Picture Perfect !!

Every picture always depicts a story unseen.

It feels quite different today, with the absence of all that jittery feeling of emptiness I dwell into everyday. Even the early morning sunlight is bright enough to kiss my skin from the silhouette of the trees grown in my garden. The aroma of the morning dew is replaced by the faint smell of burning woods, probably its the water kept for boiling on the woods in the neighbours. It seems to be a good time to hold my brush.

Today I feel like to paint you and it never felt so strongly before in all these years. It feels like some old revered memories are rushing back like dying waves coming down to hit the shore of my thoughts with all the energy they hold . You were beautiful, you were not meant to be re-created. I never held the skills to make you my subject to paint , you were simply beyond the bounds of possibility. Probably it was always the fear paramount over my skills to fail at this endeared task. It’s somehow easy now, after all these mammoth sized anxieties have subsided to mere aphids after losing you.

I quickly take a look at the easel lying at the corner and bring it to the right place, and start to search for my essentials.  I slip out a clean sheet of paper from the covers, the paper looks great with that rich white colour spread evenly outright till the edges and seems powerful than ever for all the nothingness it holds together. The acrylic tubes can still be squeezed enough to get the work done. I reach out for my pockets to find the pack of cigarettes empty and now I need to buy one cause it’s going to be a long sitting and lately I have realized without one its difficult for me to hold my brush still . I pick some crumbled bills and buy myself a pack of cigarettes and a couple of charcoal pencils. And finally its time to bring you down on my paper.

I close my eyes to picture you, it’s always easy to find a perfect image of you in my mind, it appears so clear with every intricate details , each holding a story to reminisce on the moments we lived together. I hope you would find some attributes captured so perfectly which will make you realise even your mirror somehow missed out on those and you would surely jump back to life to view in the mirror to confirm . In no time I see my hands moving over the paper so elegantly like an independent craftsman who knows his work well and have probably done you a million times over. It certainly feels like as if I’m running my fingers over every inch of your skin and my brush trying to imitate it perfectly on the paper with the varying pressure over the tip of the brush resembling the grooves over your skin.  The thoughts in my mind are blurred out during this whole time till I realise it’s finally done and my brush is resting on the palette.

I take a moment to look at this creation and its perfect. I can see your hairs come out exactly as desired, you could notice the invisible spaces between the fine strands of your hair. Flossy and shine they fall over your shoulder perfectly.  And how could I possibly go wrong with those eyes, those sparkling brown eyes have some irresistible charm – the possible doors to your soul which never betrayed your feelings. And the fine tiny wrinkles at the edge of the eyes if you observe carefully. Even the slender long eyebrows arched over escalates the beauty of her eyes . A clear brow which slides down at the centre over your nose and the smooth hairline running down to the sides ending at the ears hiding behind your hairs and I took special care while building the side lines cause I could feel them fit perfectly in my hands every time I hold you. That perfect smile you wear makes me fall for you each time I see you and fixed with those delicate lips pared to perfection. Did I mention the texture of your skin, its smooth like silk and that special glow brings joy to faces. Probably you were just flawless to define.

I wish you were here in real to praise you than this mere replication of yours. I stub out the cigarette in the ash tray and rise to I pick up the portrait to find a place on one of my walls . As I enter the room , I see an empty frame and a dozens of  this exact painting hanging on the walls. To my surprise , I find a note on the empty frame. The note unfolds a shocking reality of me suffering from something termed as anterograde amnesia- its losing ability to create new memories . It made my heart sink for a while, but I realize everything falling into place. The feeling of emptiness and these exact same paintings hung on the wall. But I wonder why this note is placed near the empty frame. Probably its only the memory of you which has stayed intact all these years, and this painting somehow helps me cope up with my memory disorder. I create another empty frame on the wall with the note and hope the next time I feel like to paint you it would bring a new memory of having an empty frame with a note waiting for me.

 

Oh Tears!!!

I call out for you to be my guest tonight.

 

Hi Tears !

