Posts Tagged ‘time’

deadlines in my head image

Every second I am out of it. I feel like I am running out of time. That cliched image of me clinching sand as it slides past my palm paints the canvas in my head. I have created these little deadlines unknowingly, and I have started believing in them, that if I don’t hold myself true to what I believe, I don’t know what might happen.

It’s like one fine day I ended up becoming conscious of my limited time in the world. I became conscious of the fact that if I don’t make all my dreams come true in my fixed slot, I might end up feeling sorry for leading a torpid life. Every second I waste makes me feel time spent doing something not fruitful. A day bygone in self-pity seems like a day wasted.

I am constantly running. My feet are all scathed. I am charging through my blisters through all that pain, and yet the thought of stopping to rest, to relax, seems like a wasted breath. There are so many things to do, so many dreams to carve, so many shots to take and so many trials to experience, but every inch I move, I inch closer to something volatile. I can’t seem to hit anything solid. It’s as if the whole universe is plotting against me, testing me, my unwavering patience to simmer me in its deadpan humour.

Then at times I feel terribly drained out. Knackered. I don’t want to do anything but sit amongst my thoughts. Watch sitcoms, eat a pizza, sleep, get fat. That’s when a passed deadline would look right back at me; it would rue me with eyes of guilt forcing me to feel ashamed of myself. I would feel slumped in my race to beat time. I would feel horrible then as if a day had just ended up swallowing me, and that I had failed miserably to churn out a planned thing.

I guess it is okay to miss on it. It’s okay to give yourself the luxury of taking it easy.

I remind myself every day:

It’s not the end of the world. You can stop to check those blisters every once in a while. Deadlines procrastinate. Just stop and breathe. It’s okay to not do anything. Sometimes a day doesn’t have to be your day.

That’s when I stop and wallow in my indolence. I let go. Then……..I live.

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image of a bald guy talking to a girl

The Bald Guy

Probably why a lot of things stay hallowed in my head is, I guess, because my world still lingers around a lot of undone things. Unsaid words. Unaccomplished possibilities. Gargantuan morsels of hope that ended up getting swallowed by despair. Menial trivial things that could have created a memory, could never make it. Like the time she had wished to stroke my hair. The fact that it never happened left a hole in my dimension. It ended up becoming a skipped fragment that could never possibly attain fruition.

Other petty notions of our talks that could have avalanched into a nervous wreck stay disbanded in space. Broken threads they are, suffering in their own mute misery. No knots find them. They sway like torn dreams. A bazillion “could-haves”, those hidden somewhere betwixt our silent whispers, could never make it. That makes me sad. That shattering incomplete feeling is a consequence of all such figments.

I wasn’t fortunate enough to even have my day. One day! That could have flung us towards unrivalled elation. Not even a seamless graze on a cheek to test those walls of love. Not even melting away in each other’s arms. Not even a hug of tingling warmth, to say so long. Nothing to justify. Nothing to prove all those words of mettle that once echoed to and fro between the media of mundane. Words they ended up being. Spoken and forgotten. Like crude promises. They fell dead like a pang of wretch. Shot down mid-air by a bullet of fate.

We could never even make it to the finish line. All those dreams just kind of fluttered away in time. Lost. Never to be found.

I just feel all of it at once sometimes, and then sometimes never. Hard to explain. Maybe I am all alone in this dead vale. Meant to feel that way. Maybe truth deserves me more than ever, as it sneaks through to speak through from beyond, beyond the holes of my past.

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.

The Perpendicular Universe The Cubicle

I dream for an open field. There is a wild run in me. But there is no ground to tramp on. I don’t see it. Even if it is there, I am blind to it.

My life is a cubicle. It begins in walls and ends right there. I am bound by the charms of the green. But I wish it was a meadow, and that I was free to gallop wild. Free to dart my way to search the end of it.

Every day begins with me trying to adjust my fading eyes to a computer screen. I am locked. I am compelled to. There is no escape from the life I have chosen. If there is, then maybe I am blind to that too. Or pretending that I can’t see, because I have a sea of responsibilities to swim into. Or make a living out of this dead.

