I Fail, The Mirror Fails!

The rare moment when it dawns upon you that, which never was, and that which will never be. The thought and faith that held you together all this while never existed. There seems to be no room for denial now; the only thing left is amazement at your own blindness. 

I float from room to room looking for a mirror that would show me my own reflection, that had the courage to show me the truth. I fail, the mirror fails. 

I go out in the dark, the silence of the night engulfing my tired soul, my own hollow laugh lashing back at me like shrieks of widows mourning, wailing. And I stand there numb, allowing the breeze to encircle me yet not feeling its coolness against my skin. There seems to be nothing worth standing for outside anymore, not the wind nor the fragrance of the frangipani blooms. Once inside, I stand quietly once again not knowing where to go, what to do. Like a wax doll devoid of life, my motionless silhouette stays within the shadows for a long time, until I muster the courage to walk towards a large mirror again. And then I see it! 

The pale face, dilated, watery eyes staring back at me with no more questions left in them. And in that haze I see so much yet nothing at all. I see the smoke rise, I hear the pigeons cooing away a rhythmic tune, I see the pages of a book fluttering by the wind, and I hear a poem. The poem!

It was there, all of it, yet so far from my reach. I tried placing my hand on the vision that appeared, the tattered yellow pages of that book; was that poem in one one of those pages? I wanted to run after each one of those flying yellow leaves of that book, looking for verses that might have my name, chasing after dreams, trying to capture the memories and place them safely deep within my heart; but they were scattered all over now. I see music notes escaping, words turning dull like they would if you place them in murky waters; I see shrouds of memories whirling away in dust of time; and I see the mirror then right in front of me hoping my reflection would be there. There was nothing; the shadow nor the faint remembrance of an image that was once me...

Chasing Light...

It seemed like the end of the tunnel, the streak of light that she had been chasing all this while, running sometimes stumbling towards it with threadbare shoes and bleeding feet, seemed to have merged with the dark. The music that touched the strings of her heart once was now barely audible; the hope, the mystery, the undeniable pleasure that she found in both were long gone. There seemed to be a strange emptiness lingering in the air, and eeriness like hundreds of widows in black, mourning, wailing out aloud. The mustiness was making it difficult to breathe now, but she continued to move on now crawling through the murky waters.

It was not very long ago that her heart sang with the exuberance of a young girl, making her forget all that marred her past. She had a gift; she was able to block the unpleasant, banish the dark moments of her life, those that were nothing but blood and gore. It had to take a lot of effort on anyone's part to push her to relive those moments one night. It was a night of terror, tears and a heart that refused to beat on. It was a teary night when there was no desire for another morning; but she continued to crawl on, now barely able to get past her own shadow.

Facades! All facades! The laughter, not laughter but just the screeching sound of black shadowy witches circling around the old Banyan tree, celebrating the end!

It had been a while now; she had not been able to stroke the pages with ink forming words that were whirling around in her head all this time. It had been a while....

The woman struggling to find words, and the one with a treasure of words that she was unable to share with the world, the woman crawling through whatever was left of the land in front of her breathing her last few breaths; they were one! they had always been one - chasing light.....

Awakening

Stay still my wild heart!
For the song needs the quiet,
Stay still or lest the fear,
The strings may get entangled.

Go forth and embrace,
What life has brought your way,
The flimsy veils of disguise,
That would make desire sway.

So what if they would judge,
Your moments would still be yours,
Trust him, and he shall,
Guide you to untravelled shores.

Go, sit under the shade,
Of devotion once unknown,
Not many have the courage,
So fond this heart has grown.

The flecks of bronze and gold,
In eyes that touch my soul,
May God be the witness,
Of tales yet to be told.

What a wonder it is how we are so unaware of the different shades of our own personality - vicious, venomous, forlorn, gloomy, dark, pretentious, and then gentle, so full of love and affection, taking us by surprise at times. It is still a blend of a strange sadness and delightful joy, emotions not entirely unfamiliar but this time with a certainty that comes with unintentional and continuous display of devotion and unsaid promises. Many promises in the past were just that, hollow, without substance. Many promises I made to myself, now hazy and frazzled. Promises are nothing, just words that we might think we would be able to live up to, ignoring the fact that the being up there might have other plans for us. What more can one ask for than Him to decide for you what is best. I do wish I could foretell the future, but I can't. So I let Him guide me to a course that He knows is already part of my future for He can foretell! He created it!

