Is this Incomplete?

Sometimes I do think of life and try seeing a "whole" and all I find is all the holes that stop it from being a whole. This is something we all try doing, fitting in the puzzles to make a whole portrait of life. This preview makes us so impatient that we start thinking that life is a "big whole picture". We have all heard about the journey and destination relationship that talks about enjoying the journey and not only the destination. But the "big picture" of life is not a destination and the process of achieving is not a journey. It is all the process of life, the journey is life and so is the destination. So the moment the incomplete also seems just right, we have started enjoying every bit of our lives.


I have been in quest of completeness, waiting for days to roll by, only to find more blanks in my sentences. I wait for words to wrap up sentences and those sentences to wrap up entire pieces. This obsession with completeness has reached such a level that incomplete seems useless. However, the incomplete might be a whole in itself.


If we talk about the tales of our life in this light, how do we find out where our stories end? The simple answer to this vital question is that we are never able to find out when it ends. It is time that we live in those phrases without waiting for a full stop.





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I look at my blog and I feel that I haven't posted for aeons and therefore, I conclude that I haven't been writing at all. However, I don't consider the hundred incomplete pieces that are traces of my life in the past here. Now I decide to portray some of them, to convey my story, to give a glimpse of my life to anyone who can find completeness in these incomplete pieces:

For all those times when I felt unheard, when I wanted to voice myself but I felt there was no one to listen:

I have a voice
You silence me,
But I still talk I talk to myself..
You try to crumble it
It raises the volume inside me
I talk to myself It tries to echo
Through empty walls
That leaves it unheard.
But it echoes inside me,
I talk to myself
You question the words I focus on the tune.
It is wordless inside me,
I talk to myself.
It's not the language,
It's how I say it.
You ask whose voice is it
And I know within I talk to myself.
It is fueled from the fire,
You try to extinguish it.
I ignite inside me
I talk to myself.
You all ignore it
I still don't give up,
It is reiterated within
I talk to myself.
I shout to myself,
The world listens it, sees it and feels it...

In all those times when I felt that my confidence swayed with every strand of my hair. Physical beauty and inner beauty go hand in hand and confidence is relational to these two aspects of life.



The cold winds of the winter months
The clouds that hide the sun behind
The darkness that takes over the light
They use that to symbolise gloom
Symbolise evil and the worst coming along
But oh it couldnt generalize
My hair that grew in the tiny rays
That peeped through the darkest clouds
They swayed in the air untangled
A confidence, a sense of love
It was the dark that was really the brightness
I thought it stays forever for winter
I fell in love with it I craved the summer sun, however
Comes the summer and my hair shatters
They fall and break
And I am almost bald
The shining curls that boosted my steps
I saw them falling down in clusters
Every day I lost my hair
Everyday full of despair
I thought that I might discover myself
In the shedding of the hair
But I lost the confidence
I was just flowing in the flow
I lost my hair that anchored
My existence to the shore
But the glaciers melt in the summer months
The brightness that needs to clear
The melancholic air
Was burning the strands of hair I knew
I lost my confidence
Every single day I had nothing to anchor to
I danced in the flow
Thinking that I would reach back the shore
But I was lost in ocean waves
The water burnt..



Image Courtesy: Google Images
There are a hundred more pieces and yet more to come. This one might sound incomplete, but I end it here. Two pieces of my puzzle lay on this canvas, embarked into a painting that will not be complete until I survive...

New Beginning

 The wind raged and the once hushed landscape was clamoured by the roars of the surging clouds. The serenity of the setting was marred by a sudden jolt of a cataclysm. And all was devastated, owing to an abrupt alteration in the natural setting and an introduction of elements that created a tumult in the ambiance.
 As I passed through the preliminary security check, the commotion and mourning in the air of that devastated landscape was not enough to describe the state of my heart and mind. I walked further away from the people waving back at me. My hands grasped firmly at the kerchief that mother had tenderly handed me for wiping my tears and my heart sank into an abyss as I related the fleecy touch of the cloth with the touch of  soft loving hands of my mother. I turned around for a last sight of the people who held various pieces of my heart and my vision blurred by teary eyes, spotted the moist eyes of faces saddened with a melancholy of separation and brightened by the pride of my upcoming venture. And the traces of gleam on the faces was enough to light the trench within to help me clamber gradually out of the abyss of grief, therefore, for a few minutes I strode to spoor my ambitions and fly closer to my dreams.
 The bright white lights of the Civil Aerodrome, Vadodara helped me make my way to a new world I was heading to. I was alone amidst a range of passengers who were to board the same flight as mine and yet move onto different directions in life. I began experiencing brief episodes of gloom, excitement and fear and due to all the befuddling emotions, my senses turned dormant. I mechanically traversed through various sections of the airport alone, completing all formalities, before I could ascend into the air.
 Time fleeted and I found myself making way through the aisle of the jet, my guitar banging at the seats, as though it were making efforts to pull back at me and pleading to me to not leave the land that raised me. I tugged at the belt of the guitar cover to align it such that it could safely move through the aisle.