Day in and day out I follow the same ritual of turning the office desktop on, checking my mails for updates, attending meetings to show the ground I have covered, having lunch when I am not hungry, making small talks that are pointless and will be forgotten, working like a workhorse to make people in the other corner of the world happy, living a misery to help build someone something I don’t give a shit about, slaying the universe’s most useful gem – time just so that everything moves on and I age to perish one day, and then repeating the whole cycle again because there is no end to this.

What I live is misery. This is someone else’s dream. I am the tiniest mote to him. It wouldn’t matter to anyone if I fall one day. They will have someone to replace my body. Because my mind doesn’t reach anywhere. It is being forced to run in a mill, where churning thoughts is a curse and of no use to anyone.

I can feel the force of this psychotic world pulling me down. This isn’t gravity, No! This is the worst. It keeps on pulling you, one piece at a time, till there is nothing left. If you had a dream it would make sure you lose your mind. It would subject you to so much pressure that you would forget life is supposed to be easy. It would swallow you in its jaded shenanigans that you would not remember what real fun is supposed to be like. It would drown you into its silent waters, take you deep down to hell, and you would never know if there was supposed to be a heaven too.

I just wish there was no one that pulled my strings. That I create something because I feel like building. That I eat because I feel hungry. That I dance because I feel like dancing. That I look at a screen because I wish to surf and have fun. That I check my mails to see another world. That I play because I feel like having a blast. That I have talks that numb minds and emanate something useful every time I do. That I pamper myself because I deserve it.

But alas! I am stuck in a cubicle. My life is it.

The Perpendicular Universe Type Already

It is these moments I feel, kind of empty, when I sit with my laptop and feed my fingers the stiff of the keys, when I have nothing to do, and no clue what to type. There is nothing going on. But I still want to write. Because I love spreading my thoughts somewhere, If not to a keen listener, then to a keen paper. And when I do, it gives me the comfort of a feeling, as if I was able to complete something unfinished. That I just completed a circle. That I am not just half. That I brim with the remaining.

It is one of those hours of the day when I am surrounded with myself. Locked up with my own thoughts, and when I talk to myself through a screen, a keyboard and a paper. I don’t get much of those. Moments alone. Probably because I am always in a company. But sometimes I would like to be alone without hurting people around me. It is not that I don’t want them, but sometimes I want me. It is hard to make people comprehend that I would like some time alone. An hour of solitude is worth an hour of creativity.

May be it is me time. When I talk to myself about how I feel. Even if the feeling reeks of naught. I want to make myself understand, probably put words in my mouth, for an imminent inking, the meaning of life. To put words to a feeling. To put words to things that are mundane and that happen anyhow without me trying. All voluntary acts that we can’t live without. From walking, to talking, to sleeping, to eating, to watching, to hearing, to shitting. Nothing changes. Nothing goes out of the line. The same old routine: to feed the hunger, to scavenge for a livelihood, then at one point populate the earth and fade away. Every single bit we do, we do for survival. That is it. Forage for the extant. Why do we do, what we do? Can’t the world just pass by us while we are lying on the bed? Oh Wait! That happens! It is called dreaming. Then again why can’t it happen when we are awake?

I wish to explore the crazy areas of my head. Where I get ideas that don’t make it. Wish to put them past the finish line. I like the stream of propositions when they go unhindered, in a flow, undeterred by anything living.

This moment I feel free. My thoughts are. I have seen people chained in their mental manacles of thoughts that are mundane, that are either dependent to a person, an outcome of an event, of a situation, of apprehension, of a popular notion, or a wasted reflection of the past. I have nothing to worry about. I wish to stay this way. Wavered by nothing. Don’t wish to create the chain reaction of worldly woes. I would like my ‘me’ time, where there is nothing to write and yet everything to say.

The Perpendicular Universe firecrackerI wove this beauty whilst I was working. Came across a beautiful pic of fireworks on hitRECord. Suddenly it got me thinking about how we are so much engrossed in our lives that we hardly look up at the night sky. Isn’t it beautiful too? I tried to put sense in “why am I not upstairs looking at the starry dark” ever, and why we always consider something evanescent like a firework gorgeous.

