Home …

I miss home.

I miss a place that has people I know, people whose intentions I can fathom. I miss this place which would tell me who I am. A place that can give nothing but love abound. Home, where I can laugh and cry at the same time and yet evade being a lost jigsaw-piece.

I miss that nook, white, bright, cozy and light. I miss lying down carefree even though  just for a while. I miss tranquility. I miss serenity in nothingness.

I am tired of this everlasting, never dying, hollow void.

I miss my true, free and unburdened self.

I miss fulfillment. I miss naivety; childhood. I miss goodness. I miss my weaknesses.

I miss loyalty. I miss having faith and hope.

I miss nights filled with engulfing warm hugs; nights spent so deep in caresses and embraces that even the moon and the stars feel apt to leave their rightful pedestal.

I miss hard-pressed , affection-dripping kisses on the cheek.

I miss holding hands; the crisscrossing of my fingers with someone else’s.

I miss being owned.

I miss tasting bliss;water. I miss beholding air in my chest, knowing that it would  be released soon.

I miss silences ; silences that deserve to stay; to linger around with grace.

I miss life.

I miss home; my home.

The solace of solitude …

Loneliness is scary.

Its scary because its nicer than what I had believed it to be.

Its liberating.

Its addictive.

Its an absolute just like infinity or zero.

Its a myth.

Isn’t it ?

For its transcendental.

Love…

I don’t know what love is but when I like someone or something  without any reason I dare to call it love. Needless, it is to say that I’ve fallen in love for a zillion times.

Although this feeling keeps me pining yet it manages to give me a sense of belonging. Its difficult to precisely explain what holding those emotions senses like. I could at the least say that its a contentment derived from the fact that one’s affection has been directed to some being rather than no being. At the most, its an autonomous bag of emotions; sustaining all on its own, needing no help. It is satiating in its entirety.

He is but just a dog…

I was in my last teen-age when I got him. He was a mere forty-seven days old orphan desperate for a parent. My status was not very different from him. The only differing factor being that I had to borne the burden of keeping everything in a sane shape whereas he had lost the very element that desired this sanity – A SOCIETY . We both needed support. We both were pained. We both were lonely, vulnerable and had lost faith in the goodness of life. The cause of this consequence was more or less identical and so empathizing, on my part, was unavoidable.

He used to trot behind me  everywhere and all the time. I was guaranteed his companionship even in the toilet. And all of this brought into my life something that i was gravely and brutally deprived off – security. I knew that no matter what there would be someone ALWAYS waiting for me at home. Someone in dire need of a hopeless me.

Needless to say, we were glued to eternity.

The more I looked after him the more I began to trust myself. His constant want and dependence on me shone a sun deeply set in some dingy, decrepit and crooked, crevice of my soul. His love-seeking attitude, his adorable eyes and his petit physique compelled me to keep aside my needs and instead look after his. The centre of my life changed.

He strengthened me with his weaknesses.

As my bad times began to fade, my good times began to kindle. Eventually the phase requiring repair turned into a phase greedy for growth and evolvement. His relevance in my life became proportional to the free time that I could get. Then came a phase when I realised this. And now is the phase when I will make the choice keeping in mind that he is everything to me but a mere dog.

 

 

 

 

 

The Old do give us something…

 

How does it feel to be old?

“Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.”

– The infamous monologue in ‘As you Like it’  by the                                                                               infamous playwright, William Shakespeare

My grandparents do not fear death. In fact, death is a solution to one and all of their miseries. What they fear is the idea of being dependent on others. Especially, on their closed ones. This stems into our toughly held belief that dependency is a weakness, an impuissance. Our ego balances itself on this notion, rendering us from asking or rather accepting any aid. When old age dawns and inabilities amass to prominence, there remains no act devoid of deterrence. Adding to this weight is the insecurity that the deteriorating health brings in. They know that things are going to worsen and they can, by no means alter this reality.

So they resort to fighting against it by becoming staunchly conventional; gripping onto those vices and virtues that they have mastered. They form a didactic, reserved and a hard-to-crack aura. We look up to them but we can never get to ‘know’ them. Many are of the opinion, that they are the weakest of the lot. They live a life of lies and are utterly meek and coward outside of their known zones.

In this case, most of the times, one does not really help them but rather help oneself from them. And when they tread out of their comfort zones we can, for their love’s sake, just pretend to ignore their fallacies and make their pretentious bubble stronger.

Next, we have the exact opposite type; they accept defeat. They willingly want to be dependent because they are tired of saving their self-esteem. Apathy is their biggest principle and selfishness their motto. The only way to get them out of this indifference is to show them that they aren’t that useless as they think. Even if they are of no genuine help to anyone, they could be made to feel worthy.

And finally we have a mix of the two; the diplomatic hypocrites. Like every other human, they are imperfect absolutes. They can neither be apathetic nor can they be completely on their own. They change their stance, almost always unknowingly, to have the greatest benefit of all. Because in the end, as Mr. W. Shakespeare calls it, it’s the second infancy. These people are highly meritorious when it comes to lighting up the already heated up mind to ashes. They are evaded by one and all and hence they are the most love-thirsty.

The remedy to all the three types is just one thing, and you guessed it perfectly right – LOVE! Today, each and every soul out there needs love to unfathomable limits but like children, oldies need a tad bit more adoration and affection. We might not get no time and no money in return. We might not even be appreciated. But we would learn to give selflessly. And once we learn this art, there is no way life can out beat us in ‘frigging’ any sphere and phase !