I always thought I wasn't much of a talker, didn't think I had the trait to just go on talking about usual everyday things with some sort of a panache, as if it was a Dan Brown thriller I was living. But the past 4 months have changed a lot of things, and this is another surprising discovery I made about me.
So the scene goes something like this. The sun goes down at 4, as if figuring out finally that its hated these days or realizing that there are people here who make this place brighter than the sun ever could. There's a harsh cold wind that doesn't make you feel cold at all, on the contrary, its the coziest feeling you ever had. Then there's the first drop of summer rain, right on your forehead, as if telling you that you're the only reason it made the effort to come down. Add to that the freedom you feel only when you're jumping across the skies in your dreams, a large cup of hot caramel coffee and some amazing company and there you have it, the perfect moment (Who said mere humans couldn't fly?). And then you talk, not because what you're saying matters, but because it doesn't. Because talking feels like the only way to reassure yourself that someone is there, and will be, whenever you want to talk. Then you don't really feel time passing by, or that you're living in a city full of people. It's just you, and that's that.
Five hours of such indulgence can leave anybody asking for more. I am not asking for more, I am begging for it...
I wish I could write something,
I wish I could put it down.
I wish there was a story, circulating all around.
I wish I could explain,
I wish what I felt inside was sane.
I wish she could know,
no matter what I say or dont,
that everything I ever do,
would have her name on it in gold.
I wish she would realize,
there's nothing I would want in return,
that she gives me more than I could ask for,
with her smile and her presence, in turn.
I wish I could write something,
I wish that would suffice.
But there is no way I could put in words
the moment and its perfection when my gaze meets her eyes.
I wish I could put it down.
I wish there was a story, circulating all around.
I wish I could explain,
I wish what I felt inside was sane.
I wish she could know,
no matter what I say or dont,
that everything I ever do,
would have her name on it in gold.
I wish she would realize,
there's nothing I would want in return,
that she gives me more than I could ask for,
with her smile and her presence, in turn.
I wish I could write something,
I wish that would suffice.
But there is no way I could put in words
the moment and its perfection when my gaze meets her eyes.
Just what do you do, when you are afraid of the one thing that makes you happiest. When you see the perfect moment, and you know that it is just a moment, that it would get over like all other moments. And what do you do after having seen perfection, when every other moment that follows is just not good enough, no matter how good it is. There is something wrong with the theory of relativity, because if we compare everything with the best moment, then every other moment would be the worst. It feels unfair, and it feels wrong. Because, then you become afraid of the best times, precisely because they are the best times and nothing, ever again, would be good enough.
So would you rather have every moment as an ordinary one so that your ignorance would keep you happy? Or would you have that one perfect moment and then go through the pain of knowing that nothing ever again would be able to equal it? They used to teach us in school that all good things must come to an end, I'm afraid they will one day. I hope I'll be able to live with it, when the day comes.
Tum itna kyun muskura rahe ho,
kya gam hai jisko chhupa rahe ho...
It's funny how sometimes it feels great even when nothing great happened, when you had no expectations and you got nothing in return. But it feels great, because you fought for what you wanted and then, as I would put it "Kya farak padta hai!" whether you got it or not. For the record, I fought for the one thing I really wanted, and I did not get it, not the way I wanted to. But there is a satisfaction that I would never regret this, that this would be one moment I would cherish. Maybe my smile arises to veil the sadness of my loss, or maybe, from the satisfaction of having given it all I had to give. Anyhow, I am smiling, and that is all that matters.
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
- William Ernest Henley
Will you look around, to see that I'm not there?
Will you care?
Will you care?
Will you still smile? Will life still be worthwhile?
Would you feel any difference if I wasn't alive anymore?
Will time heal your pain? Will your lips no longer have my name?
Would you feel any difference if I wasn't alive anymore?
Will time heal your pain? Will your lips no longer have my name?
Will your life ever be the same again?
I have fought and fought
but the answer I just wouldn't get.
I am still fighting
but there isn't much courage left.
I don't want to end this, but I just can't go on.
Let me have my answer, the times have tortured me too long.
Three days that were magical. Three days that destroyed and repainted the image I have of 'her'. Three days that blew away six years worth of thinking. There is a lot that I could overcome, a lot that I could defeat with the courage that I found. A courage that I have lost again, for the same reason, at the will of the same fate, again. I'm sitting here alone and thinking what I did wrong. Perhaps I have the answer, perhaps the three days gave it to me. The three days that made me wish again, and after which, I have lost all courage to ever wish again. Three days that gave me everything, and then took away the dream mercilessly. Three days that I wish had stayed forever. Three days that I wish had never happened.
Never again. Never ever again.
There is no water out here,
there is no way to clean my hands.
A scar of a knife that I gave myself,
my own blood that betrayed myself.
The pleasure was too great to handle,
the outcome I didn't think would matter.
The burden is all that stays now
and I am the one who pays now.
There is no compassion out here,
there is no way to end this sorrow.
The ugly darkness of my past
stays with me for every tomorrow.
There are no lies, and no escapes.
'Cos someone watched the Garden of Eden
when Adam ate the fruit of hate.
It is a sin they say, and I have no doubt.
But this soul pleads for a way out of this ugly clout.
