Posts Tagged ‘tears’

The Perpendicular Universe The missing piece

I miss everything about you. All it takes is one glimpse, and I melt away like a candle. I can distinctly hear that silent noise of defeat as my heart’s warmth eats me up. I can put a finger to that feeling, I surmise – despair blended profusely with a lot of missing.

I imagine touching your hand, taking your arm, feeling the softness of it within my fingers, whilst your crystal clear contour shyly peeks at me, asking me to stop. My mishap made me not get enough of you, which I would have willingly succumbed to, had you steered my way. It leaves me with these fanciful whims that always fling me towards pits of emptiness.

I have questions I seek answers to. Just a mere mention of you fills my head with thoughts. Does that happen to you too? Did your moving on ever come closer to the hell I lived every second of my life? Do you often feel that void in your life too? Most important one of all, “Do you miss me?” Or is it all just me? The fool who thought he was in love. The lone warrior who keeps fighting battles with his own subconscious.

Sometimes I feel sorry for myself. I have wrapped myself up in this plight of mine, my very own coat of pain that has girdles of barbwire percolating through me. I stand bewildered, watching as it grows in on me. Sometimes I wish it undone, and give in to what life has failed to give.

You are the future I never had. You are the chance I could never take. I miss and miss, and you fade and fade. That’s how we are meant to be. This is what we are meant to be, until a day comes when I wake up in tears and forget your face.

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Morpheus: What brings you here my child?

Me: What did I just see?

Morpheus: I just project stuff. What you choose to see is your doing. You should be thanking me for manifesting ‘her’ after so long. Trust me, seeing your heart glow is the best feeling in the world.

Me: Seeing my, what glow? Are you high?

Morpheus: I am not sure how to answer that.

Me: She is buried in the past. Why do you always bring her up? All these years, did I ever think of her? Why do you punish me then?

Morpheus: I am just trying to fill the void. I hate to see that hole. Everything craves for greater expression. Remember?

Me: But I am done thinking about her. Isn’t she like in another dimension or something now?

Morpheus: You have shut yourself out. She exists.

Me: Then I do not wish to know. She is dead to me.

Morpheus: I am sorry to hear that.

Me: Don’t you have others to bother?

Morpheus: I am with others too. I am with those who need me, also with those who don’t. I am engraved in their conscience. I am seeping in their blood. I am jostling in their thoughts. I am persistent. I am perpetual. I will always be there when there is exhaustion. I will be around as long as eyes could carry weight. I will be there when fatigue gets you. I will be smiling when bed finds you.

Me: There you go! Nobody asked for your introduction sucker. Nobody has ‘TIME’ to listen to your BS.

Morpheus: I make it stop. Time. It’s my bitch. I control it like I control your thoughts. I can make a man dream of eternity in a single hour’s sleep. I can show him naught in perpetuity. I am drenched in the blood of thoughts. I rule in the nether world and I will affect even the days, as long as people are slaves to daydreaming.

Me: Tell that to someone who gets intimidated. I like the way I am. In reality and in your fucking dreams. Just leave me be. I love living in the world without her. Without worries. Without apprehensions.

Morpheus: Without true happiness?

Me: You keep doing that. Why do you do that? You are the meanest son of a bitch, I have ever encountered.

Morpheus: I feel sorry that you think about me that way. I am just trying to help.

Me: Help? You call that help? I am alright in reality. I pass on just fine. You come and obliterate everything. Tell me one thing, though. I am curious – why was I happy when she was around, in my dream?

Morpheus: This is again your doing. I do not have control over human emotions.

Me: But you do control projections and memories. Once I go into sleep, I lose control over myself. It is as if I am hanging in space, powerless. You mess with my reality. No wonder they call you a Dreamlord. Why can’t you just show me the good stuff? Couldn’t you leave memories locked up tight in the darkest pit brain has? Or even better, just delete them permanently? Learn something from computers for a change? Huh?

