Euphoria

Dressed in a red rich material satin gown, she walked hastily towards the only dream she had ever dreamt. The clinking of her metal anklet as she walked created a fascinating melody that weaved in the air a symphony which will ring through the story as it would go. Her face displayed various hues of doubt, fear, anxiety, enthusiasm, uncertainty. She was about to face the grand door of euphoria which was to lead her to a dream that was everything she had ever wanted, or so she thought.

All those years when she was growing up, she had a dream; a dream so fragile, she would only whisper it. When she was just a girl, she would lie underneath the dark summer sky; she would follow those lanterns going up with her gaze, staring them long without blinking, fearful that they might disappear… She heard people tell stories of the great door of euphoria, the ritual of setting a flying lantern free up in the air as a gesture of celebration every time a person would cross the door, every time a wish would come true. On hearing the cheerful noise from the distance, seeing the lights go up, she’d run wildly to the meadow at the border, and holding her breath she’d make a wish. The same wish every time; the wish of being to the other side, to the grand entrance, where people come to never return. She dreamt of crossing the lines of the door, that takes people to a world where there is no despair; where the shackles of past loosen, the chains of doubt disappear. Where the lost love is found, the broken heart is mended. Walking home from the meadow, she’d imagine how the door would actually look and what the world behind it is like… Golden dancing fields of mustard? Glittering streams of cool heavenly water? Banks of soft clouds occupying the pink skies? Perhaps she’d get to see the talking trees, or might witness the queen moon walk freely on the silver soil surrounded by its starry maids. In her bed she’d lie and think that perhaps that’s where she’ll find love; a love as pure as that of Sassi Punno and as divine as that of Raam Seeta. Probably that was where she’d get to experience life. Her imagination would go wild thinking of all the beautiful possibilities, and she’d eventually fall asleep…

Years passed, and the time soon came. There she was, before the huge ancient green wooden door. It was a two-door entrance, the green paint was falling out and the wood had rotten; it had however effectively maintained its charm. A mahogany minaret shaped casing was carved and plastered around the door, like a protective outline. An unusual pattern embossed on it. There were two double door windows at either sides of the door having the same carved outline around with a similar pattern embossed on them; like an inscription bearing some spell, each revealing a story from Euphoria, that of faith and trust, that of love and devotion.

The door was but nowhere close to the kind she had imagined. She had thought of a huge metal bronze door, with keepers dressed in white and red embroidered garbs guarding it. She had anticipated a queue of starry fays dressed in gold waiting for her to be taken to the throne that awaits her. At her arrival, she assumed a group of men blowing heavy golden trumpets, with a huge crowd looking forward to her appearance, holding lanterns in their hands, and with every progressive step that she’d make, they’d cheer for her. She had expected to see every single person who she had loved and lived with to be there to wish her farewell. But none was found…

Before the three stair blocks leading to the grand door was a vast pond. Clusters of fungus had formed at its walls, pink and white lilies were floating sluggishly in the mild green water; the borders of the pond were neatly decorated with jade and orange rung having miniature swastikas designed with red at the bricks. She made a careful disheartened step forward and came to sit by the pond side, with her back at the grand door, tracing slowly with her finger the pattern of the swastika… Pain pricked her heart; a tear went down rolling, spreading the kohl around her eyes. She lifted her red henna painted hands to wipe them off. Staring vaguely through the intricate design painted on her palms, she began doubting, what if this is not everything she wants? What if the world behind that door is after all not as how she had imagined all those years growing up? What if the love that she is so eagerly looking forward to doesn't lie ahead? What possible consequences could this decision have? Over the course she will have ample occasions to think how it could have been, hen she would wander back to this particular moment here.

She looked straight towards the lanes she had come crossing; all that she was, all that she is and all that she’d ever be… She felt low, and eerily empty, and shallow… Scrap by scrap, the hope was unbinding itself. Struggling with the shadows in her head, her eyes accidentally fell at her own reflection on the pond. Small eyes highlighted by kohl, broad eyebrows, high cheek bones, a straight nose, narrow lips, pointed chin... Her lips abruptly twitched, curling up into a smile. She smiled at her own ordinary features, her own fashion of being unspecial. She tucked the lock of her curly hair behind her ear; her silk glass bangles clattered producing a pleasant music. And right from the heavens, came down a realization; how would she know unless she wouldn’t try? How would she get it when she wouldn’t just walk up and grab it? If she wouldn’t leave, how would she reach?

