Friday, March 6, 2009
Sinking into bed
Its one of the greatest feelings, to come home after a tiring day at work, and look forward to nothing but lying down on your bed to feel the tiredness ebbing away, getting soaked into the mattress under you. All the effort you have to put in as sleep beckons and your body relaxes, is close your eyes... and let sleep take over.
The Jarwar Boy
Both he and I, strangers to each other. I wondered what he was thinking. What he thought of us. We looked upon him as a tribal, someone who lived in the forests, not exposed to the result of the industrial revolution. Dark he was, with hair shaved, but for tiny dots of tight, curly hair on his head, black as dirt. All he wore was a thread around his middle, with an orange cloth attached to it to cover himself. Hands full of grime, he reached in through the window, wondering what to take from us. We were the abnormal in his normal world. He was the abnormal in my normal world. Both, curious about the other. Turns out, he knew Hindi. I'm not sure if that surprised me. I don't know if I was glad to be how I am, or I wished I could live like him too, with only nature for company, with no clue of what it was like outside the forest, but for passing vehicles like mine that he stopped and tried to get little treasures from the outside world from.
Sunset from a ship
I watched.
The great big ball of fire, being devoured by the dark mountains in the distance I watched. So gracefully the sun dipped into the horizon. Leaving the mountains erupting brilliant red at the top, like a volcano. The sea no longer reflecting the distorted image of the sun, the sky now host to the sun's leftover colours. Mountains grow darker in the distance, the sea turns from red, to clear blue to white to a navy blue and then to a dark, disturbing black.
The sun has set.
The great big ball of fire, being devoured by the dark mountains in the distance I watched. So gracefully the sun dipped into the horizon. Leaving the mountains erupting brilliant red at the top, like a volcano. The sea no longer reflecting the distorted image of the sun, the sky now host to the sun's leftover colours. Mountains grow darker in the distance, the sea turns from red, to clear blue to white to a navy blue and then to a dark, disturbing black.
The sun has set.
A holiday in pure beauty
Have you ever seen.
Such a blueness of sky. Such a clearness of water.
Heard.
Such a sharpness of bird calls; found such precision in a blue crab's leg from a green shell.
Felt.
Coolness of water, reflecting the sunlight in each wind induced wave. Seen intricacy in the veins of leaves, discipline in the swimming of fish.
Touched the fineness of the soft white sand, cushions under your soles.
Think of how small you are, how inconsequential. Not half as beautiful, the man made world, not half as peaceful and happy.
I want to melt... into the log I lay on, soaking in the warmth and the sounds around me. I want to sink into the sand, into granules just as fine, and dissolve into the water, all consuming. I want to leave no footprints, no sign that I existed in this beautiful world, too beautiful to be spoiled, by me or my kind.
Such a blueness of sky. Such a clearness of water.
Heard.
Such a sharpness of bird calls; found such precision in a blue crab's leg from a green shell.
Felt.
Coolness of water, reflecting the sunlight in each wind induced wave. Seen intricacy in the veins of leaves, discipline in the swimming of fish.
Touched the fineness of the soft white sand, cushions under your soles.
Think of how small you are, how inconsequential. Not half as beautiful, the man made world, not half as peaceful and happy.
I want to melt... into the log I lay on, soaking in the warmth and the sounds around me. I want to sink into the sand, into granules just as fine, and dissolve into the water, all consuming. I want to leave no footprints, no sign that I existed in this beautiful world, too beautiful to be spoiled, by me or my kind.
Jaded
Jaded, we are all jaded. We look at each others' faces and we question.
Cynical, we are all cynical. We look at a good thing and find in it an ulterior motive.
Love is an alien word, we don't hear it, we don't use it, we are afraid of it. We are afraid to care, we are afraid to let others know who we are. We are afraid to show, we wear masks for faces.
The past is too far for us to believe anymore and the future, too bleak. The present is a hell we cannot burn in, and heaven is but imaginary.
What has become, say we. To the world what has become. But we hear and we speak and not listen.
We look at the faces we are supposed to love and question, measuring and analysing features, like the stock market.
We are the world?
Cynical, we are all cynical. We look at a good thing and find in it an ulterior motive.
Love is an alien word, we don't hear it, we don't use it, we are afraid of it. We are afraid to care, we are afraid to let others know who we are. We are afraid to show, we wear masks for faces.
The past is too far for us to believe anymore and the future, too bleak. The present is a hell we cannot burn in, and heaven is but imaginary.
What has become, say we. To the world what has become. But we hear and we speak and not listen.
We look at the faces we are supposed to love and question, measuring and analysing features, like the stock market.
We are the world?
Hope?
Sometimes, but rarely, I wonder if I made the right choices. I know that I would not have appreciated who I am now a little while ago. I know that in my head, I am still the traditional but broad-minded girl my parents raised me to be. But I have sprouted wings that belong to me today, and even though they are the same shade, they are wider, better. I know that on some levels, what I'm doing is perhaps not right. On some levels though, it is.
I have some hope. I only hope that this hope is not in vain, like every other time in my life.
I have some hope. I only hope that this hope is not in vain, like every other time in my life.
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