Morpheus: I do not fathom the computer jargon. Bit tacky for my taste.

Me: Oh! Look! You made me laugh.

Morpheus: Memories are perennial. They will exist till the day your heart stops.

Me: My heart stopped the day that final memory read its chapter. So I suggest you don’t turn those leaflets. What is gone is gone. What might or might not come, I don’t give a rat’s ass. I believe in the moment.

Morpheus: Wow! I am definitely using that on a t-shirt.

Me: Fuck you Morpheus!

Morpheus: I shudder at the thought of seeing you void of emotions. I want you brimming with it. You do not think of her anymore. It saddens me. Dreams about her used to bring joy to your life. Her sheer memory used to lighten you up. You would go in a trance and beg me not to stop. The moment I would, you’d wake up all bummed, cursing me silently, with a voice, only I can hear and tears, only I can see. I don’t want that for you.

Me: The fuck do you care? Why don’t you just leave me alone?

Morpheus: I am afraid…..I….I….can’t…do that.

Me: Why the fuck not?

Morpheus: Because I am your figment. I am just ‘YOU’ trying to reason with yourself. I am ‘YOU’ trying to accuse someone, anyone….for that to matter, about your weakness.

I am traumatized when I see you succumb to gloom. I become elated when I see you happy. I am the reflection you have always hated yet silently adored. I am the good guy in disguise. The bad is deliberately written all over me, so that next time you see me, you curse me, scorn me, despise me, abhor me to your guts. You rip me out, tear me apart, cut me up, beat me black and blue, coz I know your temper, yet respect your passion. No matter how much you alienate me from your body, and treat me different, no matter how harsh you treat me, no matter how atrociously you ignore me, you hurt yourself in the process, you vent out all of it on yourself.

‘YOUR’ body bleeds black and blue. ‘YOU’ have a heart that doesn’t beat. ‘YOU’ have a tethered soul. Why, you ask? Because, I am ‘YOU’. I am just you, poor child!

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My reflection stared hard into my eyes. It was blurry, for tears began forming up. It said, “Don’t cry! Don’t cry! Be brave!” But I wouldn’t listen. I don’t listen to my reflection. I listen to nobody when my glass is brimming. All I remembered him saying was, “I saw my father in my room.”

A dear friend of mine lost the most important part of his life. His father. Tragedy hit him like a bullet. It was bound to collide as days of suffering suggested. He knew it. Things were not looking good for the past few months. He just hung on. With hope. He kept looking. He kept up his search. Solutions weren’t solutions. They were mere reflections of the bitter truth. Death – The bitter end to everything that breathes.

I wasn’t aware. For the past few weeks, he ran from clinics to hospitals, looking for every ray of light that read hope, with his unabated diligence to set things right and to make his dad stand on his feet again. I had no idea. Whilst I was busy living my life to the fullest, he was busy saving a life from waning. I wasn’t there at all. I was not even in the background. Estranged.

When things got serious I contacted him, only to be a part of his dismay. He mentioned how serious his father’s condition had become. Uncle was, in fact, in the hospital. When my friend came back home, he said he saw him there, standing in his room. He broke into tears on the phone. I didn’t know what to say. My tears simply connected his. It was a tough moment for him. I knew. I was there mentally. Standing next to him consoling, trying to flow with his tears.

I just felt impotent. Nothing I could do to reverse the event. I am no doctor. I am no God. I am nothing. I just felt so helpless. So powerless. Without an undo button. Yet, I reckoned all my options. Made couple of calls to see if miracles existed. Preposterous solutions came up. At such an hour, he was ready to hear anything. I was ready to believe anything. Whatever worked.

The next morning his dad passed away. I couldn’t react. He wrote to me, consumed by profound grief, how he thinks his dad would return anytime, that he had just gone out. How he might show up just like that and bring smiles to their faces!