And so, she knew it was time. She knew that the time has come, the time was now. She roused, with her eyes at the grand door that awaited her. For the last time she turned to bid adieu to the world she has lived in, to bid farewell to the old memories she was giving away for new experiences; for the final time she looked back at the portrait of her childhood that was soon to wear off. For one last time, she glanced back to see the shadow of the love lost; and with that, making her way through the phantoms of uncertainty, she made her final steps…

Read Euphoria II here

Home

An intriguing image.

The once precious, valuable entity now stands alone, having lost all its charm that it had possessed in the time of it's own... It has seen the coldest of night, the hottest of day. It has witnessed the dull setting evening of autumn, the bright rising sun of summer. It has observed the chaotic silence, the dead noise. It has cherished the laughter, suffered the pain. It has flown so high, it has fallen too hard. It has lived the dreams, it has lost its parts. It has seen places, it has experienced emotions. It has realized the strangeness of life, the cruelty of time. It has enjoyed the togetherness, it has endured the separation. It has been loved, it has been used. It has been valued, it has been abandoned; and there it stands, alone. Surrounded by wild weeds, its tires murky, its body worn out washed by rain, tied in shackles; forgotten. 

Clicked this picture back in August 2012. It seemed sad and lonely, standing there all alone...

 It looks unhappy, it looks sad… Perhaps it’s waiting. Waiting to live, waiting to rise. Waiting to be fixed, waiting to work again. Waiting to move, waiting to run; waiting to retain the forgotten dream, the missing charm. It is probably waiting to get back its lost parts and be able to do all that it can, all over again. Perhaps it is waiting, to be back to where it belongs… It is waiting, to be home again.

You.

I wonder, if anybody has ever told you, how lovely you look with that broad upward curve that plays around your lips. I wonder, if you’re ever told about your ethereal beauty whenever you wear red, or that when you apply kohl around your shiny black eyes it enhances their beauty. Tell me, has anybody ever told you that?

 

It is the spark in your eyes, the blush in your smile, and your careless laughter that has won my heart.

Realizations

Don't judge me if you find my rambling irregular, incoherent, even insane.

As particular as I am about dates, it’s clearly impossible to prevent myself from peeping into the past through the cracked concrete wall of time.

It’s May again; a month that marks a series of ambiguous, disturbing events that any sane person wouldn’t want to recall. Since I am believed to (slightly) deviate from the conventional notion of sane, I often happen to find myself returning to the unpleasant lane that I had crossed some time back, for reasons I'd gladly reveal some other time.

Ever since the month had begun, with every passing day, the awareness of this being the time keeps getting more pronounced. I had been working hard ever since January to construct a wall strong enough to conceal certain parts of myself... And sure enough, I had succeeded to quite an extent. It is, perhaps, just the fear of getting comfortable with an empty heart that wants me keep visiting regularly the tracks long crossed.

(The 17^th of May): Now that I was done with the headache of the god damn presentation, I was pretty much relieved.  Getting myself a chilled can of coke, I found myself walking to the same place I had been to a year ago. I had always liked this place; sitting here for hours, contemplating over all that mattered and all that did not; shedding a tear every now and then. Anyways, like all those times, I sat there in the shade at the chipped bench, with still an hour in my hand before I leave for home.

Absorbing the soft filtered sunlight coming from between the slender branches of the tall, ancient tree, I laid my head back… Something felt familiar. Wait, I know what you’re thinking. No, I’m clearly not as insane as to rejoice the heat of May. Let me be more clear, it was definitely not the heat that I was taking in, but the pouring nostalgia that had had me all drenched. Now that I was alone, surrounded by the air of the time that had gone by; the tough membrane of denial that I had built, somehow collapsed. 

Realization # 1: Recalling what had gone by doesn’t always mean you yearn for it to return, it simply means that now when you’ve crossed the foggy lane, now when you happen to successfully stand –apparently in one piece – at the sunny side of the road, you want to see it all over again with a clearer vision... 

The sky was however not clear. A bank of thin, white clouds had stroked the blue canvas with irregular patterns… This too was just another reminder. People don’t agree with me, but since quite a few years I’ve been noticing how the month of May brings with it a troop of soft clouds. 

