114020567690480215

Walk Away~

A million footsteps, this left foot drags behind my right
But I keep walking, from daybreak ’til the falling night
And as days turn into weeks and years
And years turn into lifetimes
I just keep walking, like I’ve been walking for a thousand years

Walk away in emptiness, walk away in sorrow,
Walk away from yesterday, walk away tomorrow,

If you’re walking to escape, to escape from your affliction
You’d be walking in a great circle, a circle of addiction
Did you ever wonder what you’d been carrying since the world was black?
You see yourself in a looking glass with a tombstone on your back

All this wandering has led me to this place
Inside the well of my memory, sweet rain of forgiveness
I’m just hanging here in space

Now I’m suspended between my darkest fears and dearest hope
Yes I’ve been walking, now I’m hanging from a dead man’s rope
“Dead Man’s Rope” Sting’s Sacred Love

Sometimes at the end of the working day and at times after night, I put on my jogging shoes and start walking away. I walk away from my inner fears, unspoken desires, my unrequited dreams. I walk away from hope and from despair, from pain and longings. I walk away from other’s nagging voices as they unburden themselves day after day in front of me, as they in unburdening themselves, they burden me further. If it’s not enough to carry my own cross, I am obliged to carry theirs as well. Thus, in those occasional evenings and nights, I walk away from all of this deep into the recesses of darkness and sweet solitude. As my pounding feet hit the gravel, I walk on and on, at my own pace…not having to follow anyone or to wait for them to catch on. Here, I don’t have to think, so I can contemplate. Or just feel the gentle caresses of the breeze against my cheek. Once I am through, I kneel on the ground and gaze heavenwards to the skies to see the moon. A stray feline would often come along and would sit besides me, rubbing its warm nose along the folds of my dress, purring all the while; and together the mistress and the beast would gaze at the moon. In the evenings at the sports complex, I would sit on and rest my back against the wide stairs, drawing knees up to my chin, and I would see the rest of the joggers trotting by; walking, jogging, trotting even running in circles. What are they running for, running from and running against? The pretty girl with a heavy but is running in order to lose wait, so she can attract a suitor. The guy in the corporate suit and joggers is running in order to keep a heart attack at bay, yet he is closing business deals on his mobile right on the track. The elderly couple walks hand in hand, while the wife is holding the fragile, sick and comparatively older looking husband’s hand with an affection that makes my ah-so heart tender. It is indeed the eve of 14th of Feb but instead if being in the arms of a nameless, faceless demon lover; I want to be that elderly woman. Love that is nurtured by time, is survived by time and through tests. But I am not there, neither in the arms of the demon lovers, nor in the couple holding hands, I am here. Sitting on the stairs, gazing towards the moon. Me, the onlooker, enjoying my fill of blissful solitude.
This week I finally managed to my friend who is on her study leave. I couldn’t up till now bcz our timings couldn’t coincide, by the time I would be home; she would already be asleep in her own time zone. Today, I managed to call her after making my calculations, and yet I managed to wake her up. She said that it seemed like ages since she heard my voice and I told her it’s been only two months. It’s all the same she said and I agreed. It’s gut wrenching to realize that the person at the other end of the line, is no longer there for you in the physical sense, but is thousands of miles and oceans away, in another time zone, in another life time. No luxuries of chattering away on the phone for hours and hours, of swinging by for tea and taking lunches together! No fights and sessions of whinning and bytching. A tele card lasts only a few minutes and then the recorded message tells you that the time is up and then the line crackles. I put down the phone and start walking away – again!

114020567690480215

Walk Away~

A million footsteps, this left foot drags behind my right
But I keep walking, from daybreak ’til the falling night
And as days turn into weeks and years
And years turn into lifetimes
I just keep walking, like I’ve been walking for a thousand years

Walk away in emptiness, walk away in sorrow,
Walk away from yesterday, walk away tomorrow,

If you’re walking to escape, to escape from your affliction
You’d be walking in a great circle, a circle of addiction
Did you ever wonder what you’d been carrying since the world was black?
You see yourself in a looking glass with a tombstone on your back

All this wandering has led me to this place
Inside the well of my memory, sweet rain of forgiveness
I’m just hanging here in space

Now I’m suspended between my darkest fears and dearest hope
Yes I’ve been walking, now I’m hanging from a dead man’s rope
“Dead Man’s Rope” Sting’s Sacred Love

