Inspitefully Speaking

 I've been too caught up with the triviality that is my life. All my recent posts have been about me. It defiles the greater thought process, and the larger set of questions that this blog was meant for. However, the heart wants what it wants.  

 *sheepish puppy dog smile, followed by disgust*

 

 I somewhere believe that physical imagery is a metaphor. That all physical matter that exists, in particular form and manner, exists for a reason. No scrap that last, not reason. Everything material that exists in this world is an identical ameboid micro replication of everything bigger than it, and an ameboid macro replication of everything smaller than it. Everything is trying to tell you something. Wisdom lies in the static. Because, the static is what is unperturbed.

 

  If you aren't terribly bored yet, you can read on for an example.

 Have you ever sat across someone and talked to them till the position of the sun changed? I did not want to use time as a scale. Didn't we invent time to define the movement of the sun? So if the sun moves slow in a place or at a time, is time really passing, or is it an illusion? Isn't time as an entity defined by light then? Measuring the different phases of light was the cause of an non existent entity like time. Then why does the clock tick even on days when the sun goes down late? 

 Doesn't time pass really fast sometimes? What if the sun even has gone down then, if there is light then time hasn't passed. I am very reluctant to accept the concept of time being true, it means that a lot of what was tangible has passed and will never come back, whereas, if I convince myself that we lie about time, I feel like I have more sunshine. We collectively deluded ourselves into believing time. We all lie together.

 

 So, now that I am convinced that I have enough time to write this, I must admit that I went off. Let's go back to the beginning. Have you ever sat across someone and talked to them till the position of the sun changed? Observe. The sun throws light on different parts of the person. The hair glistens at points. The torso is highlighted. Sometimes sunlight cuts through, partitioning the face diagonally, leaving half of them in the light and the rest in the dark. Light does magic. There comes a point when you feel that the sun just hovering over the person, bending over them. So that the light falls diagonally on their face, and the eyes glisten. Have you ever seen someone's eyes glisten for long enough? It feels like their moist, till it starts feeling like they have a tear in their eye. Yes, everyone, always has a tear in their eye. You must have heard the line 'It was the best of times, it was the worst of times'. It doesn't matter how happy you are. There's still that one tear in your eye. Sounds stupid? Inconsequential? Try it, look at the tear in everyone's eye. Shiny, happy people.

'Ooh! Life

It's bigger,

Bigger, than you,

And you are not me,

The lengths that

I will go to,

The distance in your eyes.'

 

Scribbles of doubt

Things to say,

And things to do,

But time can wait;

And so, can you,

Doubts and fears,

But words, my words,

Again I cry,

'An infinite times,

The volume of the sky'

But clouds, they come,

And clouds they go,

And the sky shrivels too,

An infinite times,

And then we loathe,

And then we dread,

The time that did wait,

And the thoughts that bred,

Then curse that time,

For now is then,

And then will be then,

Till it is then again!

Then what to say?

And what to do?

For now;

Here I am,

But where are you?

Lightyears & Love.

I have too much work to be blogging my life away.  That's just a preliminary confession, it has nothing to do with the content of this blog.

"The world has come to what it has, because of the objectification of subjective things."

-Krishna Jhaveri

 The credibility of that quote is no less, just because it is by someone who is alive, not despised and not caucasian. 

 The closer I get, the more beautiful you seem. You keep asking me these pointed definitives: How long would I have waited? Are we even going to last? How do I know you won't get bored? Is this right? What do other people think?

On the contrary, I just want to throw an abstract cellophane-ish query at you:

Why?

I want to take that simple query and stretch it wide enough to engulf your universe. And it is quite a universe, isn't it? With the lovers and the haters, the detractors and the believers, the good and the bad, the fortunate and the unfortunate and me. The 'me' is an afterthought, I know. Incongruous with the other ambivalences that populate your life. Maybe that is why it is so hard for you to lie to me. Or hide from me, because I am nothing like the rest of your universe. A dim far-off planet amongst the millions of stars, that seem so much closer. It's a funny thing na? Stars seem so much closer than planets. So much brighter and so visible. Even though they are so much farther. Sometimes I wonder if stars are just far off planets, and we manipulate this distance of lightyears, and call them stars. Come closer, won't you? No Shelly ever wrote about the beauty of Uranus. How convenient. Look out of your window and romanticize the the brightest roundest thing you see. The sickening pale moon, that is in a perpetual strife, continuously trying to run away from you, in the false hope that he can outrun you on your spherically parallel tracks. But, do you want the moon? It's eroded, deluded into being beautiful and even men have walked on it. I am farther than that, but closer than the stars that shine the sun's light.

 Not that I am perfect, no I move in circles too, but as per my own will. 

