Monday, April 29, 2013

Ehsaan


On a lonely walk through a despairing evening, I finally reached the final peg of travel on my journey homeward bound. It was a lonely day, filled with abstract tasks of work, all the more catering to that lonely remoteness of precariously teetering on the brink of some unknown fissure in the substance of something which was somehow dissolving the more I tried to hold onto it, lonely in ways that coldness wafts biting and bitter inside out, in the fragility of glass ready to shatter at a single breathe, or the way a flame goes out without a final tendril of smoke, goes out, despite every effort to save it.

A bus pulling away, taking the last of light, humanity with it. Alone, on a dark street, a lonely night, a wet, grey world, and a world that was entirely mine, or rather, a world that felt like it would go on without me, a world that I felt disparate from, and therefore not mine.

What were the guitar strums that faded out? The sounds of feeling that pluck from the very heart, very soul? In a world where emotions fluctuated in and out, where mouths moved without being heard, where heartbeats beat for someone who wouldn't listen, where tears were shed only to be dismissed the way rain frequently falling was unseen, unappreciated, what was a vacuum to the heart?

Memories, suddenly and immediately, a song blossomed out into fifty million colours, a voluptuous growing of vines and life, a stray laugh, a happy moment, a moment of amazement at sharing, of similarity, of love. A love that would blossom the way the song blossomed out into tendrils of memories. And suddenly, I realized

Was it possible to remember the future? It was - for a song so curiously possessive I became, a song which had every hue of grey of sorrow, a sorrow yet inexperienced, yet so absolutely my own. How was it possible that years before I was able to make it mine, that familiarity of knowing the feelings, and yet never having had felt them, nor heard it before? Like a stepping stone onto a path where I wasn't sure I was going to go - where did it take me? A lonely ambition to steadfastly follow the path alone, a path wherein I lost nights of sleep, not even really sure why, where somehow I was awake that night I was going to come face to face with my fate.

What is the feeling of watching your life come alive in front of you, of feeling that amazing feeling of two parts becoming whole? That feeling of never being me, until I met you? Of learning who I am because of who I never was without you? How was it possible to lock a door that didn't exist and yet find that someone had the key all so long? There are so many possibilities that could occur in every instant, how was it possible that at that moment, that instant, that place, that time, that mood, that moment, the dice, the roulette, the stars all aligned to be exactly what they were for this to have happened?

In a second I realized that never more so was this song I was walking home to ever so apt, in a moment I forgot the pavement of the sidewalk, the sighing of the trees, the rustle of grass growing greenly, and suddenly it seemed like all those moments of backwards deja vu were all me remembering the future of this moment, because never before had I felt the need to feel it with all of the me that was feeling it because, this time it meant losing you would be losing the key to the door through which only you and only I, and only you and I together could enter because that portal would only exist as long as we existed together.

Friday, April 26, 2013

Obsession

I knew this would have happened: the insistent longing, tugging at me, pulling at me. It's why I avoided  it, evaded it, tried pretending it wasn't there. For the longest time, I thought digging my heels into the ground to slow down where I knew it was taking me would somehow work. Oh, and it has, but with that trail of upturned soil left behind, if I look, I can see how far I have come, and now I am here.

Where am I, I don't know. I knew I would reach here one day, and here I am, at a place so instinctively familiar, a place I have only seen in dreams, in nightmares, in that dark alley existing when I close my eyes so tightly making that secret wish. But when I look at where I am and what has brought me here, I am overwhelmed by a sensation that pulls me in every direction, I am blinded by a light so bright, I lose every sense, even of who I am.

But I am not here alone. In this spiralling deluge that drowns me, in the torment and  torrent pulling every which way, in the feeling of endlessness, in the perpetual fall of motion, there is constancy, calm. I would not be here, if not for having been alone. But I am here, a bittersweet anguish, a torment, a sadness that amazingly is inexplicably intertwined with this happiness.

Thursday, April 18, 2013

Mine

The seat before me is bare. The gentle jostling of the train upon the tracks as it ascends a hill to pull into the next station distracts me briefly from my absentminded reverie. The pages in the book left long neglected flips over lazily in my hands.

The seat before me is bare. Sometimes, though, it isn't. Sometimes the seat beside me is - and when it is, sometimes even then, it is not.

You've always been there, sitting across from me, or at my side. Quietly, yet consciously. Sometimes I look over, unfocused, sometimes I forget to breathe. Sometimes you're there in a pause, and peripherally.

You've always been there, where the seat has been empty. You've always been there, before we even met.

A moment all alone, suddenly I sense you. A whisper by my ear, a warmth behind me, at my shoulder. On a crowded bus, a sudden happy thought. In every moment I needed you, in each moment all alone, somehow there I found you, even before you were my own.