Switched onto the Radio what seemed like eons ago. All genres of music came gushing out from that blurred-memories beatbox. The sound waves thumped and clanked wearing romanticism ironing out my silences. Some sound pollution curing cancers.
After the quaking of my peppy senses it went into an hollow tunnel blowing echoes of rustling-music and I, chiming in its melody, ignorantly compare it with the plastic lyrics we are fed these days in the platter of scarcely-claded bodies and phony hearts. What a brazen attempt it was, of writing heart-slaughtering brain-stopping golden lyrics in the era before.
It played “Bade ache lagte hain” The curse of my good memory suddenly appears as a blessing with the old songs committed to my lips long back. My waist sways, lips croons, pupils dilate and voice purrs along the musical sonnets. A safe haven for the cry. It brings back the old musical wizard to his high-pitched imagination and I tune into ‘My Universe’ one more time.
Growth is subjective, isn’t it? Probably, like everything else in the world if we go by all the opinions. There is a tremendous pressure on growing up all the time and is usually measured on how much of a successful adult you become and yes success, most of the time, in this world refers to the size of your house (not the heart), a better car (not peace of mind), a stable job (because less money- a big no), married and kids (else you are just wasting life and are a bullheaded to have been focused on career).
This gave me all the more reason to dive into growth subsets. Growing up clearly means –
mature decisions (becoming magically decisive after crossing a certain age), magnificent social skills (when all you did in yesteryears was to curl up in your bed with a book or favorite TV series), an impeccable resilience (gone are the days when you used to hide your face in your mom’s bosom and miraculously problems disappeared), extreme resourcefulness (how come you are not adding any advantage to your country or family, or relatives, job, neighbors, planet, aliens, multi-verses AT THIS AGE? How is it possible that you are not being resourceful – C’mon You are a grown-up), an undying creativity (well, how else would you show to others you can earn and also keep a great passionate hobby in your side-pockets? How else would your younger siblings/cousins consider you a role model? That’s important too you now, to build a reputation, to see yourself from other’s eyes. Who cares what you thing about yourself?), steely confidence (this must be a given one. You have got education; you have given presentations. The basic thing you would have learned is being confident. You can’t waver, you should be clear about your path, and you have to be ready to face your challenges on your own).
Growing up means an imbalance division of expectations. You have to have lesser than the bare minimum while the other side keeps getting heavier with every turn in life and talking about that heaviness is what is mocked off here and hence no one openly talks about.
Like, you wanted to remind your friend of the movie night you planned long ago when he/she changed the plans at the last moment adding a bitter suffix of ‘Grow-up’, making you feel smaller than ever.
“It’s natural to have change in plans. The least you can do as a friend is try an understand me and if you cannot then Grow-up!”
And what would you ever say to refute this statement? That I do not have many friends and sort of depend on you to have peaceful fun night without much drama. That it takes every ounce of my energy to prepare myself hanging out with someone who doesn’t consider me a burden. That I wish I could talk to at least one person of how weight is pulling me down and all I needed was a one good listener. Probably afterwards, I would been okay. But what you manage to say,
“I am sorry. Carry on. We will plan some other time.”
I don’t know. Is saying ‘sorry’ at the right time called growing up? And who knows what ‘the right time’ is, when it’s again subjective.
With the scent of Ghee draped all over her clothes she prepares my favourite and the lengthiest snack. Her legs wobbling like the thinnest shoot of a newbie plant, you bet be gone in the next windstorm but it withstands the gambling words.
I want to have a pre-nurtured taste of her hand’s magic when I reach for ‘Mitthi Roti’ while she is busy with the next dough rolling into a perfect sphere in her deep palms. But she slaps hard on my extending greed, the way you shoo away the paws of your spoiled pet that tries to grab the fattest pieces of anything before it’s prepared. How did I forget she still excels in multitasking?
When I ask why this sugar cubes are bigger or has yarn threads coming out of it, she proudly explains it’s ‘misri’; much better than my cavity-inducing chocolates I keep popping up through my incessant anxious sessions. And the other brown rock is ‘gurr’ that would cleanse my body and probably the skin when I don’t have to waste much on the fancy bottles of creamy substances that I keep putting on my face.
I pout and argue with my silliest face and arms tugging around her back to not to pick up on the things that I buy. She being 2x me, pouts harder and says “you would never know the value of natural substances.”
She abhors sugar crystals or anything that is saturated upto the level it loses its originality. She detests any plastic covers of the stuff I order that claims ‘natural’ as she proclaims, anything that is genuine or real does not require a stamp on its forehead for others to believe.