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 I took my seat, still struggling with mixed emotions, looked through the window of the airplane that revealed its enormous wings as it prepared to take off . The airplane started scaling heights, I saw that I was amidst the clouds that tried piercing through the glass to embrace me and solace my distressed heart. As the altitude increased, I began regaining my senses and started thinking of how I was flying away from everyone. The thought seemed too lugubrious to control my lacrimal glands. I felt like I was being separated from my own self, I was departing from a part of my identity and for those moments, the heartache and agony were indescribable. Nothing seemed right to me and I felt like I could not face it all anymore. My body was trembling from within, my heart crying from within, my mind crafting its own fears and my soul feeling the eternal affliction.

Never in my life had I faced such a condition wherein there is no one around to wipe my tears, no one around to at least ask me what was wrong. I felt like screeching to ask everyone around to take me back to my parents' laps. But with teary eyes I could only see stranger faces that were preoccupied by their own griefs and elation. And with this thought, I went on crying until I was tired of being sad. I had not known that there was ever a crying threshold, but somehow I had reached it. And at that point my mind convinced itself to let other emotions rule over. When the airplane reached the cloud covered zone, I found the hidden spark of excitement within me. I tried telling myself that now I was to reach a place I always wished to go to. I had worked harder in High School to chase the dream of studying at the one of best places in the world, and when I was getting a chance to attend such an institution, rather than feeling gratified, I was mourning the separation from my family.
 Not rhetorically here, Muma bird had let me fly by myself so that I could enjoy all the wonders of nature that wave at me and I could independently cross all confinements of mankind. This idea let a wave of rhapsody flow within me, making everything seem exalting and novel.
 I was aware that I had a long journey ahead and that I would be alone in the world until I reach my destination. But being alone helped me silently introspect and also scrutinize the places that come by.  I was not only travelling to discover new places, I thought, but also to discover a new person in me in all those places. I met numerous people at the stop overs- Mumbai and London-, befriended them and exchanged ideas, letting my own perceptions mingle with those of others so that I could view the world from different dimensions.

Canada

Anon, getting through the jaded journey when I landed in Canada, all I could see was unknown faces on an unknown land. I searched for familiarity and I realized that except me, my luggage and English language, everything was different. I sauntered across the airport in fatigue by following signs and bribing my feet to keep going by promising them hours of rest once I reach my destination. Amiable immigration officers got all my legal documents issued and then I could officially call Canada "home" for the next five years. Though I didn't belong to this place, but I hoped that I would get a feeling of belonging here soon.
 As I reached the exit of the airport, I found two familiar faces who had come to pick me up and provide me with shelter in the unknown habitat. They greeted me with a warm hug and as I felt their presence, I was too exhausted to feel anything else but a sigh of relief. I assured myself that very soon I would be able to give in to my fatigue and sleep for hours without being barraged by extremities of emotions and worries.
 I was then, in no time, on a queen sized snug bed, covered by a cozy blanket. Having closed my eyes, I still couldn't believe that I was on a different land, miles away from my parents. Every time in the past, when I had been as tired, my mother had put me to sleep in her loving arms. Not withstanding, I was so wearied  that I couldn't cry or crave for love. So I let my sleep take over my body and went into my dreamland. But this dreamland did not have fairies, it had my parents with me holding my hands as I stepped ahead with my tiny legs. And I knew that they will always be there with me as I learn to live a new life, as I advance in my field of study and as I discover my newer and updated version everyday.