Middle Name

One day, or

Most of the days, I’ll 

Walk out of that door without saying 

A word

Not to you; not to myself, I’ll

Take my old leather satchel and that pair of blue denim

On me, And 

Maybe, 

I’ll leave the door half open, or 

Half closed. 

Those will be the days when you won’t

See a much of me or what

You think was made 

Of me, you

Will not wake up to what you had of me for

So many years, or months

You might hear a little humming for a while, but

Maybe that neither. 

One day, or

Those ‘most’ of the days,

When you see me leave, or just realise it,

Please remember that I 

didn’t leave from what I thought I didn’t want, but

For what I don’t have, or I

have but I don’t know

I’ll be gone,

I hope not for long

Not for the end or the start

But for the middle,

Of self 

 

The Monologue

Don’t let me look away from

The gaze I 

Phase out to, you know

If I do, I would know

I would know why the stars fall into

The shapes they do when

we stare up at the sky; together, I would 

Know, you know, that when my

Eyes widen and that smile starts to 

Creep onto my sideway 

Looking face, you know

I know 

You fucked up, but in a funny way

If I could, you know that 

I would,

Look back at least once when I’m walking away from you, you

Know that all I’ll see with my

Longing eyes is your back, moving away

From me.

If I’m moving in a certain direction and I’m

Faceless against the wind, you know

I wouldn’t want to be understood or 

Put under the quilts of someone’s

Love forsaken warmth, but

You know, 

Or at least you did

That if I ever look sideways in a sudden jerk

Of my face with my eyes widened and

That smile creeping onto my

Funnily paused face, that

I know the truth

It came to me as a sudden realisation and what pain it is

That you won’t know, ever

To not to see the same

In your eyes. 

 

Oasis

I measure freedom with the

Stretch of my

Hands, my palms facing the  

Sky, fingers  

Stretched.  

I dance today in my stillness, I fly

With the winds unseen, I give up on the

Retreating rays of sun, in the sky, 

All I see, 

Is Blue.  

I whirl my storms in an utmost peace, the

Silence sings my fortunes

I flow through

My trajectories in every sip of 

My tea

Take me nowhere, but here

Take me somewhere, but there

I dawn my light in 

This evening,

See love,

In nothing

And everything

From Have-Nots to Havelock: Understanding the Alternative ‘Now’ of Life

Between ‘one pint down’ and ‘thinking about another’, a conversation happened. Like most of my social outings, I didn’t exactly plan to meet the other party to that conversation, but I guess it happened for good; or, it could not have happened any other way.

Sitting on a jute mat at a quiet Naga café, the guy across the table carried a life story that was very fascinating. In a capsule, he got drunk one night, booked a ticket to Andaman Islands with his friends and then never came back home. As much horrific it sounds at this juncture, the follow-up is just so dreamlike. He fell in love with the scenic nature of the Islands and decided to settle down there. To his good fortunes, he immediately got a job at a tourism agency with a humble pay for which he bade goodbye to his job in the States. Five years fast forward, he’s now a diving coach at Havelock Island (Andaman), has a girlfriend and is still dwelling in a small studio apartment where he comes back to sleep after his enchanting tryst with nature.

Now, with this sort of a lifestyle set as a premise, there wasn’t much left for me to boast about my life – a law student surviving on optimism and slugging through competition. However, I did feel a little hit in my wits (maybe because of that second pint that I finally decided to take) that made me think the other way; to see through the romantic construction of his life. It may have been anything else, but as of now, I think it was that one thing that he said during that conversation that caused the hit – how it feels like to live in the ‘now’.

A remote island 1220 km away from south-east Indian coast, Havelock Island is a much neglected, strategically significant and naturally gifted Indian territory in the Andaman Sea. This faraway land is much closer to nature’s bounty; devoid of accessible mobile or internet connections. It is in this environment that this friend of mine found a home like nowhere. He said that it is like living in the ‘now’; detached from the strings of past and future. The only access to the news about the ‘parallel universe’ comes from a newspaper brought to him once a month by foreigners working in his organisations who get a permit for only 30 days and need to return to their respective countries once in every month. So, it is the music of the winds and the vistas of the stretched out sea that entraps his conscience for the longest duration of time – a form of liberation, as he puts it.

