We are all here – our aspirations, our words, our people, even those who don’t quite like us. There are those who are ready to write us down, but then, they are all here and we can’t see them off. Throughout your day, they are there, with their words and their anger reeking through your veins as you smile and reply to another email at work, attending another meeting which could have been done over a call instead. You are suffering through your day and there is just no way out of it. You wish to get away from it all but even you know this very poison drives you forward. Well, you might as well celebrate it.
'On Melancholy' - The School of Life from Hannah Jacobs on Vimeo.
Through the silence in between the words and through the disappointing glares of so many, you may have asked yourself this question, or worse, forgotten to. They have marched on, leaving you with a shattered thought of hopelessness, like a dinghy lost in the sea, lost in the silence between the words and you hope and pray to find the answers and find your salvation. There are so many things that are running through your mind that you are oblivious, oblivious of the very root of the problem that has taken you down the path you never wished you had set foot on. And yet, here we are, through the nothingness of cold winter and a stiffling summer, trying to find answers.
The call got disconnected before I could say "Stop!", before I could plead one last time to that person, individual, to still hope, to still consider the morning after the night. The call got disconnected as the night enshrouded me into a raging storm of Whys and What Ifs. I could call back but the number will be switched off, I could leave a message but it won't work the same way. Social networking sites, the thought-dump of so many of us, weren't quite working for me. When you are angry, you can still mutter a few words. But this was rage, an anger so pure that the mouth couldn't fathom a few words. Suddenly, the cold night didn't seem cold enough.
I don't know anything about you. I see you everyday, through the pages of my journals, in the photographs that you so hated to take but took anyway. I don't know how you are, where are you. I don't know how this happened, this thing that makes me go back to you like the very death we are so desperately trying to avoid but have to face up to, anyway. I don't know what's the first thought that runs through your mind when you get up in the morning, and open your window to the world.
I don't know whether you are happy or dead inside. Have I loved you enough?
On a cold January night, as the city I stayed for 13 years was getting ready to bid good-bye to the Winter, my father was steadying himself to see me off. I had gotten a job in a city far away and that meant my weekly visits would now turn into quarterly or semi-yearly ones. While I was packing my belongings, partly with the memories of the city and the gift of happiness that it had shared with me, my heart was heavy, for I was leaving my old man. I couldn't comprehend the depth of my departure. Afterall, I had prepared for this moment, this day for quite sometime.
But did he?
Another sun sets. The dusty city enshrouds me like a mother to her child after a long day. She tries to put me sleep, only failingly so. The steam rising from the Styrofoam cup dances with the dry wind, happy to have met her, just like I met you. And like the vapors losing their identity, their self into that wind, I lost myself in you the moment I laid my eyes on you.
The way you smiled before you said Hi, before you said how much you missed me, before the promises, the fears, before that kiss, the one after and the one I last saw when we met for the last time, come gushing back at me. I am consumed by the sunset only to be reminded of your benign face and that stubborn lock of hair.
The maddening crowd of this new city is warm, Sweetheart. But they fail, you know where? They fail miserably to give me the warmth your hug gave me. When I held you tight, when I buried my face deep in your shoulders, the warmth you gave me brought me home, something I never had. I miss that.
The smiles, the laughter, your thoughts, your hopes and your aspirations from life and the way you were so determined with your beliefs made me happy. Your insecurities and subdued-possessiveness and your confidence in me, the trust you failing had in me. I miss that.
But we have said our good-byes, there is not a moment I mourn. Another day draws to an end and I don't have my own. The twilight seems beautiful, but not as beautiful if you were here with me, savoring this cup of tea. But you don't like tea, or coffee, silly me! I miss that.
Not a single moment goes by without me thinking about trying to persuade you to come back, but then we have said our good-byes. It's hard to believe it's been so long and yet you are here with me, in my thoughts, running your beautiful, long fingers through my hair. Your perfect face, your perfect eyes, lips, smile, nose. I miss that.
I miss the mornings when I woke up with a smile on my face, knowing that there was this one person who was there for me. I miss the kiss, the hug, your voice over the phone, your questions and the hidden answers in them. But we have bid our good-byes, with you looking ahead while I am standing here with nothing else but my stillborn hope.
It's dark now and the tea's gone cold. Far away, the city runs frantically while up here on the roof, I see a progressively darkening sky.
Do you still look up in the sky when you think of me? Do you?
The luggage was quite heavy, something I hadn’t quiet expected. But then I wasn’t quite travelling, I was leaving. 3 bags full of clothes and things I might need to start afresh in a city of millions, thousands of kilometres away. But then it’s not just the bags that you carry when you leave your home.
I have been travelling all my life, perks of being a military brat. But then other than leaving my buddies, nothing pained about the transfers. A new place, new people always made me happy, with the prospective of probably trying to be a better kid. When you are reduced to a walking, talking Water Hyacinth, you sort of prepare yourself for the eventuality called life.
