I WANDER'D lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;Beside the lake, beneath the trees,Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,They stretch'd in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:Ten thousand saw I at a glance,Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thoughtWhat wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;And then my heart with pleasure fills,And dances with the daffodils.
By William Wordsworth (1770-1850).
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Addiction
Addiction, Obsession, Love
Waiting until he could be sure she was sleeping peacefully, he held her close to him, caressing the skin on her back while her breathing became rhythmic. Once she felt exhaustion, she was out like the proverbial light, and he knew it would not be a long wait. Smiling softly to himself, he was aware of the thousand and one details of intimate knowledge about her, his mind held in reservoir, though the swift and almost effortless return of those long-buried memories left him feeling uneasy. In but a few minutes, he succeeded in wiping out three years spent bereft of her, as if they had always been together. Forgetting those years could only lead to more pain.
Blissfully unaware of all things but what her dreams revealed to her, she rolled over on her back, the sheet resting near the womanly curves just above her waist. Filtered light from the full moon revealed small naked breasts slowly moving up and down in cadence with deep sleeping breaths. Her nipples, even in their relaxed state were almost taut, standing as two crowns upon round towers of ivory. She always complained that one breast was noticeably rounder than the other, usually coupling the complaint that, with the years and gravity’s relentless influence, her breasts were beginning to sag. Yet in his eyes, they were beautifully sculpted identical twins, now resting as soft mounds upon her chest. Years ago, he used to joke, calling them the “pert and perky twins”. Yet tonight, in the hours that led up to this moment, those breasts had been a symbol of much that he secretly desired, fruits that he should consequently have never tasted ever again.
In this same bed, in this same bedroom, in this same apartment she had owned for many years, the ghosts began to whisper to him. The apartment even smelled the same, though now the bedroom filled with the deep musky after-scent of sexual joining. In a silent, practiced movement, he carefully swung off the lumpy mattress and out of the familiar bed in one fluid motion. His naked body ended up in the old, half-broken chair that sat at the computer desk in the corner of the room.
During the three years since the last time he had visited her apartment and vowed never to do so again, it had remained pretty much the same. Besides mementos from her last disastrous relationship that had ended in a broken engagement, nothing had really changed. This sense of familiarity should have calmed him and offered some sense of balance. Instead, it was scaring the living daylights out of him.
Before their lovemaking, lovemaking that he was well aware some would call ‘desperate’ while others, more discerning and perhaps more romantic, might have seen see as ‘passionate’ (though it was neither and both), he understood that a decision had to be made. Although, in his defense, he assumed the decision had been made when she walked out on him three years beforehand. The mistake, as he now suspected, was in killing the mind without killing the heart — what is called in modern relationship parlance “failure to insure proper closure”. By ignoring this need, they both hurtled along, two blind children caught on the rollercoaster of life, trying to avoid each other, knowing full well that fate would sooner or later wield its power over them once again. Today, unexpectedly, the time had come to end this rollercoaster ride and decide which daunting path must be followed. Yet, if it had not been for his dog Smokie he may have been able to avoid the whole painful episode. Then, again, he realized, if he did not have a dog, he still may have decided to take that solitary Saturday afternoon walk and consequently may not have avoided this heartache. Maybe if the park had not been so inviting. Or maybe if he had turned left on a path instead of going right. Or right instead of going left. Maybe if he had not met his neighbor and stood to chat for ten minutes, he would have missed it altogether.
Or maybe it happened exactly the way it was meant to happen. Maybe, no matter where his legs took him and no matter what time of day or night, they led him just where they were meant to lead. Maybe, no matter what turn he made, no matter how early or late he decided to walk or get into his car… Perhaps fate is not determined by the lackadaisical whims of chance. Maybe, just maybe, he realized in cold, paralyzing fear, there are simply no maybe’s in this lifetime
Waiting until he could be sure she was sleeping peacefully, he held her close to him, caressing the skin on her back while her breathing became rhythmic. Once she felt exhaustion, she was out like the proverbial light, and he knew it would not be a long wait. Smiling softly to himself, he was aware of the thousand and one details of intimate knowledge about her, his mind held in reservoir, though the swift and almost effortless return of those long-buried memories left him feeling uneasy. In but a few minutes, he succeeded in wiping out three years spent bereft of her, as if they had always been together. Forgetting those years could only lead to more pain.
