7.7.06

Pyaar ghadee bhar tau hi bohat hai…

I was trying to retrieve a greeting card and discovered at the website little pink hearts floating around. There was much of “I love you” apparently to be expressed. Some were funny, some tender, some poetic. I was tempted to send one to myself.

Self-obsessed? Narcissistic? If truth be told, then yes, a touch of both. But that is at the superficial level.

I feel committed to me, my feelings (and they are for others, so it is quite selfless really), my beliefs (they have to do with something larger than me), my life (for it was given to me, just as it will be taken away from me, without my knowledge, but which I am supposed to embellish if I am to be of any worth).

And then, the only constant in one's life is oneself. As long as I breathe and smile and hurt, I will be there for me. The others are balms, placebos, sores. No one can experience my ecstasy and anguish for me even if they share it, cause it or become a part of it. A part is never a whole.

But...I can say I love you to...

The pigeon going guttargoo near the window sill...

The trees that I may be able to look down at from my higher position in physical terms are taller than I can ever be, in every sense of the term...

The sea, my sea, for those moments when it enveloped me, making me feel like a mermaid...

The sand for letting me leave marks of my feet on them...

The waves for washing those marks away and making me realise that a journey means not looking back...

The teddy, the cat and the dog...stuffed with softness to make me feel like they are for real...

The scent of jasmine in a bottle that I touch upon my pulse points and feel like the flowers are touching me...

The old cuttings of my writings to remind me that words may be torn to shreds by others, but for those who write them they stay forever...

The photographs that tell me where I had been, what I did, and who was there to immortalise those moments...

The knick-knacks, a collection chosen to reveal one's character and gifted to reveal that of others...

The books, the music, the pens...how much they have contributed to my life...

The sketch pencils, the water colours, the rice paper that tell me to get back to doing what I loved so, and those few paintings that make me believe that amateurishness that comes from the heart surpasses technical flourishes...

The scented candles, the unguents that make everything around so sensual...

The sounds from the street that make me aware that there is life beyond my island...

The silences, the darkness that I love and that make me appreciate that small voice and the sliver of light even more...

I love them all.

And people?

Here I am tongue-tied. I cannot say it in this important way. But for those who have felt my presence, got my notes, my phone calls, understood my feelings, been touched in even a minuscule way by what I say, do, feel...I suppose those gestures, that 'giving', has been of some value...as theirs has been to me...


"Kuchh paakar khonaa hai, kuchh khokar paanaa hai
jeevan ka matlab to, aanaa aur jaanaa hai
do pal ke jeevan se, ek umr churaani hai…"

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