Tuesday, October 16, 2018

Wish Lists

I want you to love me like a dog loves his human -  a loyalty that minces no words, an adoration that generates a self-sustaining system of happiness. I also want you to love me as cats love their humans - you choose me, and in choosing to love me you validate me and  trap me forever in a system that is transient. I want you to love me like elephants love baby elephants - to see me as the holder of not just your heart, but your stories, your memories, your dreams and to view me as the hope of your being.
I want you to love me like whales love other whales- that even when worlds apart, you call out to me, knowing that I'm listening and your voice is important to save me from the all encompassing loneliness that only you alone can dispel.

I want you to love me as the bee loves its' hive - with fierceness and an almost gallant lack of self. I want you to love me as the earth loves the sun - to follow me wherever I may go and to know that without me  it would all be dark and  it would be better to burn than to live in the gloom that my absence would signify.

I want you to love me as you love me in my dreams - where you only need me and only look at me and only want me and are almost blown away by the fact that I even exist. I want you to realise that there is no possibility for a little love or going halfsies. I want your whole self to be consumed by me and for you to be a willing participant in this game. I want you to be unable to think of yourself without conceptualising me as well.

This sounds ridiculous, and it sounds insane. It is. I want you to love me enough to realise that self preservation has no meaning when you love me.  I want you to take that leap of faith, for I am falling down, eternally, till you jump and bouy my commitment with your agreement.

Monday, October 8, 2018

For Pranjal

Sometimes small things pierce the inside of my heart in ways that don't stop hurting for years. It's almost as if when my heart shifts to grow, to change position or even to try and get comfortable, suddenly that old hole will throb in absence of the piece that was lost. 

I've wondered a lot about the power of letting go. How much easier life would be if I could forget and move on.  But I don't function like that. I cling, hold on,  leave my fingerprints onto things, onto people. They however, hollow out parts of my soul and change my inner landscape forever. Every new meeting generates a craving to fill up the abyss that their absence left within me. I am never done wanting, and I never give  up. There is no growing apart,  there is never not the possibility of a resolution.

I like to imagine my soul as an optimistic, hopeful lover that has no concept of permanent loss. It's so easily hurt by the mere inkling of being forgotten, because it can never itself forget. It's not ego I like to think, it's the wildly beating heart of my soul that only gives love and only wants love. How do I find the people who keep such a petulant thing beating ? How do you decide the worthy who'll hold onto your soul in this world of no meaning ? You fight them and see if they love you back into being calmer. You let your anger run and your tears flow and show them how raw you are because they didn't look at you when you wanted them to. You share your pain and if they feel it without even understanding the why of it, you hand them the keys to your heart and press your being deep into the recesses of their mind, if not their heart.

Saturday, October 6, 2018

Hunter Gathering

There is a sense of purpose in everything about her.  The slicked back luxurious hair into a tightly contained ponytail, the kurta and churidar ALWAYS paired with a dupatta, with her de jure spectacles which sometimes, during moments of intense conversation, will be pushed onto her head so that gesturing can become more purposeful - contain a person of such purpose, such tenacity that she almost physically repels all that is mundane from the ambit of her existence.

I must have caught her in a weak moment of sickness when I brought in all my pointlessness into her environment. Because she is kind like that, she took me in, fascinated by just how much another human can talk without making any real progress in conversation and she has allowed me to stick around. I am so fascinated by how someone can be so centred, the many ins and outs she knows and her reluctant sharing of details about the same people with slow, halting deliberation and the FACT that she knows everyone and everything. 

I feel like a bumbling fool, knowing the limits of my person, but she builds me up near constantly. Every compliment is thoughtfully returned with almost hyperbolic sincerity. You can't understand how such sincerity has persevered in this cynical world. Even the world waits, in anticipation, for the day that all that sincerity will not just glow, but shine, for Hoimi does not believe in the excesses of dazzling. That magnificence is anticipated by all who know her, with an assured but laboured process of bated breathing.

I witnessed a glimmer of it yesterday. I pelted her with another of my questions I should have already known the answer to. In her usual fashion of assured loyalty and in character for her,  she  showed me how she functions in one of her domains.

Amidst the labyrinth columns of the JNU library, a place lazy assholes like me have visited to browse, wonder and then abandon for the accessibility of books in file formats that come on computers, she glided like one who has haunted the joint for years. Amidst a dizzying array of numbers, she pulled books and with reverence replaced others , almost assuring the ones replaced that though not wanted now, they were loved and will be returned to. Within a matter of half an hour, she had taught  ' Devika Didi' how to find a book and had saved her from the times when laptops will self combust and internet servers will be down and proxy bays shut down. Hoimi is the only one, I can guarantee,  who will not only preserve her relevance once the AI revolution happens, she could I am sure, beat the machines.

If there is one who can emerge as having harnessed the powers of the library, it is her. It was AWESOME.

Monday, October 1, 2018

Longing

Sometimes I think that everything I feel is fictional. I have taken real people hostages from moments in time and have proceeded to give them attributes they may never have had.  It's difficult even when I am smacked in the face with this realisation to explain to myself that you're not real because my mind did its warping before making you in its image. It morphed my memories of you, it coloured our conversations and it changed you forever. I tell myself that all I feel is false and unreal, but there are dreams and things are said there that cannot be repressed. I wake up glowing from inside and that glow sticks to me, pushing me to revive it again.

I wake up at times and I want to tell you how I love you and to please love me back.  These occasions  sometimes so crowd my mind that I almost send that message. I feel you, in ways I've never known you and you're both me and you then. In my mind, you always love me and you want me like I want you. There are no doubts in these moments, there are no rationalisations. There is only love, and only me and all my happiness rests on what you might say and all eternity seems to wait for the moment when you finally say it.

But you never say anything.  I've not invaded your dreams the way you have mine and unlike me who likes the real you, even when you don't do the things all my happiness seems to depend on, you don't have a fictional me or enough space for a real me who could occupy your poems and your stories like you do mine.

I want you to burn to talk to me and I want you to be scared for me, scared I'd go somewhere and you won't be able to reach me. I want you to reach out to me and say so many wonderful things that the all enveloping cynicism of this world lifts itself off us. I want us to sit together and look at each other and realise that even the unreal versions of each other in our mind are more loved by us than anyone else has ever loved us.

I need you to love me, without fear, without worry that hearts may break or that fairytales be destroyed. I want you to want me, and want me as you've never wanted anyone else. I want you to only want me even as the real me  hurts you by all the things it's not.

I want to know at one moment, that happens multiple times, that I am the only one you've ever loved, and I want you to never lose faith that the moment will be worth all the stupidity when it finally recurs. I want you to wait for those moments and I want to wait with you and sometimes, I'll help you forget we're waiting.