Category: Notes

The way out

Posted on by Nirmal

If there was an afterlife and if there were heaven and hell, set up on a floor up and down respectively, I think what probably takes you there at the end of your life would be an escalator. Not an elevator or a staircase, but just a gently paced escalator to transit those waiting from the waiting area to whatever awaits them to wherever they are headed.

The lift would be too quick don’t you think? All the excitement and anticipation of what heaven would be or the dreariness recounting all your sins on your way down could last a little longer. Especially the way down is a punishment in itself proportional to the time it takes. Also, it’d be a damnable waste of energy to transport the empty lifts back to pick them, people. Heavens people don’t deserve that crowded sweaty packed boxes as everyone might be in a hurry. Don’t think the hells people in any hurry to get to burning forever, but their concerns do not matter here I guess.

The staircases – let’s just straightaway agree that it is pointless. Come on, the countless stairs. If anyone is found counting the number of stairs that leads you anywhere beyond life on this earth can already be deemed to be in hell. So stop counting. Also, who is being punished here the people climbing up or down? Maybe they can keep the stairs if they could switch heaven and hell’s floor.

The escalator, however, imho(in my honest opinion(just saving your trouble here, in case if you didn’t know what it stands for)) provides for a better reminiscence of life while standing as an allegory for life itself. Life of their own. First, let us settle on the logistics. You just need to set up one-way transit and there’s not much loss of energy in any way as it’ll never run empty as long as there is a steady supply of people, and that we humans can promise. Also at a steady pace, there’s no rushing in the immigration process, if they had any policies as such in place. Let’s just assume even if it was there it’s be done in a jiffy in heaven. It’d be more pleasurable than to have no process at all. They scan you as you walk in and someone at the gate welcomes you and hands you a welcome guide and information bulletin and an ID. You never have to wait. However, in hell, they still keep the records on paper. You fill out the forms, get a token, stand in an endless queue and move from counter to counter manned by the ill-equipped people, with lifetime experiences of handling such work here. Let us not get ahead of ourselves. The Escalator again, imagine the people getting on them. The old hesitant and in no hurry letting the young pass by, patiently get on and wait cautiously to get off. The middle-aged cluelessly look around wondering how they ended up here, but still sincerely standing upright however inclined their views are. The young, as if they are in a hurry, look rather stranded and impatient trying to get ahead a few steps. The children running up and down like it’s a game, not giving a heck. The babies wrapped by warm bosoms have nothing to worry. They never get hungry and never cry. They keep smiling as if they are being swirled. And they all go to heaven.

But what if they had some advanced tech like personalized instant portals? Yeah, maybe.

Good days and bad.

Posted on by Nirmal

There are good days and bad days.

On good days, I listen to music.
On bad days, I can’t bear the silence.

On good days, I cook my favourite dish.
On bad days, I can’t decide on what to eat.

On good days, I can turn a page or two.
On bad days, I can’t seem to turn my life around.

On good days, I try to get in a conversation.
On bad days, I try not to disturb this perfect stillness.

On good days, somehow time seems to run out.
On bad days, I can see the time seep through my floor.

On good days, I try not to think of the bad days I had.
On bad days, I hardly remember the good days I had.

Wonder

Posted on by Nirmal

I can’t tell you how much you mean to me,
Like the broken, yellow Neem leaf decaying in my backyard.
“Am I just a drying piece of dust-to-be?”, You might wonder.
Yes you are. And you were the tender golden brown that unfurled into a luscious green, foraging the ancient light of the ancestors, feeding the roots and branches and pushing the bud to bloom and help it condense the data of generations into the seed encapsulated in the pulp that feeds birds, and return what humans exhale for themselves to consume, like a duty. And here you are lying, withered of your duties into the palest autumn colour, among hundreds indifferent, yet so unique to kindle these words to sing praise of you. These words meant nothing before they were put together for you.

