There is a lie you partake in. It’s beautiful so much that you do anything to not let it break. It’s so carefully constructed that you can’t see the truth that has been buried behind it. If at all the truth tries to find it’s way out, you quickly find that beautiful lie to cover it with. I was a part of a lie too, so beautiful that nothing else has ever come close. It was my seed, but two other people watered it daily, one more than the other. It grew so big that it consumed me. The truth came forward many times trying to talk to me. I didn’t want to hear it because of the two people who kept my beautiful lie safe for me. I knew the seed was faulty, something I had scrounged for in the storm. The thick foliage seemed too good to be true, but those two made me believe and I believed because I wanted to. Then one day they stopped, leaving the lie there. It didn’t grow, but it didn’t die as well. It’s still in my backyard the beautiful lie one of the best I have seen. I go back to it even now, when no one comes there anymore. My lie carefully grown by the two who don’t exist anymore. Their words are still hanging there, their impression still lingers ages after they stopped nurturing the lie. The truth is poking out, marring the beauty but I can only look at the lie. Alone I visit it again and again to look at the lie. My beautiful lie, so carefully constructed by the two, one more than the other.
I sometimes wonder why I stopped writing/imagining. My imagined world is the coolest place to be. I am a budding movie star giving a talk show and all of a sudden I am dancing at a college party all the super cool and difficult steps. The boy I had a crush on is gobsmacked after looking at me. He is wondering how he survived all these years without knowing me and he knows that now the only way he lives is if I am with him. The wind blows and our eyes lock and we are in love, but we don’t tell each other and let the eyes speak and meet each other every day. Next thing I know I am in New York I am really tall and wearing very high pointy heels. My hair is swishing in the wind and I am getting late for a meeting. I am the youngest boss of that place wherever I am going and everyone admires me and is scared of me too. Next thing I know I am in a meadow with the most exquisite scenery in front of me. I am wearing everything prim and proper and I feel so relaxed. Suddenly I am on the stage accepting the best actor award…..
I wonder why I stopped imagining. Maybe because when I was in school there was so much left to see. Now, after experiencing few years of adulthood I don’t want to see anything else. I don’t like growing up. I wasn’t made to grow up. My imagination has given me such high standards that my life is half dead trying to match up to it. I want to imagine again but “logic” tells me to stop being childish and well what else is there? It’s so weird to be stuck in the middle. I can’t live in my dream land because I know better and I don’t want to live in the real world because it isn’t better. I hope I survive. Because I gave up on living a long time back.
When I was small we used to take a lot of road trips. I remember getting up early. Packing snacks for the trip. My mother and father would drive alternatively. Sometimes we would stop by the road and pluck fruits from the trees, my father would tell us how to identify different trees by their leaves. My mother would tell us about the different rock forms. It was a delight to traverse through the expanse that is india. So many different things we would see within 400-500 km. It was amazing. Even though there was more to see during the day, my favorite part of the trip always was when the sun came down. Everything was cooler than before, the wind slapping your face, the smell of evening. The orange streaks turning into purple and then dark blue
. It was my favorite. The stars would appear above the lights below. I don’t know what it was but that is what I looked forward to the most. So beautiful I could cry. You could see squares of light from faraway houses. Sometimes you could peak a little inside their houses. Get a glimpse of their life. I wondered if we ever meet would we ever know that I crossed their house so many times. Sometimes you could smell the food being cooked. Sometimes you could see a single house standing alone. Almost always it was white in colour, with blue windows and white lights. It looked barren but intriguing. Nothing short of a scene from a novel
I wanted to go there. To go inside.
Look at it. The blue windows never gave much away. I would look at that house for as long as I could. and then think about it. It’s not one house but many like it. I never knew whether it was a happy house or a sad one. You just know it when you look at some houses. Like the small hut in the middle of the farm with the golden lantern was a happy house. I saw many of them. But this one. This one was so secretive yet so beckoning. Sometimes when I reach home every night I feel like I have reached that very white house with blue windows. I can enter this one too.
Behind the wooden door would be the answers to all the questions I had as a child, all the imagination put to rest, my mind satisfied because at last I could find out the secret of the white house with blue windows.
And it’s the same like I saw it years ago. Away in a distance with white lights.
But when I enter, the secret remains. Everything is still hidden. I am inside the house but I am still trying to catch a peak, except now I am tired.
And I still don’t know whether it’s a happy house or a sad house.
Nothing to do with twilight series here, but yes the vampire-ness I am talking about is inspired from the vampire species in that series.
I wish we were all vampires. Weird statement, yes, but I have my reasons:-
1. One of the biggest reason is immortality. You never have to worry about anyone dying. For someone who is prone to anxiety the thought of death can send the heart racing at the maximum speed possible. And not one’s own death but death of a loved one. So once everyone is a vampire, this worry ends. (I know the entire problem of what will everyone eat if all of us were vampires and the issue of sustainable development and what not but if we are wishing, then we can wish anything)
2. Speed. Travelling takes a lot of time. If you’re from India you’d know that it takes even more longer. Distance itself is a hassle. If everyone was a vampire we’d just run to any place we wanted to be. Imagine never having to pay for travel again.