While I munch on the first batch of Mitthi Roti; soft, sticky and a little cakey but with plump-y edges, I say it tastes somewhat like waffles and she narrows her brow saying one mustn’t try to translate everything into a language (or taste) understood by many.
“Preserve the old traditions and the food (esp the name) that comes from it for you won’t be getting much when you are older.
Put your love into the food you prepare and you will have your forever.”
I love how we humans glorify the endings, with a stale narrative of how those can be beautiful.
How fragile the limbs are when they freeze in knee-covered snow upon realising that the creepers of farewells are getting heavier and almost touching the ground.
How plagiarized is ‘sunsets are beautiful’ because the endings are ugly and quiet and heavy and usually dark before the dawn.
It ends. Everything ends or we end up leaving. Fireflies don’t stay for long, blessings wear off, intimacy fades away, hopes are swallowed by anxieties, horizons get covered by nervous spilled-paints. It climaxes, so it can begun again.
But we writers or artists are so loudly consumed by our emotions that the only way out we fabricate is to keep falling in the circles of life till the flames of our planet keep igniting us from its core.
I punctured his head with caution and hauled out the dripping red heart like a bread freshly out of the oven. Strange!! his heart held so much warmth and yet so cold.
Disclaimer: Keep your ledger of facts aside and hope on a journey with me in a train of imagination.
Long long time ago there was a Star Mother called Azura. She had four children stars (S)un, (T)esni, (A)ltan and (R)oxana. Their powers in chronological order. 2 sons (Sun and Altan) and 2 daughters (Tesni and Roxana). All the siblings were responsible for shining at their own schedules. But once in a while they used to turn down their brightness and step down on the ground to rejuvenate.
One fine day, Roxana came down to earth to appreciate the marvelous beauty and hues unlike their own land where it was mostly blank, black vastness.
Even when Roxana wasn’t shining in her full form she still held the radiance which led every passerby on earth, to turn and take a good look at her. She met a great man on one of her visit since his widespread fame was now talks of the heavens too. She fell in love with the man. His name was Alexander.
Sun was the eldest sibling responsible of all of them. He was quite carefree in nature and not as much strict as the 3rd brother Altan. Their mother was growing old and Sun was taking care of the roles, schedules, positions so that the work is carried out with ease. Their life was full of comfort and powerful meteor-showers games. They all knew they had one rule to follow ‘not to ever be courted by a human being’
Roxana came back from her trip when she got to know by her other star friends that a man named Alexander was looking desparately for a woman who looked a lot like her. Roxana believed it wasn’t just her, Alexander too, had feelings for her. That’s when Roxana decided to go back to earth. She announced it to everyone and started preparing for the journey.
Sun, being the eldest tried his best to explain her how she would not be able to live there permanently because sooner or later she had to return to her flare-full, blinking form and Earth would be devastated if Roxana ever turned into her original self while her feet touching the ground.
Roxana promised to dim herself for as long as she could. Tesni, her sister, understanding Roxana’s love stricken heart, lent her a special ring that would keep the light at the lowest sparkles but that made Tesni not being able to visit the earth ever again. Roxana left for earth looking for permanent residence there.
This news was abhorrently taken by Mother Azura and brother Altan. Sun tried his best to calm them down but things were going out of hand. Finally brother Altan came down to earth to take Roxana away but she refused. This made him angrier and he declared war on Alexander, the great. Alexander being a legendary figure in leading excellent militaries, accepted the challenge thinking he could defeat the demi-gods too.
Roxana heard this and persuaded Alexander to let her talk to her brother one last time and if she fails then both can then proceed with the war.
Alexander agreed and Roxana left earth to meet his brother in the black vastness. Both had endless arguments and no one wanted to give up. Altan was now raging with flames around him and gave Roxana last chance before attacking. Roxana too, came in her blaring form to fight Altan. There were extreme thundering storms forming up above but the temperature down there on earth started to melt castles, and mountains.
Sun and Tesni came running to rescue their siblings but unfortunately the war between Roxana and Altan had already started. Sun being the most powerful, encircled all, casting a protection spell so that the massive heat cannot destroy the earth but he was failing to hold them longer. Tesni was backing up Roxana because she was getting weaker with every passing moment. The eldest sibling kept on screaming that their power would not only destroy earth but also both, so they needed to stop.
But Roxana and Altan were blinded in rage. They ignored all the wise words and their powers met to form a massive blob of fire ready to be erupted at any moment. Sun tried not to use powers to stop all this since his touch could explode everything in spur of a moment. He was trying to talk them out when everything went numb and he was thrown away from the fiery explosion.
