Extremes

Lately my heart oscillates too much,

between boundless joy and utter despair.

The joy dissipates as fast as it arrives

The despair however lingers longer.

The centre of my heart turns cold

The core of my body layered in sheets of ice

When I breathe

It takes collective effort of every muscle.

I also feel weak, emotionally.

Drained, mentally.

I have always had a fire burning inside me,

It feeds my spirit.

In despair, the fire dies. Only wisps of spoke remain.

Until a tiny, insignificant moment ignites it again,

And my heart is warmer,

like it’s home.

I live for those moments of joy,

I wait patiently for them to show up,

I revel in their uncertainty, like a drug,

I wait for them to grant me a quick flash of intense euphoria,

until my heart starts beating again,

instead of thrumming.

Soon it is over.

A giant heaviness seems to have taken residence in my heart,

I have a feeling it won’t leave, but grow.

I will come to hope more,

And after having it tossed aside,

I will learn to live in the comforting possibility of what never was,

but could’ve been.

My inner Seol is my consolation. 🙂

Love always,

Your blogger.

A Spatial Affair

Have I ever told you how much I love space?

Outer space.

The first time I ever managed to foster an ambition, I was 10 years old fashioning a blunt hair cut, dirty brown hoodie and eyes that weren’t blind without glasses. Hopping up and down with the kind of earnestness you expect from a kid who believes he’s just found his purpose in life, I announced with as much resolve as I could, “Mum, when I grow up, I will be an astronaut.”

In return I was thrust with a bag full of clothes that needed dry cleaning.

But my passion never snuffed. I went ahead and made a fat, exhaustingly detailed project on ‘The Solar System’ for my yearly submissions and ended up getting full marks.
“If I can get full marks here, I can surely become an astronaut”, my ten year old brain schemed eagerly.

But then I grew up. And slowly with each passing year and with the arrival of Physics, Chemistry and Math died my dream of ever stepping into space. Later arrived teenage angst, thick glasses and youthful indiscretion and my love for stars and planets was unwillingly buried under copious amounts of schoolwork.

After a decade when I unearthed that passion again and held it in my hand it seemed to throb with life; it was old but stronger and fiercer. And now when I look at it with grown up prudence I understand that my love for space has always been solely from an artists perspective.

I love the stars for being stars. I see space as a vast painting, I see it as a gigantic portal of beauty and wonder. I feel a life in the cosmos. When the universe takes deep breaths our sky shakes a little. Meteors are sparkling messages from one galaxy to another. When the sky is pink, someone’s wish has been answered, when it is grey, somewhere someone’s heart is heavy. The universe is a huge, magnificent work of art, one that we’re too small and too puny to comprehend but too nosy to not be part of. It is for this reason that when you gaze at the night sky dotted with silver stars, your problems don’t seem so big.

This is how the artist in me has romanticized space and this is how it shall always be.

On December 13th after midnight, I lay on my terrace alone and watched the night sky slowly emblazoned with a dozen meteors. There was complete stillness except for an occasional brush of cold, frigid wind.  First there was a small, thin streak of silver light slowly piercing the velvety dark and I gulped and shivered a little.

And before I even blinked, the night was embellished with a splendid meteor shower and I soaked it in with bated breath and gaping eyes. It was an ethereal scenery painted by some strange, elusive artist.

Reader, it was the most beautiful and heart warming feeling I ever experienced.

While the night before me swirled and danced with a thousand shades of gold, a strange, subdued part of me whispered and tugged at my sleeve. It made me turn my head and stare at the empty space next to me. Subconsciously I wondered how it’d be to experience something this miraculous next to someone. It’d be comforting to look sideways and smile in between, no?

The Geminid meteor shower arrives every December. I close my eyes and make a wish.

Maybe years from now on some December evening, the universe would be considerate and the sky will be pink, for me.

 

Love always,

Your blogger.


Close your eyes.
Turn off the lights.
Listen to it alone.


P.s- I hope everyone realizes the above piece is purely fictional. There’s no way I could’ve watched the Geminid Meteor Shower from my terrace in the heart of a bustling city. But since I yearned to experience it, I chose to live the event by wondering and writing about how it would feel like.
That’s all I could do, couldn’t I?

Teachings from Me #3 (Crazy, eh?)

My first meetings with people usually go through the following transitions-

-Ist Meet– Who on Earth does she think she is? Why doesn’t she speak to anyone? Why doesn’t she seem interested in a talk? 
-1 Month later- Oh well, I guess she’s not that bad. 
-3 Months later- Wait ..What just happened? 
-7 Months later- Will you please STOP TALKING about that gorgeous guy you met in a book? 
-A year later- *usually when they see me dance* I WONDER HOW SHE RAN AWAY FROM THE ASYLUM.

People tell me something is terribly wrong with my brain or maybe I’m missing a screw or something. But from what I’ve observed on the inside people, once they get to know the real me, love to be around me. They laugh with me, that’s the best part I guess.

And from what I’ve deduced until now is I’m not even a tiny bit ‘not proud’ of it. I’ve never found ‘behave like a grown up’ very appealing.

I’ve always had an admiration for people who’re carefree. Not careless, but carefree. I just think that considering how sinister and unfair, pernicious, serious, dark, sombre, fickle, political, tortuous, confusing, drama-queen, backstabbing and 100-faced bit*h life is, the least we can do is play our part in not letting this effect us.

And being crazy, which in a teenager’s tongue applies as having ulterior fun whenever we get the chance- is what will help us get through the aforementioned qualities of life.

Joey and Chandler are just perfection.

What I mean to infer is, it’s kind of okay to leave all the responsibilities for a while, hang them off on a hook or something, and just unburden yourself. Listen and tell stories, think of embarrassing memories from your childhood and laugh at yourself (which I’m a professional at). That’s why it’s often said,

“Some people grow old at 25; some stay young at 70. Age, is just a number.”

So today’s mantra is,

Sometimes, it’s okay to be eccentric and not care about how events are unfolding in your life. Don’t let LIFE or any other aspect suck your juvenescence. You may miss out on some great things available for free in life if you only focus on the ones you have to achieve.

Lay back and take a break.

Don’t take yourself too seriously, learn to laugh at yourself.

“खुद पर हसना सीख़ो।”

(I recently learned this thought from a teacher at my training camp and found it absolutely reverberating.)