Friday, May 16, 2014

Stormy Seas


Some nights things swoop in. Unexplained dread. Cold sweat. Insomnia. Restlessness. Panic. Loneliness. An army of fears. Veiled vulnerabilities. Teetering at the edge of this gaping dark hole of consciousness, arms flail helplessly towards an anchor of comfort, an anchor of the familiar. And it becomes the perfect hour to shatter delusions and realize that there is no anchor, and never will be. I sail my own stormy seas.

I am not brave. But I can endure. A decade ago if anyone had forewarned me of the hurdles that laid in store for me, I wouldn't even have had the courage to get out of bed. I would have just remained motionless petrified of the calamities that would befall me.

It astounds me that I had been through it all-career setbacks, broken and bruised heart, grave illnesses or loss of loved ones, abuse, several medical emergencies, drifting apart from the people who mattered, really bad decisions, financial errors-and I had survived it, accepted responsibility for it, learned few lessons, misted the unpleasant memories, wiped the dust and blood off my fallen self and moved on. Moving on. The next step. That is all that matters.

I still get scared, so very scared of the problems at hand, and at the nadir of distress I just want someone else to live my life for me. Sometimes I miss a re-assuring grip on my hand and the words, "Don't worry. I am here for you". It would neither dismiss problems, nor drive away fears. Just be a source of steady comfort and encouragement. The lack of it disheartens, but never detains the journey.

The next step has to be taken, another day has to be lived, problems have to be solved, fears have to be faced. Expectations can often weaken and delude. Sail your own stormy seas.

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

The Missing Five Months

Amateur astronomy. Deneb. Antares. Polaris. Supernova. Daylight Comet-1910. Reading. Exploring.

Margaret Atwood. My Hero. 'Life Before Man'. Bored, fractured hearts. Here, there, everywhere.

Malignant cells. 40X, 100X objective. Euphoria of diagnosis. Changing lives, timely or untimely.

Fluffy omelettes. Creature of habit. 7:30 am. Aroma, taste, solitude, thoughts. No conversations.

Navy blue zippered dress. 2011. Never worn. Muffin top. 2014. Hourglass. I see it now.

More unaccustomed earth. Giant leap to the opposite end of the country. Another leap soon.

Airports. A big brown bag. Coffee. Books. Goodbyes. Reunions. Constant motion. Move me.

Sleep. Sudden, unanticipated reprieve from work. Cloudy days. Naps. Dreams.

A particular man. Gone. Gaping void of a wasted decade. Now what?

Nephew. Two feet tornado. Foo Foo. Cuddles. Endearing attempts to bite off my cheek!

Highway. Aimless wandering. Unhurried. Finding self. Losing love. Ali, Hooda, Bhatt, Rahman.

Freedom. 2am bike rides. Stargazing. The boundless universe. Free, free, free.

Friends. Valued. Understood. Infinitely. For life.

Midnight rain. Raindrops chasing each other on my window. Don't stop.

Writing. Words. Purpose. Passion. Syntax. Relearning.