Today I'm inspired to write for something that never before had the music in me flowing. I wrote futile stories and poems that were my truth as I saw them, but perhaps they weren't. Moments that froze in my memory were never mine to begin with. Songs that my heart danced to were mere fragments of my imagination. Unsaid words were never spoken because they never existed. Souls parted ways because they did not belong together. What a strange puzzle the Creator has designed, and for so many of us, for thousands of years, witnessing hundreds of thousands of sunsets. And we spend our lives trying to untangle ourselves from these intricacies? Such fools! It is far easier to live in the moment than trying to tailor the future which is not ours to begin with. And when we do, the enchanting music takes us to a world where moments stand still, the memories of which play a smile on the face. The longing to be part of that world increases and the journey continues...

Windows to the Soul

I sometimes wonder why I didn’t pay attention to those clichéd sayings that we tend to come across so often. People say eyes are the windows to the soul; they might be. But the truth is that sometimes you see a reflection of what you feel, in the eyes of another. The damp glimmer that I might have in my eyes is understood and the tears cherished, yes, it’s reflected in another pair of eyes. The silent woes waiting to be told need not be said to be heard anymore for they are intertwined with the strings of the heart of another. The strong desire to hear the enchanting sounds once the dark befalls half the planet, along with another, may not go unnoticed anymore for far across there is another soul quietly absorbing the beauty of the night and gazing inside his soul just like me.

What a strange place this is, silent, soothing, comforting yet the memory of rare moments spent together threaded beautifully like a tapestry, a piece of art. Small joys and the hope of many more memories to make together, contentment at where you are, what you are and what life you carve out for yourself; what are they but signs of a joyous life.

Night arrives again, bringing with itself a familiarity; the humdrum of the night having a soothing effect on nerves. How beautiful is still of the night and how mediocre the hustle and bustle of the day at times. I close my eyes and the fuzzy memory lurking behind the demands of the day emerges in its full glory once again, playing a content smile on my face, my heart filled with satisfaction at being able to bring it to life whenever I want. Staircases are nothing but dull steps of concrete to many, but a sight frozen in those moments on the first few steps a long time ago can make it worth a lifetime; the day you started your life! So I give up and with dampness threatening to escape from the corners of my eyes, decide that yes, I can dedicate one more night to the memory, and another night, and another, and yet another, till the time comes for life and me to part ways….

A Soul Like My Own

The night is quiet yet so full of signs of life, of being, of strange elements that surround us as we breathe on. I can just hear the wind though; no crickets chirping, no children playing night cricket matches, not even the occasional car honking. If I close my eyes for a few minutes like I just did, I can hear my thoughts very clearly. So many of them, most of them with a question mark! So I let myself be. I live in the moment, savouring it, or at least I try. I revel in the quiet that the night brings. I try to be as grateful as I can be for the one who brought light in my life when all I could see around me were dark clouds. And I bask in the memories of rare moments that make me feel more alive than it ever seemed possible. I am scared to open my eyes for the fear of losing the beautifully embedded moments behind the veils of my eyes - my tears treated like precious gems, collected lovingly in the palms of a soul so like my own; my whispers that once were unheard, now tuned into a melodious song by a heart throbbing close to my own; my hair brushed away gently from my face with the grace of silent breeze. 734 days of my life, still with no clear path in sight, yet strolling down under the shade of lush green trees taking me to a land I am not familiar with, yet I can hear faint music coming from a faraway place that awaits me with open arms.

But then there is utter confusion; I wonder what will become of the trail that is a straight path down to the meadows fragrant with dainty blooms. I was headed there, leaving the uncertainty behind; I knew the sun shone brighter there, the lake awaits me so I can sit beside it soaking my feet in the cool water. But it all seems so distant now. The Pied Piper plays a tune that captures my heart as it always has. I look back one last time at the meadow that spreads its arms urging me to stay on. I feel a sharp stab in my heart, guilt emerging at the abandonment. I cannot possibly abandon what has given me shelter and solace. I look longingly at the shadow of the faraway place, my heart now singing the same melody that the Pied Piper played. And then it comes to me! I rip a piece of my heart, embellish it with the best of what I had in me and bury it under the shade of a tree as my everlasting love for the meadow, planting my affection, gratitude and burying my special song that would continue to enchant for many years to come. I gather what is left of me and take the path unknown, following the music, leaving behind everything that I had, my heart now ripped to pieces, my soul battered and bruised, my pride wounded beyond repair, but I carry on with my journey in the hope of capturing the music with my love, not knowing that mine are not the only two feet taking steps to that land..... 

The Magical Mornings

I close my eyes and concentrate on the most melodious sounds in the world - birds chirping in the trees and the tinkle of the bell of an occasional bicycle passing by.

I open my eyes, get up and walk slowly to my desk facing the windows and gaze outside. The trees have started to show signs of the first set of greens, their branches spread out welcoming the feathered guests to perch on them, nest on them. I rest my chin on the palm of one hand and ponder! What is life all about? What a miracle it is! How intriguing that we are able to feel so many emotions in the short span of 24 hours every single day! And how fortunate that we are able to experience our tomorrows, so many of them! "Not everyone gets a tomorrow!"

