Just an I

Home Archive for 2011

I wanted to spend this Diwali alone in my hostel, to experience isolation when a good part of my world is enjoying togetherness or posing to enjoy it or is forced to believe that it is an enjoyment. I wanted to listen to the sound of the firecrackers from the inside of my closed room. I wanted to witness the shining sky through the window of my room. How would it feel to do the 'regular', 'ordinary' thing on a supposedly 'extraordinary', 'supposed to be enjoyed' day? I wanted to experience a night of candles from inside the opaque walls of my room. I wanted to remain happy in my usual happiness.

What else did i want?
I wanted to be with you on a boat in a beautiful river during the sunset. There i wanted to look at you and at the translucent running water. I wanted to experience your touch ignoring the yellowish, orangish, saffron, cool, breezy delightful evening. The setting sun, hiding behind the white clouds would certainly look beautiful but i wanted to see you only, not behind the clouds but beside me.Here 'you' is not somebody i know already but a stranger with a lot of possible personalities. Polite. Rude. May be. I wanted to know a little of him. I wanted to know a little of me through him. He might not be like me...he might not like me. I wanted to experience that dislike. Would it be better than the 'known love'. May be not. But i wanted to express my delight or anger or no-feeling as it would come to me without a 'supposed to behave' manner, without hiding or overprojecting myself as i would be free from the fear to hurt him because his pain won't matter to me. I wanted to experience the 'wierd' in its original absolute 'wierdness'.

And also that i wanted to experience this diwali all to myself in an 'ordinary' way but...i would be with my family overexperiencing the crackers, the diyas, the candles, the sweets, the clothes, in a 'suppossed to be happy' gesture, slightly overjoyed, a little overdelighted...

I wanted to spend this Diwali alone in my hostel, to experience isolation when a good part of my world is enjoying togetherness or posing to...

at 1:47:00 AM

at 11:35:00 AM

at 10:12:00 AM

And i read my mind, the letters vague and jumbled. Curtains were drawn over some letters, some were overwritten, some...peeping from a distance to get into my sight. I read my mind murmuring. Only i could listen to what i was reading. i read my mind slowly so that i could pronounce correctly what was trying to read. Covered most of the letters were, i tried to DiScOvEr them. There was another cover of dust, i broomed that. Somewhat clearer they appeard. i read my mind. The letters were still there. i must tell you, those letters were not in an alphabetical order, my mind was perhaps unaware of the sequence. i read them non-sequentially. Just like that. Just in the manner they were found. Just in the sequence i was dusting them, brooming them.

So, i read my mind, the letters non-sequential. Tiny i, the BIG BOLD letters. Vague was my vision or the Big Bold letters? "opthalmologist', the word struck. i had read it in "Word Power Made Easy" by Norman Lewis. If i remember it well, it means an eye specialist. shoul i visit one. I would tell her/him that i see vague letters. What would i say? that i can't read my own mind!?! Does the doctor read his/her mind? Am i sure the doctor can see those letters or for that matter any once else? or would i be the first one to complain about my poor vision? Poor vision?!? But i can very well see the blue sky, the green plants, the faces, the buildings, the scriptures, the everything but it is also true that i can't see those letters. Should i wash my eyes?

...The letters are clearer now. But i don't read my mind. The letters are no more vague, the letters shiny and clear, the letters in a sequence now. i did not even murmur, i did not read them slow, i did not read them aloud seeing that the world surrounds me.

But i tried to. i read my mind inside my mind and took care that no one listens to it. May be i was ashamed of it. Probably. Probably for sure. Because, it was not in a sequence a dictionary says. Because it was not defined as Norman Lewis does. Because they were not the same letters, i was taught.

So i unread my mind. Don't tell this to anyone.

And i read my mind, the letters vague and jumbled. Curtains were drawn over some letters, some were overwritten, some...peeping from a dis...

at 7:27:00 PM

And then I imagined further …Now I was my own. I had bought myself from my owner. It is true that I got myself finally but… but in pieces. Small and big pieces. And I got a pair of hands, a pair of legs, a pair of ears ,a pair of heavy breasts, a stomach, a gall bladder, Kidneys, liver and a few more organs (which were supposed to keep those pieces alive), a no head (much of it was sold and rest was fatigued) and a half heart( the other half was with my owners).

I bundled those pieces, tied them up with the rope of my hair. I was walking with the weight, with the heavy weight of those pieces and was empathetic to my last owners. Then I reached a corner of the earth, sat there with the pieces, counted their accuracy and then started examining those pieces. One by one. Seperately. Those legs were mine. They wanted to move in many directions, in all the directions ,in all possible directions and I cut them into pieces with the help of a knife and threw them in many directions, in all the directions, in all the possible directions directing,” Walk! Walk away! in whatever way!’’ mmhh! An assignment over. Next was a pair of eyes. They always wanted to dream. They always dreamt. I had to do something for them and I made airy wings for my eyes but after soaring in the blue large sky they preferred to swim safely in a pond. They kept swimming for years, for million years in the cold- warm water. Another assignment done. Then came a pair of ears. They wanted to listen to the heart. So I kept them with the half heart that I possessed. It kept listening to the whispers, to the loud whispers, to the sobs, to the bubbling jests. It is listening to the half heart.

My stomach, liver, kidneys, lungs, bones always wanted to rest. Now they don’t have to work as they were supposed to work for the whole not for parts. Their work done and happy they are.

Next was a pair of heavy breasts. They did not want anything. Many others wanted them. I thought to keep them on exhibition in a museum but many pairs were already there. So I burnt them .They kept burning for some time and now happily burnt they are. Happily over. Happily non existent.

Now only a pair of hands remain fulfilling their wish to write. They write they will keep writing for years, for million years. And I am done with my duty of ownership. Whole lost. Pieces happy. And I owned myself to lose. The separate pieces were already dead when I owned them. I just tried to cremate them by fulfilling their wish, for the sake of salvation. So that they don’t need to exist ever in future.

And then I imagined further …Now I was my own. I had bought myself from my owner. It is true that I got myself finally but… but in pieces. S...

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Just an I

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