Ignorance is Bliss

4 Nov, 2013


Sometimes in our lives we defy logic. We act exactly contrary to the rationality a situation demands. You are lonely and scared, but you fill your life with meaningless relationships and emotional detachment. Why? Does it solve any purpose? Maybe denying the existence of a problem works in completely wiping it out of a system. It's like saying, there is no cancer and I will not die. Then there won't be any need for painful therapy. Because, you see, you're dying anyway.

Ignorance is bliss. Don't you see?

A cold winter morning

I could not have known
Winter would find me longing
For the sight of you again

Fragments of me you owned
Laden with warmth of my affection

Needed by me they are now
In this distraught desolation

To ask for them, I dare not
For seeing you will be hard
But reclaiming remnants of what was, me
Harder still

Death

On an online discussion group a couple of weeks back (the lovely Indiblogeshwaris), the topic of talk turned hovered around dealing with the loss of a loved one: by death, betrayal or a separation. Everyone had a lot to say about coping with break-ups and betrayals, but death was difficult. For a couple of minutes, I sat back and thought of a meaningful reply, but, nothing came to my mind. That's when I realized this wasn't a topic I could reply to with a single lined witticism or an anecdote with a message. It is one that requires a great deal of introspection.

The first thing I asked myself: do you really ever get over the loss of a loved one? 

The answer is an obvious and painful no.

There is no technique, no meditation,no counselling and no pill that can purge you of that grief. The void people leave behind is permanent.  

I have lost family, I have lost friends. Each death took me by surprise and left me in unsure territory. 

After the disbelief subsides, you reluctantly embrace acceptance. 

First come the memories. Words, caresses, images... There is just so much that can remind you of a person. A cricket match. A song. The moon. It's all very bittersweet. You want to remember the way things were but it also makes you so sad.

Then comes anger and vexation at the way things turned out to be, a desolation of sorts. The what ifs and if only. 

Then, just when you're trying to go on, you see or read something that reminds you of them and you yearn with all of your being to communicate that thought, but you can't... And it hits you. Grief. 

In most cultures, there is a mourning period the family of the deceased have to observe. I am a huge supporter of this practice. Don the white, relinquish the color, because that is how you are feeling inside. Death is something you just can't shrug off. You need the time off to grieve. You need to cry, reminisce, think and be with the people going through the same. 

But the mourning can't go on forever. At the end of the period, you pick up from where you left off and let life go on. As usual. Things have changed, but, that's how it is. Moving on is always the hardest.

When someone close to you dies, a part of you changes irrevocably. It could signal the end of a belief system: you tend to question theism or you take to it with an increased vehemence. It could alter the way you looked at life, it most certainly makes you more aware of reality. It might also bring along a huge change in lifestyle.  In our scheme of things, we don't realize how much a person brings to our life, till we lose them. We take a lot for granted: the support of our loved ones, the constant care of our parents, our health, our luck...

We just take too much for granted. We disregard mortality. And when we suddenly encounter loss, permanent loss, we can't reconcile ourselves with the way things change. Hence, the need for rigorous coping mechanisms.

As time goes on, the ache dulls. You reconcile yourself with reality and get back to routine. The memories will always remain. What changes with time is the way you reminisce. Tears lead to soft smiles and maybe even laughter, when remembering a funny instance or a silly nuance. Yes, there will always be that little glint in your eye when you think of them. That is the real eulogy to the dead.

"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live"- APWBD

When you realize that death is but a necessity, as real and tangible as life itself, you cease to be terrified of it. You can focus on life better, then. When you know what each day means, you can focus on making it prettier. When you realize how precious happiness and love are, you can focus on spreading more. 

Yes, death is terrible, but so is a life not realized.

Coming to terms

You're dead and gone. Why is this fact so difficult to digest? You're gone. I won't ever see you smiling back at me again. That night outside my house was the last. The wistful, promising smile. I was happy. For you. I knew you were too. What happened there, kid? Godmother, that's what you called me, once. I wish I could be a better one. I can't turn back time and it hurts. Remember that day in Delhi? I told you I can't ever live with regrets. Not any more, kid. You are gone. It's just irreconcilable. I won't ever get a chance to, well, be there, with you, for you. I loved you, kid, I loved you in that pure simple way that you can only reserve for someone who you call your own. And that you were. I don't know what we were, best friends we called it. But it was there, all that love and care. Us. Now you're gone.
I thought of writing an obituary. But how do I put in to words what you meant to me? Words were your forte, were always your forte, I am only borrowing inspiration. They haunt me, your words, things you said in that heavily accented high pitched voice of yours. They come to me when I least expect them to and then they just stay, hanging in the air. You once told me playing with your words can get you anywhere. You just have to choose and use them right. Yet, we always ran out of them when we wanted to talk, didn't we? It's strange.
Today, sitting by myself and watching the rain, I'm trying to come to terms with what this means, if at all things have any meaning. I'll take my time dealing with the grief. You always knew that about me, didn't you?
You were brilliant and lovely. I would catch hold of random friends and tell them about your genius. It made me so happy.
The love you gave me was, is, so precious. You were one of those who loved unabashedly. I remember one afternoon when, sitting in my room, you sang me a lullaby. You were, undoubtedly, pathetic at singing, but the passion with which the words flowed out...

'...So long I've been loving you,
I will never forget you...'

That is the thing.

Note to Self

The fortress stands secluded, far removed from everyone, everything. Remote. With the doors closed, there's perfect isolation. Access denied. But the window makes the reverse impossible: the Sun pours in with it's happiness, the moon, calmness.

