In Memoriam

A flower plucked too soon...

One long year. My cell phone still has his numbers. There are times they get dialed by chance. I know I shall never get to hear from him. Never. Strong are his family members and an inspiration is his sister. I haven’t met people such as them who are living each day with sheer strength. 

pic courtesy:google

Every time I have felt loss of hope, loss of so many other things which he alone was privy to, I have read, re-read texts written by him, messages, mails sent for keeping alive his words, “ It’s a challenge, take it!” I am now left with those alone and those are my treasures for the journey i must take all by myself to meet him again. A visit to his Facebook page.. no longer frequent. IT PAINS!!

I have lost someone who was watchful enough to see I wasn’t crumbling within, many others he knew would end up saying the same. He had been a true confidant. Everybody’s listener, guide and a one to one at that. 

It has been hard for all of us to accept his absence. It certainly is difficult to stay composed and wish wherever our buddy is to be in peace if that’s what death gifts. But we do.


                              “ If tears could build a stairway, and memories a lane,
                               I'd walk right up to heaven and bring you home again.”

~ On one of my best friends’ first death anniversary :the 26th of Nov’2013****************************************************************************

#6 key

If we see the moon coming to its full size, we also get to see it gradually disappearing…Its appearance changes and with it changes the view of all that is visible in the open. Sometimes, there is a need of artificial light to see the street we are on and the other times it’s otherwise.

Alignment of grief, happiness and nothingness bring life to full view.

Such are the ways life poses divided: happy, sad, piece by piece sad and piece by piece (in modern language) “okay”. Each of these orbital phases help us evolve, become humble and receptive/ rejective in more than accepted believable terms. With time we learn to train our emotions. There are times when grief overwhelms our friends and family. We see them break through different layers of sunkenness and we find ourselves positioned in a firmer place: coaxing, coalescing, combating a situation hard for the self to retain the sang froid. But we do it,nevertheless. Just letting them know, “I am here”. It is just “I” that can be offered at a time when the waning period strikes the other. It doesn't establish our detachment but our strong steering ability.

Such moments come to us in bulk. And strange enough for us to believe we need no crash course to upgrade ourselves…the steering ability just happens. 

                                                  

With both the lock and the key in our hands we are an amazing piece of creation. There are times we are hemmed in locking our abilities, our emotion, our nature and there are times we are to flung open the doors.

The key unlocks when the judge in us turns it the way we think is right.

©p.db

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#5 baby pink times

A lot walks to and fro when one sits down to brain out all that our childhood stay put. In its warmth, in its soft breezy fragrant arms the memories of the houses we grow up in, the fingers we held firm while toddling around the larger world breathes fresh. Those talks of the “big people” always kept us curious. What did they talk all the time? Such and more childish questions prowled into our little minds. Any older kid trying to rough us into his/her arms and dishonoured we felt, saying and sometimes murmuring too, “I am big enough now.”

Today when we position big enough, all that we have walked past seem so pleasant. A walk into the houses we grew up in, we breathed our first, the people who wiped our drools and loved to hear us utter the incognizant babbles…Everything, I mean everything seems so dear.

Childhood holds the treasure no treasure box packed with the riches of the world locks. It holds our baby pink times. Times of pure,unquestioned, undefined belongingness.

                                                “till the heart of me weeps to belong
                                 To the old Sunday evenings at home, with winter outside”

To be loved. To be loved unconditionally is what we grow up wanting from life. And lets believe we already have it around us…It is there sitting pretty tight letting us accept, want, glorify our failures our successes, our good and not so good times. And thus we are… taking a walk around the planet earth, overwhelmed, questioning, bookmarking...tagging all that comes and does not with us.

And suddenly the world opens wide...

#4 lump

Since long the clouds have lumped together and are in full sight. They seem to have grown fond of this place. Its dark, its teary, its there hanging high!!! Just staring, guardianing each unique pieces of Creation. They are heavy with promises, thick with hopes.When a month or two back it was blistering and we all had boiled in the agony of light, complain became our constant company. Now it is pouring and pouring quite unknockingly.... The sentient species that we are, we love to puzzle ourselves with ifs and buts, thises and thats. Nothing halcyon excites.

Such is the plight of our mind. The dark and the light seemingly bonded but we choose to look the other side.

I choose to sketch the ear to ear smile all the time. And pass it on to the next. Smiles tear away the woven walls between you and me, between each thread. And let me share with you a secret: the clouds most often drop in the laughter while I  pass in thunder. They are the friends we look for when drops from seas and ocean surge in our eyes. And... we are left never alone.

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#3 belles-lettres

“Gormi Jokhon tutlo na aar pakhar haowa Sarbote – thandahote daure elum – Shillong namak porbote” (When the heat of summer could not bemet even with fans and soft drinks, I rushed to the hills of Shillong)

You have been here not ones but thrice! O great bard! Under those pine trees your words blossomed. Clouds here come blanketing fast, pretty fast, just the way your verses pace into the hearts of your readers….pouring life to breezy, hazy thoughts..As I strolled in and out of a rich, fertile piece of plot, the richness of it made me walk opulent of scheming prose. Jeetbhumi* laden with belles-lettres hasn't as yet shown signs of molting when all others around have. It stands somber,emanating pedantry holding the beacon of wisdom. The pine trees still fans the pillars ones which lent its shoulders to the ageless bard. 

Even the alphabets must have had their share of joy in coming together for you...

A hundred bow and a plenty more…

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*Indian Nobel laureate Tagore stayed in this house in Shillong( capital of Meghalaya, India)during his second visit in the year 1921 owned then by his niece, Manisha Debi.