 Can planets share a symbiotic relationship. Specially fiery ones like me? Let the universe implode if not, I want to collide into you, if it's going to end anyway. Always staying in your orbit, close enough to collide, if only we can make enough of this universe go wrong. I will shadow you till then, with my own light, I don't need the sun. 

To, Zizou.

Hello Sunshine,
This took some time coming, didn't it? I was wondering what I would say to you. But hey! You made a demand and from previous experiences you should know, that I do not dishonour your demands. I just cannot. So there are three things that I want to tell you.
The first is that the concept of reason is the biggest lie ever manufactured. Reason doesn't exist. Reason is the omnipresent excuse for any and everything that goes on. And even when there is "reason" it isn't cause enough. I am building up this arguement in order to make a sweeping statement: There is no reason for why some people are more lovable than other people. You should know that you are definitely part of the 'more lovable' lot. I can give you a thousand reasons. But, really there is no reason. You're just lovable. Don't ever question that. And don't let anyone else.
The second is that thought is the most over-rated aspect of behaviour. The biggest misunderstanding are always a function of thought out speeches and conversations. They leave no room for any real conversation. Thought makes you want to predict other people's behaviour. And that's where you score. You feel the way you behave; you don't think it out. You shine through from the inside, you crazy diamond.
The third is that very few people in life are fortunate to be beautiful. And by that I don't mean, going-to-the-gym-and-starving-to-death-and-getting-a-flat-belly beautiful. I mean just plain, effortless beauty. Believe me, you don't know how beautiful you are. Because you keep craving to be the 'flat-belly-woman'. And you know why that is? It's because you are more innocent than you think you are. This probably doesn't make sense to you. And I'm sorry if you were expecting something more...poetic. I mean every word of that. It just came to me.

The-guy-who-watched-you-take-baby-steps-towards-a-life-full-of-peacemaking,
Rishi.

Spade of Hearts

I've been gambling with you for a month now. Not that you notice it or that I want you to. But, the thrill of the gamble is becoming an obsession; very isolated from the harsh truth that one of these days I will have to see what my third card is. I say things that mean things, never subsituting the obscurity that these things bring along with them. And aren't you a poker face? That is intended to be less rhetorical than it comes across as. Maybe you aren't. But you come across as. Specially when you stone wall my affection. But people don't know, that when it's just us, you let it be. That you laugh even at my silliest jokes, momentarily letting the string loosen, and the marbles dissimitate. Because that is how you are when you laugh, and then you gather them to yourself, cautiously treading again, wondering whether you've given too much away. You haven't. I've just taken too much away. From me and you. Even as I write this I know I'm probably riding for a fall. But I do it in the hope that one of these days you'll drop your pouch of marbles and drop more than just marbles and drop them too far and wide and won't bother to pick them up again. Marbles are supposed to be played with, not kept in a pouch. I'll play along till you call me a cheater. Because, we both know, that nobody will win.

Then wear the gold hat if that will please her,
And if you can bounce high,
Bounce for her too,
Till she cry,"Lover!
Gold-Hatted, High-Bouncing Lover!
I must have you."
- Thomas Parker D'Invilliers

Are you getting stressed? You know me. I'm probably kidding.

Stand by me,

Rishi.

To, the corners of this world.

I hope this letter of mine finds you (and hopefully you will be in fine spirit, I am unsure of the effect the contents of this letter may have).

The human race is collectively dellusional. We collude to delude. Romanticise shortcomings. And mystify suffering. You want an example?

'Distance makes the heart grow fonder'

A warped general somewhere in the middle of the 13th century, at a campaign in some god forsaken part of this world, probably said this to a very horny soldier. And the soldier spread the word to his other friends, who would go out whoring every once in a while, when in more alive places. And they all decided that this was the way it should have been all along. 3 months away, 3 months at home. And we still suffer. Distance has elements to it. But absence is excruciating. They're not very far from each other. Like mist and marshes.

'Why do marshes always attract mist and fog? Is there a relationship between bogs and fens and vapours? Thus far and no further?'
Kiran Nagarkar,
Cuckold.

Your words and my thoughts. Mist and marshes.

Paulo Coelho was wrong. When fate plays sadist, the entire universe conspires in misleading you. I never know where I'm going, but most of the times, I do end up in mist shrouded marshes. That is when I'm going somewhere. Otherwise I'm just sitting still waiting for the mist to cover me and the ground to swallow me. Over and over again. And really the only conclusion is, that I still miss you. And when I come out of the mist, only to go back again, I realise that you are both, the mist and the light, the marsh and the soil.

"Suffer love! a good epithet!
I do suffer love indeed,
for I love thee against my will."
Benedick,
Much Ado About Nothing,
William Shakespear.

Love? Nah. Love is too hazy.

Love Always,
Rishi.