24 hours, 24 hours make a day and yet somehow, at the end of it all, we are really left praying for some more hours. 9 hours of work, 2 hours of commute, 7 hours of pretentious-sleep and you hardly are left with time to do something that you have always wanted - to do the things that you love. Then, there are the deadlines, the expectations of others and your own unique hell that you carry from yesterday. The collective weight already makes you feel like dropping back to bed and call in sick. And yet, somehow, you know you cannot afford to do so. There is this meeting to attend, that mail to send, that college kid whom you cannot ignore anymore for sponsorship that he so desires. The Autumn morning looks eerily dry and all you can do is pray that you don't snap.
She leans on me with her thoughts, her curly hair kissing her face. Her hands rest on my knees and she keeps looking at me. The city has been washed with another round of rains and everything is clear, as clear as her deep coffee-bean eyes. She smiles away, trying to stop herself from opening up. While she is looking away, I place the obstructing strand of hair behind her ear. She looks like the crescent moon in this cloudy night.
My own piece of moon, my own little piece of moon with her thoughts and hopes looks at me. Her smile is infectious, making my whole body, my soul, hers. I grab her hands and start kissing them, breathing her scent.
A candid post. There are many who crib online about how their lives are riddled with problems. Some take a sort of a personal offence at something they don't have a control over. If you are thinking about where you have technically gone wrong with your life, then this might be the solution that you're looking for.
You Over-listen to Others
Look around you. All the successful people have done something they were told they won't succeed in. They kept on. Listening to others more wouldn't have been good for others. There is a fine line between being a well-wisher and actually curbing your growth. Some people forget that. They jump onto suggesting you what they feel is the best possible answer for you. They are not you. Hence, they are wrong.
Everyone has a face with its own story. We come across so many of them, sometimes in the same person we see everyday. Sometimes, we look upto them and on some occasions, we look down upon them when we can't find the answers that we are looking for.
And all it takes is a lie to melt them away.
3:06am It rains all night long. Between bouts of sleep, you hear the rain drops fall while they try hard to not wake you up. The wind quietly blows through the night as well, ruffling leaves of your garden trees. As you sleep, an entire world dances to a whole new song. The night is trying hard to stay back for a bit longer, trying hard to hide the nakedness of things. Yet, it lingers on with a defeated look on its face, knowing the inevitable that is about to happen in a little while.
Ever stood on a bridge, watched the world go by? Ever had that smile on your face for no apparent reason? Ever been happy, by being lost?
Sometimes, just by being a nobody in the crowd you can actually find tremendous amount of happiness. The world is full of people, each weaving his/her own story. Just by being a mere observer of these stories (and not necessarily being in one), you can learn a lot.
In this crazy world, we all are constantly running after something. But the things we seek won't give us happiness. Your next job change may help you get a 100% jump in salary. However, you will be no where if you don't take out time for the better things in life, for the better ones in life.
Make your loved ones happy.
Remember, there is no heaven, no hell. Till the time your neurons keeps firing, you can feel the world. The day your brain stops, everything stops. You just become a mere corpse, waiting for your turn to be forgotten.
Live your life than just merely surviving it.
Your parents, your siblings, children, lover, friends, they are what defines you, not the price of your lifestyle. Keep your loved ones happy by surprising them from time to time. Let them know that you are there. You are not rich by your bank balance. You are rich by the number of people whom you can call up at the dead of the night, just for a chat.
It's all about creating a legacy.
Always remember to introspect. Get out. Get lost in the crowd, find happiness in everything. Witness an animated conversation between two strangers in a local train, watch a kid doze of to sleep on mama's arms. Get onboard a bus and head to a new place. Discover.
Sometimes, simply watching the world go by can help you get back on track.
It was raining like crazy. The busy market had people cowering for shelter. Few stood under the Pan-stall, few under the tin shades of the numerous shops in the busy market. The relentless wind ensured that everyone was drenched. I was no exception.
I got wet and I kept at it.
It was the first day from over a month that I was out of my bed. Jaundice had finally rested its vice like grip over me and I was finally out to enjoy the evening. Even the rain couldn't stop me.
The reason I chose the crowded market route was because of an innocuous reason - A pen. I was drenched and how! The new pen wasn't all that fancy stuff.
The market was now deserted amidst the pounding rains and no one was on the main road cutting through the market. I came back home. Absolutely drenched.
And then..a journey began.
It saw me through many ups and downs since then. It was there when I had to vent out my feelings somewhere, somehow.
I ushered in a new life with it. I signed up for my new office with this pen. I turned over a new page of my life - with this pen.
I was hopeful. I knew for what I had signed up for. I was leaving behind my shadow and I had to smile.
It stayed with me during the training sessions.
It was there for me when I just wanted to sit back and catch up with myself in one of those seats besides the lake. It was the only companion which made my memories fall like the autumn leaves on my diary.
It hung onto me when I wrote pages on things that truly mattered to me and quietly endured when I tore those pages in the end.
Slowly, that pen became more than just what it was intended for. It became my guide and followed me along - from getting back on my feet and preparing for the exams. Night after night, it gave me the courage to continue the journey towards my dream.
And just like that, the ink went out.
Sometime in life, we truly value someone when they are not there anymore. We think about them. We miss them.
Read in a quote somewhere,
"God brings people in our lives to help us when he thinks we need help, and takes them away when he sees we will be alright without them."
Time to wake up.