Blissfully unaware of all things but what her dreams revealed to her, she rolled over on her back, the sheet resting near the womanly curves just above her waist. Filtered light from the full moon revealed small naked breasts slowly moving up and down in cadence with deep sleeping breaths. Her nipples, even in their relaxed state were almost taut, standing as two crowns upon round towers of ivory. She always complained that one breast was noticeably rounder than the other, usually coupling the complaint that, with the years and gravity’s relentless influence, her breasts were beginning to sag. Yet in his eyes, they were beautifully sculpted identical twins, now resting as soft mounds upon her chest. Years ago, he used to joke, calling them the “pert and perky twins”. Yet tonight, in the hours that led up to this moment, those breasts had been a symbol of much that he secretly desired, fruits that he should consequently have never tasted ever again.
In this same bed, in this same bedroom, in this same apartment she had owned for many years, the ghosts began to whisper to him. The apartment even smelled the same, though now the bedroom filled with the deep musky after-scent of sexual joining. In a silent, practiced movement, he carefully swung off the lumpy mattress and out of the familiar bed in one fluid motion. His naked body ended up in the old, half-broken chair that sat at the computer desk in the corner of the room.
During the three years since the last time he had visited her apartment and vowed never to do so again, it had remained pretty much the same. Besides mementos from her last disastrous relationship that had ended in a broken engagement, nothing had really changed. This sense of familiarity should have calmed him and offered some sense of balance. Instead, it was scaring the living daylights out of him.
Before their lovemaking, lovemaking that he was well aware some would call ‘desperate’ while others, more discerning and perhaps more romantic, might have seen see as ‘passionate’ (though it was neither and both), he understood that a decision had to be made. Although, in his defense, he assumed the decision had been made when she walked out on him three years beforehand. The mistake, as he now suspected, was in killing the mind without killing the heart — what is called in modern relationship parlance “failure to insure proper closure”. By ignoring this need, they both hurtled along, two blind children caught on the rollercoaster of life, trying to avoid each other, knowing full well that fate would sooner or later wield its power over them once again. Today, unexpectedly, the time had come to end this rollercoaster ride and decide which daunting path must be followed. Yet, if it had not been for his dog Smokie he may have been able to avoid the whole painful episode. Then, again, he realized, if he did not have a dog, he still may have decided to take that solitary Saturday afternoon walk and consequently may not have avoided this heartache. Maybe if the park had not been so inviting. Or maybe if he had turned left on a path instead of going right. Or right instead of going left. Maybe if he had not met his neighbor and stood to chat for ten minutes, he would have missed it altogether.
Or maybe it happened exactly the way it was meant to happen. Maybe, no matter where his legs took him and no matter what time of day or night, they led him just where they were meant to lead. Maybe, no matter what turn he made, no matter how early or late he decided to walk or get into his car… Perhaps fate is not determined by the lackadaisical whims of chance. Maybe, just maybe, he realized in cold, paralyzing fear, there are simply no maybe’s in this lifetime
Divine
Let's make a pact, in our next lives let’s try harder to find each other much before we did in this life, it would save us a lot of precious time.
That's the only thing that I remember about that night. Neither the pain in my chest, nor the look of betrayal on her face.
Nothing else.
48 hours back I was working in a bank as a manager.
My job, boring & repetitive was approving home loans for people.
I had been working there for the last 2 years. Took no leave, no vacations. Gave everything to my job. I couldn’t afford not to.
Especially from the kind of background I was coming from. It was like a dream come true for me. I was doing good, but I was still unsatisfied. I wanted something more, something else, but I had no idea what that was.
I was getting married next Sunday, that’s 3 days from now. My girlfriend of 2 yrs & I were finally doing it after 2 years of courtship.
A mutual friend of ours had introduced us and we literally hit it "like a house on fire".
They say your whole life flashes in front of your eyes when you are dying.
However, in my case only the last 2 days flashed in front of me.
