Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Feb 16th 2009

Last night, I was going through my old files and found this in my diary. So many things have happened in a year and yet it seems nothing has changed. It seems like a beautiful thought, but perhaps it is not.
21:57 Monday, February 16, 2009

(I’ve missed writing here, these 10 odd days.) Lots of things swirling in my mind. Just finished Murakami’s ‘Dance Dance Dance’. You gotta dance baby, follow the rhythm, go with the flow, the world will take care of itself. When reading a good writer or a poet, I feel connected to the world. To the soul of the world. This happened with ‘Snow’. With this one too. I was barren without words. And these writer’s, writing about their world, were like silent rain falling on my parched surface. I wanted more, to be drenched, to be alive once more. Perhaps I am. Last night, a poem came to me. And I knew it from heart. Two more, half complete, three more, yet to start.

So, am I back with, amongst words again? Maybe, maybe not. I’m not feeling quite right. Something within, I want to work, but so many things are held up at the office that working seems a distant possibility. We all are just going through the motions. There is a wait lingering in the atmosphere these days. Something is going to happen. But nothing happens. “Nothing never moves”, she says.

All the things are one, all the ones are multiple things.

Don’t know what to write, what to say, what to think.

Yesterday was Sunday. Seems so far off now. Had a very good day with her. We roamed around in Kamla Nagar, did little bit of shopping, had lunch at the new Subway, then I went to see her off near her place. After that, emptiness.

I was standing near the ground level window, beside the Media Mart outlet at the Kashmere Gate metro station. There is a window overlooking a little green patch of turf and then the metro premises boundary cuts off the mayhem of Kashmere Gate bus adda. I could see a whole world of people moving about on the other, far side of the window. Going on with their lives, buses to catch, things to sell, talks to talk, and I, with a cup of coffee in my hand observing them, from behind a window. Closer to me, on the glass surface of the window, another lot of people were going on with their lives. Trains to catch, things to buy, talks to talk. But these were ghosts, moving about on a piece of glass.

Or was I the ghost, standing there between the worlds, one real, one unreal and one very real world behind the unreal. I didn’t matter for anybody. Everybody mattered to me. Only she makes me feel alive. When she is around, nobody matters to me. The world is then, as unreal as a phantasm wandering amongst the many alternate worlds.
And then, she has to leave again. The cycle continues.



Nadhiya said...

How sweet and how cute... Okay tell me something .. How long u took to write this? I am sure it would have come in a smooth flow ;)


baavriviti said...

my god..this is..so exquisitely beautiful that i want this piece of writing to be a person, so i can fall in love with it. that feeling of being a ghost...the emptiness thats left when she leaves...i can relate all too well.
thank you for sharing adee!

How do we know said...

the more things change, the more they remain the same...

ani_aset said...

I am from delhi and i could relate to this post :) ...trust me not a great feeling

Prakash P said...

Everybody would have felt this at least once in their life time...

Jyo Had3s said...

Beautiful. Words that touch your soul.

Anula Aboobacker said...

it sums up in one word! BEAUTIFUL

sidharth said...

Could correlate to most of the things you hav mentioned here...except for shopping with galfrend part :P...inshallah woh bhi kabhi sach hoyega!

Nice post Adi...have felt the same way many many many times, esp when I try to write a new post in my blog!

Harish said...

choooo chweet.

Anonymous said...

Beautifully put.
The kind of emptiness that surrounds you when your loved one is not around is unmatched. It may just be a moment of parting, but it feels like an eternity.

Love is what gives Life the Meaning. :)

vins said...

yeh rang woh hai jo chadta hai to poori duniya rangeen dikhti hai and agar kabhi khuda na kare utare to ....

Unknown said...

Adee !Oh my ! Beautifully written ! I did go thru the same feelings many a times! Especially the emptiness thts left whn she/he leaves! thanks for sharing !

Sigma said...

That was beautiful. I never cease to be amazed at your thoughts, and your ability to compose them in such lovely words.

Anonymous said...

I have felt it too,
the feeling that you are here and not here.

I have felt it too,
a stinging absence even as you
have left me here.

I have felt it too,
a sparkling silence
that enwraps me taking me
away from here.


Aman Sharma said...

Dear Adee,

This is clearly thought process of an artist, who is also in love.

More the things change, more they remain the same. One year has passed in everyone’s life. Though we may feel it hasn’t made a difference but it does change many things. These changes though are so surreal that the dots get connected only in hindsight. Or these are realized by our near dear ones (parents et al), but not us.

Ask her, and she would tell you she cherishes the last one year with you. And this has bearing to your future too!

Punkster said...

I always believe that writing should be like the typical indian lady , simple yet beautiful. And this piece was truly the same.

Crystal clear thoughts , the hide and seek of the imagination with the real world.

You are awesome my friend , just awesome! :-)

Srushti Rao said...

Beautifully expressed...

"All the things are one, all the ones are multiple things."

So true, and then u sometimes want that one that is all things that make your world go round...

Keep writing.

Cheers. Hugs!

state of mind? said...

the metro station bit is b'ful....:)

Anonymous said...

Wow. Beautifully written. Sometimes such words come out as a result of the feelings we have within us.. Since you also talked about you and her and how the world is different when you are with her, I will send you the link to one the paintings I made and it is about love.

Bless you both. :)

Here it is: http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_z_oyEPyZ6mo/S3ylm6xukdI/AAAAAAAAAMM/cfMjAexL0_E/s1600-h/DSC03184.JPG

Enjoy. :D

oceanic mirages said...

na hai aaj ye na hi kal sa hai, sadi hai ek jo ye pal sa hai,
na hi lafzon me, na zubaan ka hi,
shayr kabhi kayal sa hai,
kyo kahun use mai zubaan nayi,
jise samajhta har zarra bhi hai,
kyo kahun use mai khuda bhala,
mohabbat hi jo sanam sa hai.

serendipity said...

you write well!! soon we shall be holding a novel...
may i suggest the title?

" She "

Swapna Raghu Sanand said...

Awesome writing, Adee. There was poetry, feeling, imagination and such beauty in your sentences. It felt like a flow of poetic thoughts. And yes, so touchingly romantic too.

This is the best part that I loved reading "Or was I the ghost, standing there between the worlds, one real, one unreal and one very real world behind the unreal. I didn’t matter for anybody. Everybody mattered to me. Only she makes me feel alive. When she is around, nobody matters to me. The world is then, as unreal as a phantasm wandering amongst the many alternate worlds."

It was brilliant.

serendipity said...

wow and oceanicmirages coment encapsulates it so well..
go on adi
you have a novel in you!!
write it!

antonia lindsey said...

as a young woman painting in Europe, i had experiences like what you capture in your prose. the artist reflects on depths of attachment which infuses one with tender passion that makes aliveness an entirely distinctive flavor yet still an extension of the larger affinity one has with the world. it is precious and creates its own longings, love does. it is such a sensitive window, the soul of a writer. thank you for letting the curtain part in the thick of life, so that others glimpse the inner rooms of shared emotion and the lovely loneliness that is the guest accompanying human life over our brief existence here. blessings and love,

starry said...

Hi adee, very beautifully expressed.You can really write.

dreamt before

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