An Evening at Coney Island

Picture captured by Robert Doyle at Coney Island, New York.

I can’t remember the last time I visited Coney Island. Probably because those were the brief happier days, the memories of which seem to be getting hazier now.
It’s unusually chilly today– should’ve brought my wind breaker. I sit on an empty, cold bench on the left, near the side walk. Partly because it is easier to observe all the life from here, partly because it is empty.

There is a sharp, cold drizzle imbued in the air as I watch the twilight melt slowly into the night and the clouds appear to be hanging threateningly low, heavy with moisture that’ll soon pour down as rain.

I finished my shift early today. There weren’t many people in the neighborhood looking for a drink to drown their grief in- so I was free.

After closing for the night I found myself standing at his doorstep, staring blankly at the wooden latch.  Uncertain about what may occur if it opened I left, with slow, hesitant steps and lumbered straight to Coney Island-  a place that made me happy since I was 14.

I made my way straight to the latte stall and grabbed a warm cup of coffee- keeps my head straight-and sat on this bench from where I’m talking to you.

There is something oddly beautiful about places that are always buzzing with people but are quieter at the moment. I’ve always looked at this place and seen poetry in every corner-even when I was young.

A few people linger around the empty stores, some stare at the brightly lit wonder wheel, leaning on each other. A woman lulls a drowsy baby in her arms, while fumbling with a half eaten hot dog and a bunch of blue and red balloons.

Sometimes nothing can make you feel more alone than watching a place getting emptied of life. The lights being turned off one by one. Shutters being pulled down as people are done for the day. Keys rattle in their fingers as they hum their way home.

The lights of all the stores are slowly dying out and the few people still lingering on the boardwalk are finally leaving, though reluctantly. I gaze at the wagon wheel, still so bright and quiet. Flashes of memories come rushing back- our first picture in the photo booth, our first shared cotton candy-the last left at the stall, the locket whose pendant I still carry with me, our first go at the sledgehammer and how I scored higher.

A smile crept my face.

Sometimes I think the easier the solution to a problem is, the harder it is to fix it. Because we cannot come in terms with the simplicity of it. The answer is right there, facing us, but we choose to look away. How can it be that easy? So we keep avoiding it, until one day, there’s nothing left to avoid.

And because we, as a specie have a habit of never trying hard enough, we hold on to things that are left- things that still connect the two. Like frail, cold ashes of a fire that once burnt bright. Something that once was a part of both of us.

Like our memories here at Coney Island. Maybe that’s why I come here often; in search of some happy memory that, at some juncture of life, was shared and cherished by us both.


Note- This post was in collaboration with the exceptionally talented photographer and my very good friend on WordPress, Robert Doyle. I never understood the practicalities of photography enough to appreciate the technical prowess behind them, until I saw his work. I’ve been a great admirer of his pictures, solely because they are poignant, deep and tend to speak to you in someway.

When Robert first uploaded this on Instagram, I couldn’t stop staring at it. I was immediately pulled inside the picture, melancholy and nostalgia oozing from it. When I write such fictional pieces, like the ones I’ve written in the past, I always picture them happening in a similar backdrop. A warm twilight caressed with cool gusts of wind and a bunch of lights twinkling somewhere in the distance. Pictures that can make you feel the weight of being human.

So when the opportunity arose, I decided to collaborate with Robert and write a small narrative inspired by this beautiful image.

The story you read above, is taking place inside this picture. Our protagonist is sitting on the bench you see on the left side. Hope you enjoyed it and please do visit my friend’s blog.

 

Love always,

your blogger.

Would You Press ‘DELETE?’

I’m just going to let you all know some of my personal fantasies or rather daydreams. But I’d like to warn you that I think about the weirdest things you could possibly imagine. Though I’m still pretty certain you all will be forced to relate to it.

Each one of us has gone through troubled times, the kind of times when you’re standing on the edge of a cliff and summoning the courage to jump or sometimes when you’ve felt an intense angst of pain or betrayal or worse, hopelessness. Times when you lost someone you loved to death or maybe that someone left you all alone. Prolonged days when you’ve felt cast out, swaying wildly in the thunderous gushing, freezing ocean waters. If you’re one of us, then you have all my love and empathy and I promise you things will get better.

I was really sad a couple of days before, so after I completed my cycle of crying and lying down quietly, a thought occurred to me. What if I was given a machine that deleted memory? Not a big, gigantic pomp but just a small one- like the one from Men In Black. But the only difference would be that you could delete parts of the memories that you’d like to be gone. All the painful occurrences that you wished had never happened.

I thought about it for a while and it seemed tempting. Something troubling you? *Presses Delete Button* -GONE! You can continue your life like it never happened. A smile crept my face when I wondered of all the memories I could erase, all the sadness I could be spared from.

But it vanished just as easily. This another thought occurred to me. Although, I wondered, the idea of clearing away your pain might feel very delightful at the moment, but I believe memories, both sad and good, are essential for life. They are just as important as your limbs and senses.

Without bad memories you won’t ever learn a lesson. You’ll be devoid of experience. So you need both good and bad to balance the equation of life. You wouldn’t ever know what love is until you’ve been betrayed by someone. You won’t know who a great friend is until you’ve met the wrong ones. So basically you don’t know what a ripe peach tastes like until you’ve tried a few bad ones.

It’s completely natural to say, ‘I want to forget this person/memory/thing.’ You want to run away from it, you want to hide, you want it to stop haunting you, but what I say is, derive a lesson from it and move on. Let every bad memory be a reason to have good ones.

So as I crawled up from the pit of gloom I taught myself that every memory is important. It doesn’t matter if it’s happy or sad. If you remove the sad and dark parts from a movie, you’ll end up with a distorted, confusing and a spoiled film devoid of a real story. Keep every scene intact and sooner or later you’ll realize why every bit of it was required.

So sit back, have a cup of coffee, read a good book and watch your life play before your eyes. Embrace it, learn from the bad things, appreciate the good things and most important of all- keep going!

To all my American followers,
Happy Thanksgiving! 🙂

Oh and yes- Here’s a shout-out to the sweetest and currently a very good friend of mine Stephen, check out his blog, he’s got everything covered under one roof! 🙂
P.s- He’s a mutant, so be a little careful. XD