Does that mean that the life I lead or is led by some of the people that I know is not lived in this idea of ‘now’? And, is it even worth harping about? Well, to each its own, can be a possible answer. However, to me, it looks more like an excuse than an explanation. So I thought more closely about it and did come across with certain explanations.

There are two ways one might feel like living a life of this diving coach from Havelock. First, it is a natural calling motivated by one’s deepest understanding of self or coming to know of the same. Second, the romantic construction of such a life in one’s head, more like a reference group, without understanding the correlation of the same with one’s understanding of self. I think for my friend, it was the first case that motivated his decision; even though I don’t know much about him. However, to a lot of people, it may be a motivation falling under the second category.

The information we receive about these referential lifestyles is mostly asymmetrical. We often tend to focus on the broader bright side of such stories to feed the voids existing in the understanding of our own life. This is how we create some sort of a mental equilibrium (or at least try to do so) by feeding hope and aspirations to an apathetic conscience. ‘Grass is always greener on the other side’ is a phrase generating from the similar mental construction. There are many philosophers and movies that have vividly romanticised this idea of ultimate liberation – a detachment from all possible human connections that take us away from nature. But is it the only form of liberation available or is it just a form of resignation disguised as one? I would say, it’s neither.

Nature itself asks to move away from structural and linear interpretations of life. The constant movement and mutations of smallest of cells is a reflection of the degree of diversity we are capable of. So, in this particular understanding of nature, the liberation and the lifestyle as fashioned by my diver friend becomes ‘one’ of the many choices available. Something which is neither smaller nor larger than the life we naturally desire to live and not romanticises about. It requires a much deeper and honest understanding of self to differentiate between the one wanted and the one fancied. So, the diving coach doesn’t live in the ‘only now’; rather, he lives in the ‘alternative now’ and so do we.

If I’m a person who seeks to outgrow his space and predictabilities associated with his identity, I’m a person of movement and not resignation. For me, liberation lies not in finding solace in a static life closer to nature but optimising my potential and energies in understanding the diversity this nature offers. This doesn’t put the orientation opposite to mine in a less important pedestal. It just gives me space and authority to respect and love the alternatives that I wish to choose for myself. There’s no pitting one ‘now’ against the other. It is about recognising self and nurturing it within the various alternatives of ‘now’.

So, as we bade goodbye to each other and I headed for an eagerly awaited family function, I settled my bill and scribbled a little note for my diver friend that read –

“I would love to walk your land, or the only land you know. I would love to wrap my head around the liberation that you understand. But I will soon grow different and might want to sail away. For the island that brought me liberation once, might also bring rising waves within that hit the rocks hard and then retreat back to the sea, defeated.’

 

For the Emily that will Stay Forever

As we walked out of the supermarket, she said – ‘You know, I’m not a keeper. I silently start distancing myself, probably unknowingly, but definitely not forcefully.” These words were part of a conversation on would we still be this available for each other after college gets over and we move back to our respective cities. Would we all be as connected then as we are now? I don’t remember much from that conversation but I do remember walking few steps behind and telling her – “Emily, I’ll make sure you don’t”.

After exams got over and it was time to say goodbye, I don’t think we associated much importance to the ritual of bidding adieu to a parting friend. Just a quick goodbye, a brief hug and heading off to our respective houses for packing our stuff. Maybe, we knew that this is just a matter of two months; we will be slogging through the thick and thin of a semester yet again. It’s just a matter of few weeks and there is so much that lies ahead. Little did I realise, that this was something more than a usual parting. This was a separation. This was precisely what Emily was confessing about and I so optimistically promised to take care of.

I did make a call, I guess 3 weeks after the last day of college, all just for a number of one of my Professors. That talk did not involve inviting each other for mango shake, or an evening stroll or just how the other person is feeling. It was as coldly procedural as it could get. Yet again, I failed to keep my promise.

