Remembering a scene from life in boarding school.

I had this conversation with an especially perceptive batchmate of mine, he had posted an Owl City lyric quote (which I love) in his WhatsApp story and what followed was a brief exchange which reinstated my faith in good conversation:

So we spoke of nostalgia and I remember saying how I:

…never delete old music, I have everything people think are “trashy” now and whenever I listen to them, I remember how I used to be, who I listened to those songs with, how they smiled when “our” song came up and all of it, and I realize that I liked myself, I was satiated, content, I didn’t have demands and most of the good memories are from boarding so all of it, our farewell bonfire parties, end of school year November chill in the air, the night sky like an endless inky blue sea placid in its starry brightness and I’ve never seen so many stars in my life, I remember stargazing with my best friends, desperately looking for Draco and it was so quiet, no one would speak, we would wait and listen to the wild come alive, and I can’t do justice describing how unreal the night was, the crisp smell of winter air, crackling fire and us sitting away in the dark, overcoats up to our ears, rubbing our palms, huddled together, watching our backs after exchanging ghost stories, warily glancing at the outline the trees made against the sky, distinguishing it from the mountains’, pretending to hear a wolf howl, really hearing one! Bats, the wind, the trees swaying as coming alive, the hills descending with the darkness of the night broken only by the few stars that were peeping from the clouds, then the clouds overcasting the sky, the first drop of an occasional winter spray. And we’re all running inside, current failure, running up to dormitories, candles and fireplaces lit up. Sitting around for dinner, elated about getting home with the pinch of not seeing each other for 3 long, long months. It was magic

Because:

[7/28, 21:17] Ayana: No experience can be disregarded. I’ve been to seven schools and I die to know how it would’ve been to have belonged to one place for 14 years [7/28, 21:34] Ayana: It’s so complicated now. Everything, complicated, convoluted and ill-meaning and self serving all the time. It’s a small piece of paradise to be able to reconnect with memories of innocence. Really, that’s all I have to keep me going. Whenever I’m upset, I close my eyes and go away to kurseong, to those nights, years and years surrounded by perfect quiet with only the sounds of nature and good natured banter

And of course: his extremely valid point:

See, that’s why you ought not to question nostalgia đŸ˜› Yeah, I would say, in other words, that life, Ayana, is simply waiting to see the present in retrospect. Nostalgia is our only way of time travel, by which the human mind uses it’s marvellous faculty of imagination to turn back the very laws of physics-we live at that moment of past, more powerfully than we live in our present, because we acutely try to feel and somewhat succeed in replicating the original emotion again and again. We live powerfully in those moments as our own ghosts. Perhaps the ability to visit our past, our past as we know it, is the best gift humanity has ever had.

I agreed:

[7/28, 22:11] Ayana: I don’t question it simply because I want to keep some things to myself, because it’s necessary to believe in the magic of old times, otherwise there isn’t much to live for, nothing except memories. [7/28, 22:12] Ayana: But I’m also aware that it’s not sacrosanct and it’s painful. But its always better to keep it out from dissection, because, really, bitterness of the soul/mind is directly proportional to time.

And still nodding my agreement to this statement he made:

Yeah. We need to keep certain things out of dissection. Dissect the body, not life.

Do you think agree with me? Tell me what you think.

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Growing up.

It’s just that: you suddenly find yourself wandering into the lives of others, not knowing what to expect, then one day you’re suddenly wandering out. Growing up teaches you to know when your time has come to leave.

I think growing up means understanding when your turn is over and graciously leaving the space for others without throwing a tantrum of self-entitlement.

Growing up made me understand not to look for “meaning” in the world. 

The world has no meaning on its own, don’t blame the world for your miseries. Meaning is what you make of it, what you bring to the table, what you contribute in another person’s life. Meaning is planting a tree so a few people can breathe easy, meaning is screwing a tap tight so that water doesn’t leak, meaning is leaving your smartphone behind and sitting on the grass to laugh with friends who care.

And meaning is also letting go of those friends when its time.

Growing up is realising that new places become old and old places can be experienced anew.

Growing up doesn’t have to be hard, it doesn’t have to punishing, you’ve to simply learn to let go and absorb again. Growing up is flexibility. 

Let fucking go.

Grow up.

Seeing

When I don’t watch the world through concaves,

I see.

Lights merge – yellow and green,
Bright reds and calm blues.

They lose their edges,
Men, women and children are the sameness of all things vague.

