Monday Memories 12 – You And Me


Some things are forbidden and yet we indulge.  We want to create memories.  Memories are not always made of  what happened it reality. They are also make beliefs. Things we imagined , dreamed , yearned for and with such intensity that they began to  seem more real than reality. It happens with dreamers, story tellers , poets , lovers  and people who aren’t too full of themselves. You need space to let these memories to take birth and grow. You have to endure the pain, the discomfort, the ecstasy and the constant reminder that they are not fragile and ephemeral as reality. They are amaranthine . They are powers of darkness and when these imagined memories collide with the real ones they become vehicles of destruction. It is a hypnotic drone and blur which makes nights sleepless and turns the days into a perpetual black hole.

I am entangled in those memories of you. Both real and imagined.  When people withdraw or leave they leave a gaping hole. Different people fill it with different things unable to remember what initially existed before in its place. I filled and glamorized  it with memories of time we spent together, with pain and self-pity, with tears and hurts. I called it solace, peace, solitude but it was nothing of those. It was just noise. Cacophony.  And then one day the tears dried. Just like that but pain remained. The hole remained. Gaping at me more than ever before and to make things worse It had taken a shape of you.

I was unmistakably going through lots of pain when I met you. You assured me it will go away. I had apprehensions. I had heard these words before but despite my apprehensions I believed you.   I waited. Patiently.  Days, Weeks, Months, Years. The vanilla flavor has long gone but the taste is stuck in my palate,  I am trying to wean myself off you. It is a long painful process of disengaging cell by cell, pore by pore, nerve by nerve. Sometimes I pull a wrong nerve and the scream shoots inwardly at a deafening speed leaving me convulsing with pain.

When you hand over your splintered heart to an absolute stranger you take a big risk. You are prepared for what it holds. You know if it all fails the memories of it will shred you but you still go for the forbidden.

Indifference is opposite of love , not hate and there is nothing I can fill these silences with other than memories. Nostalgia holds a lot of importance in our lives. Memories can also make you muddle-headed at times like they did to me today. They can make your adrenaline rush and bring with it bouts of immaturity and catastrophes that leave you feeling even more miserable than before. It makes you impulsive and everything done on an impulse is not good. It can go so terribly wrong that it can startle you.

I was thinking I had lost you but nothing is really lost to us as long as we remember it and today as I think of you memories are bringing me the whiffs of smells of places  that I did not pay attention to, that I didn’t really think existed. It is bringing to me songs that take me back to a  moment in time like nothing else can even if its bony fingers, sharp nails and pointed elbows hurt me no end. It is worth all the pokes and jabs and scratches.  Whatever is left unsaid , undone can be added to a memory and turned into a dream to savor till it too becomes a memory. New things take its place and the cycle continues of dreams and memories and all that it is between that. In these flickering images i find the warmth you forgot to take with you when you left.

Love Hurts. You And Me 

(song shared from You Tube. )

Empty Spaces, Inky Nights and a Sound Cave


This is just a collection of thoughts triggered by a fabulous photograph of an empty walkway, a message exchange of thoughts on the beauty of sunsets and nights, an emotionally charged lash-out from someone right in the morning and a gloomy rain filled day.

Words explode in my head pushing and thumping against its walls to escape, thoughts stumble on each other like perplexed mass but I could not bring myself to write a single word. Frustrated with myself I turned to reading but the words became a blur. Crying is therapeutic and I was filled since some days. Suddenly my eyes became pools of hot liquid and from under the closed lids streams of hurt and pain and utter dejection with self began to slid down my flushed cheeks. For a long time I just let it all flow. My temples throbbed and zillions of electric currents passed through my head sending shock waves down my tired body. Then it all ceased. Sleep is a healer too.

Words still kept their distance. When the walls begin to cave in and suffocate you light streams in from some crack somewhere. I chanced upon a lovely photograph of a walkway and a simple exchange of thoughts and a some comments reminded me how I miss the empty spaces in life. How all the life, even in lonesomeness, I am filled with an inner chatter, how I need to calm my self and embrace what I love. Go where love is. I have always been fond of long empty corridors, walkways. They give me a sense of intimacy. There are stories drifting in the play of light and shadows.Shadows that add meaning to the mundane. I remember how I would lean against a pillar , a tree or against the coolness of a wall and watch the deeper play than that which words can express. I would imagine the people who must have walked there once, their conversations, silences and then those empty places would fill with colors, textures, sounds and smells and as suddenly they would appear, they would vanish. Leaving a quiet silence and I would stand at its threshold not moving a muscle listening to the silence.

