The Growing Silence

The poems of this phase have been the best I’ve ever written. When my friends urge me to share it with them, I tell them they are too precious and sacred to be out in the open in the wild and callous world of internet. They need a heart as divine as they deserve, to carefully and gently place them on pages of a book with a gorgeous cover and a soul, for not any page shall understand their worth and not any cover shall envelop its existence.

At times when words fail, the rivers bleed with pain and  anguish, that is, for them to bear and for words to witness. The words sit by the river and simply try to be ‘present’; that’s all they can do. They feel helpless for being unable to extract the hydrogen from the oxygen, as the two have been intertwined for life. The words cringe, wince. They try to cry but nothing compares to the bleeding river. The words have a voice which the river doesn’t. The river hopes to turn its colours from black to red that it originally possessed. As goes for the words, to the outside world, they have only turned more graceful, poignant and charming as ever. Their magic makes people swoon and their effect stays like a lasting fragrance.

Between the spaces of the words and the river lies an abyss of great depth and silence. The Silence is exploring its own existence in its nascent birth. Ever since it stepped into this world, the cries have been shrilly and extremely painful to bear. At times, she simply sobs to sleep. On other times, there are sudden bursts of agony making her feel death was near. Yet the river would bleed from her eyes and she would still exist in an existence which felt nothing but absent. 

The silence has matured with time.  She’s growing.  She has begun to breathe with her own lungs. Her wisdom has given life to words. Times change: for a silence which was overbearing for her own self, she has begun to add beauty to others lives. As they thank her, she lives a little more. She lives for all that is yet to come and unravel itself in the most magnificent ways. She lives, with herself.

Dungeons that saw light

“Do you know how this world is filled with mazes and how we end up entering another only to be relieved by finding way out of the last one?” “On second thoughts, do we ever find a way out, not until we are alive, right?” so began the saga of asking questions flickered by that moments  in which Light would fall on Pain, leading the wound to seethe than to soothe; that which took its own insights to welcome the cure at its best time. Pain was not the only one, down there, it had company. The companies of the others however were fleeting in nature, like a whiff of air, seen for a few seconds and drifting away, only to be invisible, but at the same time, being present. The other day I heard some voices, screaming for Help, filled with Agony, Misery and above all Helplessness and Worthlessness. Amidst those voices resided lakes of Anger, Guilt and Confusion. And far away at the horizon, which had yet to be discovered, lay Peace. As the voices got louder and louder and louder, heaving a want for Death and for Anguish to end, Silence befell and asserted its existence. The lakes dried for few minutes, cleared and made way for Insight, to gather itself and emerge in Hope and Faith. They always go together. Here they were sitting patiently besides Insight. Their silence eased the Pain into tiny molecules which the body felt escaping away from it. As that happened, the wounds came closer and lit up with new molecules which took the place. These were a gift from Belief, handed over by Hope and Faith. Just as the Silence weaved its magic, the Insight gave Pain a hug filled with Perseverance and Care. The echo of the loud voices faded away gradually, now beckoning the other dungeons which were unexplored, which had yet to be entered, only to make Pain feel its presence, not now, but later. For now, it knew that “it had been saved”. However, that was not the end of it. Just before this realisation set in, Wisdom, quietly perched on a rock, a witness to all the events finally parted its lips to say what was ought to be said: “My Dear, you are saved only if you want to be saved”. With this it spread its huge wings and disappeared into an opening, which no one knew about. There sat Pain whose hands were held by Hope and Faith, heart by Belief and mind by Perseverance. In that moment they seemed like a united family, ready to strive and ready to thrive. As goes for the Light, it was there amidst the Darkness.

The Trench that was

There’s so much chaos out there. Just one step across the line and you here the noises drown you. They pull you, entrap you in a trench where there shall be two worlds, one that goes inside you, and the other where the body shall reside inside that trench. Two world at one space, what shall you do when you get trapped? Shout out for help, scream for only rescuing you was an option?