Your mind is playing tricks

Posted on by Nirmal

“Your mind is playing tricks on you!”

Who is this tricking me with these dreams? What are these constructs that keep building in my head? Where are MY thoughts? And who is this man lurking in the dark corner of the room?

I can sense the words that he seem to usher in my head. They fit in their place like they are meant to in a sentence. They making meaning in their own vague way like they were meant to. Oh get off my head!

When did I start losing control over my mind? Oh I meant my dreams! Who had taken control over it? Is it this man sitting in a chair, wearing this suit of a deep dark blue, darker than the black night too? What does he want?

What is this room? Why is it empty? It has a bed, a side table with water jug and a couple of glasses, a painting on the wall of a village sea, a window with thick drapes blocking the light, a chair in the corner with this man, and me. It is not empty in the logical sense but still feels emptier than the emptiest room I had seen in my life. Emptier than my heart on a cold windy night.

I can’t see his face as it keeps moving faster as he speaks this soundless words into my head. Which had made their meaning clear. But have I understood it!? How is that you can know the meaning but not understand it, you ask. Tell me, are you not living your life in bewilderment. But I’m syncing those words to his face. Now I think I begin to understand. He says,

“Your mind is playing tricks on you!”

Like I do not know that already. I wanted to scream, but I can barely fletch my brain for a thought. Demanding to move a muscle was a task too much. Then I realised I wasn’t there in the room, though I was. Then I became the room, aware of the physicality of it. But my awareness began to test me. Weirdly the room shifted into a dimension I wasn’t yet aware of. It is a possibility to which I’m not yet part of. Leaving me in the darkness of my mind. But the man was still there, sitting in the same spot. Making those same thought sounds with his face like the damn crickets in the night. But there was no chair no more. Just an emptiness beyond the room. Which looked much emptier than the room. His head slowly sped down and the face was beginning to take a shape. I knew in my head already, I was not yet ready to face him. Not yet. I needed to wake up now. I told myself,

“Your mind is playing tricks on you!”

Photo by EDWARD HONAKER

Despair.

Posted on by Nirmal

Dream was looking into the pit of Despair. It’s been a little while now. Despair always lurking in the darkest of the corners, took her own time to confront Dream.

“What do you seek in these dark pits of mine? A fellow as you I hardly see around here. I’m at all but curious to know what is that you wish to seek in these stagnant waters where only Misery and Guilt washes themselves.”

Dream sat there as though he was oblivious to the voice of Despair. He couldn’t reason anything on his mind that is now all too focused on a spot among the darkness of the pit, not on the surface neither in the depths. But somewhere in between where his eyes were focused but couldn’t see yet. Despair intrigued by the sadness seeping out of Dreams eyes, walked over to him with a fondness to feed off it.

Sitting beside him still wet and wetness spilling all over, she spread her cold palm of her left hand over his shoulder. Even the sudden chill didn’t seem to diverge his unattended focus.

“Look as far and off you want, for you’ll not find what you seek. All that is here are that is lost, for no one needs to hoard on these things. Let me not tell what is that you need to hear. You are most welcome to swim into the deepest within with the writhing cold of my body. It’s hard to see if it’s even day or night from the bottom of this puddle. I wouldn’t mind your company. But I’ll tell you this, only once I swam to the bottom when I came here swimming with Will, got lost and never again I found him. It’s easier to realise that he could have walked away after a while waiting on the banks. But I’m worried, what if he drowned looking to save me and still trying to catch his breath somewhere deep down.” Her eyes welled with tears only to freeze and glisten in the moonlight.

Dream said, “I do come here at times to bath and wash away that’s weighing me down. But for a long time had passed since last and there’s a lot more of me in there than what’s on me. But tonight I have a weight pulling me within, stronger than ever or at least I think so. So I came to find if there was any, much worse, that I have warded off in here. I’d wish I could swim with you down into these pits and never climb ashore. But then I realise I had made you walk these banks and as that may seem, may be you find your Will one day and walk off here. And in that I find a thread with which I have been drawn away from this night with a glimmering red gleaming off the edge in the dawning sky of everyday.”

