Meaning

I read my old posts...and I feel much better in some ways . Life isn't perfect but it is pretty much good. A sense of belong and that anchor is here. The chains and bonds of love. Solid yet flimsy. The freedom missing in previous relationship is here in toto. Life seems to be getting better as I get older. Feel a greater sense of accomplishment now than I did before. Feeling a sense of numbness that I have felt before. That old stirring is back... asking me to go...get up and explore .
A sense of perspective is also there . A better look at thyself. Seen what my anger and wrath have done to me...made me half of what I could have been . I have seen the trappings of power and succumbed to it. I have been into the mines of manipulation and got lost in them...All of it has brought me a little closer to realisation. Has'nt necessarily brought me closer to peace but closer to an up in smoke realisation.

Nothing is as bad as it seems...An Indian writer spoke about how you are never happy with your photos...you always tend to think I  think n reality iI look better than this ...thats what its with life as well...its never as bad it seems.You have to find right meaning for it ...


 

Fun

It seems like it was ages ago that I was alone .....Now there is a significant other .We are trying to get rid of the otherness of each other.
Happiness is an attitude....some have it ,others need to cultivate it.
I was reading about materialism and its implications on modern existence .We are just trying to fill up our wardrobes ,kitchen shelves and other cabinets in our house because of the deep abyss that exists inside us. We are afraid that if we look deep within there will be such a nothingness that one will cease to exist . One will get engulfed by the deep black hole of the soul. That's why we try to remain preoccupied with outside mundane stuff....Hail capitalism and the distraction that it provides !!!
One of the ways to live is to live a life of passion....do things that you love doing.Be with people who encourage and stoke the passion in you .
Grow and expand....explore new phases of your life....new paths that your life has to offer...how to make everyday life worth living is the real challenge ...how to have fun everyday ?

Gurdjieff

Went to Little Italy today . Had pasta and nachos and ferrero rocher mousse. Nice decent affair...nondescript though .Ok ambience ....liked the name of one of the pasta 'Gurdjieff '....nice ....nothing great apart from this.

Life and love

"I want to live",she screamed
He just shrugged his shoulders,untied his laces and lay on the bed. He made sure he faced her while lying on the bed.He did not want her to feel abandoned.Touching her softy ,he stroked her cheek.She curled up to him like a kitten .
This was thier ritual every night .Words left unsaid,sad smile over his face and tears on her.
There wasn't much to be done now.
She used to be beautiful once,beautiful auburn hair that fell to her shoulders,bright intelligent eyes and a childlike face that broke into laughter at the hint of humour. Now the pallor did not leave her.The life was gone from her eyes.Only when she screamed did a gleam of life peep from behind the embers of her eyes.
Her eyes had always been beautiful,no emotion ever remained hidden . She always used to say tha her eyes tell on her .
Frail as she was,she got up and pulled over her nighty with such a force that he was afraid for a moment.Afraid and protetcive .Taking his hands she stroked them over her breasts.Except was  left were scars from the surgery .He took her nipples in his fingers and started stroking them ,hoping they would get erect,hoping that his touch would make her forget.
All she felt was somone nugging at her nipples which hurt.
She looked so frail and vulnerable.So thin and pallid that the light seemed to pass through her.
He took her in his arms and kissed her gently and tenderly,almost like kissing a child. Whispering his love into her ears.His love which would go beyond eternity.
She sensed that he had been having an affair. She knew him too well. She sensed it like a cow senses her dead calf. But she left her anger, hurt and betryal behind.It was almost like cancer had made a sage of her.
Eating simple food,a meal a day ,abnegating from sex,alcohol or meat.And now not being able to get angry at her husband's indiscretions.What else was left now except for attaining nirvana.

Slowly she dozed off to sleep.He went into the living room and lit a cigarette.
He had started seeing this woman from workplace.She had just been a support system to start with .....but gradually he drew to her.When he was with her he forgot all about death ,about suffereing and pain,about watching someone die everyday,watching life leave .For his sanity he decided to have an affair with her. He did not want to go where Suman was headed.He wanted something to hold him back,keep him grounded and rooted.He knew he was taking advantage of her empathy but yet he decided to have an affair with her.
There were more smiles now, fake compliments and laughs.Needless showering of attention and confessions of  love and how she was making him feel human again. She would look at him kindly,falling for him everyday,hanging on to his words. She felt she was fulfilling a divine compassionate purpose in life, giving succour to the needy.
Eversince he started his affair he felt calmer.He did not love her but neither did he feel guilty. Guess he was just tired taking care of Suman and wanted some respite.Just like Suman felt that because she was dying everything should revolve around her,he felt he was allowed one indiscretion.
Just for his sanity.

Keep off the grass

You'll find me sleeping on the grass
When all go back home
And leave the building
I sneak into their garden patch and sleep

While they are there
One has to stay off the grass
The gardner comes and tends to it
Makes sure there is a green patch on the sundry earth
Uses water, adds in good soil and tends to it

I like to walk on their grass in the morning
When noone is there
And gather in all the dew on my feet
Then if someone comes early
He will notice and holler 'Who is there ?You are not supposed to walk here."
Then he will violently shrug his shoulders ,and warn me to keep off the grass and walk away

I have been here for 5 yrs
Selling snacks outside their building
But nobody knows me
Remembers me
Everyday when they leave I sleep on their well tended grass
Smell their roses
And in the morning I wake up and soak in their dew

I know all about them
I see them,hear them
Sometimes in my sleep
I take their name
I know who got a promotion and got left out
Who was kissing whom in the parking lot
But they don't see that I see them

I am like the shrub in their garden
No but the shrub also gets noticed
And removed in no time
I am forever ignored

How I like to walk on their grass
How I like to pluck their roses
How I like to gather their dew in my feet
How I like to enter their space,
Get a peice of them
When they are not watching.

Paper mache dreams

A thought for a story of  a woman dreaming to get married someday .
She gets married to a rich guy.She has to be moulded and torn aprt and .Then put back together through a mixture ,dried and added as embellishment to the armour.
Like the paper mache which is used to decorate the armor.So fine yet depleted of its original texture.
Loses her identity to beautify the aromor- the armor of the house,tradition,expecttaions and role subservience..She is tamed from being wild ,spontaneous self and transformed into a lady who knows her diamonds and chiffons.
Moulded and unoriginal,just a decoration in the house.Expecetd to play all the role of a mother,wife,daughter-in-law to the hilt. Have perectly manicured nails and pedicured feet. She trots around the world with all the manners in place.She is the one who bears the brunt of the beauty the most.As if loss of identuty was'nt enough ,the paper-mache cover gets cut and torn in the war.The solid armour stays intact,proud and impervious.The harm comes to it much later.The price of war is paid by the woman first.

She then thinks of marriage as just a paper -mache dream.
It would make a good story oneday.

My Red Brick House

My red brick house

The vermilion red of my blood

Smears these walls

I have given them my all

I have held the scaffoldings together with my blood

Screaming into the pillow

Spurring the weeping willow

My pain does not find an utterance

And shatter the glass windows

The whittles and blows that injure me

Must never touch the walls of my house

The venom that is spewed

Must never spatter these walls

My home once made of love

Now bears the blood marks in vermilion red

I’ll give my everything

I’ll give my all

To keep these walls standing

I’ll cut out my heart and give it to you

I’ll bleed to death

And paint these walls red

I’ll not let them discolor



Will you tell me that it will do?

That if take my heart out and bleed to death

If I muffle all my cries

It will do

My home will remain intact

That if I take your blows

And  die a little bit everyday

You won’t go away

And the walls of my home won’t loose their color