I am aware how his house would be speaking of gloom. How it would reek of pain for days! How deafening the silence would be! How crazy the minds would think! How tasteless the food would seem! How sad their happy would be! I am well aware. I can empathize it all. For a moment, there is nothing alive. For days, weeks and months, nobody actually lives.

So many sleep-deprived nights. So much care. So much trouble taken. So many tears spent contemplating. So many nerves broken apprehending. All for nothing. All for naught.

I want to be a part of his misery. Just to be there. To be able to tell him that I am there. To hold his back upright. To see to it that he doesn’t fall. To listen to his hollow voice. To understand. To empathize. To let him dry out all his tears. To cry with him. To die with him. But I have these walls around me that wouldn’t let me leave. Had I been in a better room, I would have stood up and left without a second thought.

I remember when a dear friend faced a similar mishap back in my college days. I remember him telling me how he felt. While I listened to him, I cried incessantly. All his aspiration for his father, all his dreams that he knitted alongside him, all the future he created together, how it all shattered in a jiffy! Just like that! Life’s way of telling you – it is evanescent.

Sometimes I wonder what makes this life so short. What defines our confinements? Why can’t we live and just live? Why is there grief when somebody leaves? Why do we miss them when they do? What makes our strength to go on, so feeble? What changes our conviction to live? Death always screws things up. Why is He so jealous of the living?

I called home. I cried and cried for my friend’s loss. What bothered me more was the fact that I couldn’t be with him during his desperate times. What tore me to pieces was the fact that I couldn’t be a friend indeed.

I surmise, eventually, it doesn’t really matter that I made up my mind to visit. That eventually, I decided to be at my friend’s side but my plans didn’t pan out. That I cried for his loss. That I already became a shoulder when I heard the bad news. That I told my parents how bad I wanted to be with him. However, what matters in the end is, I wasn’t there when he needed me the most.

As I ramble across the shores of Chennai, waves look sad. They wouldn’t even reach my feet. They are silently aware of a great loss. They are trying to pay their tributes. My heart reaches out to Uncle’s soul. I just want him to understand how much his family fought for him. How hard they tried! How they spent sleepless nights and tearful days to bring him to life again! They did not fail. They did not succeed. His resistance was simply too strong.

My friend’s loss is shattering. I just hope nobody on this planet has to go through something tragic like that. Death makes living impossible. It has to learn to let people live without it.

But most importantly, ‘we’ have to learn to live around it.

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I write pain. Does that mean, I am a sad soul?

Life is a tragedy. I have said it so many times, that tragedy knows me now. If I stop thinking about it, it doesn’t become less justified. The fact remains. The truth stands.

Today, I listened to a story so tragic I wish I didn’t have the power to empathize. I listened to death. Believe me – His voice is shaky, dark, dreadful and unforgiving.

Two people. Mad in love. One is taken. In a poof. One survives. While death, void of emotions, watched her weep.

I see the survivor every day. Her face talks death. I know those smiles are fake. I know that ecstasy is compelled through prolonged weariness. I know the happiness on the face of my survivor has nothing to do with this mundane earth. Yet my survivor is always there, making the world happy, making the world a better place to live in and making amends to this pointless life.

Have you ever witnessed an accident? Have you ever been a part of it? She witnessed an accident so tragic it makes my heart weep. I can’t imagine the horror she had to go through. Walls of the car painted red. Limbs cut. What not.

She watched ‘him’ go. In seconds. Poof! Just like that. He was there with her a minute ago laughing and having fun. She was having the time of her life with her to-be-soulmate. But fate had other plans for her. I have never really liked fate. That dumb old bastard! I have never really liked death as well. He screws life.

I have observed. Her face always wears a smile. She hides her emotions so well! People get duped all the time. But now I know. Now her eyes tell a different story to me. She is scared of this world. She is scared of accidents. She is scared of death. Yet she is brave like a lion. Funny like a clown. Lovely like a rose though living like a zombie. There is tragedy, right there. Sitting silently in the corner, her eyes full of tears.