Sun gathered his wits to asses the situation. He saw all his family being either pushed away or turn into tiny particles. He didn’t know but Mother Azura had arrived minutes before the explosion. She understood it’s too late and devastation was inevitable. She used her powers to submerge herself into the black sky so she could hold her children together and to absorb their enormous powers that was capable of destroying everything in vicinity. Roxana broke into million tiny pieces and her body parts were showered from up above to the ground. Those pieces are called sunstones, in modern times and are present at several places on earth.
Tesni was thrown far away from her home, almost in different galaxy, breaking into million of stars. They say the stars are still moving in some directions.
Altan, like her mother merged into the sky. But he turned into gazillion of black stars which aren’t visible but it’s somewhere there in Mother Azura’s bosom. All of them are moving to form one big star but since they have lost their power it’s difficult to be back in their complete form on their own.
Ever since that horrendous day, Sun used to come up everyday to look for Roxana’s pieces on earth, in a hope he could collect all those and resurrect her.
And everyday he used to set down to look for his other sibling’s pieces, trying to push them together, slowly and gradually, to bring them back. Sun is hopeful that one day they all will be back and live as one family like they used to.
I have survived another summer. I believe I deserve some perks of sighting exclusive brittle skies and extra candies of courage you keep in your side pockets.
I adore you, for not only being my month but for the audacity of making mortal surroundings around change and to show their true colors.
Leaves fall and my fingers camp around the handle of a tea mug placing my bulky thoughts on a window sill. My poetries rhyme with an amber view of art outside with an orange blanket to mourn the dead leaves.
You disclose unsullied hope like freshly painted graffiti walls. And I being an ardent art lover quickly buy your bouquet of transformation. A spectacular change I try to stretch in my own work. I know what a horrible businesswoman I would make of myself. Do I want to sell tales and keep buying the inspiration?
Being the last third in number you make me anxious. Like those tragic stories of which the end I know but watch it to grieve their doomed sunsets before time. And I wish not to dim blur before time, before meeting you. There is a bridge I cross from January to September praying to keep my sunsets and moonrises sharp till October arrives. Probably, the only Goodbye I ever want to bid is in the times of thousands pumpkins, ghosts and romances of October eve(s).
Your brownish daylight makes me hop on a carrier to feed wanderlust. A flaming-red dream teases and starts dancing on the edges of my uneasiness. Like lemon juice dominating on the crunchy sides of my tongue twitching away my sad pages, and reviving my senses.
You are those Friday Nights I don’t ever want to die away. Beginning and ending of gold moments. Just like you!
A picture-perfect month, I welcome you, knowing I survived another summer and will do so again because
Dear October, your crisp beauty makes me believe in Magic.
The lines in my hand are aggressive. They have this criss-cross fights against the others.
Some put up well, Some mark a scar, Some lie lifelessly.
Stranger’s eyes read them and predicts the life I’ll live in future. Sometimes I’ll put up well, sometimes I’ll have to earn scars and other times I will just lie there blandly giving up on the reasons to fight for.
But as I said, these are aggressive wrinkles I inherited directly from those whose grip never dwindled from their swords.
It breaks my heart when I witness no one nowadays can talk about how loneliness kills you from inside. The moment your truth is released from the clutches of a rib-caged heart and lands on the soft tip of your lips, you are bombarded with thousands of scriptures written anonymously on how to love thyself. And anyone who had truly known self-love would know how authentic loneliness is. Self-love is about acceptance of whatever you had been feeling. It’s the courage you develop over the years of trembling and tumbling that loneliness is as true of an emotions as happiness, and you must be okay to face it. If day exists how can one deny the existence of night. You need a torch light especially walking on a dark path and without its existence the light would lose its meaning. I have seen so many people feeling it, agreeing along with movie dialogue’s but never admitting to it. The fear, the fear that you feel lonely can make people judge you so harshly, that the easy way is to shut the mouth, shut the soul who feels it, shut the mind that reminds it. This saddens me to the core how disposable human’s feelings have become. We humans were meant to feel everything and then walking on a path of deciding which one to feed more to keep us going but what do we do, we filter out on the basis of pretending eyes. Eyes which were shrieking of parallel vulnerabilities but wearing blinkers of lies of what they had been feeling all this time.
This is true, loneliness doesn’t mean you don’t have people around, it means you don’t have right set of people around but sometimes even if you have, even if you love yourself it crowns you like a melancholic demon. It’s one of the emotion like others. You are allowed to feel it and all you have to do is not get consumed by this demon. But how sad it is to not being able to share it with anyone when maximum of the population goes through the same emotion. If you have one person to whom you can say ‘i am not okay’ ‘i am feeling lonely’ and that person just hears you out with no judgements or counseling then you are luckier than you think.
I had started the path of becoming like that person long ago, and I hope I reach there one day.