As I saw the photograph I was sucked into that place, that time and for a moment nothing else existed. The conversation drifted to sunsets and nights and I remembered what beautiful sunsets I had seen during my various journeys. Each one distinctly different from another. Sometime a carnage of dreams and memories, a sun stabbed sky turning  from Merlot to scarlet to shades of crimson, purple, blue and bronze which existed only in the box of crayons from my childhood. As I grew up I usually found them spread across the sky. A few of those brilliant sunsets I still carry in my heart. The orgasmic meeting of sky and earth at the horizon. The shimmering snow-clad peaks of Himalayas. The deepening evening shadows, the cacophony of birds, the sweet fragrance of pine or flowers riding on the back of evening breeze, the timelessness and a knowledge that we have a few hours of solitude ahead of us. It is surreal experience that remains etched in the memory for ever.

The sunsets led to the nights. The rich hues of night sky, the changing patterns, the calm that slowly seeps into the hollow of your bones. Night sky holds a very special place for me. I find it more alive than the day sky. I have memories associated with the night sky from my childhood, from my growing years and those years in between when it became my constant companion. The healing dark, I called it.

I often wondered what pulls me to the night and realized that just like memory it suppresses the idle details. Night is all-inclusive. Everything is draped in one single color.  A vast expanse of oneness that takes everything in its compassionate fold. There were times I felt choked behind the walls and curtains during nights and it loomed large over me like a hungry carnivore ready to take a plunge and dig its sharp claws in my soft flesh of my heart. I longed to step out and reach for the night sky outside my prison , lay bare my body and soul to it but then slowly I realized that all the serenity and calm that the night brings is inside me. Nights became the blotting paper for my sorrows, a playground for my desires, a confidante for the untold secrets and unfulfilled dreams just as it has been a fairy kingdom with stories written in stars and imaginary shapes and figures lingering in the drifting moon and cottony clouds during my childhood.

There was something about the darkness I loved then and do now. Every perspective changes as the night deepens and then fades with the first break of morning light. Laying in bed  just before the sleep takes over is the most rewarding time. It is a time  when the human heart , alone and unperceived, is full of powerful emotions and surrenders itself completely to the darkness. When all that is concealed is revealed.

City nights are harsh, artificial, haunted by neon dreams and smog that chocks its lungs and yet there is a time when everything stops. When one is pulled by the magic of the night sky. The few hours before dawn when I usually step out for deeper communion with self and whats around me.

Nights spent lying under the stars on terrace during summers still makes me nostalgic. The first thing that we lose when we grow up is the sense of wonder. I remember nibbling on a blade of grass and just watch the night sky. A million zephyrs, a lonely and frayed moon tugging the corner of a cloud drifting aimlessly, smokey wispy clouds,  sometimes  just inky blackness  of a winter night descending on everything under it like a widow of the universe it mourns in silence.  Its deep horizons yearning and longing for all that is lost.

The wild stormy nights of rain armed with jagged spears of lightning slicing the sky in two. Rainy nights that cleanse the venom inside and outside. I have spent hours standing under the night rain letting it out flow out.

Have you ever heard someone play soulful music on a wooden flute in the stillness of the night? Ever felt the warmth of human body next to you on an endless summer night without even touching? Ever thrown your arms open to the sky as if fishing for stars? Even looked at the mist moving like a ghost in the night from behind a glass window. Ever stood in an open filed, a lonely beach, a moonlit desert, at the edge of a cliff jutting across a deep valley drinking in the night? Ever walked the smoke-filled, neon lit, city roads at night? If not then you haven’t lived to the fullest.

I have walked the meandering , winding roads in the hills with sweet intoxicating smell of wet pine filling my lungs and puddles dull of moon light creating a magical scene after a sudden mountain rain. Roads hold me captive but we will talk about them some other time.

I woke up to a rain-soaked day today. When you stir a dying fire there are chances of some spark turning into a flame. Some questions burn like embers and should be left alone. Relationships are complex tangled web of emotions. I watch an emotional outburst turn bitter  and pungent with rage right in the morning. With heavy heart and tear filled eyes I took the blows , scared that one wrong word may spin the thing into uncontrolled roller-coaster and it was the last thing I want at this point of time in my life.

Brimming with pain I tried to stop the deluge that waited to be unleashed. The best option at such times , and I have faced many of them, is to go into a sound cave.

This is something I learned over the time. To switch off, disconnect, choose some music with drums, guitars, preferably rock, heavy metal , turn up the volume, put on the headphones and go into a sound cave. My favorites in such times are Enigma, Nirvana, The Rasmus, Evanescence etc. I used to listen to soft melodies which acted like fuel to fire marooning me in deeper in sadness. Music can be a great stress reliever as well as an escape into another world which is far remote from the grim, heart wrenching reality. Wearing headphones acts like  insulation from outside world – a sound cave where nothing else exists. In times when the world seemed too much for me I learned to slip into this sound cave. For an hour or so I sedated myself with music giving myself time to emerge out of  the incident that shook me. I often play some music according to my mood and listen with headphones on. It is my way to kill loneliness , to disconnect with the unpleasant and to connect with the sounds and rhythms , to absorb the lyrics which may or may not really have any relation with my current situation and mood but it soothes my inner.

