of Past...

"The people who have adored me--there have not been very many, but there have been some--have always insisted on living on, long after I had ceased to care for them, or they to care for me. They have become stout and tedious, and when I meet them, they go in at once for reminiscences. That awful memory of woman! What a fearful thing it is! And what an utter intellectual stagnation it reveals! One should absorb the colour of life, but one should never remember its details. Details are always vulgar."


"The one charm of the past is that it is the past. But women never know when the curtain has fallen. They always want a sixth act, and as soon as the interest of the play is entirely over, they propose to continue it."

-The Picture of Dorian Gray

Why is it that we cling to the past,though its long gone.
Why is it that the dreams of future are nothing but a vague hope of reliving the past?
Maybe 'cos at least it was real...no,just a part of it was real,some characters were real.With passing time we added words,colours,emotions to it making out of it a Memory-to be relived again and again.Ah,such fools!
Maybe it makes present a bit more easier.
Maybe it's a consolation to ourselves that we were not devoid of a good time.

The past...I've added so many whatiwanted that I'm unable to distinguish now between real and imagination.what exactly had happened.How much of it was true.
At times I want to free myself of their clutches.
Yet at other,it's as if they are the only thing I have and I hold on to it possessively.

Like English ma'm always asks me,"You remember,Preema?"
And I instinctively repeat the line - the one she reminds me time and again:

"We look before and after and pine for what is not..."

-Shelley

The long wait

Then

It was past 11 at night when she entered into her bedroom.There was, at the writing table, a single rose - long stemmed,thorns removed.She never wanted the thorns removed.He always did.It was her anniversary.9 long years.

A perfunctory wish in the morning.She had gotten him a tie.
And then she was preoccupied the whole day-with her daily chores,with her classes.
Evening was as usual filled with helping manna out-her exams are going on.Excuses...

He had slipped from her mind-till now.

She felt guilty, yet angry that she should...that he made her feel guilty.She had the flower in her hand.She held it to her face...a deep breath...Her eyelids drooped on their own accord.She felt the fragrance surrounding her.She stood like that for some time. And her lips curled into a smile."love you,too".She said to herself.She squeezed open her eyelids, and then went to lie by his side.

It was dark.She never liked bed lamps/zero power bulbs.She didn't have one in her bedroom.She was lying to his right.She slipped her left palm into his and subconsciously their fingers intertwined.Her thumb was moving over his,gently.She knew he wasn't asleep.He gave her palm a squeeze...acknowledging her?

She started...aware that he would be listening to her every word.

"I'll be gone for long-a really long time.I shan't give you any reason,neither any discourse on demands of my work, my duty, cos its nothing.Maybe it's just the course of life."

She paused.It was an effort for her to continue.She was defending herself.

"I'm still the same,kshit.*sigh*.Maybe my priorities have changed-something I can't help."

She didn't want to explain...no,it was becoming too tedious a job.But she had to say him this,say it now.She owed it to him.

"I'll come back Kshit. I know this-and it's to you I'll come back.And then there won't be anyone else.We'll have time,and we'll have just each other.Till then,kshit."

"Hmm?"

He turned around,put an arm over her...

And she knew he'll be there.He always was.

Now

He put aside his dentures.And then walked outside.

She was sitting on the swing at the patio.

He knew she'd come back.He had waited all these years when she had been a daughter-to her parents and his, a teacher to all those numerous kids, a mother to his manna... and heaven knows what all relationships/duties she had assigned herself.

She was free at last.She was his.

He went and joined her.

"Watch for me by moonlight,
Wait for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight,
Though hell should bar the way."

The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes

Had this one in 9th class.Guess it hadn't evoked the same sentiment as it did last night when I stumbled across it.

We just sit here waiting for some miracle to come,waiting for the result to reverse,waiting for the dead to return.We know very well that nothing would change,that this is not a dream.The only thing that'll follow is Acceptance.That it has happened.Even though there wasn't any cause to effect this.Can't help.

Pleading guilty is always easier-easier than making excuses,lying...
She wanted to do that.na...not plead.Guilty as accused with head held high.
But she couldn't.'Cos that was not practical,that would not be in her favour.So she lied.Ah...the lies,the deceptions,the confrontation.It came naturally though.She didn't have to work hard on it.

She came out of it,triumphant.She knew that she'd be believed.Only she didn't feel the elation of victory.There was instead this gut-wrenching conscience.

She hated the world cos they were unable to see through her lie.She hated the fact that she plied with the world.Why the hell can't she be honest(with whom?).Life would have been so simple.Truth ain't difficult.In fact it's the shortest way out and the best.Pity..there aren't many takers.

