Motifs of My Mind

Thoughts occur to me. All kinds of it. They always have since the time my senses were born and they could grasp the passing breeze and translate them into new words that I learnt every day. It has been, arguably, the greatest joy of my life to be able to feel the scents, the colours, the sounds, the touch, the tastes of life - and perhaps, also a source of a very deep and personal romance of sadness. This is very difficult to portray.

But honestly, even as I say it, I do not comprehend it fully - just sense it. But it is such a tangible truth. I do not have an option but to feel. Every minute. All the time. That is how I grew up. All the books I read, all the poetry I remember, the wonders that I saw through all the beautiful relationships I had - or did not have in my life, the chasms, the overflows, all the softness and principles and moralities and values that are ingrained in me - are what make me ME. They are me. Undeniably.
And I think I am not an exception. Each one of us is just that in some way or the other.

Then Life happened. Marriage happened. Society happened. Office happened. People happened from all quarters.
My only window to the real me is through a very few things now. My Books, My Writing, My Father, a couple of very close friends - and none of these are officially or rightfully a part of my life anymore ! My time is named, either paid for or owned or invigilated upon. And I am losing things...my enthusiasm, interest, my creative faculties, my purpose, my everyday happiness.

This isn't a complaint in any subtle form. Not because it is I who has taken every single decision in my life but because even if I had to live life all over again, I do not see anything different that I may have done. I would definitely want the same parents, the very same friends, the same husband and the same myself. But still there are these endless bubbles of nothingness and acute loneliness and craving for something which keeps me alive; rightfully or otherwise. I should find complete and sealed happiness in this present life which is apparently so very perfect from every external angle! I know I should...

Perhaps it has to do with me. My expectations, my independence of mind, my very personal relationship with myself which is difficult to translate, my inability to accept people as they are, my expectations which are far from practical. And a host of other undulations in my nature.

Life will go on, no matter what and that is so amazing and so terrible at the same time. I love this paradox and see a reflection of this in myself. Life does depress me very acutely at times, and it does affect. It hurts. But I know I am special, as we all are in different ways, and there still exist moments that are worth outliving a thousand morbid hours. I look at them and I live on.

Should I have a little fairy, I will give her all my treasures - my thoughts, my little wisdoms, my books, my pictures, my favourite songs and most of all, the freedom, the courage and the spirit to live her life her way.

Someday I will be very old. And perhaps finally loosened from all the good-looking ties that are nice-to-have in life. If I have a year to live when I can breathe my own breeze, I will leave back a book -

Motifs of My Mind...

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