single tear,clouded skies,stormy nights...Smell of the first rain,walking though the windy shore...Images.Images most vivid,images most strong,flashing past my mind's eye.A motorbike speeding at hundred and thirty kilometres per hour through the valley,rafting precariously on the swiftest of rivers,enjoying speed...revelling without looking back.
Falling low,burning the last of passions by grooving to the latest rock music.Dreams and more dreams...pictures of flowers shining bright in the morning sun,dew drops glistening on drenched leaves...figments of imagination strewn all along.Like pieces of a massive jigsaw puzzle.
The mirror cracking,the candle almost burnt out and the phoenix rising,rising from its ashes and reaching the sky...reaching out to the thunder and lightning...imbibing the radiance of the lightning that ripped open the sky.
A solitary watch-tower guarding miles of the bluest of ocean waters.The sun setting behind the thickest of forest canopies and night slowly setting in the quietest of valleys.The first rays of the red sun peeping through the snow-capped peaks turning it red and...more images.Images arranged like the glossy pages of some picture book.
Dreams,visions and images like "a host of golden daffodils" filling me up,saturating me and pieces of my soul coming together...following the winding way through them and finally coming back to life.Laughing,crying,hiding,revealing allowing the soul in me to breathe.Emotions set free,emotions like wild horses...untamed,unbounded,running wild,wild over acres of the greenest pastures,a dive into the deepest of oceans and an eternal walk...A quest,a search,a journey on the road...The road of life.

Sparing a thought...

'In the movies there is the leading lady
and there is the best friend.'

After reading a good book or watching a magnificent movie we often exclaim,'Oh,what a lovely film.Oh,what an extraordinary book.'Talking of books some might be enthralled by the amazing storyline,some mesmerized by the lucid narrative.To some the characters might seem intriguing.then again coming to movies,some might praise the direction,fall in love with the actors,themes or dialogues in general.However looking at the larger picture how often do we think about the valuable critic comments that has given the book its final form or the millions of technicians whose dedication finally put the entire film together.Its true that most often the leading ladies take away the cake.But what about the best friends?What about them who really bring out the best in the leading ladies?
I had been watching a comic show today where each performance was being supported by appropriate background music.I happened to notice how each performance aptly demanded a number of background scores and how crucial they were to bring out the total effect of a performance.For clarity's sake let me site an example.Suppose a clown is walking on stage and he falls.Just when he is falling if a chord is played on the piano the effect and humour of the act is heightened.
But how often do we realize that a chord was actually played to bring out the performance aptly?After a marvellous concert ,how often do we spare a hand of applause for the musicians?We often acclaim people to have become legends.How often do we think of the countless lives spent in the making of those legends?We are taught to respect our parents since childhood but how often is the child taught to respect his nanny as well?Or better still how many of us happen to even remember our nanny's faces?The one who taught us to walk,the one who fed us when we were hungry.The one who was our second mother?
We applaude for the one who wins a race.How often do we acknowledge the million prayers that have been silently uttered wishing his victory?It is true that there are many trivial and unseen gestures that help us in our strife towards success.But my question is how often do we think of them?How often are we even aware that they were always behind us like a guiding angel leading us towards victory?

Just Another Dream

The light was slowly fading,
Whether the light of my eyes or the light of nature,
I could not tell.

The stone walls were closing in,
Closing in towards me from all sides,
The air was thinning
and cold was setting in.

Yet I longed,
longed for the impossible,
The specter of a soul that was left in my diseased body wished to wait,
It hoped,
as I lay curled in a a corner
of the stony dungeon.
Shrivelled,cold and waiting !

I thought I heard him
Yes,I did hear him coming,
piercing the cold,
I heard his footsteps approaching.

My weak heart pounded,
faster and faster as his footsteps drew near
A sudden warmth is what I felt,
the warmth of his arms around me,
drawing me towards him
and then I saw him.

The very face that I have loved
for a thousand years or may be more.
The very eyes,the very smile
for which I had been waiting a thousand years or may be more,
My vision faded ,my heart grew heavy.
He held me close to him
and the warmth I felt,
frightened me.

Perhaps this was another illusion,
A mirage that my wait was compelling me to see.
A vision of him that would melt even before this moment passed by.

I cried out 'Leave me alone'
I forced myself to break away.
But his hold was strong,
his touch warm and gentle.
He said,'Will you not allow me to take you!'
I echoed 'Who are you?You are not my love !For though I have been longing his arrival these thousand years I know he would not embrace a shrivelled pestilence ridden body !
You are but a mirage.'