I don’t know how I would have taken it. I whine at a mere heart-break. She just watched him leave this world. My angst feels so trivial now. She watched him leave her alone, involuntarily. He wished to stay. They were meant to be together. They could have had a great life. This happy-ending leaflet was simply plucked out. At least, I found out what happened to my relationship. She never even got the chance.

Death is a tragedy. So is living, after you have seen death.

I picture the hurt. I empathize for people. I make it mine. I will write for them. If they have words, I know how to put them on a paper. If they wish to be heard, I will listen. If possible I might alleviate them. If not then I will cry with them.

Yes! I am a sad soul. I am an emotional wreck. I feel for the suffering out there. Gazillions of dusky souls with their zillions of problems. I wish to write, if not to them, then for them.

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So we witnessed heaven on Earth. Yes we did. All twelve of us.

We stormed to Coorg, also popularly known as Kodagu district, located in Karnataka. The place they call the Scotland of India. Why do they do that? Who does that?

One of the best things about bike riding is that you have your say, not to mention your will and your way. You can stop anywhere. You can drive crazy. You can test your partner’s guts. You can test ‘your’ guts. You can leave the everlasting roads behind you. You can run ’em over. You can pee fire. No wait that is over-exaggeration.

We sped off in the wee hours and drove incessantly for 5 hours to reach Coorg and by incessantly, I mean with a lot of pit stops. You can’t expect a bike rider to drive non-stop. You can’t overlook loo, now can you? 😛

Roads were empty while we made sure to fill them with our swiftness. All twelve of us sped into the blue, unacquainted with the roads, yet with a thing for destiny. We rode like Ghost-riders only with lesser flames and more flesh.

I defied ‘time’ a couple of times when I decided to test the upper limits of my ride’s speedometer. I went into a trance I was unaware of. For the first time in my life, my eyes literally cried tears of joy and the wind bears testimony to the fact.

We stopped for a refuel, not that our bikes needed it, for we took care of the issue right at the inception, but for our bodies, that became instantly parched when we saw a drinks bar on the way.

We resumed our sojourn once our tanker was 25% full. Roads were bountiful except for 2-3 places where we were forced to defy a sloth. During the later part of our journey we realized we were sort of riding on a mountain, though the exhilaration got the better of us and we reached in no time. We were hungry like hell and exhausted like heaven(….Whaaaaaaaat?) So we feasted or rather hogged on food in a restaurant I am willing to forget.

For newbies, if you happen to accidentally drop by to the Indian Scotland, I’d recommend a couple of places. I am listing them down so you remember yourself eventually.

  • Iruppu Falls
  • Igguthappa Temple
  • Cauvery river
  • Dubare Elephant Camp
  • Abbey Falls
  • Unchalli Falls
  • Brahmagiri Hill
  • Raja’s Seat
  • Omkareshwara Temple
  • Shri Shringeri Shankar Math
  • Golden Temple

The first place that we crashed was Abbey Falls, Madikeri. So what we felt duped when we realized those falls looked puny in front of some other falls on this planet. Yet it was something natural, and I love nature. I can’t criticize its creation. Besides the place added up to a couple of great shots that we are going to cherish forever.

Exhausted we were after 150 kms of journey, we looked for a place to crash. The night was young. We celebrated Coorg with Blender’s Pride in our throats. The same night I realized I had never laughed that much with Scotch in my veins. The temperature in Coorg is said to fall below 4 and so we snuggled up in our beds after gorging up on a beastly dinner. Yep in the morning we realized the legends were true as the biting cold bit us blatantly.

When the dawn broke we hied on our bikes to visit several other spots we had heard much about. The first one was Raja’s Seat. The spot allowed us to look down the vale. The beauty of the dale was unmatched. We kept marveling at the scenic beauty for a while. When there are twelve guys together, you just can’t stop fun from happening. Raja’s Seat called for some excellent and funny moments and we made sure that our cameras remembered them.