A week later, I start having a conversation with one of my co-interns about one of the pretentious markets in Delhi. Little did I realise, the words coming out of my mouth were not corresponding to my actual accent. Quite unconsciously, I started rolling my ‘Rs’ and market became ‘murrket’ and charger became ‘chajah’. I went from, ‘would you like to join me for tea’ to ‘Ae, come for tea no!’ I don’t think I kept the count of the times I said ‘Oh my dear lord’! All this while, what started as a mere joy to irritate Emily became a habit I couldn’t get rid of. Yes, I started talking in her accent. Emily’s very own khasi accent.

After months of imitating Emily for the sheer joy of getting to see her reaction, little did I know that my tongue has been acquiring a flavour. It has carved itself to make room for not one but two accents. So even if I try my best, I will not be able to let go of the Emily that has become part of my vocal delivery. And to much of my amusement, it has helped me in keeping my promise.

 Now, even if we are not able to share the same physical space, we will always share a linguistic one. Emily that always worried about her habit of distancing herself should not worry anymore. For no matter how far she may go in space, the Emily on my tongue, will always be here to stay.

Of Lovers Once Here

Just sit back and stare at

What your eyes show you of this world

Of this lagoon,

Of the sky that is on the edge of being delusional.

Just sit back and stare

With your leather satchel by your side

This is not a divided world, This is

What you left for what you have

The time is running, the rain is on its way

Just sit back and stare,

There won’t be much left to see

Vulnerabilities

If I don’t see you at the stretch of my vision,

I hold my back, lean on, and

Let myself lose a little,

I take myself back to that house,

The walls painted with the colours of your joy

And, there I see that old picture,

Waiting for me to clean it off the dust, off the mellow

And the denial.

When your footsteps are no longer to be seen on the ground

Your face is to be seen within,

And the smile,

To be seen on mine.

Isn’t it funny how time never let me have you?

Between all the confusions, chaos, the laughs and cries, those petty fights,

The constant making memories of your presence;

and

The longing and lamenting of your absence;

Between the time too much and no time at all,

I find you.

I find you in the unforgettable moments of self where there’s nothing but freedom,

I find you in voids, in the voices that know no language

When time and destiny takes you away from me, I

I find you somewhere inside me,

Safe,

And nobody can take that away from me.

What It Means to Imagine

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Imagination is the only purpose upon which existence rests. The castles we built first materialise in our heads before turning into stones and cement. Ursula K Le Guin, a thinker of our times and beyond, said  reading is imperative to imagination and reading only happens in the space of intimacy, faith and silence. Learning, says Le Guin, is a form of reading and vice versa. She further adds that imagination assumes much more importance in this post-capitalist world where every innovative human thought has been reduced to commodification for it to participate in the operational profit making process. Imagination, hence, needs to happen in communities and companionship; blossoming not on confrontation of ideas but on compassion of thoughts. 
 
We see valuation of imagination in the works of one of the greatest existential philosophers – Schopenhauer. He says that the genius is the one who differs not only in degrees of excellence but also in vision. Therefore, a creative genius is often subjected to condemnation or ridicule by contemporaries
 
Another fascinating mouthpiece of soaring imagination would undoubtedly be William Blake and his illustrations in John Milton’s Paradise Lost. Subjected to a life of abject poverty, Blake believed in an abstract idea of spirituality which knew no reverence other then the reverence of soul’s self transcendence. Blake’s borderline agnosticism was not merely a political stance but a major imaginative flight. The idea of creating self cosmogony and one’s own definition of faith and spirituality is a thought that is still under a process of evolution in the 21st century, and a thought that we need today more than ever. 

Fangs

They draw me near,

Shells shoot through my brain, I see

no one but the light,

I see myself dilating, my abstractions fixating

Walks away from the danger, and still

I walk into it, Oh why

no one sees me like I do myself

Holding visions as reflections to oneself, I daunt

a picture of that world to my mind

A picture, so blurred,

It never makes it clear until its over

Look here I’m standing,

Smeared by the signs of my loss, bruised

by the spades of apathy, like waves,

timing through the corpse that I’ve become

So, there it is,

Withdrawing itself from the mess that I’ve become

Don’t, just don’t

Hold me when I’m crying,

Lamenting, mourning the grace of being myself again

Drag myself to the shores of unbecoming

Thinking I’ll never see them again

Never ever I walk,

To the lights,

To,

Those,

Fangs