Clicked this picture on May 14th, 2012

 Realization # 2: I carry with me a bunch of reminders from different times. A bunch of reminders, and a chain of mistakes. Mistakes, that once were the only right thing I knew. Mistakes, that weren’t mine in the first place. I carry with me, a reminder of the wrong winds that came my way… A reminder of the retreating steps… A reminder of the time badly spent… So much hurt, and a little to regret… 

This tree, under whose shade I was sitting, bears the most beautiful flowers. The sort I had never seen before. Hundreds of them, radiating the brightest shade of yellow, they hang from the green branches like bunches of grapes.

photo source: davesgarden.com

The warm wind blew; very randomly, a few petals fell from the branches and came about gently resting at the back of my hand, bringing alive the ache that I still remember...

Realization # 3: Some spark has been lost, nevertheless, I’ve still somehow managed to bring with myself something from that time; or to be more accurate, might I say that I’ve lost something of myself to that time... It’s hard to decide. 

I remembered the time when I was always left believing that it’s something that I had done. I remembered the time when I wished I had known. I remembered the time when I had been so unreasonable, blind, utterly naïve and hopelessly self-destructive. For what? For who?  I wasn’t this person. I’ve never been. A stream of tears started welling up… 

Realization # 4: At times, we really don't know what we're asking for... The scenario that I had carved so perfectly on the glass of mind, came out quite differently on the canvas. A reality check: Perhaps, it was the idea which had me believing that it’s there when actually it wasn’t. Perhaps I had known it along, but never had the courage to admit it. Perhaps  this is how it was all meant to be… Perhaps, there were certain lessons that I needed to be taught.  I needed to be taught, that what I had wished for is not something I really, practically want; hence, the temporary pain.

I opened my can… Psss.... A sad realization settled in that it had lost all its chillness (if this is by any chance a word at all). Instinctively, the corners of my lips curved upwards indicating what clearly was a smile (As odd as it may sound, my lips actually happen to curve downwards when I smile. Yeah, don't say it, I know). I smiled at the level of my stupidity, feeling the clouds of gloom slowly evaporate. A smile. Yes, it was a smile. The progress had already been made. I was smiling at things that had served as reasons for the emotional distress that had kept me occupied for a long period of time. It’s funny, isn’t it? How you learn to joke about stuff that once were the most painful things even to talk about. 

Realization # 5: Certain things happen to remain with us for a measurably long period of time; they stay with us for so long, that with time, we eventually grow immune to their presence. It’s true, time does happen to heal all wounds, but certain things, it can never alter. 

The feeling was strange... The instant I realized that I’m smiling, I actually laughed to myself (spilling some coke at my blue shirt).  A year ago, I had filled buckets of tears crying at this very place, under this very tree, on this very day. Did I think I’d be laughing to myself for this very reason, at the same place, under the same tree, on the same day after one entire year? Life is crazy. Stuff that you think would never happen, actually happen. It has its weird ways of proving you wrong.

I gulped down half of my coke, retained my energy level and successfully forced back the feeble attempt of traitor tears back to where they had come from. Its ohkaay, I thought. Things happen, so what? There’s a lot that I had learned, a lot that I still need to. 

For all those reading, ladies and gentlemen, I’d proudly like you to know, that I’m not as optimistic as I may have sound up there. But along with all those negative changes that had approached me; I have also learned to deal with certain stuff quite positively. 

Realization # 6: Handling stuff positively; probably this is what growing up is all about… 

I know, the phase would return, the air would surround me again; out of nowhere it’d appear and to nowhere it’d disappear. Every now and then, I’d again catch a glimpse of what once was. Someday or the other, I’d again be left missing the bits and pieces that I had lost. Sooner or later, you’d again hear me talk about it. So what? At least now I have a story of my own worth telling; stuff that I did worth remembering!

I can’t change the past. I can’t undo what’ve been already done. But how does quitting on stuff that I had always liked, concealing the best of myself, giving away all that I still have and dodging off all the goodness coming my way would make me a better person? Hmm... A note to myself. 

Realization # 7: Sometimes, very rarely, my mind comes up with thoughts that amaze my own self. 

I emptied my can of coke, craving for more. With a little more time in hand, I decided to get myself another of it and go about treating today like any other normal day. I very carefully gathered the fallen petals and tossed them into my bag –another reminder. The question of forgiveness however remained unsettled; to which as well I’ve decided to come some day later.

For now, I cherish at the terms of my own peace treaty.