Odysseys.

Have you ever wanted to go some place more than any other place in this entire Universe? Well, I have. 

It's that time of the semester when you are inching towards completion but you are just not there yet because LIFE. Every day a new job comes along and it's pretty much like a Christmas Tree decoration - it clings to you and weighs you down. 

At this moment, we need motivation and we need to explicitly GET UP AND RUN TO THE FINISH LINE. I've been quite frustrated off late thanks to the monotony of life. It's OKAY to be happy and it's more than okay to be sad about something, but to be nothing at all - now that actually scares me. I almost thought I've lost all reasons to go on, until a tiny something that happened in class today. I have exactly 20 minutes (break time) to make this thought remotely resemble a blog post. So here goes nothing. 

When I was 11, I had a mad urge to pack my bags and go to Tokyo. I am not kidding, I was actually very inclined to wake up one day and grab some clothes and just GO. Of course, an 11 year old kid doesn't really know about the realistic limitations on this decision - such as VISA and money and air fare and so on. All I wanted was to see Tokyo. 

I had no family members who had gone there, I had no idea of the distance, heck I did not even know how to get to the nearest airport, let alone another country. But I had dreams and I did not let them vanish into the emptiness. For me, Tokyo was not just any city - it was a city of a billion dreams. When I read The Little Girl at The Window, I had a surreal, almost fantastical vision of Tokyo inside of my head. It was sometimes a quiet rendition of walkways with cherry blossoms on either side. It was sometimes a busy, modern city with too many cars and shops and people. It was the symbolism of a torrid past, a bustling present and an intelligent future. I wanted, more than anything, to believe in the Tokyo inside of my head. 

                                           

                                           

I had read so much about Japan. I had the quintessence of Japanese culture morphed into my brain. I wanted to travel this land that I had read so much about. As much as I loved the secure life I was leading, I yearned to set eyes upon Tokyo. I binge watched a lot of anime and read a lot of manga, and somewhere along the way I fell in love with this city, fell in love with this country and to put it simply - I really just fell in love. 

Even now I wonder, that all the time people waste in falling in love with other people - if they only fell in love with places, they'd be less disappointed. 

As time flew by, I started dreaming of other places too. I read about Austen's England and Fitzgerald's America and nothing was the same for me. I felt like places, more than anything else became my reason to live. The hope that one day I will get there - stand next to the very place I had read about and take a photo to capture that amazing moment. I know people dream, but I think for me, the dream had mounted to a maddening passion. 

I wanted to stand at King's Cross and feel what Harry felt when he boarded the train to Hogwarts. I wanted to run across the landscape in New Zealand, and feel like I am in Middle-Earth. I wanted to drive through New York in a fancy car and for once feel like Jay Gatsby. I wanted to look out of a window in Amsterdam and spy on the city like Anne Frank. I wanted to walk through Kyoto and somehow, see the world through the eyes of Himura Kenshin. 

Of course, these are but dreams. In the midst of college, I sometimes I forget that I even have these dreams. This has happened so many times. All the work and all the delusional happiness sometimes brings you down. I look around and see people who are happy with other people, people who are happy with other jobs, people who are happy with other lives. And at this moment, every thing I do seems petty and pathetic. They say the grass is greener on the other side and this is perhaps the truest of all sayings. I sometimes honestly feel that I can never be happy because I have nothing to live for. 

But something quiet interesting happened today in class. My Lecturer said something that brought back a flood of memories. He said, "I won't be able to solve your doubts next Friday because I'm going to Tokyo." And he smiled. And for that one moment, the image of an 11 year old kid packing her bags and telling her Mom that she's "going to Tokyo" flashed through my mind. I felt a surge of appreciation for my Lecturer because he had unknowingly reminded me of that one crazy, mad dream which had dominated my childhood. My mind which was settling into a spiral of darkness, seemed to have suddenly spotted the sun. I wanted to leave the class and run outside. I wanted to just pack all my bags and leave for Tokyo. Somewhere deep inside, I wished to reach that stage in life when I could really just make a spontaneous decision like this and go with it.

I think that the one reason I actually have to live, the one reason which is purely my own decision is this. I was living to go places and make my own Odyssey. And in completely normal non-literary language this would translate to - "Screw people, screw homework. I'm travelling." After all, what's the point of living if you are not living for something?

Have you ever wanted to go some place more than any other place in this entire Universe? Well, I have. And I know Tokyo is waiting for me :)

Of Scorching Autumns

You know one of those times when you travel long distances and the only thing going on inside of your head is a particular part of a particular song? It can be SO distracting especially when you’re walking down the pavement and the music inside your mind feels so real that all you want to do is burst into song. Today the only song playing on repeat is “Photograph” another precious relic from Ed Sheeran’s collection of songs.

Anyways, on this miraculous occasion, when I have decided to immediately follow one blog post with another, I will entertain you with what I call a free verse. It’s not the kind which should be mistaken for poetry – it’s scattered and broken prose. Feel free to interpret it whatever way you want.

Her favorite season was autumn. Her favorite shawl was Mauve. She knocked over vases down in the hall; her blood absorbed in the golden carpet. She smiled all the time, she smiled in joy and she smiled in pain. Her words like a downpour, brought along a hurricane. She loved alone, she loved silently. She loved very much. Fall leaves fell. No loves returned. She pondered a little, bookmark in her hands. How does one love someone who is loved by many? So many loves came and went. Was she too late? Was she too early? After all, how do you love someone when they cannot love you? The skies turned orange. The sun turned red. Much like the blood on the golden carpet. She slid in the bookmark. She let one more love go by. One day it would return. They always returned to her.