The fortress stands safe, secure. Nothing is allowed to infiltrate. That which is disease outside, becomes cure inside. The very thing that maims and weakens transforms into my strength and solace. Roles reverse, countenance changes. An inversion of personality.

The fortress, though an illusion, makes what is real surface. Such is the irony. But that is what makes it so special. The fortress is a catalyst. It's more than just bricks and stones. Refuge.

It is difficult to say which derives meaning from who. Whether it's me, defining and creating the fortress and taking it to something extraordinary or the fortress itself, instigating everything, instilling the protective emotions. Maybe it's a mutual existence, a fortunate one.

The fortress stands, comfortable for the lone owner.

Today

Today is meaningless. Today does not exist. Today I'm anchorless. Guided by instinct. I have no plans. I have no ideas. I have no will to act on my duties. Today I want to waste. Today I want to sit by the window and smell the air. Today I want to immerse myself in words and queer thoughts. I want to feel my brain drown and swirl down in the waters of feeling, poetry and emotion. Today I don't want to be rigid. Today is the day strange things happen. Today is when I stop thinking. I see the brown curtains and the yellow painted walls. I see the colours merge as the wind blows over the curtains. I see myself sitting with a cushion. I see myself separated. My hands move on their own. My eyes dart about. My feet are still and grounded. My mind wanders and directs me words and I write them. Today mind and body are not one. Today I could not wake up on time, the alarm did not ring. It was strange. Then I had a call from a friend I had not spoken with since a long time. It was stranger. At breakfast, I realised- today was not to be. Today is abstract- it has no form. Today just happened- it has no design. Today happened because the universe plays dice. My self is negligible to the universe- it did not care that I can not be like a human today. So, today happened. But it's meaningless to me.

Damage

'Stronger than you think' is a lie, a fallacy. You cannot be stronger than what you know yourself to be. You can only try to look strong, pretend. But pretension won't protect you when the blows strike. So, why pretend?


May be it's because of the pressure the world puts on you- to be strong, to be a hero. Right from the start, it's always 'be successful', 'be smart', 'be cool', 'be better', be the best. There is no tolerance for weakness. We won't admit to weakness in ourselves either, no matter how load the screams of our conscience are. There are no takers for weakness. Nobody tolerates, lest appreciates your flaw.


What is light? What is the theoretical, scientific definition of light? Absence of darkness, some would say. Going by a parallel logic, I may as well state that strength is nothing but the absence of weakness. You cannot determine what makes you strong or how strong you could be until you know about your weakness. But how will you know about them if you don't accept the fact that they exist?


I guess what I'm trying to say is- it's okay. It's okay to be weak. It's okay to make a few mistakes. It's okay to cry once in a while. It's okay to feel blue. Everybody has shades of grey. It's okay to have those emotional wounds. It's okay to be a little damaged. It's okay to have a little murkiness in your past. It's okay to sometimes poke at them and immerse yourself in the bittersweet pain. Because no matter how much you ignore them, they are a part of you, begging recognition.


They don't heal. You never know when was it or what was it that scarred you so, or maybe you do but don't wish to accept it. You're not as strong as you give yourself credit to be. You put too much pressure on yourself to stay strong. But it takes only a trigger and the things you never knew you were holding inside come pouring out. Just a twitch.

We have both light and dark inside of us. Then why are we always aiming for the bright side and ignoring the dark? Ignorance won't make it go away. Granted, nobody wants to see the dark. But neglecting it won't help either.


What to do, then? Talk about it. May be you could tell people who care about it. Okay, that might take a lot of searching to do but may be you would be able to find someone who'd understand. Then, you'd get advised. How to heal, how to mend etc. You'll get helped.
But what about the stuff that can't be repaired? Permanent Damage? Learn to live with it, that's my call.
Protection from stimuli can keep you safe for only just as long. What's broken cannot be unbroken. Coming undone is a pigment of your imagination.

About Death

'Do not pity the death, Harry. Pity the living..' - A.P.W.B.D.

The dead have moved on, passed on..

It is only the living that will remain forever stuck in the labyrinth of memories..

I can never reveal my greatest fear

I can never reveal my greatest fear
The terror binds my tongue
I have come to terms with the inevitable
But i don't know how it'll change me
As sure as the earth turns
I'll wake up one day to find her gone
Not my flesh or blood,but a bond just as strong
and when the last goodbye comes
I hope she'll know how much she meant
And how she changed the world around me
how she is the reason for a million smiles
And that i've always thought of her with moist eyes
Wish we could live twice.

Save thy Soul

I'm losing a part of me. Not just any part, it's the one that describes my very essence. Can't figure out a way to hold it, to be. The unthinkable has happened. I'm letting myself become engulfed in the crowd. Swallowed to the point of not being able to turn back.
I've always loved myself foremost. And I've always also had reason to do so. I've prided in living by myself, my ideals and judgement alone. People have come and gone, and I've found precious ones. But never,in the process have I compromised my integrity. I've been brave enough to let go and walk alone.
That was the me I adored.
Now it's just bits and pieces.
I no longer create or evolve, just 'do' to obtain sanction.
There comes a point in our lives when we realize we're not even half of what we'd dreamt to be.
This is mine.

Black

There is no knight in shining armor, no fountain of elixir, no everlasting unconditional love, no paradise upon earth, no one who'd know you better than you, no one who'd ever understand. There is nothing that could comfort you on a cold moonless night, nothing that could lessen the pain of losing someone, nothing to do justice to unreciprocated love. Nothing that could last forever, nothing that could outlast pain. Nothing beyond the everexpanding darkness of the skies.