Today, I saw a kid scrawling graffiti Well, today I caught a kid expressing mercilessly on the walls. What to say— How does it feel to witness an artist in his/ her artistry form? I always relished the idea of art in its process instead of a polished result; a duckling instead of a swan, a messy color palette over gracefully-sketched canvas a mere, timid sapling to a magnificent tree. Any art in its raw form tells how everything starts weak, disoriented and vague.
We are a part of someone’s process as well; Perhaps our own. Somewhat damaged, somewhat overpainted with layers and layers of stories, corrections hidden beneath. The journey of self-breaking and self-making tainted with love and lessons trying to reach an end goal with self-discipline Who’s to say what to become of us… but being the masters of our brushes we are as unique as any fine craft and the burnt marks on the soul allows us a chance to make our own graffiti.
There is something about men holding an umbrella and carrying a tote bag.
On top of that stepping out of the library wearing the commonest of shirt, white sneakers, no jazzy watch. Being a simplest man, only rich in wisdom through his eyes.
I hear Schubert’s Frühlingsglauben and read Uhland’s poetry about echoing their faith in Spring, about using leftover optimism and colourfulness of Autumn, about making the deepest valleys of heart bloom. And I hear this as melancholia; why? ‘cause Schubert was dying when he wrote this? ‘cause he knew Spring would wander in and out of major and minor seemingly, meeting its end one day? I hear it; with parched lips not cause of the Summer’s tapestry of fire but ‘cause your lips left mine for another season, for a better, rainless sky.
‘Have faith in spring’, they said. It’s a wasted breath when I couldn’t convince them you were my spring. And I used to crawl back to your heartbeat to bloom. Oh, my poor heart, learn to live with this fear of seasons ending of impending danger How could two seasons ever be together? at the same time ? The Cold has to die to meet the Bloom. Wish I knew before,
Because darling, you were Spring. And I was a cold cold winter night.
Note : On my journey of learning German I stumble upon different words and phrases everyday. I was listening to a composition by an extremely prolific composer Franz Schubert – Frühlingsglaube which translates to Spring Faith or faith in Spring that eventually made me read Johann Ludwig Uhland’s poetry for the same composition and I was moved by the meaning of the words. Couldn’t help but write about it too in scorching summer
“I figured out what you meant by saying —I don’t use feelings until that’s the only thing left to use. Would you call me a spendthrift if that’s all I spent to be with people. Sometimes, even money. So they stay with me, as an obligation. I think no one would hit an emotional lowest than when admitting the bribe we give people so they could find reasons to stay. How cruelly manipulative of us to make them do this. How manipulative I could be? But not using feelings and emotions is an abuse too. Someone who wanted to be around you without any given reason waits and waits for your emotional opening but never gets it. What is worse -making someone stay with a promised candy every now & then Or being oblivious of the feelings of a person who wants to stay with you without rationality or logic?”
Preach preach preach! People preach from filled pockets and empty brains. With unscathed heart and untethered emotions. Sided by parallel friends, attentive as bread crumbs asking to ‘just move on’.
With double skin, houses on higher ground preaching ‘not to drown’.
With dried pillows and shadows never patrolling at 3am urging ‘not to grate brains and sleep’.
If they knew Hurt the way a burning paper recedes in front of a matchstick. If they knew Wound as an unasked excavation of land with mostly dirt and barely a treasure If they knew Heartache they’d would know why some turn into wolves, finding comfort in being dangerous and to howl all alone; all ’cause of the lack of help and not to bite back the world.
It had to be one of those days when everything sucked, she growled. But then a day like this never stops on tomorrow. It keeps appearing, she continued. The rain had been falling hard on the ground. The wind made it equally impossible for the umbrella to behave. Like Sophie’s choice she had to choose if she saves herself from the wicked downpour or her umbrella from a cut-through storm. She chose the latter, snapped it shut and ran to find shelter under extended roof of a shop.
Muttering under her breath she felt a pair of eyes on her. She avoided looking. It was close to midnight, and she just wanted to get home after a lousy day. She didn’t need any more trouble. But certainly heard a faint ‘Hi’ and continued ignoring it. She felt someone coming closer. In turn, gripped her umbrella tight– ready to smack it over, just in case.
“Hi Eli”, this time a bit louder, not buried under the hammering of large raindrops.
“It’s you! Yes!!”, cried the voice in excitement. She turned around carrying a tired look but suddenly found herself woken up.
With her brows still raised, Hi, she returned. “I never expected I’d see you again.” Words were inexplicably out before she knew it. “umm, what…? How are you doing, Samuel?”, stressing on his name.
