Sunday, December 07, 2008

Stream of thoughts

The desire to express often surpasses the desire to suppress,

The hope of a perfect life is more realistic than the knowledge of a realistic life.

The music that fills the ears takes one to a different land.... where all, but the bliss of the music, disappears.

What is it about applying one's creativity that pushes one into a zone where one is almost 100% involved in the task at hand?

And why does the mind behave strangely when an old companion is visibly happy with someone else?

In spite of all the broadmindedness, sometimes, one gets caught up in mindless tussles with societal norms.

And it's weird. One knows and fully fathoms and acknowledges the necessity of sorrow/grief/longingness. Yet, one wishes for it to get over. And how!

I like Hindi movies where they try to depict paradise. Sometimes I think they limit it by displaying a visual imagery of it.
But again, at least, for the lesser imaginative souls, it acts as a blueprint of that what could be.

Is there really a place with limitless grasslands, with lush green color... the wind tickling the insides of the blades... the cloudless sky with the colors of dusk brightly sprayed across it... and then the quintessential fire around which two lost souls sit silently, absorbing the inexplicable beauty...

Tuesday, December 02, 2008

An old thought

//Beginning of excerpt

I wondered what we were/are for each other all the time.
But today you used the term 'best friend'.

I like it. It's like a load off my mind. Now that the relationship is defined, the protocol follows. What to do and (more importantly) what not to do is defined.

I like the way you said "I don't want to fall in love with you again". I wish the same. I don't want to fall in love with you again. But in my case, it is not again. It did not really really stop... and at what point it increased in intensity, I do not know. But now it is like I am engulfed by you. You are in the classroom, you are in the trains, on the bridge, you are in the student who is asking me the question, you are on the staircases where we fleetingly and coyly flirted... you are so much a part of my life here, that I wish you don't enter this make-believe world... this world in which the image I have drafted of you symbiotically co-exists with me... because if you do enter this solemn creation, it might, perhaps, disrupt the peace that I have finally attained.

There is no doubt in my mind that my perception of what-you-would-be-were-you-here is more attractive that what you actually are. I endow you with all the qualities I want in you. I edit you blatantly. You are just the facade. For me, you look and appear like you, but your personality otherwise is a concoction of my desires.

The question that naturally follows is why would I ever want you in my life?
Can't I live with the mirage?

I am torn between "what is" and "what ought to be"... although it is ME who gives answers to both these questions

// End of excerpt