Fleeting is always beautiful. Time makes it more splendid. The jaded of forever doesn’t bind it. That’s what makes it alluring. Read on:

          The Firework

Lit up the night,
With a thousand flies,
Those weren’t stars,
But bulbs of red

Of green, and blue,
Of blood and sweat,
Of might and white,
The rainbow of the dark.

Did you ever bide to see?
The dead so good,
A starry night,
On a tarry road?

Of stories told,
On a board that black?
So bleak it seemed,
So stark this dark!

This running life,
That hates to stop,
And loves to fly,
Not to the skies

Where lurks those stars,
Where sun hides,
Only calls its dreams,
That the sun can hear

But the stars can’t hark,
Coz it’s bright and full of life,
But the night is dull,
Only calls for lull.

Wait we for,
A spark of light,
Not the dead of bright,
That stays all night.

Wait we for,
Fleeting specks,
That don’t stay up,
Like us all night.

Those works of fire,
That light our sky,
Catch our hold,
Of breath that goes

Forever, and bound in spell,
We stand for swell,
To take it all,
To breathe it in.

For it lasts,
Only a moment,
Is all we have,
In this running life, that just can’t stop.

Cloudia The Perpendicular Universe

The city is crying. Tears of grief that clouds withheld for years are falling down in unison through a bazillion eyes. Their croon – voices of thunder, shrieks of acute pain that emanate because a reaper’s scythe has cracked them open with a lightning, go unheard, unnoticed like an inevitable backdrop. They have come with colossal rivers and they are going to pour till they run dry.

As I look up at the grey that clouds our judgement, the city appears to be sad. Roads are clogged with vehicles. Every brow has a frown. Engines purring non-stop. People dying to get to their destination. Vehicles looking at the clear lane with jealous eyes as some whoosh pass by. Bikes squeezing through the narrowest of paths, whilst cars blocking them deliberately to destroy their progress. Malice grinning behind the wheels. My city carries that din that constantly knells in your head till you find a quiet. There is a constant air of confusion, of endless commotion in every eye, in every heart, a restlessness to be somewhere, far away from the dead roads.

It took me an hour to get to my room. All that time I kept thinking if I had taken a different route, maybe a different street, I could have made it a little earlier. Albeit all those what-ifs, conundrums of possibilities and probabilities account to nothing once you are home, in the back of my head, I was well aware of another day that was to come with the eventuality of yet another jam. All those roads not taken are going to haunt me again with time. All those choices in my life, all those poor decisions that took me to a halt, all those bad cuts I took that stopped me at roadblocks are going to mash up in my face one day and say:

You didn’t live enough. You didn’t live right. They gave you time and you squandered it in us clogs.

Half of my life I have been stuck up in inexorable circumstances, doing things that wouldn’t probably matter in any possible dimension. Immobile. Just hanging there, doing nothing! If I reckon every single moment I wasted, just breathing in a swarm that doesn’t go anywhere, or following orders that don’t take me to a destination, just lying in my bed staring at the fan, or doing something pointless to kill time, I would end up, to be precise, with my entire life. Sadly I have wasted every bit of it. Not just me. Everyone on this planet has. Unaware about our true purpose, and leaving things to destiny, we have basically done nothing. We are too lazy to do anything. Too stupid to fathom our real purpose. We are just passing time, waiting for the inadvertent to happen to us, and someone or something to approve of us. We are just going with the flow, slaying time so that one day we age to death.

It weeps for days here. A downpour like that, seems like nature has simply given up on us. Weather’s been changing abruptly. There were earthquakes a couple of days ago. Tsunamis with forks that plan on eating a big chunk of our land.

Is that why nature’s angry? That we haven’t figured it out yet? Is it time for nature to swallow us up and start a new project? Are we failures too just like dinosaurs, our ancestral relatives? Is it time for a better-brained evolution to succeed us?

If that were the case these tears are justified. Just wish we could do something to ease the pain!