Nice to meet you. Look at you, haven’t changed a bit since my knowledge of you. Might sound a little quirky, but I happen to call you today for no reason. Yeah and I’m completely sober and sane if you have such doubts now, and I don’t wish to demean the very purpose you serve. I know you have many more reasons to appear, but today it’s just you. I have vague memories of you associated with my childhood although the recent ones have been registered well. I suppose your occurrence has reduced with time, not that the reasons are falling short, it’s just that I have learned to hold you on for few. It’s always something else that occupies my mind and heart when I sought solace in you, but today let’s just talk about you. I fear I ever gave a sound thought about you all these years and I must admit I barely know you for real, how is it to be you? I mean all that enormous amount of human emotions you hold in that tiny little drop. I couldn’t possibly fathom the gravity of such measure you could carry within you with my inept mind. I’m just aware of the ones you shared with me, what about the billion others I’m oblivious to. What is it like to experience those countless short-lived journey of yours on billions of faces that you come across ? I mean a lifetime wouldn’t suffice to explore your treasure of life experiences. And I could imagine how rich your treasure chest would be as the stories collected over these years would be no ordinary ones. I mean tell me how intense would be those emotions,  on the face of that Survivor who opened his eyes to witness the devastating site of bloodshed after the attack, to be on her face while she couldn’t fight anymore against those monsters holding her against the ground, giving her pain. On that poor schizophrenic who is struggling hard for life to understand what is real. To be rolling on his face who’s unable to make her realize how it feels like dying inside.You equally stand for the better and beautiful side of emotions too like the one on the faces of those parents to see their new-born child after trying for long. On that artist for the love bestowed on him by the millions cheering for him, on this old proud face who retired from work today after serving his duty for years with sincerity. In those spiritual moments of  ecstasy and joy when they understand the philosophy of human misery. Your indifferent nature towards joy and sorrow reflects your egalitarian trails too. How different does it feel to look on whom you appear ? Like how big and strong where the emotions when the Mahatma shed one or even the mighty Hitler for that matter and how small where they when the kid along the roadside shed few out of hunger. According to Hindu legend, even Lord Shiva couldn’t hold on to his strong feelings, the single tear from his eyes fell on the earth to grow into a Rudraksha tree. It’s unreal to empathize your strength to hold such emotions in all these cases. I fancy about your different pathways over the faces once you drop out of the eyes and finally disappear for eternity. Like the ones emerging from the edges and running along the sidelines and finally getting soaked into our pillows, or the ones running along the cheeks till you drain off over the tip of the chin. Sometimes getting wiped off by hands before reaching the lips while traveling along the nose line , some odd little times you get to reach over the lips but you kind of taste a bit salty over the tongue. It’s better you don’t leave back visible stains on our faces , or else every life would have been an open-book to read. I wish you could be collected and preserved to revisit the emotions you hold on for. I wish you were vocal to we people to make us realise what’s really going on within.

Tears waited all this long quietly holding on to my eyelids to hear me and finally rolled away from my eyes like it always does.

And they finally Broke up !!

“I beg you, Please don’t leave me, Dear. ”

But she didn’t bother to care, as she already made it clear.

I could see you move away from me, with every step that you take towards the door.

Unable to make any move, my body stands frozen to the core.

I felt like something just left my body behind,

And it ran towards you to hold you by your hand.

As if it knew how to make you remind,

That this love is not so easy to find.

But Oh my god, what’s happening here !

Its struggling hard to hold you back, but couldn’t make it even though,

At last I see my poor intangible soul couldn’t help but let you go.

Love(a)Marriage

Alexithymia that’s all I can say when it comes down to talk about few things, particularly this one.

I guess the title makes an attempt to tickle your grey cells on my intent for this article. Let’s get it started straight from the incident where this idea took birth .

During a metro ride with my good old friend , he was talking about this girl he knew , so she is going get engaged soon but not with her boyfriend as it seems but the one she choose from her community under parental pressure. Now she has made up her mind to never look back and she will work out with her present. It didn’t feel right to hear about it . He too raised his reservation against this incident and wondered  how do people make such things work in reality? I didn’t have much to say in this and how could I ? Someone who never played either of these roles of love or marriage in true sense. Though enjoyed the freedom of having an opinion about it. I remember I came up with this statement – You know what , I think this ” Love and Marriage aren’t the same thing. ” if you see. I believe it meant more than those words had to offer.

Love as an emotion and Marriage as an act, both make an independent conception in itself. Together they can co-exist to represent an epitome of mutualistic symbiotic relationship. As now we are approaching this popular phase of mid 20’s  the so-called socially accepted age for marriage proposals. We could hardly find this question  not mentioned in our social meets like – Who’s going to marry the earliest among us ? I feel somewhere it asks for who’s going to dare to take the action first. The answers too feel like masked behind some real truth, some say ” Hmm , Might take some few years to look into it”. I guess this wait of few years is not meant for the marriage to happen but it’s actually spared for the love to happen. The idea of love later accompanied with marriage always gives this sense of delight within. But unfortunately some find it contentious when love seems to disappear like a beautiful dream after few years of marriage. All it needs is to have a blind faith in its existence to make the marriage or relationship run.

