Lahe Lahe

Time flies by when you are happy. A very true statement by some anonymous guy who quoted it. What do I do? Recollect every beautiful moment spent in the past few months and pen it down? Mind does a quick retort: let it be. So I try not to run amok backwards. Keep myself focussed on the now.

Another itching fact about time is, it never stops. Keeps running so darn unaffectedly. Everyday, you are changing, people around you are changing, molecules colliding, chemical reactions happening, drama, frenzy, doldrums, emotions. When I can barely control the miniscule event of a leaf accidentally crackling under my foot, why bother controlling humans, their actions or the consequences there on?!

Lahe Lahe..this is an Assamese phrase I got to know from a recent trip to the North East part of India. What it means is,  to take it easy! Stay unhurried. One of the many lovely things I am taking back from the place.

Belated New year wishes to all! 🙂 I’ll be around.

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4 am shenanigans

It was the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.  I was filled with jitters inside my stomach, butterflies launching a torpedo. So much so that the keys wouldn’t fit in my door’s lock. One attempt, two, three..darn!..after n attempts…finally! my door obliged. The anticipation to see him was at a sky-high. As I walked a bit through my door, I saw this shadow of a guy on his bike. Oh the shadow! One of the street lights had chosen not to burn bright that night. He could see me, but I not him, subjecting me to a second later of first impression. Then he drove past the darkness and came to light. Our eyes met and mine dropped immediately after, trying to process my thoughts. It was a nice feeling. I was shy and comfortable all together. That was the first time I was meeting him. I didn’t see him much later on. But every time we meet, pit of my stomach jitters the very same. Every meet feels like a first one. I figure our first meet wasn’t the last. 

P.S.: This week seems all about the prompts. I am having fun doing them though! 🙂 <3

That kind of Love

Some love stories are not earthbound. Some love stories occur in a different space. You cannot explain them to people or put them in words or contain them in any other manner. You don’t fear its end, nor regret its failure. You just sit and wonder how you ended up experiencing something so starkly beautiful. How it has made everything else around a little less brighter in shade. All the glitter and gloss around you doesn’t affect its chastity. Innocent, Relentless love stories. And then at times you dolefully wince, why me? And you counter react in disbelief, is it even possible? It doesn’t annihilate you, it crumbles you in pieces, bit by bit. Like a deep quagmire sucking you out of breath, but slowly. There is no right or wrong, there is no end to it, there is tenderness, there is pain, there is so much that cannot be written, you know, in that kind of love.

1.12.2015

Ah! Another December. Aren’t they intense? And aren’t they inexplicably beautiful, in thought and sight? Don’t they make you put your thinking caps on? Winters suddenly feel chillier. And you sit and start looking back at the year gone by. How it changed you. How you evolved into something different. Last heard, this time of the year, you were some version of yours and now you have upgraded to xyz.2015.1.0. You met new people, got into new jobs, went through some break ups, gained some pounds, lost some pounds, travelled new lands, created new memories. Now, as December heralds, there is this urgency in my head, that the moments I have lived shouldn’t fade. Where do I store them? How do I remember them all? The year-end is coming close and it feels like something is escaping my hands too. Wish I could make a movie of it all and save in my hard disk as I do with other good stuff I find online. Is this why they say every beautiful thing comes to an end? And every end is a new beginning?

Dear December, I want to hold you close and not let go. But as we don’t have that option, let me embrace you in all your flavours and cherish your charm, till it lasts.

Plea

I will drain myself to the point of no sensitivity. I will juggle, hurdle…turmoil for days. I will put out all that is there in my heart to see. I’ll untangle my pieces from a criss-cross puzzle and lay them apart on a pristine blank page. Won’t leave a centimetre cube space for any intricacies or complicacies. I’ll go with the flow, I’ll be in the moment. Won’t drop a tear. I’ll be lost and still be sane. I’ll smile a million bucks smile. I’ll be happy as every other happy Jack, Jill and Joe. May be I’ll turn into someone totally new, nothing akin to what I was with you. Will you escape my mind then? Given to all my efforts. I am afraid, not.

Relentless reminders

How wicked are some memories. Every time I laugh reminiscing something about you, a tear bulges out uninvited too. It is strange how in retrospect, one tends to recall the good times alone. Yeah the bad times haunt us too, but mostly unintentionally. Happy memories take you to a safe space. Somewhere back to a time where comfort came as easy as your present level of discomfort is.