She cried day after day until her tear glands could be at peace. The agony felt like a million blades pierce through her conscience that which they called the ‘Super’ Ego. What about the pleasures? An image of licking that ice lolly as a kid came across her mind. That very ice lolly which was now looked down upon for it was not ‘branded’! But it caused her no harm and only offered a pinkish tongue and a hundred giggles every time she would buy and lick it. The taste of happiness, oh so transient, yet the images of these memories stay. Why , you ask? For  in there lay a purity and truth so profound that no riches could buy it!

The noise in the trench was silenced. She wondered if the world would ever realize her absence, for she was just one freckle amidst the innumerable ones that came and went by from this planet called earth. Did her existence made any difference in the lives of others? Existence- ia-lism. Its surprising how distance doesn’t matters when you love the person who is miles away from you, that someone special whom you haven’t met , yet the soul feels as if you have, in that one era, which remains felt but not seen.

This trail of thought is often termed ‘derailed’ thinking style in the realm of the psychiatry world. Yet its funny how the thoughts have a zillion threads, they may seem distinct, but a chain is what weaves them together. Perhaps trenches are a good place to be in. In a world where people are running, pacing, cracking their heads to earn riches, not knowing the value of their “being” morphing their life into a futile, hollow story, perhaps it’s a trench which puts the perspectives back into life, just like how a drip gets injected when something sucks the life out of you, only to offer a live back to the life.

That trench stays empty now; remote in that part of the world that has been accepted. The soil there continues to be wet for the downpour of the heart left a few greens to blossom. The hole in there is where the sparkling rays play hide and seek with those buds waiting to grow and reach out. The buds miss her but only for good. The trench is not an enclosure. Not a trap. Away from the world, some spaces seek acknowledgment, in pain, in confusion because the quieter we are, the more patient and open we are in our sadnesses, the more deeply and serenely the new presence can enter us, and the more we can make it our own, the more it becomes fate.

P.S: The words in colour are by Rainer Maria Rilke.

Soak me in...

Soak me in …..

We have all had moments when masochistically we have called for and invited Pain with grace into our lives. Almost like it was a celebration of sorts amidst glasses full of tears, snacks full of sorrows and music that was nothing but melancholic and we danced along in our blissful tranquil state only to soak our self into the depths of this ocean called life.

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"Nothingness, a feeling I've derived very recently. Sometimes it comes alone, weeping out solitude, bringing with it a shudder. This nothingness is different, it has satisfaction. It has a tinge of completion in it, like it has resulted from the finish of a greater good."*

As I hear her say these words I sense how alike we are, or may be all of us in that matter, or may be not ALL. For some tears just come and disappear not letting even the person know of their existence. For some they come and they are called for, waiting to be embraced in the dark pools of eyes; eyes which are alive and sparkly, but have their own emptiness and dark moments.

But you know what the truth is? Not ‘the truth’ just the truth? These dark solemn days, where smile goes into a hiding, where it replaces itself not by a twinkly glittery smile that reaches your eyes, but a smile that just comes questioning its own presence on your plastic face; these days come with a purpose. For how, just think, how in the world can the mind forever be in a happy state??? And yes after another friend’s** thoughts on striving for contentment than happiness were read by me, I felt at peace.

This dark, empty- yet- full nothingness has been experienced. It’s close to me and to thee. Like a drug which excites you, so does this nothingness- but in a more charming way. You got to feel it to understand it. And yes, just as it fills you, it escapes too, but never to travel far off, for when in life, the happy, the so called “superficial happy”, states take too much precedence in your life, it is then that it’s time for another celebration, for another moment of……..

Completion.

*These words were shared by Crystal in  this blog post.

** It was Twisha’s this one post from where I understood that it’s contentment we should strive for, than happiness……

Gratsi to you two <3

PS: For those of you who like viewing pictures of great photographers, check out Nikhil Joseph Photography at FB. His pictures are breath taking:)

PPS: I realize that this post comes soon after the reading dozes of melancholy which have been given by Pevee and Crystal. But yes, thoughts lead to thoughts...and that's why I call it "Yarn of ~ Words" :)