MONDAY
Like any normal person I hated Mondays, but not as much as this Monday.
I got fired from my job. The job that meant everything to me & yet nothing.
I had approved a loan of a considerable high amount, & the borrower had defaulted.
Some one had to be the scapegoat & in this case it was me. My signature of approval was there on the papers.
The worst day of my life.
Especially because I had an extra special date with April in a restaurant she had been talking about for a month.
She had got a reservation over there after 2 weeks.
Knowing me April had made an entry in my organizer about the dinner.
She knows me well, she knew me well.
I had nothing to do. Watched a crappy movie at an obscure theatre, grabbed a couple of drinks in a pub nearby & started for the restaurant, with a migraine of course.
d table was full o empty dishes when I reached d place.
d waiter, a guy in his 40's asked april "sum dessert ma'am???"""
i told him "no thnk u just kleen d table" shheeeesh........
how dumb can u b???
v just arrived, just sat on a table & instead of kleenin d table u ask me if i need sum dessert???
i'll make it a point 2 complain bout u.
& then ik saw aprils face. her i's were red & swelled up.
she was lukin at me. did she find out????did she know bout me???
april had never bn a quite girl. but i cud sense she was holding herself.
she does know. i m sure.
"how cud u do dis 2 me?, i trusted u, u used me, how cud u?" blah blah blah....... GOTTA WORK ON DA BREAK UP
Life cud’nt b better. B it fired from a job, & ur luv dumpin u.
I was broken. Had no idea wat 2 do. I pawned my rolex for a gun.
A .45 caliber Israeli made hand gun.
I hired a room at paradise inn.
Two vodkas down.
Knock knock.
“Hi I m viollette, hows life?
Hey.
“june sent me, he asked me 2 cheer u up.”
.
“june, huh”
I was’nt in d mood for nythng.. june knew better.
She was cute. I asked her if she had a bf?
She said yes.
I said” wat if ur bf was fuckin sum oder chick at d same time as u were wid me.
She luked at me wid glazed I’s and said wat else?
I’d just lick d oder woman’s tit.
Just cuz he’s fukin sum 1, does’nt mean he luvs her.
Then she asked me bout d burn on my face.
I was 16, a frend o mine was tryin 2 siphon petrol outta my dad’s car.
He got 2 much o fuel in his mouth & he spitted it out.
Spitted it out on me, I was holdin a cigarette in my hand.
D car blew, d whole neighbourhood cud hear it.
I was burnin & my dad, he came out & beat me till d fire brigade were on d spot.
I never saw my family from dat day onwards.
I was wastin my life away. Drugs, alcohol, I had no bearing.
Then, I saw a guy, in a crisp suit, he was goin sumwhere. He was goin 2 work..
That was it. I’d had ennuff. I spent my entire money o n a suit.
Made up a fake resume. And I was in. I got d job. My ‘dream job’
& then this happened. I was fired & I was dumped.
I walked all nite. well most of d nite wich was left
I was thinking that apartment belonged to me, why was I the one who was out on the roads. It should be her, she should be out. But I loved her, I’d hurt her. She deserves this much at least.
I wanted to kill myself. But how? Poison, jump, cutting my veins etc etc.
I took a cab over to the bridge, gave the cabbie a 100 , way to much over the fare.
I did’nt need any money now. With sheer determination and focus I climbed over the railing & readied myself. I saw the silent dark depthless river in front of me. Just flowing, never stoping, swallowing everything in its path. I could”nt do it, all of my determination just puffed away. LOSER DROWNS HIMSELF IN BROOKLYN RIVER.
That would be the 8th page news in the paper. Blaming everything on me. Ya. I was d loser who got fired from his job & blown off by his fiancé in one day. He could”nt take this much o failures in his life & under the pressure he killed himself.
But, y get killed if u can get urself immortalized, Like a hero.
The root of all d problems, septic. He was d 1 who fired me. Y don’t I hit him back.
I’ll get my nirvana, I’ll kill septic wid my gun n d cops will shoot me, thinking dat I was robbin d bank. Now dats d way 2 die. From page no 8 to page no 2. & who knows if I m luky I mite make it 2 page 1.
