Grizabella

I have such random memories; that mall where we first met. The numerous walks to nowhere; when the speed of our walking would be directly proportional to the distance from my door. The conversations we had that I no longer remember, just the look on your face; WhatsApp messages and pictures, Skype conversations to prove you were real.  Travelling around the city to meet me, reading your life story and realising how much you had gone through. Learning about how much you love your family. Seeing your talent, and enjoying the fact that you were sharing it with me. Little nicknames we had for each other. Stolen kisses and walks hand in hand. Working in the same space and stealing looks at each other. Your face lighting up with a smile.

If only it ended there. Or rather continued in the same way… would it be a story we could have shared later on? And built on these small memories that were meaningful to me. But if course, if that were true then I would not be writing this now.  And yet I am.

Why am I doing that?

Because I know myself and I know I am likely to forget the small things and remember only the feeling that I am left with. And sadly, that feeling I am left with is hurt. I want to move on, and hold on to something from what we have shared, and I do not want that feeling I hold on to to be hurt.

I am writing this to remind myself of the good times and the good feelings you brought into my life at a time of severe sadness and loneliness, the time we shared together was meaningful and as I grieve the loss of the relationship, I also rejoice in the positives I got, in the fact that I did something for myself, and for that precious moment of being together.

So, thank you for that, and for the fact that I got through it, showing that … “this too shall pass”.

Views

The bars at the window, through which I can see the light;
The tree outside, unfettered and free.
Beyond that, I can see more walls.

What should I choose to focus on?

"The Rose and the Yew Tree"

I flicked the title from Mary Westmacott. I have always loved those books, Psychologically so insightful, I will not go into a review of the books, but this particular one has always stayed with me. Is the rose worth more than the yew tree...

We appreciate the rose because we know that it will not last. That one rose that is there in the vase will stay for a while, and during that time everyone will appreciate its beauty. What meaning does it bring into someone's life? The short sweet presence of something meaningful versus the strong and long presence of something more long lasting which has more ups and downs. We may take it for granted sometimes, the shade and the succour that the tree provides.

Which is more meaningful? And which stays with you?


Edit: I reread the book and discovered that it's actually a T.S. Eliot quote "The moment of the rose and the moment of the yew-tree are of equal duration"

Listen...

speaking
explaining
shouting
screaming
crying
begging

yet all in vain.

i try and try to no result

i'm forced to realize

and accept that i am an "i" and never an "I"

stark reality

because i am

voiceless


do YOU want to listen...

or do you not even hear me?

Jaiñkyrshah

So, this is the time when I'm supposed to be writing and finishing off work that I have been working on for the past 4.5 years... Instead other thoughts crowd my mind, and as it happens, I start missing home. This feeling may have been triggered by a parcel that reached me from home today, packed by my mom. I also had a conversation with friends about home, and once I started reminiscing about  home, I had to put this down.

When I talk about home to people here, sometimes I wonder if I am overselling the wonders of Shillong. Am I choosing to only talk about the fruits (Soh Phie, Soh Shang, Soh Phlang, Soh Manir...) and how they are easily available, plucking them off the tree in fact... Or am I talking only about the closeness to nature, the fact that I live next, yes, that's right, next to a forest... And my memories of winter holidays spent traipsing through those woods, imagining we were in an Enid Blyton story, climbing trees to get orchids (along with fruits). Or am I choosing to only talk about the 18- hole golf course which is again very close to home where we used to go on morning walks?  Or is my focus on the meats and meals that we have- smoked, salted, boiled, curried... Or the various other local delicacies?

What do I miss? The comforts? The food? The lifestyle?

... thoughts at a window

I am sitting at a cubicle in the library wondering about how I am wasting time, doing what I'm not supposed to, and not doing what I'm supposed to, and wondering how ANYTHING gets done in this world. 

I hear construction work going on through the window, as well as birds cawing... I can hear the movement of some vehicles, as well as conversation in the distance. Here, inside the room, there are at least 20 people working, and all I can hear is the clacking of keys and the occasional turn of a page. A random sigh and dropped pen is also heard. The movement of the fan also counts as a distraction when anything and everything seems more interesting than what I am supposed to be doing. 

Will I ever finish, I wonder, or am I stuck in this "Groundhog Day" like scenario of time looping, and days running into one another... ?

Waiting

Life goes on; that much I know,
Yet it stays the same.
Do things ever change-
Or just continue?

I live in hope-
I can see it in others
All around me...
But can it be translated
Into a language I comprehend?
Or transmitted to a different frequency
That I can receive?

I also live in dread
That the world spins
And it goes on...
And on...
And on...