Dream walked away without even yielding a glance towards Despair. Then she was lost on her own, finding the vision of light over the horizon in a long while.

Out of order

Posted on by Nirmal

I thought things would be as it were. Nothing much would change in this world of mine. But on a dull misty morning I sensed the changes had already set in action a while ago and I’m just catching up with the after effects. The sun was red as it were in the sky last week I saw. But the sky had lost its lustre. The blue of it kind of seemed faded away like it somehow escaped at a different angle from the prism than it naturally does and escaped. It was all grey today, a graduating grey between the pits of the moon to the one in our neighbours cat. I didn’t let it bother me though. Things seem out of place sometimes. The butterflies that migrate this season, traveling south for warmer places felt normal. Until this one which broke the flow by flying north. Must be a lonely anarchist I thought. Then there were few more. An awful lot of dragonflies today. That’s quite natural this season you might say. May be. But the point is, if you listen to their wings flutter long enough, their uneasiness creep in like the shadow that follows in day light. Sticking to soul darkness lurches. Never pay attention to them, I tell myself. But I think you can already sense the anxiety set in. The crabs took too much time to peek out today. I didn’t wait up for them. This isn’t my setting, I need to get away, I thought. Then I see the waning moon still lingering on the sky. I couldn’t find a reason for the moon to lurk around that long, like it had no where else to be. I know it has been that way, but not today in my thoughts. Even the pigeons flew in a fashion unfathomable to this simple mind this morning. Their flow has been obstructed and they landed like an orchestra out tune. Whom to blame here, the conductor or the musician. An unnecessary chaos had set the whole wind loopy and it seemed to have affected the pigeons as well. I couldn’t bear. Everything’s is set loose. Like the chain that bound my heart, together. No, it wasn’t bound to the chains but only bound by it. You’ll understand when I state how it grew in size once it was set loose. Cramped all these days, it inflates and intumesce into all the spaces it could find in the cavity. It kept growing, crushing my lungs now, squeezing the air out. I’m unable to catch this breath, this air doesn’t seem to pass down this track. I crumble in these sands with this step I take. Please touch the wind and cure it off the illness it carries and set this world in order. It’s been a little chaotic.

If I tell you my dreams, would it matter?

Posted on by Nirmal

There were days where I would wish to at least dream about things, then about you, and more about us. But today what would I not give to take this scraped off my mind for some peace I could find. But I found peace too. Pure bliss. Almost as if it were nirvana. I was walking down a road just after I dreamt about you. That was a dream as well. We were on a date after like a million times I had asked you. I was walking alone by the way. But we were out of the movie hall I guess. Or at least thats what it looked like. A road laid well, with golden grasses grown wild on either side. On the distance there was a town, the most near by thing you could find. But we were walking down a walkway, paved with stones, covered by an arch overhead like a walk bridge. Where it is headed no on knows. The sky was blue like you could only find in your dreams. A picture perfect moment where you are walking in unbuttoned white shirt on the outskirts of a deserted town. Like in 90’s Hindi pop. You were wearing a white shirt as well. Along with a dark blue skirt that extended just below your knees. And a black leather bag with a matching pair of sandals. But slowly the grasses were drifting away. Sideways and fading at same moment. The sky was moving back, and I stand there wondering if there’s even space behind for the sky to lean back. My navy jean and white shirt was not even a match, but I was glad it was in adjacent in the palette. You seemed haapy. All that I could wish for. Then someone we both knew saw us from distance and came walking towards us. I was worried. I was in euphoric. As the grasses were almost washed off the earth. The distant factory too were washed down as if rain pouring down upon it with the only aim to dissolve it, today out of my sight. I was worried that you might find it uncomfortable. May be you would want to run and hide. I looked at you. You were still lost in some kind of happiness that was too hard for me to grasp at this moment. The Anxiety grew deeper. You would have never thought how things disappearing from your life could bring you this kind of elation. I was aware of it. I was scared of the disappearance of the world around me initially, but it didn’t last the instance the joy, the pure exhilarating vision of this. The person came near by and you spoke to him, like you have noticed him already, and you didn’t mind. I just stood there smiling. I was just glad that you weren’t afraid of this, this us, as a pair, our hands interlocked, in some sort of high, lost in us. Even the sky faded away and I stood there forever in an empty canvas, a plain sheet of paper staring into the non-existing space. In a state of euphoria.