That was d best idea I ever had. I climbed bak d railing & stepped bak on d gravel.
I felt so relieved now, I had a mission at last, a purpose. My boss. He was the one, he was d one who ruined my life, he was d 1 who deserves 2 die.
I went bak 2 d motel, now dat I had a purpose. It was 4 AM wen I reached bak. Only 5 more hrs till d bank opens.
I slept like I had never slept before. Ironicaly those 5 hrs were d first & last hrs of sleep I ever had in my life.
I fixed d alrm at 8.30, just 4 hrs bak d alarm was at 7.00.
D alarm rang & I got up like a jack out o d box. I fixed my shirt, adjusted my gun & off I was. D last ride. I styepped out of d taxi & looked at doors I had bn walkin in thru d last 3 yrs. One last luk. Everybody in d bank acted like they had”nt herd bout my firing.
Excellent I had bn working there for d last 3 yrs, I thot I had sum gud frends here. Well, ur loss. FUCK U. I used my I card 2 get in 2 d ofiice area. I’d always wanted 2 p on my boss’s desk. & 2day was day. I opened d door 2 his cubicle & I was in d cubicle dat I deserved. A big office wid faincy paintings, n end o d line laptop sittin on a big wooden desk, a bathroom etc etc.
There was no one here, I wished d boss was here so I cud shoot him in d head twice, wait awhile & then d cops wud take me away. That wud most definitely b page 1 news. Everybody who reads d paper wud know bout me. Pleading insanity wud just add fuel 2 d fire.
But there was no 1 there. I tuk out d pistol & did wat I always wanted 2. I climbed my boss’s desk & let myself loose, I peed. I had bn savin it for d last 3 hrs. I did’nt go 2 d pathroom wen I woke up. I had bn savin myself, just for this moment. I sprayed like a hose, wetting each & everything wich came in “d range”. D bathroom door opened & there was my boss, shocked at c”in me standing on his desk & doin wat I was doin.
I was waiting for him. D very moment he jumped 2 open d door 2 get out I jumped upon him. His hand was on d lock, I grabbed his hand & twisted it. He gave out a shriek. I had bn waitin for dat sound for 2 yrs now. Now dat he had my attention I whipped out my pistol & shoved it in his face. Realising d gravity he gave in 2 me.
Then he started laffin. He said I was loser, & it was d most pathetic act he had ever cn. I hate b”in called a loser & dat 2 from sum 1 like him. I hit him with all my force on his head wid d gun. His head started 2 bleed like
1
That's the only thing that I remember about that night. Neither the pain in my chest, nor the look of betrayal on her face.
Nothing else.
48 hours back I was working in a bank as a manager.
My job, boring & repetitive was approving home loans for people.
I had been working there for the last 2 years. Took no leave, no vacations. Gave everything to my job. I couldn’t afford not to.
Especially from the kind of background I was coming from. It was like a dream come true for me. I was doing good, but I was still unsatisfied. I wanted something more, something else, but I had no idea what that was.
I was getting married next Sunday, that’s 3 days from now. My girlfriend of 2 yrs & I were finally doing it after 2 years of courtship.
A mutual friend of ours had introduced us and we literally hit it "like a house on fire".
They say your whole life flashes in front of your eyes when you are dying.
However, in my case only the last 2 days flashed in front of me.
MONDAY
Like any normal person I hated Mondays, but not as much as this Monday.
I got fired from my job. The job that meant everything to me & yet nothing.
I had approved a loan of a considerable high amount, & the borrower had defaulted.
Some one had to be the scapegoat & in this case it was me. My signature of approval was there on the papers.
The worst day of my life.
Especially because I had an extra special date with April in a restaurant she had been talking about for a month.
She had got a reservation over there after 2 weeks.
Knowing me April had made an entry in my organizer about the dinner.
She knows me well, she knew me well.
I had nothing to do. Watched a crappy movie at an obscure theatre, grabbed a couple of drinks in a pub nearby & started for the restaurant, with a migraine of course.
d table was full o empty dishes when I reached d place.
d waiter, a guy in his 40's asked april "sum dessert ma'am???"""
i told him "no thnk u just kleen d table" shheeeesh........
how dumb can u b???
v just arrived, just sat on a table & instead of kleenin d table u ask me if i need sum dessert???
i'll make it a point 2 complain bout u.
