Sunday, March 26, 2017

It has been a while. And it may go on. But now, here, we chose to pause. Picking apart the litter of pages, scattered entries, queries, and reveries. We despair, we puzzle. Somewhere the anchors and floats fitted too well. We became too comfortable; a numbing comfort - the comfort of a Band-Aid, a painkiller, a heat pad. While the wounds festered into a maggoty swamp that we ignored. Now there is only one way forward. A tiny wisp of an idea that is weaving into our heads. ‘Isn’t it awesome!” we are saying, in unison. That is the power of telepathy. For now, lets fix on the basics. Bliss, a brimming, dizzying glee, the moments - gathered and inhaled lovingly, the preemptive surrendering to all agonies and ecstasies yet to come, living so ironically that everything becomes transparent. We float like sniggering ghosts - our defense being our self-depreciating humor, our acceptance of our own shallowness, our brokenness, our inadequacies. How they loathe us! Because we cannot be touched. How can you kill something that is already departed? We invite you to the stabbing. Make it ceremonious, give your best shot, we are your punching bags.

Back to us. Let us meander; sauntering through the undulating anatomy of the city, bag in hand, becoming the gatherers of all the found exquisiteness.

Let us tenderly watch and fall in love with strangers, with overheard conversations, fragments of whispered stories, a name shouted across the street, a wave from a bus window, a smile not meant for us. Let us adore the nameless crowd - passersbys observed and loved dearly from wayside coffee shops and park benches - a certain tilt, a bemused brow, a turn of a chin, a skip in the step, a beard, an eyelash turning gold against the sunset sky, a sun fleck on a dimple, a wavering tear, an uncontrollable giggle.

Remember the moments. Pillion riding; cheek against your shoulder, watching the world float by through half-closed eyes. The bougainvillea abuzz with bees. That ‘gaze’ oh, that lovely, wondrous, heart stopping ‘gaze’ before the kiss. A sudden appuppanthadi (Crassocephalum crepidioides) or a lone bubble floating away above a traffic jam.

To be made of half-composed poems, decomposed reveries, dish-soap residue, the unreachable little morsel between molars, fern spores, unlived remembrances, angiosperms and moths. Unhinging, unspooling, thawing - a flickering eddy of dust in an abandoned classroom, a lute, an accidental thought, a dawning understanding, a serendipitous conversation, a sea, a menagerie of antediluvian insects. All this will be cherished. Music discovered, words breathed in, your sudden hugs, that thing with bicycles and vintage tin boxes, long discussions between impatient mouthfuls of messy breakfasts, those inside-jokes that only we know, that we alone can invent, that make me crack up, that I know I will remember with many chuckles even when I am old and senile.

From the first inhale to the last exhale - a series of synapses and pulses connecting, dancing, miniscule fires, gamboling stars, enrapture of cells.
You and I - strangers, lovers, kindred spirits. Why think of the destination when the journey itself is a carnival? So, let us dance, shall we? Here, take my hand.



Image: Pinterest

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