'I am but your love',said he.
'I am the God in you love'
echoed his voice through the stones.
The pause that followed
filled eternity.
His voice sounded again,this time like the rippling waters of a distant mountain fall.

'The time has come',said he.
'To repay truth with love,
to repay wait with love
and above all
to repay love with love.'

My eyes that had dried a thousand years ago,
grew wet again,
the water from them washing away
the sores of my body,
the lights reappeared,
the walls retreated,
and it became warm all around.

He lifted me up and as he said,
'I love you , my love'
The sound of steps faded away across the dungeon.

Yesternight's Dream

Through the dark abyss I fall, I fall so deep, I fall so low, with a thousand stings am I pricked, nailed and nailed till I sore. Are they stings or words? I cannot really tell possibly words as sharp as poisonous darts, as painful as a thousand scorpion stings that slowly turns the earth into a mushy gore. There I lay I do not know for how long, its damp and dark all around, piercing which comes low sinister sounds, Are they words coming back again to sting? My mutilated body shivers to think. As the sounds grow loud I think I faintly recognize, my mother's voice urging on a plaintive cry. She calls my name,I hear it from below, she comes in search of me, alas! if she only would know, that I have gone far, too far from her to return, the distance separating us impenetrable and stern. The specter of a heart that is left in me longs to reciprocate, to answer those calls of love, it longs to reach out to her, to the arms that have always oozed love. In vain however cause there's no arm left to reach, the maggots have silently worked their way through which. Slowly they rise, they rise to cover me up, in huge numbers they embrace me, my tears and fears, they are my saviour they come to deliver me and relieve me of the stings. Their bites are inviting, it numbs the stinging pain, I rejoice to think its the end. No more stings,no more tears. No more fear of unbearable feelings. Steadily as all grow quiet and numb, and as everlasting slumber to my aid comes, a flash of golden light is what I perceive, that pierces the darkness and a surge of warmth i receive. The warmth seems familiar, the one that i have always longed for, the one that used to fill my dreams, the one that would let me know I am loved and will always be. The warmth shelters me, and before me I see, the form that I had always loved coming close and lifting me. I see his face, the very one that I have always loved, those eyes in which I have searched love for an eternity. only the look in them seems different now, its the one of true love and compassion that I see. Is it another illusion before me, this sudden fear enthralls me and I try to flee. But his hold is strong and he draws me close, and through his eye a silent tear rolls, "I have come to take you"says he, "and together we shall be bonded in love for now and eternity."

A Room with one view.

An evening with nothing to do.So much to be done yet all left undone.Just another evening.The sound of the ceiling fan moving,the sound of the neighbour's utensils clanking against each other,someone coughing somewhere...the same everyday noises and a soul trapped amidst them.A soul that wants to breathe,that wants to fly.Unrestricted and undaunted over endless acres of pure greenery,over miles of the deepest and bluest oceans.Yet chained,chained by thoughts,by memories,by words,by images flashing past...beguling her in her quest of escapism.
What would aid her to escape,she thinks.Lets see...umm...everyday things that helps the common man to forget their small trivialties...A Cigarette?nopes,she doesnt smoke.Joints?Not available.A good book-A coelho or sheldon may be...ahm!An apt choice but currently unavailable within reach.(The blue cover of Linda goodman's Love Signs peeping under the pillow.)Music?Numb or Deset Rose or perhaps Anne's Song may be?Yes finally the best option...the best means of escaping.But escaping what?
Is it the java textbook neatly arranged on the table or the scores of the other textbooks lying at the bookrack ,their contents yet to be explored?Is it the million thoughts waiting to be penned down or the cry of a thousand voices each trying to raise a protest from within?
All are fading,turning murky...all silenced.Silenced by the indignant ceiling fan shamelessly moving in the same pattern...round and round and round...is it trying to create a whirlpool?is it trying to suck up my vitality?thoughts receeding,images diappearing,colours fading,green,blue all melting into a dull grey and here i lay...on my bed listlessly doing nothing.Staring at the ceiling fan,searching for a window,a window to vacate.But vacate what?What was I trying to push through or was I trying to push away something all this while?Through or away...what will it be?Someone is coughing in the distance,I hear utensils clanking in my neighbour's kitchen,the fan moving and me on my bed in a small 12 X 10 feet room.