Monday, January 24, 2011
The seeds had been sown long ago. Hour spent alone in the school library – immersed in other lives, other thoughts, other worlds altogether. The quest for meaning in a sea of confusion. Living via those people was so much easier. Their actions could be justified, thoughts analysed, motivations understood so easily compared to my own complex mess. Moreover, it was a world I inhabited, where I could enter and exit anytime – uninhibited, unnoticed. A shadow roaming the city alone at night, watching the multitude of stories unfold. Interested by curiosity, yet insulated by my being. But the thought that I could stall the copious stream of thoughts and ideas in my mind and create an entire being – a living, breathing story or poem ; that thought I never paid heed to. It was there at the back of my mind, biding its time, maturing with every changing season. One day, I could not resist it anymore. The barrage broke and thoughts became words and words became poetry. All by itself, my mind gave structure to it. Lovingly, with great caution, like a potter making his first clay pot, I nurtured and embellished it. What pleasure I derived from looking at it, only I could experience, feel it throbbing in my pulse. It did not matter what others thought of it. The inkling that it might be influenced by others stopped bothering me. I revelled in the process and the outcome never failed to excite me. Slowly, at my own unhurried pace, I go about writing my thoughts, pouring drops of my life into the inanimate world of paper. Not too much, but enough to spew my venom, to spread my fragrance.
Friday, January 21, 2011
The city.....it shapes me...breaks me ...every morning I wake up to it...lying in my bed...like a reluctant lover....who has given me a glimpse of her mysterious beauty...a window to the many enigmas contained in her, then abruptly shut me off at the last moment...Sometimes, a seductress alluring the youthfulness in me with a whiff of her perfume....Sometimes, a masseur to my troubled mind....I revel in the coy joy of having lived inside her all these years...the familiarity with her anatomy lulls me into sweet sleep...Suddenly I wake up to a part of her I never knew existed...brutal, violent...yet being pumped by the same heart that so lovingly cradles my childlike existence....my city...”my muse, my whore, my beloved”....I won’t be the same man in another city....my city would be the same without me...I am just one of the many offshoots of her humungous body...my ephemeral being can’t stand up to her permanence....but it can learn from it...learn to live...live with multiple meanings inside it...carry a bouquet of multi-coloured flowers in her lap...love all conflicting, fighting parts of me as much as the whole of me...and be in complete harmony with my many restless inhabitants.