How unethical are some memories. They don’t choose a place or occasion. They don’t give you a notice ahead. You would be relishing a coffee with your friends, laughing and Bammm! You would distract yourself for a moment in an office meeting and slam! You are watching/reading something totally out of context on net; lo and behold! Don’t even talk about the long drives. They are like uncertified passage to memory lanes.

Come to think of it, how truculent are memories. They won’t shut their voices inside your head. They won’t budge, they won’t give in, don’t know what they aim for. Do they mean to weaken you? I guess not.

YES it is healthy, sane, advisable to live in the present. If it were in my hands, I would never let you become a past to memorize. Would devour you daily in bits and pieces. However, a present without you it is. And incomplete in its essence.

Home Struck

Roots. Places you belong to. The home where your heart is. Roads that you have treaded for years, time and again. People who have shaped what you are today. Surroundings where your childhood crackled; your teenage strolled, snooping and sneaking. The laughter, the fights. You have been through it all, right here. Your base foundation. The soil whose scent you cannot wane. A place that holds memories so many, you can’t ever finish recollecting.

We tend to drift away. We change and grow and evolve. We meet new people, see new places, plan on seeing newer places. Move to greener pastures and similar stuff. Our roots though, they are instilled like how salt dissolves into water. Not much to say today. Just that, NEVER forget your roots people.

Solicitations

Pour me a glass of sunshine that falls on you; I would never stop sipping. Cut me a slice of your innocent boyish charm and I would gobble it up all day long. Throw me a sight of your unrestrained self and I wouldn’t blink an eye. Smile and I will find something melodious to hear in that sound. Don’t hesitate to get weak in front of me, I’ll be your solid ground. Then sometimes, be strong for me, so I’ll crumble in your arms. If you try too hard, I would resist the effort. If you keep to yourself, I’ll sense the indifference. But if you only try your tiniest bit to solve the mess of a puzzle I am, I will unravel such, it will be indelibly etched in your memory. Here’s my humble request: Take a piece of me. Leave me a piece of you.

Reliving tidbits

Sometimes when you have lived through something beautiful, been a subset of a surreal experience: you have laughed so hard, your stomach hurt; you have sighed so sad, the cloud drizzled; danced so long, your body clamoured for rest; have kissed so strong, your mouth resisted tasting anything else; dressed so sassy, the crowd steered their eyes on you; sometimes when you are in between those moments, you want to instantly save them somehow. You take a picture, you make a note, you write a poem, you just want to get hold of it. Does it really work? I suppose not.

May be you couldn’t click it in your camera, may be what you wrote couldn’t describe the enormity of it. May be your awesomest kiss got lost somewhere in between. May be it is not possible after all to relive these things to bits and pieces again. But, you were there. You savoured it in entirety. You still remember the feeling, don’t you? Past might get hazy, but it never vanishes.

I read this on a hoarding while returning from my Goa trip today: They shared one moment and lived it thousand times in their memories.
About this post: Could be an outcome of my inability to give a detailed description about my past few days, and some other stuff. I will though.

Linger On

I have decided.
I won’t let you slide away the memory lane with few tears in my eyes,
few shoulders to lean on,
few sad songs to relate to,
and there, gone.
I will preserve your nuances like I have treasured my childhood story books.
I will savour our moments like I remember dialogues from my favorite movie ever.
I will relish your kisses like I distinctly recognize my most delectable chocolate flavour.
I will miss your warmth like I yearn for some heat on a chilly, chilly winter evening.
I will smile at your thoughts, how a child smiles gazing at the rainbow.
I will memorize you like the lyrics of a beautiful poignant song.
I will wear your fragrance like a flower carries its own.
I will laugh at your silliness, how I laugh when I trip.
I will sob that you are gone, how I sob over mushy scenes, with a handkerchief over my nose.
I will fancy doing vile things to you because when has moth ever stopped lusting the flame.
I will be there, how the dawn never disappoints dusk, not one day.
I will imbibe you such, that the difference cannot be told.
There will be you,
and there will be I,
but there will be a tad bit of you in me,
from now on, till the end of time.