Writing, typing, rewriting and then finally deleting, such has been the fate of my numerous bland posts in this sleepy blog of mine over the course of the last one month (and beyond). At times, I am left completely aghast at the torturous pain I take in being indolent. This tirade will anyways, go on knowing myself well. A lot of activities ‘pseudo activities’ have been whirling on its own. Work (the more of the less of it), sheer sameness, anticipatory existence have been stirred, taking its own sweet time in the formation of some strange brew. No change. Renewing the reading habit was a welcome comeback and getting into the cinema viewing frenzy is always a preferred break. Besides, add to that the usual bout of sulkiness that adds to the aura of the already melancholic winter.
Phase I
When Thoughts go for a Marathon
When things do come your way, it fells like it’s too much too handle, reminds me of the quote adorning the wall of a forgotten corner in my office
“When everything is coming your way, you are on the wrong lane”
I wonder if being introspective is healthy. Reflecting on all the good, the bad and the ugly entities that loiter around the headroom, grabbing your constant attention. It is a tedious job for the fragile senses. When things happen, the best ones, you’re kind of taken aback but then to your dismay, you discover that you are just looking through a few interrupted chinks of happiness, the wheel again sets in motion, the monotony, ordinariness prevails.
Everything is routine.
Phase II
Coming to THE point
Well, I decided to have this post not only to revive this blog in deep slumber, but also to give an insight to all the post that could have been here or about to be here but ultimately could not. My unpublished, ignored posts, gets their due (or almost):
The first one was on Diwali. The title was this:
“Looking at the smoky skies on a glittering Diwali night from the terrace”
It was beautiful. It was crazy. But looking at the smoky (polluted), glittering Diwali night sky while listening to Alanis (Hand in my Pocket) on the radio and then looking at the people celebrating the festival of lights while you are getting an 'overhead' perspective on things, it is wonderful. I mean it can feel wonderful. It rarely matters if one is a part of the humdrum or not.
The second one was “About obscure and absurd dreams”
This one was about an absurd, surreal meaningless collage of images that at some aspect made complete sense and from the other made me shiver. (Salvador Dali!!). The dream just made me realize that things can feel surreally unsure and bleak and futile but the futility itself does not mean anything, it’s rather the anticipation of the obscure ending that does the trick. Trying to get oneself away from all the rush takes its toll, to be away from so much of mental movements is sure to exercise something inside indeed but then again who cares really. The beats will remain rapid and the strings will continue humming a tune too distant and deep. So I guess it’s better if I don’t describe it further, the point is that it did help to wake me up early than usual. I don’t remember most of the dreams that I dream. I remember only fragments from this one.
The former so should have made it here. But the personal appeal was too superfluous. It was a chotti Diwali after all.
Life experience as such is gaining leverage. The new environment is definitely doing some good.
Phase III
A Bunch of Madhatters
I marvel how easy it is to be affected by ideas, thoughts that are the products of immaculate, avid, pure passion..... and it is equally easy to be repelled by utterly unbelievably obnoxious creeps. And one has to face both the extremes.
Human nature do not change, it is funny to think that we repeat the same old mistake, no matter what. No matter how much we would have suffered at the cost of the former. We keep on turning back to the same oft-beaten road, to the same place.
Earth is spherical.
Phase IV
Epilogue
Or
A review of the past three (and more than a half months) on a strange land
The people- place -habits are all so similar in the way they propagate that it is unaffective after a point of time. Stumbling upon things that read more unreal than fiction, and for the better, leaves one deciphering the codes that construct the maze called life.
The company of my thoughts is vital for my existence.
The copy pasted regularity of life. Sometimes, it is out of complete cluelessness as to where I’m that lets the stagnant waters remain still. And the ever frequent question What will the outcome be? rears its uncannily disturbing head.
And I never rest, reflecting on that so much so that the written words never even get a chance to see the light of the day, never, they live an invisible life. But yes, I’ve been rearing, at least the ones that are on the list if not the rest. The new ones are left ashore. Finally, it is the best thing, and it is the worst all at the same time, the ideas that incite the dormant wandering thoughts to life, how the other’s letters and thoughts seem so enticing and wonderful that compels us to believe in a lot of ulterior dreams that, you never even knew existed.
Ambiguous will only become hazier, if not less.