I realized that doing this cleared much of the blocks within me including the writer’s block.

The sand is slowly shifting from under my feet. Uncertainty is looming large. Am at the edge of desire. I tell my heart that everything will work out well but I know certain things are elusive, distant dreams that may never get fulfilled. Sometimes we are at a crossroad of emotions and all we can do is either push through the fear and go ahead with the flow where ever it takes or become a cynic and get caught in the web of “what if”s and “if only”s .

Last one year  has been a journey within. I discovered facets of me that I never knew existed. I found myself doing things I could never imagine doing in wildest dreams and yet I am still unable to cut that one thread that is rubbing against my soul and making it bleed.

There is also something else tugging at my heart apart from losing my new-found economic independence. Something which holds the key to my life.  Love is a many splendored thing. Right now , with my muse back, I am letting the universe take over. I have slipped the questions to the universe. I know the answers will come .

Leaving you with a song I love

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B6qLNnxGDaA&feature=related

Photograph : Part of the collonaded walkway that surrounds the Plaza Mayor at Salamanca. Photo Credit  James Goddard  . Many thanks.

You and I – Unrequited Love


Days and nights have suddenly turned cold in the middle of summer. Cold and Hard like last year’s loaf of bread. I slice them with blunt knives and chew on them without appetite.  Indifferent messages do little to bridge the aching distance or break the deafening  silence that has occupied every fiber of life nor does an occasional assemble of  affectionate words give any comfort. Even though the heart longs, it knows it will never get more than that.

I wonder if this pitiless indifference is subterfuge for hiding the torments of love or it is  the opposite of love. Love has denied rest to my soul and slumber to my eyes. I have begun to dread the approaching night. It deepens the loneliness and hurt as I stare into the vast emptiness of the dark sky. A lonesome moon sometimes glides past the window and lying on my bed, fatigued by days of sleeplessness, I watch it disappear from sight.

Words that I wrote for you float like pipe dreams, adding fuel to the slow fire consuming me from within. It is funny how presence makes itself felt more poignant through absence. Stray memories come to haunt , it is amazing how darkness brings things to life, gives them a form, a voice.

I lie as still as possible , least I disturb your silence and it moves away just as you have. I don’t even dare to breathe.

Mind is a fucking manipulating control freak and in those moments of vulnerability , it leaves no chance to whiplash.

There is no feeling worse than knowing you weren’t worthy of truth, of love, of sharing, of  togetherness, of complete oneness, not even an incomplete one. Unrequited love curls itself in some secret crevice , wounded and bleeding. It doesn’t die.

There is always a part of me that hopes for more, and so there is a part of me that is always a fool. Love does that.

Am facing a silence so cold, so sharp you could cut yourself on it.  There is nothing so hurtful, nothing so bare and forlorn as the silence that falls like swords on two people who no longer know what to say to one another, and it is the kind of silence that tells you that you are no longer of any importance to that person, who really is no longer even there; it is a silence that renders you invisible.

It has rendered me invisible. Some days ago I wrote , sometimes one knows one’s place – outside the periphery.. The words come out so powerfully now. It is all good to talk of giving space etc, of trust and understanding and being comfortable even in silence of a loved one but this is not that silence.. this is a silence that cripples.

It’s a marvel that even with such agony the longing doesn’t diminish , it continues to feed on the loneliness and gain strength. It grows stronger , so does love- even the unrequited one, for it has its own rainbows.

“Because, if you could love someone, and keep loving them, without being loved back . . . then that love had to be real. It hurt too much to be anything else.”-Sarah Cross

but the other part holds true too. We are creatures of desire and desire needs to be respected.

Love needs to be fed. Nurtured. Nourished. It needs to be deeply felt.

It needs to be reciprocated.  Replenished.

It needs to be expressed. In actions as well as words

Especially when words are the only medium.

Unrequited love is an orphan of silence.

Abandoned to fend for itself  during the endless days and never-ending nights.

Read all YOU AND ME  posts here 

Early Morning


Just a few  drops.

On the back of  hands

At the corners of the eyes

clinging to the strands of unruly hair

sliding down the red tip nose and burning cheeks

smudging the red letters on the pages of an old diary

and blurring the faces in the picture

mixed with a few cups of bitter-sweet black coffee served with two spoons full of  arguments .

Accompanied by muffled music of halfhearted strings, half-truths, told and untold lies ,

the drops silently left their random places and traveled to the sky .

I guess that’s when the sky became overcast

and  it began to drizzle .


mirage


“Is there anything in the world sadder than a train standing in the rain?”