& then ik saw aprils face. her i's were red & swelled up.
she was lukin at me. did she find out????did she know bout me???
april had never bn a quite girl. but i cud sense she was holding herself.
she does know. i m sure.
"how cud u do dis 2 me?, i trusted u, u used me, how cud u?" blah blah blah....... GOTTA WORK ON DA BREAK UP
Life cud’nt b better. B it fired from a job, & ur luv dumpin u.
I was broken. Had no idea wat 2 do. I pawned my rolex for a gun.
A .45 caliber Israeli made hand gun.
I hired a room at paradise inn.
Two vodkas down.
Knock knock.
“Hi I m viollette, hows life?
Hey.
“june sent me, he asked me 2 cheer u up.”
.
“june, huh”
I was’nt in d mood for nythng.. june knew better.
She was cute. I asked her if she had a bf?
She said yes.
I said” wat if ur bf was fuckin sum oder chick at d same time as u were wid me.
She luked at me wid glazed I’s and said wat else?
I’d just lick d oder woman’s tit.
Just cuz he’s fukin sum 1, does’nt mean he luvs her.
Then she asked me bout d burn on my face.
I was 16, a frend o mine was tryin 2 siphon petrol outta my dad’s car.
He got 2 much o fuel in his mouth & he spitted it out.
Spitted it out on me, I was holdin a cigarette in my hand.
D car blew, d whole neighbourhood cud hear it.
I was burnin & my dad, he came out & beat me till d fire brigade were on d spot.
I never saw my family from dat day onwards.
I was wastin my life away. Drugs, alcohol, I had no bearing.
Then, I saw a guy, in a crisp suit, he was goin sumwhere. He was goin 2 work..
That was it. I’d had ennuff. I spent my entire money o n a suit.
Made up a fake resume. And I was in. I got d job. My ‘dream job’
& then this happened. I was fired & I was dumped.
I walked all nite. well most of d nite wich was left
I was thinking that apartment belonged to me, why was I the one who was out on the roads. It should be her, she should be out. But I loved her, I’d hurt her. She deserves this much at least.
I wanted to kill myself. But how? Poison, jump, cutting my veins etc etc.
I took a cab over to the bridge, gave the cabbie a 100 , way to much over the fare.
I did’nt need any money now. With sheer determination and focus I climbed over the railing & readied myself. I saw the silent dark depthless river in front of me. Just flowing, never stoping, swallowing everything in its path. I could”nt do it, all of my determination just puffed away. LOSER DROWNS HIMSELF IN BROOKLYN RIVER.
That would be the 8th page news in the paper. Blaming everything on me. Ya. I was d loser who got fired from his job & blown off by his fiancé in one day. He could”nt take this much o failures in his life & under the pressure he killed himself.
But, y get killed if u can get urself immortalized, Like a hero.
The root of all d problems, septic. He was d 1 who fired me. Y don’t I hit him back.
I’ll get my nirvana, I’ll kill septic wid my gun n d cops will shoot me, thinking dat I was robbin d bank. Now dats d way 2 die. From page no 8 to page no 2. & who knows if I m luky I mite make it 2 page 1.
That was d best idea I ever had. I climbed bak d railing & stepped bak on d gravel.
I felt so relieved now, I had a mission at last, a purpose. My boss. He was the one, he was d one who ruined my life, he was d 1 who deserves 2 die.
I went bak 2 d motel, now dat I had a purpose. It was 4 AM wen I reached bak. Only 5 more hrs till d bank opens.
I slept like I had never slept before. Ironicaly those 5 hrs were d first & last hrs of sleep I ever had in my life.
I fixed d alrm at 8.30, just 4 hrs bak d alarm was at 7.00.
D alarm rang & I got up like a jack out o d box. I fixed my shirt, adjusted my gun & off I was. D last ride. I styepped out of d taxi & looked at doors I had bn walkin in thru d last 3 yrs. One last luk. Everybody in d bank acted like they had”nt herd bout my firing.
