His Musings

To describe her, I’d have to ask you to close your eyes and imagine that solitary creek behind the rocks. Where the sea rests for a while, in shallow, undisturbed pools. The rocks obstruct the sun, and pebbles and shells abound. The breeze caresses your face. And there, just before sunset, you witness something holy. Something you’ll relive a hundred times in your life. In morbid moments, the memory will take your breath away. For all the moments you’re on your knees, defeated and withdrawn, you’ll go back to that one moment. And gather a strength you never knew resided in you.



For me, that’s what she is. Her immeasurable kindness and her childish glee overwhelm me, time and again. She loves grey overcast skies over green cliffs. The lull before the storm. Watching her face break out into a smile is sheer ecstasy. A smile that starts from the lips, shines in her eyes and makes her glow. For the world, she might be gauche. Her spirit is untamed; she was made for open fields and glorious sunsets. For hours of solitude. Not loud opulence, but magnificence that dances on the fringe of insanity. The same dance that connects the stars, makes the embers burn brighter and unleashes itself in droplets over the parched earth. She’s shown me that obstinacy is her answer to my wrath. I’ve met my match.



What more can I say? She’s chosen me, hasn’t she? Like the princess in the myth, she’s chosen a beggarly, ancient lout whose third eye spews fire. Someone who wouldn’t know how to love. She tells me that it isn’t something you learn, it’s there, deep in you. It’s only the deepest tremor that lets you express it. And the funny part is, I believe her. When she says that she’s mine not because we’re meant to be, but because she wouldn’t want it any other way. How can I say no, to a woman who loves my wrath as much as my calm? And suddenly I feel I'm God, God of everything I see.

It all comes to a phase where nothing matters anymore. And you just want to escape. Where to? Someplace where you know no one, and no one knows you.

It's like my friend Jaya says...it's dangerous when you have a tendency to fall violently in love with people. It is. When you end up doing the same thing over and over again, inspite of getting hurt. The dreamer in you refuses to believe that people come into your life, but do not stay.

Am tired of this vicious cycle,of laughing with someone and then suddenly waking up to find that I'm all alone again. The problem with getting attached is, you feel terribly, terribly lonely once people move on.

I was my own person, don't know how it all changed. Suddenly, I need someone to lift my spirits. Needy. That's exactly what I've become. And yet, baring my soul hasn't really helped in the long run. This pit of depression seems bottomless. And I really don't understand why I visit this land, quite too often these days.

A hundred people who care, and yet I realize none can help. I need to look inside and make a choice. About who I want to be.

I walk, on and on. The climb is steep. The sun, high in the sky. I know not what it is I walk towards. Or away from. This journey, it’s purposeless. Or so I think. I never had a choice. She’s asked me to do it because she cannot. Too sick to travel. So here I am, completing her journey.

I’d guessed it, the fact that she wanted me to complete this journey for her. She said I needed it. Drugs cure physical ailments, but for ailments of the heart, nothing works. Nothing but time. Loss rocks your body and soul, and the unceasing grief just clings on. She’s wrong though. Nothing can cure a dying soul.

I can feel the sun on my back. My feet feel numb and I know I should stop. Yet I go on. Am I punishing myself? I do not have answers to that. I’ve ceased to exist. Stopped thinking or worrying. I look around and find that the landscape has changed. I can feel the dry, cracked soil under my feet. Isn’t this how my life changed too? From the green, lush landscape to a dreary desert? All while I was walking on blindly.

I’m almost there, at the top. The day’s come to a close. It’ll be dark in a few hours and I’ll be here, all alone. If the rational soul in me were still alive, it’d tell me to turn back and continue the journey sometime later. But I’ve stopped caring. Hence, I move on.

I stub my toe against a rock. And wait for the pain. There was a time when I foolishly believed pain could kill you. Now, I’m wiser. I know that pain does not kill. I’ve waited for it to snuff out my breath. It didn’t. It ached, hurt like hell. It would wash over in waves, take me by surprise and mist my eyes again and again. And then, I lost the capacity to feel.

I open my eyes to the sun and wait for it to warm me; the chill in my heart. I’m there at the zenith. On top of the world. I can see the path I’ve taken. I turn around, and face the valley. And the next moment, I stand transfixed.

The valley is in contrast to the bleakness of the path I’ve taken. It’s a violent swirl of colors. It’s dotted with violets and wild roses. Sliced by a gurgling stream and surrounded by silver birches. And there’s grass to roll on. I make my way, and claim my slice of heaven. Let myself come undone. And I let the beauty of it engulf me.

To think that all this is hidden from probing eyes, on this side of the mountain. Is this the answer I was waiting for? A feeling so intense, so surprising that it actually hurts? I feel myself heal. Like never before. I feel it course through me, and I take root. I am the sun, the wide-open sky without boundaries, I am the sweet spring that goes on, I am the leaves and the grass, and the fire in the stars. I am sacred, whole again. I’ve found my faith, my religion. My eyes mist as I realize what she meant when she said that this was my journey. To reclaim my lost faith. The life I’d lost, the one I’d given up on.

You climb the dreariest of mountains, sometimes give up halfway, and never know what waited for you on the other side. And sometimes, when you choose to go on, you find, life was there waiting for you, with all the answers.

Love is like that.