So as we hope for ” Love-Marriage ” , I would like to hope for ” Love-a-Marriage ” , here my definition with the silent ‘a’ helps to understand it better.

Love after marriage – we couldn’t deny the possibility of this happening either. I hope I may be wrong , But somewhere love gets protected from being questioned behind the bars of a relation called family. Do u love your family ? This thing rarely excites us when we talk about the L word as the emotion of family stands at par to any obligations of human emotions, its more than any emotion.

I don’t know when marriage will try to make sense for me but I do feel like ”  I’m running out of time for love.

The last thing you might want to hear !!

Sometimes you happen to feel like that one thing is missing in your perfect story. I think I found that one thing in my story.

Lately I have been engaged in some strange thoughts regarding my uneasy sleeping experiences at night. Its like something is left incomplete that I am unaware of, even after winding up a fantastic day . So why am I not able to drown into a pleasant sleep smoothly ? Its like I am unable to find the last right thing to do before I end up closing my eyes .This hasn’t been felt before. I find myself dodge between couple of acts like reading some quick write-ups or blogs , listening to some soft romantic song or preferably a piano cover ( Titanic theme song recently being the frequent one.) , or Facebook news feed at last if none to the fill the empty space. Now I  feel like I succeeded in  figuring out the mystery behind this mini crisis I have been dealing with. I think I know what’s missing there –  “ I need someone to say Good Night “. Yeah that’s actually what is supposed to happen every night isn’t it ? I found it fairly believable since the last thing I have been doing is staring at the clock on the mobile screen, and I am like –  OK, its time now , close your eyes and try to sleep. But somehow my body clock has lost its sync with time. Amidst these discomforting feelings , one fine day I come across this small piece of paper treasured in my wallet for a long time. Not really  a number to dial-up ,In fact a message with those two words I have been deserted to. The piece of paper unfolded a sweet memory along with it.

A story from the early months of my job,  where everything was perfect except my work.Unfortunately I had been recently landed into a different profile which I believed wasn’t appropriate for me then, that too for my early days of learning period and even the shift duty schedule to ruin it all over .I was annoyed being  the unlucky guy to fill the place. Although with all the  poor attempts of my boss to help boost me up with the situation didn’t help much either. I was left alone with all my peer colleagues coming in the general timings. Luckily had these two great people around me to help with the ugly circumstances. My long time buddy cum roommate and a close friend cum colleague in my office , we use to hang out all the time . Somehow I felt like this thing it didn’t bother me much with them besides me.

As the rough month comes to an end , I am about to meet my boss for the change as discussed ago. I had my night shift the day before and had to wait the next morning for the meeting. Late night as usual I was engaged in a conversation with this special friend , and there she pops up with an interesting surprise for me . These sweet gestures used to be our best part, and also making it difficult for us to come with something impressive each time. She hides my surprise in the office before leaving today. I keep her on call while I leave down to her place, she instructs me to run down to our secret locker we had for our exchanges. Our secret locker used to be one of her drawers beneath her desk , and she use to hide the keys somewhere nearby. Getting it wouldn’t be much difficult at night unless the security guard finds something odd with my behaviour. I grab the bag from the drawer, lock it back and quickly run upstairs .

As I draw out the stuff from the carry bag, I find this familiar tiny dabba , the same old one which she used to carry during her lunch. Our guessing games comes to an end and I get the permission to open it up. There’s this paper slip kept over the wrapped aluminum foil inside. I keep the paper aside for a while and get my attention back to the box. I see a homemade variety of dried  ‘poha'( or flattened rice  that’s what it’s called , I never heard before googling it now :p ), and a lovely bar of  peanut chikki (or patti that’s what the locals call here ) . Me and my roomie use to have a lot of those during those chilly winters. She had been to her home recently , and brought this treat for me. I take up the slip and find this sweet message from her.

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Somehow I persuade her to keep the box with me forever. Moreover she was afraid what if I  get the dabba one day for office and our group might notice, how come I arrive with the box to office. Finally my day arrived, her wishes turned all fruitful and I get to return back to the place where I belong. Few days later, I plan out for a present in return. I buy one similar looking dabba for her, fill it with chocolate cubes she liked. Worked out those ribbon bindings and all to make it presentable. And that’s not it , I get a rose for her on my way to meet her ,that’s actually being the first ever I offered to someone. I do question my purpose now , what the hell I was trying to do ? :p I end up justifying the act as out of highest esteem I hold for her.

So feel lucky to hear a Good Night every night before falling asleep cause some do comprehend its absence.

Good Night !!