Silence at the dawn

The silence threatens to take me down.  It's 03:53 AM and I am in a semi-sleepy state. It is lovely. At this moment. This state. Usually it is annoying. And doesn't make for much productiveness in life. But right this moment, I am not complaining. Not because it is not bothering me anymore, but because I am not in a mood of complaining. 03:54 AM is not the time to complain. It is the time to lean back and stare at the ceiling. It is the time to let the silence take over. To let the mind wander through uncharted territory. To count sheep.

The sun is rising. At 04:08 AM I can already spot a few stray rays making their way through the drawn curtains. The building opposite to my place blocks the view. And from where I am lying down, all I can see out of the window is the building.

The air is warm. Drifting through the open window. Creeping in. And making everything uncomfortable in its vicinity. Getting hold of life and making it sweat. The signs of summer fast approaching. Slowly making its way to my bones. Through my toes. I will forget it when I get back to wherever it is that I will get to.
 

Wuthering Heights. The book that messed up my sleeping cycle. The one that I had so meticulously maintained for some time now. I stayed up till 3 last night. Reading. And didn't leave the room. Reading. It is gripping. It is. Wonderfully so. A nice change. From everything I read in recent past.

The sun is rising as I write this. Technically, the sun is always rising. Somewhere. And falling. Whether I am writing, reading, sleeping...

I just heard the squeal of tires. And another. At 04:24 AM I am not too optimistic about the drivers and their sobriety. And from what I hear, there wasn't anything sober about that angry squeal. I am sure they left tire marks on the smooth road. How presumptuous I am. I have been told.

I should sleep. 04:29 AM. The birds are chirping. More rays are joining the party. Gay and merry. We stalk the night and little by little take it over for a day before it engulfs us again.

More birds chirping. There is no silence now. Is there ever?

 

Placebo on my track list. Because his voice sounds full of pain and yearning. Which feels very appropriate at the moment. It's as though he sings with a stake through his heart. Sigh. The lyrics, googled of course.

 

I wrote this novel just for you

It sounds pretentious but it's true
I wrote this novel just for you
That's why it's vulgar
That's why it's blue
...
You're always ahead of the game,
I drag behind,
You never get caught in the rain,
When I'm drenched to the bone every time,
You're the first one to swim across the Seine,
I lag behind....
...
Slip and stumble at my first offenses
It's not treason, it's no lie
You talk in paragraphs
I write my sentence
You'd better keep it in check
Or you'll end up a wreck
And you'll never wake up
You'd better keep it in check
Or you'll end up a wreck
And you'll never wake up
Wake up
 

The sun is in the room now. Uninvited. Unwanted. Around me. On me. And the chirping. It is getting slightly deafening. Time for bed.

Captured on a roll

I recently caught up with a friend of mine, an avid student of photography, after quite a few months. While we chatted nonchalantly about a lot of other things, I was intrigued when he mentioned of Nicholas Nixon & his work ‘The Brown Sisters’. An google search & here I am, writing  this post.

The Brown Sisters happen to be Nicholas’ wife and her three sisters who he photographed every year since 1975 in the same line up. What started as a whim has been an annual tradition for decades now. By the time I reached the last few photographs I felt like I knew these sisters intimately. The change through the years is very tangible. Love, happiness, disapproval, dislike, anger, affection, sadness, acceptance, excitement, aloofness are all visible - the richness of the details all captured. That's the power of photography. I could imagine the life and troubles of each of the sisters and how she dealt with it. Also, their relationship with each other went through quite a few ups and downs. You can see it in the physical distance or the lack of it maintained between them over the years. Quite endearing really.

See for yourself: http://www.zabriskiegallery.com/Nixon/TBS/nixon.htm

there is silence..

Another year without dad. I miss sitting with him, talking. Sitting with my feet tucked under me, listening intently as he told me some of the things that I won't ever forget. I miss that feeling of safety, of assurance I feel when I am around him.

The packing is gone to the winds. I cross dates for inspiration. And it ain’t working its wonders. Not yet.

Procrastinate. Procrastinating. Procrastination. I am well versed with all its forms.

Every teardrop is a waterfall - Coldplay.

She stood there with her head down. Her palms pressed against the wall in front of her, her arms outstretched. She followed the stream of hot water with her eyes. Flowing down her neck to her stomach to all the way below her ankle where it formed a puddle, waiting of its turn to be drained down the little hole. The steam rising from this puddle hindering her vision. But she didn't seem too perturbed about it. She had other things fogging her life as it was. A little steam could go amiss. Rather, will go amiss.

Just realized that the time-piece on the table has stopped ticking. Looks like the time has stood still for me so I can come to terms with my loss.

xx

Time.

Time. I would like to know what time has to race against. I wonder what keeps the time going.

At times it is crawling past me, languidly at first and then with misplaced audacity.

In fact, I would like to be time.

xx

helpless..

I slip into the empty space next to my sleeping mother, in an attempt to comfort my aching heart – hoping that her rhythmic breathing would calm the pain. But it only worsens my loneliness as I curl up to avoid the blows of reality.

The pain of longing is explosive, shattering the heart into fragments, scattering the mind to follow a zillion tangents at once. However tonight the pain is quiescently crushing, in silence. There is no tearing of the heart into a million pieces, rather a sharp stab in the heart – not only is his intensity tormenting but also the consistency throughout. I try to ignore the acute pain bursts with every breath. There is a fear pulsating through the veins at the thought of what would happen next & the mind goes numb.

My fingers are stained with ink from writing – the writing turns from a frantic scribble to a subdued scrawl and then silence reigns. I’m seated at my desk in my study, my mind finding solace in the familiarity of the surroundings. When the memories superimpose themselves on me, I try to turn my back on them & shuts my eyes hard. I will myself to believe that the tears are out of gratitude, that it’s my way of requital for all that I have, all that I have lost & all that I am to gain. As the tear dries leaving behind a trail on my cheek & I pull the hair away from my face, I am greeted with the scent of a happier day.

As the soothing effect of the words evaporate & my heart threatens to be entombed in despondency, I try to recollect the last time I felt light - the memory of being stretched tall as I dived deep, a moment of complete calm and then the thunderous splash when my body hit the cold waters. But I remember not loosening up in time, and staying underneath a while longer, my sense of being disconnected from the rest of the world. It was the kind of quietness which I wish I could visit tonight, a moment where nothing is real except my struggle to survive. And the only difference between that day and today is that then, I had the choice to pierce through the surface and reclaim my life.

random..

Random conversations are popping up into my thought bubble right now.

School lessons – renaissance!! (haven’t read about it after school). Past conversations being replayed. There are only 800 zoos in the world. I have no idea from where this little piece of information came to me. But nevertheless it is occupying a tiny little space in my head. Don’t ask me why, I do not know.

xx

& back!!

Back, yes. 

Back with a sizzle, a quiver, a bang? I do not know for now. 

Is that important though? What should rather be important is that I am back, back on the blog.

It’s been 8 long months since I put up my last post. Quite some time. It would be a lie to say I hadn't missed this space. & it would be a lie to say that I just remembered that my blog exists. All excuses.

So I am back for now. Though I can’t muster up a post, here’s some scribbling.

People, all around you;

Some with a purpose, others lost, some eager, others slouched.

Each of them having a story to tell;

A happy one, a tragic one, one with loads of drama, but all unique in themselves, all important.

Strings that connect them;

Are entangling, tightening, breaking loose, snapping, determined not to let the people manipulate them.

There is no fighting a lost battle;

Surrender in time & you’ll be a survivor;

Accept that the bonds that the strings will weave for you.

xx