“I’m going to do what I want to do. I’m going to be who I really am.
And I’m going to figure out what that is”*
In the background the
instrumental paino plays with titanic’s theme, and how can it not bring tears,
for there’s so much love in those notes. A picture of us hangs to my left in
that handmade paper frame. The future
stands still but we move in infinite space**. A space where a plenty of
lessons have been learnt.; from haggling about money to breathing our own breaths
with the rhythms of the nature, the walks, discussions about the extra-ordinary
in the so called ‘ordinary’ life, and times where everything was said with not
a single word exchanged.
Your words were read by me again.
They were fresh as a morning’s dew, giving birth to new feelings and thoughts
about the magic of poetry and the charm of melodies. It is with words as with sunbeams. The more they are condensed, the
deeper they burn.*** Isn’t it? You always talk of how the ambiguity in your
writings allows for everything to be said in a mysterious way. Mystery lures.
Reminds me of how the life began, with the forbidden apple being eaten, for it
was ‘for-bidden’. I ask, does the banality of simple texts and proses defies itself? Aren’t
they words too? Vocabulary, as much as it has intrigued me, has confused me as
well. Vocabulary is like the different stages of life that a language
possesses. When spoken, it feels like language feels alive! I heard him say “You
write your first draft with your heart, you re write with your head. The key to
writing is to write not to think”.**** As I reminisce these words, I smile, for
poetic proses demand thinking, yet, not always!
Those were the days when poems
were written one after another, like epiphany.
The presents which are gifted to
us everyday turn into past the next day. Some remain untouched, unopened,
others are opened half-way, only to be rejected for it was not something we
were expecting. By the time, we realise, a week of presents goes by, however
the gratitude in our heart enables the smallest ones to be seen and opened. I
often tell people “ looks are deceptive”, turns our so are ‘presents’. It’s
better than not getting one, right?
Thank you for being a part of my present
everyday!
 |
'Presents' are sweet, even if bitter,
for they shall be remembered as memories one fine day!:) |
*From Perks of
Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky
** From Letters
to a young poet by Rilke
***Words By
Robert Southey
**** From the
movie “Finding Forester”