My chain of thought is broken by the loud noise that 'Logan' the parakeet makes. What is it with this bird? I try to concentrate once again on what I was trying to fathom, trying to put thoughts together, feeling a mixed sense of sadness and happiness, and above all, enjoying the solitude.
I hum along with my happy-go-to-song Joe Dassin's Champs Elysees.
Joe dassin les champs elysees MP3 Download - abmp3.com
I am transported back to the little cafe on Orchard Road, Singapore, where I spent hours till late night, writing, blogging away, trying to express what whirlwind my mind was, trying to find myself.

I switch places again, this time I settle myself on the world's most comfortable couch, one that I have had for the last 18 years. I am a little restless this morning although there is just so much that I am able to accomplish during these few precious hours that are mine. I do what Brian Tracy tells me to do. Early morning hours are the best time to work on projects that demand uninterrupted attention, so just grab a glass of water and start! That is exactly what I do, as tempted as I am to have my leisurely breakfast before I start, I listen to these gurus. And in any case, I am a creature of habit; go out enjoy the morning breeze, check if there any new leaves or buds in any of the plants, come back to my study and start on a work or personal project, have breakfast while reading, and once the kids wake up, head out for the morning show at the cinema. It is almost like a ritual. You move me one inch from my routine especially on a Sunday, and I will not be such a happy, chirpy person.

This is what makes my mornings magical; the cool breeze caressing my face, the hyperactive Logan going absolutely berserk, the weaver bird refusing to leave the nest upon my arrival, the carefully built nest that it has built on my bougainvillea, 'Captain' the one-legged crow that lives outside the kitchen balcony on a tree and comes for food, my children waking up and heading out straight from their rooms to first look for their mom, early morning messages from my SEALA family, the peace and quiet (minus crazy Logan) that the morning brings with it, and most of all the predictability; what a glorious time of the day!

The Overrated New Year, Every Year

Another new year, promises to self that will not be kept, resolutions that will not be fulfilled, diet plans that will not be followed, and regimes that will cease with the end of the first week. Year after year, people all across the world unite at some strange level when it comes to New Year. Regardless of which continent, country or religion they might belong to, they take vows to lead better, healthier, more honest, organized, meaningful lives. What's more, they even believe that they will be able to get past the first month continuing on with all the resolutions. At the risk of receiving a boatload of criticism for this particular post, I would like to defy convention this year! I would go against the usual norm and resist making any resolutions; no promises to myself to workout more, be happier, work towards achieving my goals with more vigour this year, be a better mom, better daughter, sister, friend, a better person. No more promises to mark all 101 things off my master checklist, no more silent vows to not let fears and inhibitions hold me back, or to come off as a pillar of strength. 

And you know why? Because I'm just so happy to have been alive and healthy in 2013 and all the years before that. I'm happy to have been able to pull through 2013 and come out as a victor. I'm content with what I have, my children, my family and friends, my absolutely wonderful, challenging, motivating work, and for all the beautiful moments that 2013 was witness to, the smiles, the laughter, the experiences. And hopefully I will wake up tomorrow to see the sunrise of another New Year and all that it will bring with it. Yes, I confess to a few weak moments today which will probably linger on tonight; moments that are laced with an ounce of sadness, a pinch of disappointment, and even a little loneliness that creeps in. But I'll let you in a little secret; all of that is overshadowed by hope, countless blessings and love. After a long, tiring yet satisfying day at work, when I return home and my 12-year old son rushes to get me a glass of water before I have even entered my room, and when he heats the food for me so that I can have dinner right away, I feel surrounded by love that nothing else can measure up to. When my daughter brings me a throw so that I can stay warm while watching a movie with them both, and they both cuddle up with me, I feel all my sorrows wash away. When I am told with tenderness that my tears are precious and the only time I should let them flow is when my daughter gets married and leaves home, I feel cherished. When my mom, my dear mom sends tiny boxes of daal sabzi well aware that I crave it and might not get the time to cook something that I like, instead preparing meals that the children prefer, I pray for her to live a long healthy life for who else would care for me the way she does. The birds outside, the sunshine, the tangy flavourful oranges in the fruit bowl, the white drapes in my room, the sound of the wind, the lush green trees; I'm surrounded with beauty that helps the pain subside. I try not to think of all the hurt and tears and stay thankful for the strength that was bestowed upon me. I don't want to start afresh this New Year. I have already started afresh! The mixed emotions, the sadness, a few occasional complaints are nothing but a mere proof of the fact that I am after all only human. So defying all norms, I conclude by saying that I have absolutely no resolutions this year; I will take each day as it comes as I have been doing for the past year and a half and will bask in the smug satisfaction of the liberating feeling that it brings with it.