Sometimes at the end of the working day and at times after night, I put on my jogging shoes and start walking away. I walk away from my inner fears, unspoken desires, my unrequited dreams. I walk away from hope and from despair, from pain and longings. I walk away from other’s nagging voices as they unburden themselves day after day in front of me, as they in unburdening themselves, they burden me further. If it’s not enough to carry my own cross, I am obliged to carry theirs as well. Thus, in those occasional evenings and nights, I walk away from all of this deep into the recesses of darkness and sweet solitude. As my pounding feet hit the gravel, I walk on and on, at my own pace…not having to follow anyone or to wait for them to catch on. Here, I don’t have to think, so I can contemplate. Or just feel the gentle caresses of the breeze against my cheek. Once I am through, I kneel on the ground and gaze heavenwards to the skies to see the moon. A stray feline would often come along and would sit besides me, rubbing its warm nose along the folds of my dress, purring all the while; and together the mistress and the beast would gaze at the moon. In the evenings at the sports complex, I would sit on and rest my back against the wide stairs, drawing knees up to my chin, and I would see the rest of the joggers trotting by; walking, jogging, trotting even running in circles. What are they running for, running from and running against? The pretty girl with a heavy but is running in order to lose wait, so she can attract a suitor. The guy in the corporate suit and joggers is running in order to keep a heart attack at bay, yet he is closing business deals on his mobile right on the track. The elderly couple walks hand in hand, while the wife is holding the fragile, sick and comparatively older looking husband’s hand with an affection that makes my ah-so heart tender. It is indeed the eve of 14th of Feb but instead if being in the arms of a nameless, faceless demon lover; I want to be that elderly woman. Love that is nurtured by time, is survived by time and through tests. But I am not there, neither in the arms of the demon lovers, nor in the couple holding hands, I am here. Sitting on the stairs, gazing towards the moon. Me, the onlooker, enjoying my fill of blissful solitude.
This week I finally managed to my friend who is on her study leave. I couldn’t up till now bcz our timings couldn’t coincide, by the time I would be home; she would already be asleep in her own time zone. Today, I managed to call her after making my calculations, and yet I managed to wake her up. She said that it seemed like ages since she heard my voice and I told her it’s been only two months. It’s all the same she said and I agreed. It’s gut wrenching to realize that the person at the other end of the line, is no longer there for you in the physical sense, but is thousands of miles and oceans away, in another time zone, in another life time. No luxuries of chattering away on the phone for hours and hours, of swinging by for tea and taking lunches together! No fights and sessions of whinning and bytching. A tele card lasts only a few minutes and then the recorded message tells you that the time is up and then the line crackles. I put down the phone and start walking away – again!

113905295968192367

Reunited- to be Divided!

Reunions are tricky affairs. Old class mates and coworkers are just a validation that your past exists…it was not a dream, it was not just a phase. It happened. Though not in vain. These people and the very landscape are the measure of how far you have progressed or how far have you regressed. Since I have always walked with a one step forward, two steps backward, three steps forward gait, I am not sure if I have progressed or regressed. Yes last weekend I was at my academic reunion. It was a much anticipated event put together at the last minute, but it left me with the lingering feeling of sadness, of nostalgia. Was I recognized by others? Yes and No! It hasn’t been dinosaur years for god z sakes. But it has been long enough, to cast a cataract in eyes, a fog in the mind. There weren’t many of us there at the alma mater. Us sentimental fools. Just 4 from our batch including yours truly. 1 recognized me instantly. 2 sat in front of me face-to-face for half and hour, to recognize only when somebody called out my name. Two of em were married to each other, and they have a baby now, who insisted on mimicking me when I was caressing her cheeks. No we didn’t have many love stories in our batch, we did have our small friendships and allegiances of convenience. Yours truly though marched to the tune of her own band. I have always been an outsider, existing on the fringes of the crowd. Being surrounded by more opportunists and bourgeois snobs and less friends, you learn to keep to your own. But you remember each and every gesture of kindness that you received. I remember how Ms. Hina (pseudymn ) inspite of her own grave worries, noticed my ashened, fever drenched face in the exam and quietly deposited her cup of tea infront of me, while I was busy writing away sheets after sheets. Thank you, I remember these small kindnesses… that some how lessened the impact of other’s cruelties…
The memories lay strewn all over the landscape of this silly life of mine, a gust of wind opened that long forgotten door, and I feel a warm glow and a chilly stabbing pain in my heart – both at the same time.

They say to me in their awakening, “you and the world you live in are but a grain of sand upon the infinite shore of an infinite sea.” And in my dream I say to them: “I am the infinite sea, and all words are but grains of sand upon my shore.” Khalil Jibran.