A constantly working mind

Remember Shasha once saying that for once I need to do something for myself. Right now I'm the last person I'm thinking of doing anything for. I want to curl up in a corner and stare into darkness and at the wall. I know I won't see a thing but it's just the thought of having my eyes open wide and the concrete feeling of the wall hitting them back that's appealing. That will be my moment with myself, however strange. But here I am, writing for H and then for K (which will be indirectly for me) and stressing about getting up at 7 AM again to go with S for his work! All the while thinking what mum will have to say when she wakes up to find me still awake. Where am I doing anything for myself or thinking about what I want to do? I really do want to curl up in the corner and sleep.

Got to be hard when you cannot say no. 

Why?

Where is my willpower? I used to pride myself for my determination at one point. I used to be so sure of myself - even in the mistakes I'd make. But now everything seems like such a big deal. My cool and unaffected self is long gone. Everything feels like it's within an inch of my face. I snap, I cry, I give up.

Why?

Untouched

There are a few things that deserve to or need to remain untouched. Friendship from younger days is one of them. I have friendship that is unaffected by all the ugliness. My college friends. Here's to many more years together! Cheers!!

That smell

Strange post to restart blogging with. But, times are strange. People are stranger. Anyway, got to flush out thoughts, too.

Went to a funeral today. I realise that of late it's the same thing that keeps playing on my mind. The smell. It harrows me to the point that I just want to run away. It's the smell of the sheet covering the body mixed with incense sticks.

The presence of that smell hasn't left me. Ever since Papa passed away. Partly because a few days after his funeral, I woke up from sleep gasping. I had been dreaming of his funeral pyre; and the smoke had entered my nostrils. It had felt much too real. As I woke up I kept repeating, 'The wood is still burning'. But I could only whisper that and my sisters sleeping next to me didn't even stir.

Now at any funeral I can look at the deceased person's body, even touch it, but it's that smell!

Would you?

If I were a bard

Would you be my poetry?

If my life were History

Would you be my unsung glory?

If I were a ship

Would you be the lighthouse

If I were a monastery

Would you be the holy vows?

If I were Alice

Would you be the rabbit hole?

Would you be Arctic

If I were the North pole?

If I were a song

Would you be my tune?

If I were the desert vast

Would you be my sand dune?

If I were a canvas blank

Would you be the paint?

If I were a sacred chant

Would you chant me like a saint?

Would you be Aesop

If I were a fable?

Would you always be with me

If I want us to be inseparable?

Running

Running through the deep forest
Without a moment's rest
Running with you by my side
Chased by faces unknown.
Some time along the way though
I lost you
Like you were never there
Like we were never there

My feet hurt
I taste salt
It stings deep into my skin
I'm wounded
But I must keep running
Breathlessness can stop me not
This run, somehow, has an urgent meaning

I cross the border
And step into a new order
I'm a changed woman
I don't hear footsteps behind me
There is no fear
No loathing
I see the stream so clear
Water shines
Sunlight perched on rocks

Time has stopped
I'm wearing a white robe
The little boy, he smiles at me
Takes my hand and we begin to row
We must cross this stream

Another border
A new world awaits
Ancient temples and idols
Carved out of stones

The artisans
They linger in anonimity
The place has a quiet pride
The cold marble touches my sole and soul
I will linger here
Till eternity.

Blinking

Thoughts moving round and round
In a spiral
Floating around in my head
Like a viral
Sitting on a high chair
Feet dangling in air
Not eager to find the ground
Forms and faces all around.
Pretty.
Lonely.
Giggling.
Conspiring.

He sits across
Seemingly aimless
Like me

Distracted looks are thrown
In my direction
Occasionally listening
Rarely talking
Smiling with concentration
Blinking.
Pointing.
Sometimes talking with his hands

Gooodbye to romance
I get another glance
A note is passed
Slipped surreptitiously
Into my sweaty palm

Do I care?
Maybe I do
Maybe not?
Oh, I'd love company
But not just yet