Musings

"These are best unattended to.",quipped she.She knew that given time and patience it'd generally subside...it always does.It started as an ache-an ache she wanted to linger.A bittersweet pain.It'd have lead to two entirely opposite but equally strong pathos.Either a zenith elevating pleasure or a deep plunge into the abyss of pain.She knew what awaited her...

Excerpts

I ain't feeling like writing but I do want to put up something here.So instead of thinking/using my own mind I'll just be a plagiarist and put up some quotes/excerpts.They are in no particular order or subject.But they are words-words which never fails to evoke an emotion watever it maybe.

"But suicide's a special language.Like carpenters they want to know which tools.
They never ask why build."
-Anne Saxton
Wanting to Die

"The thought of suicide is a great source of comfort:with it a calm passage is to be made across many a bad night."
-Friedrich Nietzsehe

"...the air was cold and sad,the river dark and dim,the whole scene like a lifeless desert.
Waste forces within him,and a desert all around,this man stood still on his way across a silent terrace,and saw for a moment,a mirage of honorable ambition,self-denial,and perseverance.In the fair city of his vision,there were airy galleries from which loves and graces look upon him,gardens in which the fruits of life hung ripening,water of Hope that sparkled in his sight.A moment,and it was gone."
-A Tale of Two Cities
Charles Dickens

"How could I've ever longed for amnesia?Memory- capricious and unreliable though it is,ultimately carries its own truth within it.As long as there is memory,there's always the possibility of retrieval,as long as there is memory,loss is never total."
-Small Remedies
Shashi Deshpande

"The Moving Finger writes;and,having writ,
Moves on:nor all your Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all your tears wash out a Word of it."
-Omar Khayyam

"We,inIndia,think quickly,we talk quickly and when we move,we move quickly...Episode follows episode, and when our thoughts stop our breath stops, and we move on to another thought.This was and still is the ordinary style of our story-telling."
-Preface to Kanthapura
Raja Rao

"Other than my own soul I never found a faithful friend
Other than my own heart I never found a confidant."

-The Baburnama

nursery rhymes and patriotic songs

We had low voltage last night-the entire of last night.After bouts of thunder,lightning and drizzle(not rain!) we were subjected to "low voltage".This was a first time in here.The last time I'd seen such low voltage was in village.Anyways it was an all time low as in no tubelights ...forget pc...we had the fan on though(summer and power cut is the worst combi!).And so because there was nothing else we could have done...I wasn't going to study about microwaves in a candle...no way.And sleep toh has its own nakhras. Her royal highness won't come if it ain't completely dark and cool and tired and godknowsnotwhat constraints.So we(myself and di) started talking/gappe marooing on topics ranging from love,sex to books,music...ethics...custom traditions blah blah.Whatever we found.

By the time it was five am someone had started the topic on rhymes.And so we were trying to prove who remembered the most.
And so there it was starting with twinkle twinkle,johny johny,hickory dickory dock,higledy pigledy my black hen,pussy cat,ba ba black sheep,jack and jill,ding dong bell,mary had a little lamb,I'm a little teapot,one two buckle my shoe,rain rain go away,london bridge is falling down,hot cross buns,humpty dumpty,ring a ring a rosies,little miss muffet.Well, these were some that we came up with.Links for those who wanna refresh!!

(I don't think anyone has forgotten twinkle twinkle or johny johny :) For those who have-google it)

And then I remembered all those patriotic songs that were an intricate part back in school days.Being a kv-ian we had our fair dose of patriotism and these songs played a major part.I managed to remember the entire national anthem and vande mataram but I stumbled in all others including the famous sare jahan se achcha.Found the original lyrics in wikipedia.
Ther were some more of which I could barely remember the mukhda.Looked out for some of them.Ya,I love google!For those who wants to relive those memories a bit:

sarfaroshi ki tammana
ae watan ae watan
jahaan daal dal par
ab tumhare hawale watan
mere desh ki dharti
bharat ka rehna wala hoon
nanha munna rahi hoon
hind desh ke nivasi
hum sab bhartiya hain
vijayi vishwa tiranga pyara

*can't find link for some.found in school diary

A free verse

Inside me,
a boiling rage,
against all 'things' done and all 'words' said.

Inside me,
an imprisoned voice,
not afraid to speak aloud thoughts.

Inside me,
an unknown fear,
of confronting the past-the unfiltered past.

Inside me,
a building apprehension-
hesitating in approaching you,
for I've not righted my wrongs (yet)

Same inside me,
a burning ache,
to hold thee and to be held by thee.

Inside me,
an unshed tear; a suppressed laugh,
searching reason for their existence.

Inside me,
myriad thoughts and expressions,
unable to find words.

And inside me,
a complacent acceptance,an acknowledgment
of who and what I am.