Excellent I had bn working there for d last 3 yrs, I thot I had sum gud frends here. Well, ur loss. FUCK U. I used my I card 2 get in 2 d ofiice area. I’d always wanted 2 p on my boss’s desk. & 2day was day. I opened d door 2 his cubicle & I was in d cubicle dat I deserved. A big office wid faincy paintings, n end o d line laptop sittin on a big wooden desk, a bathroom etc etc.
There was no one here, I wished d boss was here so I cud shoot him in d head twice, wait awhile & then d cops wud take me away. That wud most definitely b page 1 news. Everybody who reads d paper wud know bout me. Pleading insanity wud just add fuel 2 d fire.
But there was no 1 there. I tuk out d pistol & did wat I always wanted 2. I climbed my boss’s desk & let myself loose, I peed. I had bn savin it for d last 3 hrs. I did’nt go 2 d pathroom wen I woke up. I had bn savin myself, just for this moment. I sprayed like a hose, wetting each & everything wich came in “d range”. D bathroom door opened & there was my boss, shocked at c”in me standing on his desk & doin wat I was doin.
I was waiting for him. D very moment he jumped 2 open d door 2 get out I jumped upon him. His hand was on d lock, I grabbed his hand & twisted it. He gave out a shriek. I had bn waitin for dat sound for 2 yrs now. Now dat he had my attention I whipped out my pistol & shoved it in his face. Realising d gravity he gave in 2 me.
Then he started laffin. He said I was loser, & it was d most pathetic act he had ever cn. I hate b”in called a loser & dat 2 from sum 1 like him. I hit him with all my force on his head wid d gun. His head started 2 bleed like
1
Shifts
U want adventure holly
Wen did I ever let u down?
Different Shifts
Oh! My Jesus
What about u holly?
U got a Man?
Wats dat sound?
Zooph.
Wakey
I feel like road kill, give me 5 minutes.
We r leavin at 7 don’t b late.
Beth u r not driving.
U better hurry up, v r runnin late.
I m havin fun.
U shud have sum water.
Ny guy dat gave it 2 me, I’d dump him rite away.
Nice parking. Thanks.
I shud’nt have wasted the effort.
C’mon keep up.
Oi, get 2 d bak.
Don’t go wandering off.
A real Kodak Moment?
U r having a laaf.
I don’t want ny stunts dis time.
Zooph.
Follow my lead.
Slow & ez.
Holly, FUCK OFF!!!!
Chuck us ur bag.
Cum on Let’s eet.
The cave is a lot cooler dan I thot.
I m just goin 2 take a luk round. Ok?
R u still behind me?
I m stuck.
Just keep breathin.
Just listen 2 me.
Take hold o my arm.
Hurry up.
Don’t tuch me.
Wen did I ever let u down?
Different Shifts
Oh! My Jesus
What about u holly?
U got a Man?
Wats dat sound?
Zooph.
Wakey
I feel like road kill, give me 5 minutes.
We r leavin at 7 don’t b late.
Beth u r not driving.
U better hurry up, v r runnin late.
I m havin fun.
U shud have sum water.
Ny guy dat gave it 2 me, I’d dump him rite away.
Nice parking. Thanks.
I shud’nt have wasted the effort.
C’mon keep up.
Oi, get 2 d bak.
Don’t go wandering off.
A real Kodak Moment?
U r having a laaf.
I don’t want ny stunts dis time.
Zooph.
Follow my lead.
Slow & ez.
Holly, FUCK OFF!!!!
Chuck us ur bag.
Cum on Let’s eet.
The cave is a lot cooler dan I thot.
I m just goin 2 take a luk round. Ok?
R u still behind me?
I m stuck.
Just keep breathin.
Just listen 2 me.
Take hold o my arm.
Hurry up.
Don’t tuch me.
The Storyteller
In my previous life I was a story teller.
Dragging myself from village to village, where people would throw me some coins to weave fantasy around their mundane lives.
At my will I would make them laugh and cry.
Children rolled over and laughed as my characters faced the most absurd plots I could weave.