The world of perfection set aside,
Call it an artist’s impression, if you’d like.

You find the horizon at your feet,
which otherwise you barely can reach.

But then my glasses are, once again, wiped clean,
The fog gone and the distinction unwelcome.

What remains is, the starkness of reality glaring back at me.

What remains is, the starkness of reality glaring back at me.

Vice Versa

I am concealed in destitute
in whispers and in shadows
I am omnipresent
bringing forth hope
in innocence and in radiance

I am a specter that lurks in quiet
frayed at the edges, fading
thriving in the dark.
I am an opaque entity,
distinct and burning bright
reigning in open light.

Where I may never be found
forever elusive
behind an illusion of deceit
Where I may never be shunned
forever brave
as free as wind upon grass

Safe and sound
till the disquiet of the light
illuminates me
Safe and sound
till the silence of the dark
consumes me

Then,
The dark lightens
The light darkens
and there I am!
I am infinity,
living and dying – merging at the seams.
Both lost and found,
illuminated and darkened, I am.

dark_and_light_by_alement-d47729k

Somethings, Nothings and ‘It’

Something and nothing
Somewhere and nowhere
Somebody and nobody
Sometime and never

You often wonder, why? the ‘why’ does not necessarily pertain to something specific, be what it may – a person, a situation, yourself. but there’s this soft, subtle, ‘why’ whispered in the all-consuming darkness, that only you are present to witness.

I hardly want to make a point here, more like rave and rant.

There have been a few things – some things that have left me at a loss, an existential crisis, I hardly complain as these things have let the brain in a constant state of furious overdrive. Then there is nothing(s), just like everything, a point in a vortex that keeps circling, on and on, never to really stop, is it then, is it just this? A circle, a slow, a fast, tumultuous whirlwind.

Sometimes you DO care, sometimes you only care, sometimes you do not care and sometimes you just DO NOT care. Perhaps it is because I try to read too much in between the lines but…I do see a difference between the four states.
Then there is nothing(s), and it’s only a product of overexertion or too much nonchalance, either way it does not really matter because there is nothing, and nothing matters.

But, if it matters, does it matter because you want it to matter so?
or
Does it not matter because you do not want it to matter? Is it an illusion? In that hypothetical context you’d argue that if everything IS an illusion, what is the point of it?like I mentioned before, I do not seek to make a point here, but to merely generalize.

Yep, I’m playing safe.
Hmm…I’d like to call it my Slytherin sense of ‘self-preservation
though I’m much more Gryffindor.

Once I had read an amazing piece:

There were four friends – Everybody, Somebody, Anybody and Nobody
Once a task was assigned to Everybody, Somebody, Anybody.
Everybody thought Anybody could do it.
Anybody assumed Somebody would surely do it and did not find it necessary to confirm.
Somebody, in turn, gauged that Everybody had to do it.
When the date of submission finally dawned the three of the four friends took to blaming one another
and out of the confusion a conclusion was then drawn that finally, Nobody had completed the task.

I read this quite some time back, years actually, but it stuck with me, you can probably see why.
Imagination is baffling, it scares me at times.

Picture this I, you, we are Somebody, you or I may be Anybody and we make Everybody.
Or just a Nobody, drifting along the fluctuating graph of time, that is clearly running out. But I’m not scared, I may have found a closure, a sense of an ending.
Anyway it’s all psychological .i.e it’s all in my head, whether it’s real? well well…what did Dumbledore say?

“Of course it’s happening in your head, but that does not mean it’s not real ” and Dumbledore is never wrong.


My muse is hiding

The alleyway was dark and dank, a centuries old cobbled path
that twisted and turned till it was swallowed by the profound dark
like an unwinding snake,the treacherous night shrouded the other end
from prying eyes.
The brick walls of the old architecture bared it’s broken bones and
the paint, peeling, like the skin from that of a leper
filth! filth everywhere.
cloaking the surround, emanating a wicked sense of foreboding,
like a deadly calm before a fierce storm.
the alleyway led on, innocent gestures concealing twisted desires and intentions
like a naught Emperor leading his lords to
‘the end’

When the lead is over, you turn,
as quiet as a black cat in the dead of this deceitful night.

There you’ll see, a place where:
wicked intentions, twisted desires and ends meet

A vision that confirms your greatest fear.

Well, ranting helps. Really. And, my muse is tempted to come out of hiding.