17 July 2018
Kohel does bring out the black colour of her eyes. Her eyes… shaped like doe’s eyes. Kohel strokes, that only look effortless, are beautifully joined up and down her eyes. Thickly coated, she carries it off like it’s part of her skin. The inside corners of her eyes are beautifully shaped like the end of a water droplet. She never closes her eyes fully while she blinks. Her expression poker faced. You would want to think that. Her thickly kohled doe eyes seem to be screaming emotions in her silence. Loud. Beautifully. Just like her eyes.
Steady, my friend.
Why are you fixated on one type of love,
And turning blind eye to the abundance of love around you?
Remember when you had a headache?
You rested your head on your mother’s lap.
She combed her fingers through your hair.
Trying to sooth the pain.
Like her fingers knew. Her fingers had a mind of their own.
What was it, if not love?
Don’t be weary, my friend.
Don’t let loneliness scar your soul.
Remember all those unspoken gesture oozing affection.
That’s love. You are loved.
Type of love – mother and child.
Steady for some. Shaken for most of us. While shaken, it still exists. Subconsciously.
What is it, when you get inside an Uber cab? A stranger, who you’ve never met till the instance you stand in front of their cab? Trust. How does that trust come so easily?
Sleep. You go to bed every night, confident that you’ll be up and going with the plan you set up last night before you went to bed. A blind belief that sleep is safe and will rise you you up tomorrow morning feeling energised. Belief? Trust is a better word. How does this blind trust exist deep in our atoms?
Then there’s a dirty secret about yourself. You learned today. A few hours back. You reach out to that one friend who you would swear your trust on. The friend you instantly tell everything. Yet, when you reach out to share what you learnt, the words – your secret – gets stuck in your throat. There are no tears, but a deep sense of sadness. It’s a dirty secret that you believe if you tell them, they will have power over you to destroy you. A very vulnerable part exposed to be hidden, first time. Trust.
Yet, you got into the stranger’s Uber cab. Someone who might murder you, maybe. Yet, you get in knowing you will reach your destination. Trust.
I don’t know. But the irony. The places we easily trust and the places we hold our steps back. The irony of where our fear lies. Friend knowing the real you vs an unknown stranger – might be a psychopath. Who knows of the possibilities?
Want to know something funnier?
That sometimes, even if you’ll call yourself your own best friend, you lack trust in self.
When I find my window to light(ness) at the nearing end of my dark(ness) alley. When the dark(ness) begins to become lighter. When I’m able to get out of my bed with a sense of purpose to live. With the sense of purpose to get things done. Get some juice out of my life. Feel alive from the inside. Be part of something. Create something.
When I find myself want to be alive to taste my life – all phases of it. This is what success looks like to me.
Run. There’s a small “lake to cross”. Beyond that lake is a mountain. And that mountain is the entrance to heaven. But you’ve got to run. Because there’s lot of explore
But turn back and see. There is a huge wave building up. Time is relative. But see, it’s building up. Storing the energy. It’s higher than a tree. It looks humungous, like a mountain. Rich emerald blue. With white tip of foam. Tiny ripples all over. It’s just never crashing down.
It’s like either time is still or slow.
So she runs. She crossed the “lake”. She reaches the mountains. She keeps running. The twists and turns. The ups and downs. The green and brown. It never seemed to end. She stops to take breath. She sees a small cave ahead. She sees small groove which would have made a big water puddle ahead. She stops in her track. Goosebumps spread around her arms then her chest to inside her heart. “Is that fear?” She wondered.
She decides to run again. But back to the other side. But the wave had crashed down. The time wasn’t slow either. The speed with which it flowed was like a stream flowing, gently. Yet, it gushed away.
She looked for a tree to climb.
She caught one. She climbed. It had comfortable ‘Vs’ to put her leg on and boost herself up. She wanted to climb more, but there were red spiders. A scream was caught in her throat which rang loud in her head. She stopped climbing higher. The water was here. Filling up all the downs, all the groves…all the spaces. But slower. Yet she couldn’t make the dash, because if she got back on the ground, the water was too deep.
The wave was in, but yet wasnt near her. Or the tree she was perched on. Yet, it was there. She had to wait. How long, she couldn’t tell. Time was different here vs on the other side.
She tried to relax. The bark of the tree felt mushy. Soft. Like it had too much water inside it. Or like it had spent too much time inside the water.
When all the skins of being polite, agreeable, patient, and be goody goes off…
When all the compulsive need to be accepted, liked and acknowledged ceases to be important…
What is left behind is a live wire: Complete, striped off and raw version of yourself. A version that’s calm and independent of any attachments. A confident soul which is free of self imposed, invisible shackles. A beautiful, untouched, unexplored and hidden version of yourself. A mind filled with sense of calmness and abundance of security.
That moment, you’ll be meeting yourself for the first time. And you’ll realise, “Damn, I am hell of an amazing person!” You’ll love to be around yourself. That is the beautiful state of being a live wire.
I’m going to set aside my ego and admit that I’ve become a people pleaser. Since about 3 years now. The worst thing about becoming a people pleaser is, one: I now am selective about letting my feelings/opinions known. It’s an uncontrolled want on me to not upset my listener/potential relation etc. Two: A mask is always on.
The day I tried keeping masks and al aside and took a stand for myself – it was a shock. One: the other end didn’t handle the confrontation well. Second: the other end didn’t want to see or hear me at my worst.
It was a clear indicator of where the relation stood.
Though cliched, it holds true: if you can’t handle me at my worst, you don’t deserve to be around me at my best.
Today was my first, uncomfortable, step to break free of that pressure. Anxiety was under control, because I knew – it wasn’t the end of the world for me. Yet.
The lesson is this: it never is anyone’s (or the person’s) fault for not treating you with respect. Nor that ‘good’ friend’s fault who is being sleazy with you and then yells at you with indignation saying, “it was a joke!” It’s not that person’s fault either for not giving you the time from his/her life. It’s not their fault for treating you, the way you are being right now.
It’s yours. It was mine.
Because, you (and I) let them. You let them talk to like that, because you thought it’s fine and allowed them to. You let them talk/treat you like that because you wanted to please them and not cause any conflicts. You didn’t respect your own time and then expecte others to respect yours? I did too.
The thing is this: What have you done to make it stop? Have you first treated yourself right? Have you spoken your mind, without of course hurting the receivers’ sentiments? Have you stood your ground, with your beliefs, without wondering if this will break the relationship?
Let’s do that first: Treat ourselves right. Then let’s see if things change.
The movie by the way was a Marathi movie called, “Me Shivajiraje Bhosale Boltoy“. Overdone, but with a great, great lesson: You don’t demand respect. You earn it.
She was genuine and honest, he said
He was polite and gentleman like, she said
Yet, he never used words to end it
There were no signs she could read anyway
He has become a ghost
She was left nursing an abandoned heart
White lab coat hung loosely over her navy blue scrubs. That was her superhero suit hidden behind her civil wear.
It was after midnight and she was needed. The stethoscope hung around her neck as she ran to tend to her patient. Her white coat almost fluttered like a cape behind her.
“What is sleep?” She wondered as she tried resusitated a failing man’s heart at the wee hours of the morning. But his sickness over came him and the man in black took him away, without a second glance at the woman sitting in white with her hands on his heart.
She quickly got up. Accepted. Took the next steps and tended to the next patient in need.
Time passed by. She didn’t realise. And just like that, it was the end of her shift. It was time to take off her white coat, get back in her civil wear.
Breathe. She could finally breathe.
She fought against death. She saw death. Every day. Yet, she walked back home. Pulled her 3 year old in her arms and celebrated life.
Such is the circle of life.