Except her, who would neither laugh nor shed a tear, as she stood there staring at me.
Challenging.
Would you like to hear a story? I asked her.
“Not unless it is the story of all stories” She said.
And wherever I went she would be there watching and listening, challenging “Can you tell me the story of all stories?”
How could there be one story that defined all stories?
And if there were what value would I have? If there would be just one story to tell?
“You are of no value to me” she said, “unless you can tell me the story of all stories”
And she walked away challenging. Never looking back amused.
Silly woman, how could I make a living if I told the same story again and again?
And then I died.
Never being able to tell another story.
Have you ever died of thirst in presence of a glass of water that you cannot see?
And into this life she came back again.
She took my hand and showed me the ocean and asked me to see and observe.
For the stories of all stories was there, a story that had no end and had no beginning.
Each rising swell a new plot that arose from the ocean and then merged back instantly, endlessly, unpredictably, inexorably.
Millions arising and immediately going back to the source.
The source, the source of all stories.
Dragging myself from village to village, where people would throw me some coins to weave fantasy around their mundane lives.
At my will I would make them laugh and cry.
Children rolled over and laughed as my characters faced the most absurd plots I could weave.
Except her, who would neither laugh nor shed a tear, as she stood there staring at me.
Challenging.
Would you like to hear a story? I asked her.
“Not unless it is the story of all stories” She said.
And wherever I went she would be there watching and listening, challenging “Can you tell me the story of all stories?”
How could there be one story that defined all stories?
And if there were what value would I have? If there would be just one story to tell?
“You are of no value to me” she said, “unless you can tell me the story of all stories”
And she walked away challenging. Never looking back amused.
Silly woman, how could I make a living if I told the same story again and again?
And then I died.
Never being able to tell another story.
Have you ever died of thirst in presence of a glass of water that you cannot see?
And into this life she came back again.
She took my hand and showed me the ocean and asked me to see and observe.
For the stories of all stories was there, a story that had no end and had no beginning.
Each rising swell a new plot that arose from the ocean and then merged back instantly, endlessly, unpredictably, inexorably.
Millions arising and immediately going back to the source.
The source, the source of all stories.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Rocks
Sometimes I get the feeling that I have always been hunted.
I have always been running. From something, to some destination.
I have always felt like a big rock has been put on my chest. No. as if a lot of big rocks have been put on my chest. One rock is lifted, I feel alive & relieved for a moment, & d next moment there's another rock on my chest which I have to move.
Started with exams, then came the "bigger" challenges like adolescence, sex, girls, pimples, weight, friends etc etc.
These single words sound boring and usual, but when you are going through each of these stages, each and every day seems like the toughest & the most important day.
I was under the false impression that the last rock would be lifted when I get a job and I move out of parent's house, I would be independent, FREE at last.
No more of making up of excuses for money from my parents for a party, no more feelings of less worth, no more of any of the things I used to dread.
But the rocks not only grew heavier, they also multiplied, not even double or tripple the weight, but a lot heavier and a lot more of rocks. A lot of them, a whole lot more of them.
And now I realize that all the rocks which earlier I used to think of as big rocks, were just pebbles.
Very small and beautiful pebbles.
I have always been running. From something, to some destination.
I have always felt like a big rock has been put on my chest. No. as if a lot of big rocks have been put on my chest. One rock is lifted, I feel alive & relieved for a moment, & d next moment there's another rock on my chest which I have to move.
Started with exams, then came the "bigger" challenges like adolescence, sex, girls, pimples, weight, friends etc etc.
These single words sound boring and usual, but when you are going through each of these stages, each and every day seems like the toughest & the most important day.
I was under the false impression that the last rock would be lifted when I get a job and I move out of parent's house, I would be independent, FREE at last.
No more of making up of excuses for money from my parents for a party, no more feelings of less worth, no more of any of the things I used to dread.
But the rocks not only grew heavier, they also multiplied, not even double or tripple the weight, but a lot heavier and a lot more of rocks. A lot of them, a whole lot more of them.
And now I realize that all the rocks which earlier I used to think of as big rocks, were just pebbles.
Very small and beautiful pebbles.
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