Next thing on our map was Dubare Elephant Camp, where we river rafted. We wore life belts to ensure life. Out of the blue, someone played a prank and pulled one down into the water. The next thing we knew, all of us were floating in the water like frogs. Except two or three, nobody knew how to swim. We spent hours in water at the mercy of our life belts.

Boy we were happy! Hadn’t we stepped (rather hurled) into the water, we would have never really enjoyed the place. While our experts taught us how to swim, some of the guys like me, thought they had mastered it for a while. We kept saying that jumping into the water made our day. Our life belts made sure that we saw another. We were pulled back into the raft by our disgruntled oarsman. While we were returning we saw Elephants (that explained the name) dropping deuces and bathing (earlier ignored because of the fun we were having). Our oarsman played a prank when we were about to reach our extraction point. He pretended to hit an imaginary snake in our raft. Boy everyone jumped into the knee-deep water without caring for their lives (er….I mean they cared, that’s why they jumped in the first place) injuring themselves like anything, while I understood the prank and took the oarsman’s side and laughed at my friends. Soon I was punished, when I stepped into the water as something pierced my feet. Bearing injuries has become my hobby now. I bled in pain with the incision. Still I stood up, dusted off, and picked up my ride to satiate the adventure in me.

Next thing in our carte was a temple. We rode like ghost-riders once again when we realized we needed to wrap up the adventure quickly. We reached ‘The Golden Temple’ at around half past noon. It was a Buddhist temple. Smitten, we swayed into the serenity, while three Lords stared down at us in surprise. Three huge golden Buddhas wondered what we were doing in Coorg, while we marveled at all their gold. Their effigies looked beautiful. What surprised me more was the tranquility the place offered. Walls were painted with stories of Buddhism. They told a story we weren’t interested in. However the pictures of various descendants and Lords of the religion beatified us beyond limit.

We had to wrap up quickly as we were running short on time. So we had our lunch right after we came out of the temple. Our eyes, which had turned all golden by now, adjusted themselves to the gold that sun offered.

We took out our beasts and decided to make a retreat. Now this was the best part of the journey. We knew the roads were going down. We knew that we were on a mountain. We switched off our engines at once, when we reached the inception point of the steep. It felt so exhilarating and so beautiful, my words fail to describe it. Roads would always turn left or right. All we had to do was follow it. All six bikes moved silently. I reminded my friends of the part in Tokyo Drift, where 5-6 cars go drifting on roads on a mountain. The only difference was we weren’t drifting and of course we weren’t driving cars. Then again we couldn’t have possibly felt heaven breezing through our skins.

We knelt down at every turn. It felt like we were playing MotoGP. The speedometer crossed 80 at times, and the engines never buzzed. We overtook many cars and buses involuntarily. We were in a trance. All we needed to do was tilt the handle and of course be careful at the turnings. For almost around 20 kms our engines never purred because of the slope. Boy we saved a lot of fuel!

Eventually we reached our destination. It was as if someone had switched off the light. We were back and yet we were there. We had witnessed paradise on earth. We kept talking about how good our experience was. We kept reckoning, had we taken a cab or a van to the place we wouldn’t have really enjoyed it all.

The scorching sun made sure we got our tans. I got mine, a distinctive one. People laughed at me for days and called me a freak. (Well that’s over-exaggeration having its toll again)

Sometimes I wish to be on those roads again. I relive those moments of eternity every now and then. I wish that trance to succumb me at times. The experience brought me into tears, just like that Avril Lavigne’s lyrics, ‘It’s so beautiful that it makes me wanna cry’.

We wished we had more time on our hands. We would have explored more of Coorg. We left out a couple of great places we had written in our menu. Hope that future brings me to this place again and I get to cover it all. Yet somewhere deep down I know, it wouldn’t match the fun and joy, all twelve of us had while riding our bikes and scaling unacquainted, unknown yet magical parts of Coorg.