Friday, August 19, 2011

Ardour


We keep our mysteries simple. Our distances complicated.

At times it involve the folding of a leaf and whistling through it, or finding logic in the patterns on a turtle’s shell. (We left it in a shoreless lake engorged with jellyfishes, remember?)

The dawn outside the gates were unutterably beautiful, we danced like nobody was watching, we made love like nobody was listening.

And nobody was.

We were free, we escaped, we learnt.

Not everything was explicable perhaps. Through millenniums some things remained the same, others changed. The innocuous Sundays, the handfuls of over ripe grapes we ate, the tea we made (milk, sugar, cardamom) and our helpless laughers made up our incomplete backdrop, that room smelling of  jackfruit, our helplessness, or harmlessness. But I said incomplete, it was incomplete. You blew the dust of my memories into the songs you sang at night, the music sparkled and I appeared in your arms, a shape carved out of your voice. I sewed you into my scent and sought your presence in the t-shirts I stole from you, sniffing, memorizing and agonizing. It was all incomplete. Hasty stories, fervent byes, and our conversations filled with the incunabula of many still-born plans.

Plans, a cornucopia of plans. Elaborate, intricate, scorching. I wonder why we believed that we could change the world, when we ourselves were only evolving, selfishly devouring each other, thriving on our identical lunacies excluding the rest of the world. What they sang defined our perfect little imperfect world, "....two lost souls swimming in a fish pond, year after year...."

But, how we dreamed! Still fathomless trance-lakes threading over infinite green and purple slopes of our dreamscape. Our irises were two pairs of rainbows splashing the world with iridescence. What we saw was beautiful, we touched each other and we were beautiful.

With you I lost count of the number of restless needs I clenched in my fist, I lost my footing too, flailed, then sunk into a vortex of stars. My bones grew pellucid fins and I swam across the universe to you. The pain was at times delightful, the happiness sometimes unbearable and the temporariness of it all was addictive.

The Tree of Knowledge remained lush and lonely in the abandoned paradise. It could only watch the sky produce a fresh batch of clouds each day and think of us. I think it misses us, but we don’t miss it. The bliss of ephemera is so much more precious that the monotony of eternity. We are free.

1 comment:

de silent spectator said...

'kaadaya kaadokke ennumen swantham,
puzhayaya puzhayokke ennumen swantham,
kattinte kaivittu, thaalam pidichu..'

I feel lost to comment on the post. But its always an vigorous exoticism running behind this white rabbit