Posts Tagged ‘beauty’

The Perpendicular Universe unfinished

Been a while, I haven’t penned anything on these leaves. I have been lost in the humdrum of the mundane. A job that sucks me in, and eats away my precious hours. Takes me away from the world of writing. But these special leaflets are always there. In the backdrop of my head. Silently calling me. Making me feel the void. Trying to make its presence felt. Then life manages to put me in front of the screen somehow, as if the croons of this blog get heard.

I wish to press these leaves with only the best. Maybe that’s what takes a lot of time. To only fill the easel with quality work. My brother had asked me to keep it as a wont, when I am in the right zone. To him it is one of my best collections hitherto, a magnum opus weaved with a keen wisdom. I intend to keep it that way. It lets me unspool myself, the real me, into validation. An introspection of sorts that might reflect the real me to a reader if there is one at all.

Today, I am squeezed into work so much that this blog stays hidden from me. I distribute myself to others, so much that I forget my own identity. But this right here, this, lets me appreciate myself. When I take a step back to look at it, I realize it is nothing but my mirror. It lets me behold the real me. It lets me fathom myself more. Words smeared on these blanks tell me that I am different. It lets me dig deeper into a head of a writer, a poet who is insanely in love with words, with a brain uplifted and a head that reeks of beautiful and sentient thoughts.

What is unfortunate is the fact that he barely has time to cover ‘em all. There is so much beauty yet to read, so many wonderful people yet to encounter, so many experiences yet to experience, so much land yet to cover, so much love yet to shower, so many unknown faces yet to scan, so many enthralling creations yet to marvel at, and there are so many gorgeous thoughts in his skull still embryonic, veiled, that can only unfurl with time. It’s a shame that it’s running out.

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The Perpendicular Universe Dhauladhar range

I can’t seem to shake it off. That view! The dark greenish hue of the mountain that was so high and far that it would occasionally blend in with the whites of the clouds. Complementing it gorgeously was another colossal mountain covered in a brownish tint measuring it from a distance, which had almost disappeared, if it weren’t for our keen eyes that were successful in scaling its edges across the heaven.

The latter reminded me of the kite I would fly, back at home – when I would slacken it till it would disappear into the sky. My kite would then blend into the colours of the sea and would get lost. One minor distraction, and lo! It would be hard to tell what I was really holding on to. It would appear as if I was steering the whole sky. Reeling it to make it go further, and pulling sometimes to see if I could bring its blue enormity closer.

Every time I close my eyes, I see the capped freak staring at me from a distance. There were smudges on its body, probably glaciers running down, that seemed silent like a pond from my vantage. Occasionally clouds would cover the beast up, afraid it was showing too much skin. At times, its peak would peak from the blankets to see who the stranger was and why his eyes carried mad love. And why wouldn’t he stop staring?

As our car galloped onto the Kangra road, the mountain followed us. It was inquisitive, while I couldn’t stop myself from gawking. The world must be wondering- “How imprudent!”

About 12 hours earlier we were right there. If not at the top then probably somewhere around its bosom. Heading towards Dharamshala on a bike, we would occasionally take a pit-stop just to marvel at the scenic orgasmic vista the mountain manifested. Cameras would come out at once to capture our perspective in style so that we never forget the unforgettable. Our bike roared in pain as it lunged into the unknown roads. It was hard to tell if we could make it. But the beauty beckoned, and there was no turning back.

From a distance, the ridges looked as if they were drenched in dark. There were shadows over it while the whole world burned alight. It seemed to be sleeping. Quiet like a lifeless thing, which can never be awaken. It slept while its rivers wept. It was written in green. Trees stretched all across its body.

We crossed Dharamshala soon and headed towards McLeodganj. The ascent was punishing. The moment we got closer, it began raining. It struck me at once that the dark was owing to the clouds there. Within seconds we were drenched in the downpour. There was no place to hide, and then we thought, “Let’s do this!” We stormed off to the renowned Bhagsu water fall. The place offered one helluva panorama. My eyes captured it the moment I set them on it.

I was told the summit turns into an alp during the winter season. I just tried to imagine how badass it must look then. The green on the mountains metamorphosing into the white of the snow. As if they have called for a quilt to beat the cold.

When I came back to the same jaded life I live, suddenly I found myself surrounded by a relentless smoke of depression. I wanted to be there. Into the Mountains. Free. Adventurous. Marvelling at the invincible beauty. Taking in the serenity. Breathing in the phenomenal. Gawking at the lively ridges.

Alas! Now I am here. Everything is dead again.

I wish to pen you down. My words always find you, just like my thoughts. I can spend days just thinking, such thoughts of beauty, romance and excellence. They get lost when they don’t find a piece of paper. But you cannot be put on a piece of paper. You are infinite. I cannot confine your wonders.

Sometimes I ponder – Should I be ashamed to write you? Should I wonder who is going to read me? Should I really care about the world? I haven’t really given it a thought. But if I don’t mention you, then my leaflets would dry up, because you are important.

You know that I have fallen for you. Not because I am feeble, but because you are strong. Your essence surprises me. Your eyes draw me. Your voice is like music. Your lips play my favorite songs all the time.

I remember an excerpt from my own oeuvre:

You are the story of my life.

I will pen you with sparkling colors.

You don’t have a name yet. Or may be I don’t like naming you. You are in my dreams already. You are playing with me in that dimension. I can see that. The guy in the mirror is happy and I am happy for him.

But every story is tragic. If there are no stones, I am not walking on the right path. Right? I have got rocks rolling. I am there, yet I am not there. My rivals keep hitting me, and I keep falling to the ground. I simply defend. I don’t take a stand. I don’t have a reason to throw a punch. I don’t know my enemy. I don’t know whom to fight. You haven’t given me a reason to.

I can fight anyone, if you are by my side. But you stand in the center with unsure steps written all over you.

I see the wall, the invisible one. That is the only thing that stops me from you. I can knock it down. But you like it all strong and sturdy. So I keep mum.

Still I will jot you down every now and then. Not because I have to, but because I want to. You make me want to write. You force my thoughts to flow. You put them to words. I am glad that you do, coz writing is something I can’t part with.

I am grateful that you happened because your mere presence gave me thoughts and words. Your existence… your existence simply carves out the better writer in me.