Dear Muse

Posted on by Nirmal

Dear Muse,

Yes, for now you are just my muse. But how I wish it was more, not just mere admiration, but more of an interaction. I don’t want my words to be written just to be pushed to death off a cliff into the deep waters with no hope of return. I want them to be buried within the dark realms of your soul, to soak in your sadness, to root in the vessels of your thoughts and nourish. I want it to bloom into a blossom emanating the aroma of your true self. I want to cherish the fragrance even though I can’t fully understand it. I’m sure I never will.

I just want you to hear me out. It is up to you to decide to let it in. I just hope I have nuanced my words enough to pervade beyond your senses. But blocking me out had caused a back flow that led me into a mire that slowly engulfs my pride of what is left and while my contrition floods me within. But in contrast to dismay that should arise I seem to like the struggle it poses. To swim out of the puddle, while it might seem easy but with the pride drained you feel all too small. To rise is to give up. To give up is to stare into the void, stepping into the darkness as every ray of light drains down. Now I know how you lit up out of nowhere as I look into the darkness. It is the likeness, the synchronicity that put us in a space, in that proximity close enough to create that spark. But I can’t wait forever for that spark to ignite another light, another ray, another day. I’m not giving up. I’m not going to rise out of the puddle. What if I struck out? I’m going to drink it down today and with it my pride that is muddled.

And why you? Well you are resilient, rebellious and thinking about you is rewarding and rejuvenating. And the need for interaction is I’m the most comfortable talking to you. Better than anyone for now. Don’t think I haven’t confirmed. I have let down my guard and spoke to strangers and even when some conversations were good, they never make me as comfortable as a mere thought of you, even the kin. With you being a stranger all the while and yet the feel of comfort is what makes me seek you out. If you are not feeling that comfort yourself then all this devotion, albeit intense, is tenuous. Leaving me unworthy.

But today I take the chance.
And here’s to you, cheers!

Yours truly,
The relentless artist.

In one sitting

Posted on by Nirmal

I have been waiting, for over a week now. Waiting is not that hard. The real pain is in the thoughts that scratch your soul like it was glass, with their thin tin nails. A proper screech. Then it was all over with a single sight of your text. And the real joy was in the anticipation of that moment, the preparation that goes in vain and the impulsive actions that wins the day. I smiled to the thought of it while having bath. It must have been a while I think. Cause there was a pinch of pain, like you are working out a muscle that you haven’t even flinched in a while or forever. Yes, we met. We spoke like we will never run out of words. Of all the earthly things and the other worldly things that we could talk about. But in a moment within those moments, I feel I don’t deserve this. This wonderful moment which is gonna be the peak that I fall from. I feel lost like looking for the bottle cap that I dropped on a crowded street where people are always on a rush. May be there is a big discount in the near by store or all of them, may be everyone is on a hurry to get on the last train to get home for supper. Meanwhile the bottle of fruit juice I opened is shrinking slowly waiting to spill, while the crowd is unaware of my staining issue, they just go on a rampage on the bottle cover, the innocent poor thing being pushed and crushed across the heaving street. Making me almost feel guilty for dropping it. Then I see you uttering the nonsense we both don’t care about. I smiled as I sipped the juice. You can’t save it for later without the cap.