You are lost, feeling your wounds with your fingers, stabbing and jabbing, running through them, feeling your blood between your fingers, like oil slick, you know the smell, you know the grimy texture, you sniff and almost cough up more of it through your stomach. The process of self discovery, exploration, all the signs of what an infant feels and absorbs. The symptoms of being in a world where suddenly everything is a variable. The child grows up and while growing up continues to explore. As his body and mind permit him. His limbs move about and find those awkward protrusions, the invariably present cavities, the excrement and the process of self discovery continues.
You step into a temple seeking another meaning and find it teeming with a bevy of people. People who are so lost they don’t even know that there is a process of self exploration. The bells jar your ears and you shift heavily. The stomach churning vehemently. No medicine in sight. You feel your life seeping through your fingers and giving way to contamination. You shift heavily on your feet and end up on the bed. Few rapid breaths later, you untangle yourself, jolted from the reverie, the sweet intoxicant of the perfume haunting your thoughts till the next night and stumble out of the promise of self discovery onto the streets of being lost. The journey continues.
You travel miles and let the butterflies fluttering in your stomach take control, cling to the conical heads of your ears, lifting you in the air. Flailing, flickering, kicking your legs about, you circle the horizons and land on your haunches, crashing, bleeding to death. Passing through all the flashes of monstrosity meted out since conception. The pain of being, the pain of seeing, THE PAIN…..
All the images imprinted on your mind, you find the meaning. That there is no meaning. You walk back holding gathered, close to your heart, the remains of what was, the evidence of a journey made, and submit the YOU to the finality of being YOU. Nothing changed paths, but none stood still. You come a full circle, womb to womb.
TRAPPED BETWEEN THE WALLS OF THE LONG ALLEYWAY TO PLEASURE.
You step into a temple seeking another meaning and find it teeming with a bevy of people. People who are so lost they don’t even know that there is a process of self exploration. The bells jar your ears and you shift heavily. The stomach churning vehemently. No medicine in sight. You feel your life seeping through your fingers and giving way to contamination. You shift heavily on your feet and end up on the bed. Few rapid breaths later, you untangle yourself, jolted from the reverie, the sweet intoxicant of the perfume haunting your thoughts till the next night and stumble out of the promise of self discovery onto the streets of being lost. The journey continues.
You travel miles and let the butterflies fluttering in your stomach take control, cling to the conical heads of your ears, lifting you in the air. Flailing, flickering, kicking your legs about, you circle the horizons and land on your haunches, crashing, bleeding to death. Passing through all the flashes of monstrosity meted out since conception. The pain of being, the pain of seeing, THE PAIN…..
All the images imprinted on your mind, you find the meaning. That there is no meaning. You walk back holding gathered, close to your heart, the remains of what was, the evidence of a journey made, and submit the YOU to the finality of being YOU. Nothing changed paths, but none stood still. You come a full circle, womb to womb.
TRAPPED BETWEEN THE WALLS OF THE LONG ALLEYWAY TO PLEASURE.
6 comments:
Meaning is what we create. Your writing leaves so much room for interpretation, even so without doubt of what you are not so subtly hinting at.
Mere stereotypical phrases would fall severely short of aptly praising your style of writing. Oxymorons like "lucid abstractions" and "perfectly aimed ramblings" are more like it.
Good luck. Look forward to some more splendid writing. :)
good though abhinav bhaiya.....totally related to it......
ur abstract sense of world n urself does leave an impression.....
The pain goes deeper when you realize, inspite of coming full circle, you haven,t achieved Nirvana!! ooh the misery!
"That there is no Meaning"? Don't really agree. Neither do I agree with full circle. But I guess it is not about agreeing or disagreeing. Anyway, looking at life like a spiral rather than a circle will both add meaning to life and also explain the reasons behind the pain.
Anyway, well said and you totally painted a picture. "cling to the conical heads of your ears" great expression :-).
Hi!
This comment is in response to this post, which talks about loss of meaning, and your earlier post, "Paint It", which according to me, conveys the restlessness as a result of this loss (Pardon my wrong/simplified/in-agreeable interpretations!)
I don't know if this quest for Meaning and the eventual conclusion "That there is no meaning" in your writing is entirely personal, or is alluding to life in general. In either case, it did strike a chord and made me think over and over! I was reminded of this post while reading something else, and thus came back here after so long to share it.
Wanted to point out a translated work of the Punjabi poet Paash. It tries to give some answer. The poem might appear to give a social message, but I felt that it has an extremely personal connotation to it. Please do read here.
Regards!
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