The Silent Journey

If life is a road, mine is under a hot, burning sun. Peak afternoon.

There is shade in places, seats to rest, shelters at times to unburden and recuperate.

But a long road which seems unending. Winding, undulating, it simply goes on and on.

Each step taken on this is a milestone. A new memory. A part of me left behind in that moment.

Forgotten structures. Forgotten places. Half remembered faces. Blurred moments of colours and sounds.

Textures, textiles, stones, leaves, petals. Music, drums, strings, songs. Laughs, talks, sounds, voices, pitches. Whispers, cries, screams, talking silences.

Eyes. Of all colours. Deep, shallow. Happy, sad. Loving, hating. Calm, miserable. Eyes that lie. Eyes that are so full of love.

Eyes which then closed forever in an eternal sleep.

Gifts. Received and cherished. Cards. Words. Letters from a bygone era. Forgotten names. Weird diary entries.

Roads, alleys, houses - still standing where I left them behind. Just feet move ahead on the path, unrelenting. The journey goes on and on.

No roots. No beginnings. No end. Only the moments in between. नाशिवंत, चपल, मृगजळ

Baggage carried. Baggage discarded. Baggage lost. What a mess, this life!

A colourful, musical mess. Drama, pain, joy, crescendo, depths, flat tones. All consuming. But don't stop too long. Stopping creates roots. Uprooting is painful, so don't stop. Don't belong. Keep walking. Keep burning.

Forever detached. Ever peaceful.

Attachments bring pain. Open wounds which never heal. Invisible gout that screams on winter nights. Keep away, alone, aloof, protected.

If I come back for a few moments after death, what will I see?

Empty house, forgotten and discarded?

House full of mourners shedding pretend water from eyes which don't care?

One lone person truly mourning?

Or maybe, nobody would even notice that I am gone?

Life will still go on. The road which goes on and on, ever and ever anon.

Winding, undulating. Steep sometimes, smooth for a short distance. Full of boulders and pitfalls at times.

Under the burning afternoon sun. Leaving so much behind. Carrying so little. Keeping nothing at the end of the journey.

Wonder how it ends. Wonder when it will finally end! Hope that the next world has no pain. Hope that all pain gets left behind on earth. I pray there is no pain and no suffering, where I am going.

Duly forgotten in this world, hope I am left well alone in the next one too.

Till then we carry on. Strength by strength. Step by step. Ever learning. Ever silent. Never stopping.

Borrowed for a Day

Floor beneath my feet

Like a conveyor belt.

Feet hitting, missing

Hitting, missing

Hip-hopping, beep-booping

Shake-a-shake, shimmying.

Head butting

Hands swaying

Heart pulsing

Rhythms building.

Carried away on

This music divine.

Eyes are closed

Mind in a whirl

The only reality

Is the here and now

This moment in time

I refuse to see beyond.

Lemme, lemme, lemme

Borrow this for a day.

Gimme, gimme, gimme

This one escape.

As I shut out

Pain

Hurt

Remorse

Mourning

And my burning heart.

Let me heal

Let me forget

Let me jive

Let me move

Let this be.

No tomorrows here

No yesterdays

No today, even

Just this here and now

This one moment in time.

Lemme, lemme, lemme

Borrow this one day.

Gimme, gimme, gimme

This one moment.

A leaf out of

My past life

A chapter short

A past me - lost.

Shadows of those

Who left

Memories of those

Who dance elsewhere.

Hands are empty

I dance alone

Heart is full

Mind is blank.

Empty halls

Empty walls

Abandoned.

But I dance.

The music is loud

The beat is true

Free, lost, alone

Defeated, I dance.

The only reality

Is the here and now

This moment in time

I refuse to see beyond.

Reborn

Resuscitated

Tired

Surrendered

I dance.

No tomorrows here

No yesterdays

No today, even

Just this here and now

This one moment in time.

Lemme, lemme, lemme

Borrow this one day.

Gimme, gimme, gimme

This one moment.

Buried Deep

Triggers.

Old songs. Old photos. Old stories.

Buried deep inside a forgotten corner.

Triggered, out they all come. Soaring and flowing. Caught in a memory breeze. Swirling colours. Spinning wild. Now they shoot right at me. Out of control. Like a hurricane.

Hurling themselves, speedy rapid memories.

Hurting me.

Gone are those days. Gone are the streets. Gone those small, cozy corners. That state of mind is dead.

Slow were the walks. Time was crawling. Sunny were the days. Waiting for someone at a designated place and time. Pre-tech era. No mobiles or texts or smart tech. Just spotting them at a distance, seeing that anxious waiting expression. Seeing that bright smile when they finally see you.

Feeling lost without a wrist watch because that was the most reliable time keeper. Proudly owning multiple watches, to go with various clothes. Branded, non-branded, cheap imitations, formal watches, casual ones and also dressy-dainty ones. Bought in branded stores and from street vendors. The full range.

Simple local restaurants. Not chains. Each with its own speciality menu items. Hidden spots in the city which only we locals knew. No tourists, no internet to reveal these secrets to tourists.

Ambitions were within reach in those times. We didn't ask for much. Debates used to be healthy. Friendships didn't break over political discussions. We used to have brains.

Hours spent in just passing time at favourite places - Archies, Planet M, Crossword - with their soft music adding to the afternoon lull. There was no hurry to pick something, pay for it and rush out. We could stay there forvever and buy just a couple of greeting cards without being judged.

Greeting cards! The joy of making them. Writing more personal notes on store-bought ones. Giving and receiving simple wishes in colourful envelopes. The amount of joy experienced in that small piece of paper cannot be expressed in words. Each of us still has kept these cards from ages ago.

Watching movies before the multiplexes arrived. Gallery, stalls, front row.

That time before rampant consumerism. That time when we used to just walk up to friend's or family's house and knock to visit. No need to call or text and ask if they were available. We all were always happy to receive unexpected guests. Especially when a random crow cawed at the window and someone visited that day. We just wanted validation that the old wives were right. The crow heralds arrival of guests.

A large part of me still lives there and wants to be in that time. There was so much more I could have lived. There were so many things I could have done. There were so many places I could have visited. Alas!

Will life ever be easy going again? Old days are spent and dead. But can we at least hope for a new age which could have simpler joys, grounded dreams, genuine smiles, lighter hearts...?

All I hope for is regaining my trust in another human, not having to be alert at all times, having a peaceful and wholesome life, living out the rest of my days with genuine happiness.