Love… The very word warmed me all over and I basked in the glory of the thought that the feeling was mutual.. for once it was not an one sided affair. Under the bejeweled sky I began to serenade, a song which rose from the depth of my very being. The night silently listened.

Something changed overnight. Every moment became an irreplaceable miracle. I became conscious of people’s stares. Was I looking different , I often checked into the mirror and saw the fireflies dance in my eyes. Was it the color of the thousands of candles lit in my heart that had risen to my cheeks or it simple was the thought of you? I don’t know.

I began to write. The hues from the skies and the seas, the various shades from the red maple to the moist velvety green of the hills covered in morning mist ran wild in my verses. Suddenly you colored my world with unthinkable variations of reds, blues, greens, whites, pinks and yellows. The phantom man who haunted and inspired each word, who controlled the dancing fingers on my keyboard.

My emotions rose and fell like the waves of the ocean, taking me along on end endless rhapsody of life. My soul left my body and danced among the sand dunes..liberated. It’s swirling movements and soft taps echoed with my heartbeats.

Passion flowered under the deepest darkest corners of my life as you watered the tiny saplings of love in me. It seemed like a dream within a dream.. absolutely unbelievable yet true. I flowed like a wild river, rushing to meet you at every bank and every turn, full of hopes, dreams, joys and promises.

Your love like the mellow warmth of the winter sun thawed my frozen heart and rejuvenated it. I was alive.

But….

The time like a winged thief stole the most magical moments of my life. In my insanity of the new found love I forgot to see that I was travelling the path alone. Somehwere you had changed your path and left me dancing to the echoes.

As I watched the shadows of gloom descend and envelope everything that surrounded me. The hushed bliss had turned into a morgue like silence. The river had lost it’s youthful rhythm … the ripples were there but soon they would be gone too.

I began to gather the broken pieces of my heart. the sand beneath my tender naked feet began to burn. the blisters bled and a trail of crimson footprints began to take shape as I ran after what was mirage.

I could not let go. No, it was not true, it could not be. In the dark recesses of my mind your love was still moist and warm breathing life into whatever remained of my ravaged self.

In every winter’s heart, there is a quivering spring, behind the veil of each night, there is a smiling dawn, is that not what you used to day .

Where is my dawn ? Why am I scared of the night which brought the best in me for you.

I try to still myself, to control my breath and the thoughts. The night is stained with the memories of lost love, of deception, broken promises, guilt, excuses and hurt. The sunsets that I chased make me weep. The moon, which we both saw from our windows across the oceans and the deserts and saw each other in it, vacantly stares from the raven sky. My heart looses track and I try to listen in vain for those millions of heartbeats when I merged into you. They all seem to have melted away.

Autumn has left the trees bare just like my heart. I watch each leaf, dried and crunchy, slowly glide to the ground like my desires and dreams and see it get piled up, crushed and then scattered away with the wind.

Splinters of memories dig deep through my soul, leaving it bloody and bruised. The day goes by in doing various mundane tasks but it’s the nights that bring the agony and the pain. It still makes me alive but with different emotions. Tears that sparkled on my eyelashes in the brilliance of your love now burn the skin as they roll down ceaselessly like the lava from the volcano. The whirlpool of emotions, feeling that are trapped within, memories that jostle with each other create such a havoc inside me while a smile struggles through the frozen tears to face the outside world.

Gaping spaces yearn to be filled, the fruitless life longs for that dawn of hope. All in vain.

Where did we err?

I wonder what happened to the little notes of love that I wrote. Are they tucked away somewhere in the crevices, tear stained and crumpled, forgotten.

I look around the sand dunes and the emptiness around me . In the dust filled sky , your faint outline on the horizon lifts my dying spirit. Are you a mirage or just a distance not traveled? I gather the remaining stardust in my hands and under the faint light of the moon, which limply hung from the torn garment of the night sky, I began to struggle through the shifting sand grains.

I hear your voice though distorted. at times it’s different, like that of a complete stranger. I follow my instincts. There is nothing more to lose. All that I had was given to you with complete trust and devotion. Now with a torn, trailing veil of memories I seek you.

The dust of dreams leaves one thirsty,I try to ignore the feeling and as one dream another rises. I follow them relentlessly, hoping to reach you.

I lose when I count how many times I reached out to you and cried out your name.

The asphyxiating silence prevails.. I don’t know how many dreams will end before I find you again but hope is a miraculous thing at least for me for it keeps my life strings attached to you. Maybe someday I will be able to cover the distance between us or maybe you will go wandering back into the corridors of memory, find me there and breath life into my soul.

The night has fallen again, the cool breeze seeps inside me as I watch the dark sky where clouds drift like distant dreams. I wonder if you will ever read this but I know that the breeze will carry the fragrance of the passion flowers to you and maybe, rekindle the flame from the ashes of our love.