                                     

That’s about it. I don’t know what kind of literature to categorize this as! It’s almost prose but not quite there. Some elements try to rhyme themselves, although I swear I did not mean them to :P What inspired a random verse like this? I don’t know. I was just intrigued by a concept that came up in my mind many days back. How do you know if you play any role at all in the busy and fluttering social life of someone who has a billion friends? For all you know they are the Lancelot to your Elaine, and they will only acknowledge your existence once you are dead. In the worst case, your body will PROBABLY have to float down a river for them to notice you (To get this reference, read this beautiful Arthurian poem by Alfred Tennyson --> The Lady of Shalott)

I think in today’s world, we really take each other for granted. We don’t give the right people enough importance because we think they will always be there. Which is okay, and I do it as much as everyone else, but it’s sad that we hardly ever give love to those who love us genuinely. I know this will probably never get across to the right people because they are too busy with their lives, but I’m just glad I could pen down something about it J

So, the sun’s almost gone down. This horribly scorching autumn afternoon has finally passed. And I shall … see you in the next post! 

Thinking out Loud

Today I came across one of the most beautiful songs about love. And you should know that I don’t usually do this – but today is special somehow – and I honestly can’t let this song go. Most of the time I write about romance skeptically, or rather sardonically, but today I really cannot help but be impressed by Ed Sheeran’s impeccable ability to inspire so much.

In a slow paced, perfectly tuned and amazingly lyrical song, Sheeran accomplished the impossible – he actually got me to write a blog post in the middle of the busiest semester I’ve had in ages. So, maybe before you get started with this post, you should listen to this song – Thinking Out Loud - Ed Sheeran. 

I’ll quote my favorite part in this song:

I'm thinking 'bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways

Maybe it's all part of a plan

This line has never resonated so perfectly inside of my head as it did today. After all these years, after a legion of loves and hates and joys and tears, I can say that nothing …absolutely NOTHING can define the moment you fall in love. And of course, nothing can justify the moments that follow. And once it’s over and done for, you never recall the person as much as you recall your happiness when it lasted. And because we are people and we are selfish and we are motivated, we move on and we find love again.

Just close your eyes and think about the sea. Yes, you read that right – think about the sea. The vast water body which reflects the entire universe at night and you can see the Milky Way splashed across the waves almost shimmering like a hundred thousand candle lights. The sea reminds me of falling in love. Maybe it’s because I spent most of my childhood in an island country, I don’t know how to make sense of this – but perhaps the thought of looking out to the sea reminds me of love.

When I was twelve, I distinctly remember standing at the side walk next to the Esplanade, and looking at the beautiful cityscape. The Marina Bay Sands hadn’t even been conceived nor the Flyer. But something about the silent skyline, the water with those glimmering ship lights, and the tall looming skyscrapers made me feel amazing. I hoped that one day, I’d be able to stare out at the sea with a special someone and tell them about all the thoughts which were running through my head at that point – you know the point when you feel indescribably infinite and yet unbelievably One with the universe.

That was the beginning.

Love was like the sea for me, it was vast and it was reflective of a billion wishes – so many shooting stars. I was quite the hopeless romantic back then and somewhere deep down I still am. But love evolved into a very ethereal concept.

I thought of that nameless, faceless person and I aspired to visit every place with them. I ran on the meadows with them, I spent hours studying in a library, I lazed in a sofa in front of a fireplace and heck, I even binge ate with them. None of the men I decided to like (or not like) came close to this entity inside of my head. But with every mistake in life, the vision became clearer.

It was never about one-night stands or flings or anything like that. Maybe that’s why I lose interest in people who cannot admire permanence. I get SO bored of people who bask in the transient stages of a relationship and hop from one person to another simply because they cannot commit. When you are so sure about this person, then why leave them for another? Why create problems for a person whom you “love”? But I realized that sometimes people can never be sure, and even though I pity them for their indecisiveness, I also forgive them for it. It’s not a sin to love after all.

I want you to know one thing. When you see the person you “love”, if you can look past them and see yourself grow old with them, they must be the one. And this isn’t your overactive imagination speaking – this is the kind of love when you don’t even need to be in a relationship with the person to love them. This is the love which stays after marriage, after aging and maybe even after death. This is the kind of love that calls out to you on your deathbed and you fight every impulse to stay alive just for the sake of this one person.

No romance can justify this love, no story has been able to portray this kind of love and no song can play to the tune of this love. It’s a degree below a mother’s affection, but nearly there. It’s so beautiful, it’s so extraordinary that it moves me to tears.

So when Sheeran says:

…   I will be loving you 'til we're 70

And, baby, my heart could still fall as hard at 23

He is probably trying so hard to bring out this love. He’s almost there himself, but not quite.

Before I end this post, I want you to know – that I am also scared. That I am absolutely frightened of the future as much as you all are. I think of the countable years in my life and I think of all that I want to accomplish – I have a million ideas inside of my head and I want to bring them out into the open and weave a tapestry of innovations. I want to travel, I want to draw, I want to write so much and love so much! It’s never going to be enough – and sometimes I will freak out and grow silent. Sometimes I will love from far and fail and stand up again, just like every single person out there. I too fear the prospect of growing old, and dying alone. I am afraid of never making the perfect story, I’m even more afraid of that faceless person never showing up. And I’m afraid of myself more than anyone else.

But if it were not for you, where would I be? J I am strong now, because of the wonderful men and women in my life. The few countable people I have grown to love and admire for their continual support. And I know, that despite all the rotten ideas we keep making up about love to avoid it, and after all the little problems we have faced on the way – we will never let ourselves down again. The next time any of us fall in love, we won’t need to tell each other – I’m assuming you will know it then. And that’s because it will be different and it will be worth it.

I'm thinking out loud

That maybe we found love right where we are

 I think, I honestly think we can find love right where we are.