3. No sleep. You don’t have to sleep you’ll get so much done. There’ll be more to see and more to be done.
4. No heart. No elevated heart rates. No anxiety I guess.
When I started writing this I thought I had a long list of reasons but I have run out of them at 4. If I manage to find more I will add and hope we were all vampires. (only the kind of version I want)
I don’t know what it is that keeps a person sane in this ever so maddening world. You wake up one day to realise that everything you believe in has been smashed to smithereens and you had been soundly asleep by then. Everyone expects you to “grow up” about it. Like nothing happened.
I and many others hate the word growing up. Why? What is happening. Why can’t we actually just grow up. I remember my 10th birthday. Getting a double digit in my age was an exciting experience. Growing up was exciting. There were dreams about growing up, taking up a job, living alone, surviving alone, maybe marrying someone you love. Going to holidays, laughing loudly making memories.
When did these simple things become too much too ask. Was an entire generation fed lies while growing up, why is there so much dissatisfaction.
Why have people, people you called/considered friends become evil. Why in a world with unlimited connectivity, there are more misunderstanding?
I want to know just where did I or everyone else who can relate to me go wrong. Why is it that we are facing trouble just being. Merely existing is such a big task, and no the answer to this inst death because I want to know what did I do wrong that I do not have the right to the life I wanted. Even after having almost everything why is there the crippling self-doubt always my only true friend.
Which brings me to the question where are my friends? Who are my friends? We were supposed to be each other’s guiding light, but now all I see is darkness and I am trying to desperately hold onto something but all I catch is air.
What happened exactly? Is it just me making things up, or something else? Who has the answers?
There is something good coming out of my anxiety these days. It translates into these little notes I keep writing to myself. My journey with my mind. There are days that pass in a blink of an eye. There are days in which every second is a lifetime. What do you do then? How do you inch forward each and every second. Specially at night when the entire world is asleep. A dog barks outside from time to time. Even your dog has come around to ignore it. You can hear every small movement. Your own breath is too loud and everything is silent. The mosquitoes decide it’s their feast time and your brain refuses to rest. It wants to show you every thing at once. Your heart is matching it’s pace. Trying to outrun the mind. Both are racing against each other and in the process you are consumed. But not tired, you lie down to sleep but the stillness is scary you sit up and engage yourself the movement is too much. The only peace in this chaos is the clatter of the keyboard. Rhythmic. You’ve typed so much ghat now you can identify the backspace and enter key. You don’t want it to stop because this is the only thing that brings some semblance in your body. Your mind is looking for newer words to weave together. The knotted thoughts are now standing in line waiting for their turn on the screen. Your heart also is soothed by the khat khat khat and there is a comfortable silence all around. The mosquitoes have found someone else to bother. The dog still howls once a while and your little puppy comes to you and places her head on your lap. All is fine again…
When I was around 4 or 5 my family was living in Betul, a very small town in Madhya Pradesh. Major chunk of my day was spent outdoors, climbing trees, fighting with my sister, plucking flowers, dirtying my feet in the mud and touching the touch-me-not plant. My parents always told me that trees are living beings— but they never made any movements or did anything that living beings do, I was always confused.
My sister also would tell me not to disturb the trees at night as they were sleeping. I found it very hard to believe that those beautiful green leafy tall things were not “lifeless”. The touch-me-nots were the only ones who gave any proof of life to me and as a child it was one of the most fascinating things for me. I think it still is.
We had a huge row of the “chuimui” plants in our house and one of my favourite pass times was to be around them run my hands over them, watch the leaves come together and then wait for them expectantly to open again only to repeat the process all over again.
My mother saw this opportunity to teach me about stimulus and plant world but I could not care about what she had to say. I let her fill the silence as I waited for the leaves to open.
As I grew old and we changed cities I never came across the plant again. It has been 18 years or so.
I know it’s a weird fascination – to bother a plant. But it is one of the most beautiful things of my life. Some thing getting back to its “normal” state all by itself even after being made to do the exact opposite multiple times. No matter how many time you touch the leaves, they open up again, never stopping for once. I know all of this have a scientific explanation backing it.
But, somehow the whole thought around it is very comforting, especially now when I think I have become like a touch-me-not plant.
Shutting myself, everything out as soon as something slightly uncomfortable happens in my surrounding, something if a thought is discomforting, everything around me closes, I try to hide from the world, myself.
Unlike the touch-me-not I cannot find the strength to open up again ready to face the other “touch” or push coming my way.
Today after so many years I want to be around a touch-me-not again because I want to see for myself whether it is possible for anyone/anything to go move on, stand up, normalise even after being trouble over and over again. I want to see that there exists a phenomenon like this somewhere, no matter how small or inconsequential it maybe….