Saturday, March 7, 2009

Life

The small guy lay on his bed, leafing his way through his Social Studies book.

He paused at a certain page, and suddenly looked up.

"Have you ever been on a plane?"

"Yeah", I said, "Back when we were in Delhi. Sponsored by Dad's office. Maybe 5 times."

"I've never been on one." He sighed, "What does the city look like from up there?"

"Nothing distinct.. ", I muttered, "All you can see is blocks and blocks of buildings. And clouds."

"Wow... I'm gonna fly high, soon as I get a job and have money."

"You will, soon. Just hang on." I smiled.

He now flies.

To his father's funeral.

Sunday, March 1, 2009

# 3

That sinking feeling.

When the endless fall that was part of your dream seems to be chillingly real. When you wake up sweating and stare at the ceiling, unable to comprehend why you are awake.

When you feel as though you are falling down a deep dark abyss even though a part of your mind grapples with the fact that you are in bed.

I realized today for the third time in my life that listening to songs alone in a dark room that is stoically silent otherwise can lift your sense of self up better than anything else in the world.

You lie on the cold hard floor and you stare distantly as Soundgarden's Kim Thayil hauntingly plays the opening licks of 'The Day I Tried To Live', and for the first time in your life, you notice things that were trivial not so long ago.

You stare at the relentlessly rotating ceiling fan that has been witness to many a gathering... the loud and boisterous times you spent with your pals, the serene times you spent at peace with yourself, the times you spent with that special someone in your life.

Fight Club, and as Norton corners Marla Singer, the faker, the way you felt the small yet significant warmth of a person leaning against your shoulder.

With four walls and a ceiling standing testimony to that beautiful union of hearts.

Your moments of happiness, mistakes, and tears. All within those walls.

The memories rush back as the song rises up in a crescendo, with the guitars screaming near breaking point. You quote Nietzsche and wish you could forget.

'Blessed Are The Forgetful, For They Get the Better, Even Of Their Blunders'

When you are one with the space around you, and melt into the non-existent realms of the World.

At the climactic peak, when you yearn to reach out, spin the wheel of time in reverse, and just gaze at your own life from another perspective.

And silence falls, fading into nothingness.

'Shapes of every size move behind my eyes
doors inside my head bolted from within
every drop of flame lights a candle in
memory of the one who lived inside my skin.'- Shadow Of The Sun.

Amen.