“Okay! I guess. Nothing much to complaint.” still trying to subdue his excitement.
“Good!… It’s been a long time.”
“Yeah, 23 years.”
“23? Wow! Never counted”
“I did!”, said he with a sheepish smile. “Have you been alright? All these years?”
“Yes! Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know. You appear tensed.”
“Jeez! It’s just the rain. You know how much I hate it.” Eli takes a deep breath calming her racing heart.
“Yes yes, I remember. But that never stopped you from going out even at the odd hours” he chuckled.
“Haha! I was young. Nothing bothered me then. And I was so hell-bent on having all sorts of odd experiences.”
“Well, I said it then and will say it again – That’s how life must be lived.”
“I am not so sure about that now.” She looked exhausted. He noticed she was heavily drenched in a simple t-shirt, not enough to keep the cold out.
“Let me give you this!” He started taking off his jacket.
“Please don’t! I don’t need it” She insisted.
“You are shivering! I have a warm sweater beneath. Don’t worry!”
“Sam!” He noticed she didn’t use his full name this time. The way she used to. But he continued looking at her sweet, convoluted face.
“If you are thinking we are going to meet again in pretense of returning your jacket, I will not advise it. Things have changed. I have changed. I have a family. We aren’t some high-school sweethearts anymore” She appeared troubled facing these facts.
“I would never…. You know I would never cross any boundary to hurt you. I sincerely wanted to give you the jacket and trust me, you can keep it” She knew he was genuine. He always had been. Even with the onset of a wrinkle on the corner of his eyes, those gave off the same light. She could read perfectly. For a minute, she thought to herself. Did we rush in ending us? Our life would have been different. So different. But she brushed off the thought and continued listening.
“I understand you have a family, a responsibility. I will never come in between something you worked so hard to build.” There he was. I didn’t share a single word of my life and he understood, she thought. His eyes carried appreciation and respect for her. Like love fermented into something higher in all these years.
While he was about to take off his jacket he stopped in the middle, “Wait! Ummm… one sec” He turned to the other side. His back facing her. She could not see what he was doing.
‘Maybe I spoke too soon. What if someone special gifted him the jacket? Don’t know what kind of odd toad he turned out to be in these years’, her brain assessing way more than needed.
“Here you go!” He handed it to her with the sweetest smile she needed so badly. She was reluctant to take it but eventually did. It was drizzling by now and she had this sudden urge to move away from him. She messily put on the jacket, “It was nice seeing you, Sam. Hope you stay well!” She stormed off before hearing you too!
Why am I running away like a thief, muttering to herself. After a few blocks there was a convenience store at the gas station. “I need a candy. I am all out of energy.” She went inside and suddenly realized she forgot to carry her purse. She left home hastily in the evening to meet a colleague who just got fired. Work life was screwed these days. She could be the next target but didn’t want to lose a good friend over the corporate circus. So, without a thought busted out of the home at once when her friend called.
She was dejected, so rundown over a small candy she couldn’t have. Her family had been falling apart. Work had been more stressful than ever. She wouldn’t be able to see her friend/work-wife either now and even a smallest sweet was out of the window. Life sucks!
She shrugged in anger, formed small fists of her hands and hid it in the pocket of her jacket. She touched something metal. It was a 2 euro coin. Shockingly, she travelled straight down the memory lane. Two decades back.
How she loved going out before. At any time of the day or night. Long walks with friends or acquaintances or university people she had just met. Too much engrossed in talks to remember carrying a wallet. She was so different than now. But Samuel remained the same. He knew Eli always had a sweet-tooth and, every now and then craved her gummy bears. And he always made sure to put some lose change in all her as well as his jacket’s pocket.
She stared down hard at the 2 euro coin in her palm struggling not to cry. She closed her fist and quietly, calmly walked back home.
Each second marks the number of times you thought of them today. Yet you are 86,400 times and a lifetime away to make them yours.
As fascinated it is to look at the stars It’s terrifying to know those are mere a collection of dust and gas from up close. So, when you are near them You know—they are nothing.
Even when you move a mountain in front of their doorway as they like hills, They don’t step out in their balcony to witness the efforts of your mutilated heart.
You bring a whole garden and spring to them but it’s not their time nor any intention to bloom
They peel off their skin so often, the skin you spent years to get under that you become a stranger standing under the same umbrella.
A person in your imagination is so different than in real life and is usually the ambassador of delivering pain to you while you manifested Earth’s flowers for them.
You are their dream catchers. And for them you are an occasional décor. And you wonder what did you do wrong?
It’s cause, people don’t love you the way you love them.
